Changes

by Ama Ata Aidoo

  Opokuya noticed the ring on Esi’s finger. Not that she was doing anything to hide it. Opokuya was curious. Esi didn’t disappoint her. Upon hearing all about it, Opokuya remarked that if she were a white woman, she would have fainted away. But as an African woman, she could only do her thing, which was exclaiming ‘Ei, ei’ several times over, marching up and down the length of the sitting room, and finally taking hold of Esi’s hand, having a proper look at it and asking whether she was sure of what she was saying. Meanwhile, Esi kept on laughing with delight. After they had both exhausted themselves, they sat down to have a drink and some serious chat.

  Opokuya said something to the effect that obviously she needn’t ask Esi how she was. She had noticed that both she and Ali looked superb. Esi purred and showed Opokuya the various presents Ali had brought her from his travels: an elegant piece of Makonde sculpture; several huge bottles of her favourite perfume; a dyed damask shawl; a pair of outrageously big and gorgeous Sub-Sahelian gold earrings which she definitely didn’t have adequate holes in her ears ever to wear … There was even a fancy digital clock-radio, which was at the time perhaps one of the very first to arrive at the Guinea coast from some plant in South-East Asia where such toys were being churned out for the junk-consuming markets of Africa.

  ‘You lucky, lucky girl.’ Opokuya was honestly envious.

  ‘I must confess that at this moment I feel very much like an empress receiving tribute from an over-anxious warlord,’ Esi agreed with Opokuya with wicked delight.

  ‘Well enjoy them, Your Imperial Majesty. And here’s to a happy marriage.’ Opokuya raised her glass.

  ‘Opokuya, you don’t sound convinced.’

  ‘Are you convinced?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Then I should be. Because what is important is what you feel.’ Opokuya, Ali is wonderful. And so understanding of the kind of woman I am.’

  Opokuya’s eyelids raised themselves up a fraction.

  ‘Handsome too. And so obviously generous.’

  ‘Too, too generous.’ It was almost becoming a contest of who praised Ali most. And Esi thought she definitely ought to out-do Opokuya in that. ‘And so mature,’ she added.

  ‘The way things are going, I could quite easily swop my dear Kubi,’ Opokuya said seriously.

  ‘Now I know you are teasing... but by the way, my sister, after we’ve gone to see my people and everything has been sorted out, I’ll want to throw a small party. You and Kubi must come. Please?’ ‘I don’t know about that… Oh, I will come. But I’m not sure about Kubi.’ Opokuya was feeling uncomfortable. And that immediately sobered Esi. She tried to change the subject by asking about Opokuya’s children. Then inevitably Opokuya asked about Oko. No, Esi hadn’t heard of him for months. No, they were not really in touch. She had bumped into him once or twice when she had gone to visit Ogyaanowa at his mother’s. But they didn’t behave like two long-lost friends. Yes, the divorce was quite final.

  Then she quickly moved back to the plans she and Ali had made about going to see her people. Could Opokuya come with her? They were both aware that under normal circumstances this would have been proper and nice. But Opokuya, who did not feel too good about the whole business, was able to turn down the invitation with a genuine excuse. She had to be at work on that particular Sunday because some women’s charity group had promised to come and visit the hospital with what sounded like a large consignment of blankets, bandages, sheeting and other items they needed rather badly.

  For a while, neither of them spoke. Then Esi said, her voice a mixture of a complaint and an appeal. Opokuya, you still think I should have stayed married to Oko?’

  ‘And your mother, what does she think?’

  Esi tried not to resent the very obvious evasion.

  ‘To be honest, she doesn’t like the divorce … and she hates the idea of me becoming anyone’s second wife.’

  ‘Hmm. That’s serious. I would have thought a woman like your mother who still lives in the village would have understood.’

  ‘That’s what I had also thought. But quite clearly we were all wrong. My mother thinks that with all the education I’ve had, I should have everything better than she has had.’

  ‘Including a monogamous marriage?’

  ‘Sort of... In actual fact, I don’t think she sees it in terms of monogamous and polygamous marriages.’

  ‘Y-e-s?’

  ‘You see, with her, it’s a question of me having my own husband.’

  ‘Like Oko?’

  ‘Yes, like Oko. She thinks I deserve better than having to share someone’s man. Or having to go into someone’s marriage, as she would rather put it.’

  ‘I see. Does that mean that she wouldn’t have minded if it was your husband who had brought another woman into your marriage?’

  ‘Yes. I mean, no. To her, that would not have been a problem to worry about. Not at all. Because you see then I would be the senior wife. In traditional terms, still “the wife”. And in today’s terms too. And she reminds me of this all the time. I would be the one to whom the title of “Mrs” legitimately belonged. I would be the “Mrs”.’

  ‘The seniority too. Esi, it seems perfectly reasonable for a mother to see the distinction in the two positions and have a preference on behalf of her daughter.’

  ‘Opoku, you are so right. And you are not only right; in fact, if I know my mother, she would have lectured me on how to make the other woman feel at home, if Oko had brought some woman into our marriage!’

  For some time, the two women were quiet.

  Suddenly, Opokuya got up and rushed out. She soon returned with the most beautiful woven tray Esi had ever seen. It was perfectly oval, with two sturdy handles and a base that glimmered like a golden rainbow.

  ‘Actually I’ve kept it for you for over a year, if you can believe that,’ she was panting as she was offering it to Esi. ‘I bought it when I was home last year. But you know me. I’ve always forgotten to give it to you. I suspect I’ve even brought it as far as here, not once, twice or …’

  Esi hadn’t heard a word. Opokuya, just thank you, thank you. But you could have waited a little longer and given it to me for my Christmas present or birthday or something.’

  ‘Don’t be funny Esi. You know we are not in the habit of exchanging gifts on occasions like birthdays. Considering I never even remember my own birthday. As for Christmas … we’ll celebrate it when it comes.’

  There was another long pause during which Esi kept turning the tray round and round, admiring the patterns.

  ‘But my objections are different,’ said Opokuya. Esi didn’t show any surprise. It was not necessary for her to ask Opokuya what she was referring to. She knew.

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘Esi, if we go on with this talk, I suspect I shall begin to sound as if I want to pour cold water on your happiness.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, it’s just that I feel ... I feel … Look here, Esi, for example, can you see yourself and All’s wife getting together? ... Being friends? ... You know, for instance getting together about Ali’s strengths and occasionally trading gossip about his weaknesses? Can you see that happening?’

  The idea seemed so unlikely that Esi couldn’t believe she was hearing right. Be friends with All’s wife? Trade gossip with All’s wife?

  ‘I don’t even know what she looks like,’ she blurted out.

  ‘You see,’ said Opokuya, with something like a minor triumph, ‘first rule already broken.’

  ‘Really?’ Esi asked with genuine curiosity.

  ‘Of course, Esi. In the village, or rather in a traditional situation, it was not possible for a man to consider taking a second wife without the first wife’s consent. In fact, it was the wife who gave the new woman a thorough check-over right at the beginning of the affair. And her stamp of approval was a definite requirement if anything was to become of the new relationship.’

  ‘Oh really?’ said Esi again.

  ‘So wh
ere did you grow up?’ Opokuya realised she didn’t know her friend as much as she had thought she did. Esi’s level of naivety clearly bordered on the dangerous. How could she …?

  ‘I’ll ask Ali to let his wife meet me before we go to see my people,’ Esi said a little defiantly, a little fearfully.

  ‘Fine.’

  Esi asked Opokuya whether she should fix them something to eat. But Opokuya declined. She had to be moving.

  A certain knot of anxiety which seemed to have built in Esi refused to go away. She said, in an attempt to reassure herself, ‘Listen, Opokuya, you often accuse me of lacking passion. But I think I care very much for Ali. And we are going to try and be very happy, he and I. Please try to understand.’

  ‘But sure,’ said Opokuya, ‘I understand. I think you are brave for wanting to try

  ‘An alternative lifestyle?’ asked Esi, rather wickedly.

  ‘Yes, an alternative lifestyle.’ Then at once they were both relaxed again. They were sisters and both knew it felt good.

  Opokuya got up, gathered her handbag and began to look for her keys.

  ‘You don’t want another drink?’

  Opokuya shook her head.

  ‘Not one small one for the road?’

  Opokuya shook her head, rather vigorously, and playfully. She turned to Esi once she had found her car keys, which she was twirling around.

  ‘My dear, don’t look so sad. You’ll be all right.’ What she wanted to add but which she didn’t, was that it was meaningless for Esi to say that she and Ali were going to be happy. In a polygamous situation, or rather in the traditional environment in which polygamous marriages flourished, happiness, like most of the good things of this life, was not a two-person enterprise. It was the business of all parties concerned. And in this case it should have included the first wife of Ali whom Esi had not even met!

  ‘Opokuya, monogamy is so stifling.’ Esi said this almost desperately and uncannily, as though she was answering Opokuya’ s thoughts.

  ‘I suspect you mean marriage,’ Opokuya shot back in parting.

  They were both laughing again as Esi took Opokuya to her car.

  12

  Some people are born in this world who show by their actions throughout their lives that they come from the ‘never- give-up’ section of the spirit world. Ali was one of them. He had decided to marry Esi. And so marry her he was going to.

  The first time Ali informed Fusena that he was thinking of taking a second wife, Fusena asked him, before the words were properly out of his mouth, ‘She has a university degree?’

  This was nowhere near what Ali had expected from her in the way of response. So he too asked, ‘What has that got to do with it?’

  ‘Everything,’ she shot back. She picked up her handbag and her basket, left the bedroom, came out to the courtyard, issued instructions in very quick successions to her househelp — and whoever might have been around — on food, what to do that day about fetching the children from school and from the day nursery, and on and on, and then she left the house. Before starting her car, which was a small two-door vehicle she had come to love unreasonably and fiercely, she removed her veil completely and put it together with the handbag on the passenger seat next to her. The car screeched into life, and Fusena backed out so roughly, she nearly scraped one side of her husband’s rather elegant and capacious chariot, and also nearly hit the family dog. She was on her way out for the day to manage the kiosk.

  Fusena’s movements were most clearly out of gear that morning. Normally, Ali left the house first. Although the Achimota/Nima/Barracks intersection where the kiosk stood was not far from the house, she had not made it a habit of regularly popping home from the shop to check on her duties as a housewife. She took all her jobs seriously. When she was in the kiosk, she was there. And of course when she was home, she was home. That was why she took so much time in the morning leaving the house. She took time organising herself and the house. It was something she enjoyed. She checked on her wardrobe, her hair and even her nails. She planned the meals for the household for the day and virtually planned the rest of their housekeeping for months ahead. She was one of the wives in the country who could still do that. And that was only because she was married to a man who cared about how his home ran. And since his job demanded a lot of travelling he always made it a point of getting things that were necessary for his home — depending of course on where he went. For most other women it had become a question of buying what you found in the shops or the markets when you found them. Efficient housekeeping in such circumstances had nothing to do with planning. Every other wife in their circle of friends envied Fusena. Yet here she was feeling so sorry for herself, she could quite literally die. She had allowed Ali to talk her out of teaching, hadn’t she? And now the monster she had secretly feared since London had arrived. Her husband had brought into their marriage a woman who had more education than she did.

  The streak of abnormality managed to run through some more of that morning. When Fusena drove to the kiosk the first time, she did not go in. After she had parked and was getting out of the car, she changed her mind, banged shut the car door which she had just opened and drove back to the house. She met Ali in front of their gate just as he was backing out. She drove her car to where the two cars became parallel, and stopped. Ali had stopped, and looked at her with a question on his face.

  ‘Is she also a Muslim?’ Fusena asked him, without any prelims, and without getting out.

  Caught unawares for the second time that early morning, Ali said just simply, ‘No.’ Fusena backed out again and drove off. She was going to look for someone to talk to.

  Part II

  Said Aba to Ama:

  My sister, the number of reasons for which men leave their women for other women -

  Ama:

  Or just add those new women to their older ones …

  Aba:

  - are many.

  Ama:

  And becoming more and more.

  Aba:

  It used to be beauty.

  Ama:

  And being younger.

  Aba:

  More energy to work the fields, strong legs and better hips to make babies with. It is still beauty and being younger. But now there is also -

  Ama:

  There was always a woman’s birth. We should not forget that.

  Aba:

  You mean family wealth and influence?

  Ama:

  Yes. Who the father was. And the mother too.

  Aba:

  Cabinet ministers are high on the list.

  Ama:

  Let us say people in government.

  Aba:

  But then let us just say people with power: kings and queens and those who are near kings and queens.

  Ama:

  Chiefs and warlords, powerful priests and controllers of purses …

  Aba:

  Leaders of secret societies.

  Ama:

  Prime ministers, presidents, general secretaries of free republics, secretary generals -

  Aba:

  And those who are near prime ministers, presidents, general secretaries of free republics, secretary generals.

  Ama:

  Heads of corporations, especially transnationals.

  Aba:

  Big time professionals and top international civil servants.

  Ama:

  UN this and UN that.

  Aba:

  UNDP, UNESCO and other UN organs.

  Ama:

  Regional bodies.

  Aba:

  Sub-regional bodies.

  Ama:

  Doctors.

  Aba:

  Engineers.

  Ama:

  Judges and lawyers.

  Aba:

  So then, publishers! We could say very simply that it was —

  Ama:

  And is!

  Aba:

  - sometimes, the daughters of the people with power.

  Am
a:

  People who make the wheel of life turn.

  Aba:

  And what such people owned in lands and houses …

  Ama:

  Jewels and cash.

  Aba:

  Cattle, sheep and goats.

  Ama:

  Kola pits.

  Aba:

  Cocoa farms.

  Ama:

  Coffee plantations.

  Aba:

  Import and export businesses.

  Ama:

  Now it’s also cars that race for money, horses with jockeys, aeroplanes.

  Aba:

  We must not forget that these days it could be the woman herself who would have such power.

  Ama:

  Indeed it is not necessary for her to be anybody’s daughter if she has the power of beauty, of youth, political, financial …

  Aba:

  A top athlete, a film star!

  Ama:

  Nor should we forget high education, a degree or two.

  Aba:

  A government job with side benefits.

  Ama:

  One of the topmost posts.

  Aba:

  One of the largest pay packets!