Married But Available

by B. Nyamnjoh

  “And the university administration allows things like that?” Lilly Loveless couldn’t believe her ears.

  “What are they to do?” retorted Britney. “You want the administration to mark in place of the lecturer?”

  “Don’t students report? And shouldn’t the administration act on such reports?”

  “Few students dare report, because they could be in serious trouble if no action is taken. Sometimes they prefer just to transfer to another university.”

  “Why would action not be taken for such gross unethical and unprofessional conduct on the part of the lecturer?”

  “Lilly, either you are really naïve, or that Muzunguland of yours is simply out of this world,” said Britney, with a smile. “Don’t you see that we live in a men’s world? Can’t you see that the university is and has always been a men’s institution even when the VC is a woman? What can Miss Sabena Manley, our VC, do to change things when she is so surrounded by men? Men above, men below, and men by her side? Imagine never being alone and always feeling lonely. Her heart must feel like there is a hammer inside, every day she comes home. Even at home, whom is she expected to discuss her day with?”

  “Her husband, if she had one” said Lilly Loveless, in agreement.

  “I see you’ve done your homework on who’s who at the University of Mimbo.”

  “Sort of,” replied Lilly Loveless. “I happen to know that some mischievous students and staff have corrupted her name to ‘Such a bad experience never again’ from a woman however ‘Manly’.”

  “Wow! I’m impressed by how much you’ve learnt about UM despite the strike.”

  “I also happen to know that she’s suffering from breast cancer – poor her, and that when news of this filtered through to her closest male collaborators, one of them is said to have remarked: ‘If the VC had given us the chance to fondle her breasts, we would have found the tumour before the doctor did, but her decision to live a solitary life is costing her dearly.”

  “Quite typical, isn’t it?” Britney was irritated by the callous insensitivity. “But have you noticed that she walks quite elegantly even with her hands and feet tied?”

  “Hmmm, you’re right. Indeed. And can even run without taking off her shoes” Lilly Loveless agreed. “It must be tough for her having to cope with all these men who feel castrated by her power.”

  “But it isn’t exactly true that male lecturers transmit only marks. Sometimes they transmit money, sometimes diseases, and often emotional stress and turbulence.”

  “So they transmit everything?” asked Lilly Loveless.

  “Yes, and in the name of love, once in a while,” said Britney, “which reminds me of a story I almost forgot.” She searched her handbag and brought out a piece of paper. This is the copy of an email a classmate and friend of mine, sent to one of our lecturers. It speaks for itself:

  ‘Hello, I suppose you had a safe journey back from Sawang. It seems just impossible for us to sit down and talk since I have a pile of work to do before the start of exams in June.

  ‘Well, there is no one I can talk to again about this if not you, and I thought putting it in writing is the only alternative. I will thank you very much for being the one to take me through this experience, I trusted you for that and I took the risk because I knew whom you were and hardly like any person of your status. I suppose this is my first and last time to do this, I will never try again. It is so frustrating, nothing for me to gain – that is my emotions just run into a bottle whenever I think of whom I am dealing with, I develop a heart of stone and become very unromantic. That is not at all part of me and I hate not being myself anywhere. Each session left me cold and silly. I mean, I just feel so bad being put into the group of students who go out with married men because obviously they would say it is for money. No one knew of us but I have something I wish I never had and that is my conscience. It keeps telling me I have violated my principles and is no longer me. From now on, I will get very bitter towards any man who tries to play poker with me – no way, I am not that kind of a girl, now I discover, I cannot play that part I tried to play with you, it is not just for me. I need someone to love and be loved in return and not just to pleasure.

  ‘I am tempted to believe that we both have something in common, but which is neither a sexual interest nor a romantic interest. We just judged it in a different light. I just think we feel more comfortable just talking and exploring each other’s brain and getting ideas. At first, I was very curious to discover who was behind the so much talked about Manawah, my most exciting lecturer. Even though I saw you in class, I started noticing I really missed you at times and that was not fair for someone like me who can get so emotional because I kept reminding myself you do not belong to me and would never be. It was so painful you know, so I had to bottle up all my emotions or I could have gone off guard.

  ‘Did you have to give me back what I gave you unknowingly? Too bad, I trusted you a little bit more than that. Anyway, it is OK I would carry my silly self to the hospital. I think you should do as well because I will always feel guilty if someone else contracts it. Well, thanks for the advice to be careful, I believe I have always been and would be more careful now not to mess up the way I have done. Having sex is not really of any great interest to me so I am off that for sometime. Let all the boys or men give me a break, I do not need them for now. Ha! Ha! You know, I am just telling you all this just to know I have gotten it out of me. I actually break down and cry, asking myself what is becoming of me. I have to turn over a new leaf and be what I used to be. Once in my life, though I really hate admitting I was innocent, I would say I was lacking in that field and that gets so much on my nerves, now I am so OK, I have experienced it and thank God it was with you. I hope the next person you get is not just what I am if that is part of your life, though I see you in another light.

  ‘Goodbye Honeyboy and welcome Big Brother Manawah. I will feel very comfortable in this one, especially as you have known me a little too far, I could talk freely to you if it is OK, just that you are just too busy a man for even mere conversation. Even at tutorials, you are hardly alone enough. All this is to feel lighter and fall on my books. I would never forgive myself if my social life disturbs my education because it is my top priority for now.

  ‘Thanks a million for everything and thanks for not being like the others. I wish you all the best, though I know you are capable of anything you set your mind on. The little secret is safe with me but others might not be safe with other girls. Very few of us are left and I would hate you scandalised, so... from now on, I will be so indifferent and our brother/sister relationship is the one to stay. What I actually enjoyed with you was just conversing with you and seeing those mysterious eyes of yours which can deceive people who cannot read eyes and the way they laugh.

  ‘You have some strangeness about you I have not yet read into and I will, I like to know all that there is to you. I hope I don’t get jealous when you are stuck somewhere else. Anyway, I will not because it is over now. I am back on my feet again.

  ‘I believe you would just laugh and say this is childishness. No, I wanted to talk it out though it is not really in the way I wanted it to be, but it is OK. Just get the idea. I would never attempt a letter again so please destroy this one as fast as possible. Thanks again.’”

  “Very moving story,” commented Lilly Loveless. “So how come you got a copy of her email when she said she was going to keep their little secret?”

  “He didn’t even grace her with an acknowledgement of receipt,” said Britney. “Instead, he proceeded to want to go out with one of Josiane’s close friends. One day Josiane’s friend mistakenly or deliberately sent her an email she had composed for Dr Honeyboy Manawah. ‘Honeyboy sweetie,’ the email read, ‘Last nite I dreamt we were together at Miss World eating chicken and recounting what happened there the last time we were there. Suddenly Josiane came in and started hurling insults at me that everywhere she goes she sees you with me. That has to stop. I ca
n’t remember the rest of the dream but the next morning, I saw Josiane who stared at me with eyes of blades. I have also dreamt of us making love on the couch in your office. I wish to stop dreaming and have the real thing. I know it’s never going to be mine forever, but I am ready and determined to enjoy and have the best of it while I can. Hurry up and be here soonest. I want to feel you deep and deeper. Always love and want you.’”

  “I can imagine Josiane hitting the roof,” Lilly Loveless anticipated.

  “Yes, she did,” Britney confirmed, “And rightly so. There’s just so much provocation that a girl can take. Initially Josiane did her best not to let what she termed ‘such trivial tribulations interfere with her academic work,’ which she, in order to cope, pretended was ‘far more important and gratifying than the mundane pleasures and false security offered by a steady relationship’. But when Manawah appeared not to care much about her feelings and hurting them, she found herself in some strangely recurrent vicious circle of regrets, anger, sadness, feeling rejected – especially when Manawah virtually ran from one date to another, a horde of no doubt fascinating and attractive girls lined up, trying to win his heart. It infuriated her, though she didn’t really understand why. She was not so much jealous of those girls, she thought, but of Manawah’s popularity, the ease with which he flirted to and fro, taking in all the attention he wanted without really involving himself, the way he could keep all those girls waiting for him, his own personal love-reservoir... All this added up to such burning fury that pushed Josiane to make public both emails.”

  “With what consequences?”

  “She was forced to drop out of Dr Honeyboy Manawah’s course.

  Until then she was a very bright student, but after the incident, she was unable to pass her exams.”

  “That’s cruel.”

  “Cruelty is real, and women in a men’s world are its biggest victims.”

  22

  ˝ It’s the twins,” said the daytime receptionist at Mountain View Hotel, clapping his hands together in surprise at seeing Britney and Lilly Loveless show up together all of a sudden, all dressed up in peach and purple. “Or the wildflowers,” he added, adjusting his eyes and trying to figure out which appellation was most appropriate for the apparition before him.

  Britney combined colours with style. She looked stunning in a rich peach top with shiny purple embroidery around the scalloped neck and sleeves over a long purple skirt with a slit on one side. She had changed her hairstyle, putting it into curls, similar to those of Lilly Loveless, which bounced just above her shoulders. But she still used the same creamy lip gloss.

  Lilly Loveless wore the gift Britney had offered her through her tailor of Desired Dresses: a purple top and a short peach skirt. Her curls were pulled back by a matching purple scarf that framed her face and gave her eyes a deeper dimension, the colour of African violets.

  After greeting and teasing the receptionist, Britney surprised Lilly Loveless by asking for the key to room 22 – the same room where she had stayed for the first few days of her fieldwork.

  On the way up the stairs, Britney explained that because it was not yet high season and there weren’t many customers, she had negotiated the room and arranged for lunch to be served to them there. She thought they would have fewer interruptions there than in the back room or one of the bars of the hotel. Plus it was her way, after so many months of working together, to make their last meeting for interviews special, before Lilly Loveless headed back to Muzunguland.

  Britney unlocked the hotel room door and Lilly Loveless exclaimed when she saw a big bouquet of fresh purple daisies. Britney smiled and explained that they came from the gardener near the Lilies of the Valley rest house. She had picked them up as a gift. Lilly Loveless thanked Britney with a big kiss on the cheek.

  Britney moved a chair to the balcony and Lilly Loveless followed suit. Britney went back for a small table. Lilly Loveless stood looking at the trees rising from around the swimming pool that still had no water, near where she sat waiting for Dr. Wiseman Lovemore some five months ago on her first morning in Puttkamerstown. She could still remember the sweet music of the birds in the trees welcoming her.

  “Take off your shoes and get comfortable,” insisted Britney. “I feel really fresh today and we’ve got work to do.”

  Lilly Loveless settled in one of the padded wooden chairs with rounded armrests and stretched her legs out against the wall of the balcony. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent that wafted subtlety up from vines in the courtyard. She rested her notebook on her lap and asked: “What’s that intoxicating sensuous and romantic fragrance?”

  “Jasmine,” said Britney, “a special treat, you’ve worked so hard for the past five months...”

  “Thank you,” Lilly Loveless got up and planted a kiss on Britney’s cheek.

  Britney smiled and fetched the recorder from the bag of Lilly Loveless, pressed record and set it on the small table. She started recounting her interviews.

  ***

  “Michele,” she said, “is practising to become a lab technician at a medical laboratory in town. She has never done economics, but if you sit and talk with her for a few minutes, you will think she’s an economist where love is concerned.”

  Lilly Loveless was intrigued, “What do you mean by that?” she asked.

  “You’ll see,” said Britney. “I know it’s something she inherited from her mother because she is a businesswoman and does everything to take care of her invalid husband and their children. The first time Michele invited me to her house I didn’t fail her. I knocked at her door but no one answered. I was wondering what type of a game she played when a girl, probably her friend, emerged from behind her room and asked me to follow her if I was looking for Michele. Just as we were about to take off, a policeman came and knocked at Michele’s door. While the girl with whom I was going was explaining to him that Michele was not there, another gentleman arrived with a motor bike and asked for Michele.”

  “Michele was really in demand that day,” noted Lilly Loveless.

  “Yes she was,” agreed Britney. “The girl said Michele was not around and that there was a notepad at her door. If they pleased, they could leave her a note. She told them that she had not seen Michele since the day before.”

  “Great demand, no supply eh?” Lilly Loveless played with the notion of Michele as an economist.

  “We left these two gentlemen standing at Michele’s door and went behind to this girl’s room. When I entered her room I sat at her reading table. We chatted for about two minutes and then Michele emerged from behind the curtains that separated the bed from us.

  “Most often when we meet we have nicknames with which we call each other. We laugh and chat off hand for some time before talking sense. This time I opened my mouth to shout, not only her nickname but also to inform her about her guests, but she placed a finger in front of her mouth. I stopped dead, looking at her strangely but she just smiled at me, got out of the bed and told me in my ear that she was mixing those guys outside.”

  “Mixing? To make what kind of cake?” wondered Lilly Loveless out loud.

  Britney continued her narration. “After some time the other girl went out to see if the gentlemen had gone. She came back with the answer that the coast was clear.

  “She and Michele had devised a means of running away from men they did not like beyond their money. They had created a middle door on the wall that separated their rooms so that when necessary, you could just pull it open and move straight into the other room. They had each bought a curtain and covered the door from both sides, giving the impression that the wall was continuous.”

  “Two mischievous friends?” asked Lilly Loveless, running the end of her pen absentmindedly along the armrest of her chair.

  “According to Michele,” Britney continued, “she had seen me and the gentleman who walked to her door from a distance and was prepared to welcome us, but when she discovered the man on the bike, she immediately disa
ppeared. Michele said that she wasn’t going out with the man on the bike because she loved him. She said she had heard distressing stories about what the man with the bike did to girls and was determined to make him learn that women also have a brain.”

  “Hmmm …” intoned Lilly Loveless, wondering how she intended to do this.

  “She said she had swindled enough money from the man with the bike who had never and was never going to set eyes on any of her underwear. She let him spend plenty of money on petrol by coming to her door. She had also prepared psychologically to meet him at anytime. Thus, she was not expecting any surprise. She said that if she met him anywhere and he questioned her, she was going to ask him to get the hell out of her life and stop coming to her house and disturbing students who were reading with his ancient bike.”

  “What about the policeman?” asked Lilly Loveless.

  “She had little knowledge about the man. He was a new customer and she was not going to spare him even the little Mim$500 he collects from drivers.

  “When we went back to Michele’s room, she sat on the bed and just smiled at me. When I asked her what she was smiling at, she said: ‘I know I have drained you of all the hopes you had in one.’”

  “Had she?”

  “Really she had,” confirmed Britney. “Personally Michele had been my classmate for four good years. She was not only beautiful but had received a prize for good manners once in Form Five. I really wondered what had gone wrong in her life that she had changed so suddenly and abruptly. She might have been reading my mind because she furnished me with what men did to her just because she was good. She said love is a theory and it is the practical part that matters. This reminds me of my research methods lecturer here at Mimbo who likes to say that the test of the theoretical pudding is in the practical eating.”