SoC 3:1

In Memory of Mother

 

A nd the breeze blew against her skin. It swept down from the nearby Okhoro River. Strong and gusty and endless, remnant of yesterday's rain, it scoured the soil of the courtyard of the one-story building with its early March cold.

Teresa Ogunjobi was oblivious of it. She stood regarding her sofas and armchairs and swivels and chairs and mattresses that lay in disarray on the damp soil of Agho Avenue. Her shoulders were too wide and her weight too heavy and height too tall and across her cheeks were three parallel straight lines of facial marks.These were long tribals marks etched into her skin when she was three months old. The exercise was done with blade and then sprinkled with a powdery substance to dry and with time they became scars . Her father hired an old midwife to do the operation to respect the tradition of his native Yorubaland.

Finally, her eyes settled on the open bag she thought she hurriedly thrust her purse into before the band of bandits stormed her flat and hurled her property out and locked the door and vanished with the key.

She had a fear that the purse wasn't in the bag. Esther, her eight-year-old daughter, told her the rascals threw out most things and took nothing. And she said they locked another bag in and the thought that the purse might be in there made Teresa feel weak. With her face lined with scars, she didn't think she could muster the stamina necessary to fight to get it back. The marks made the street people laugh at her because they were not Yorubas and this made her feel ugly and small and weak.

Her palm poked through the bag and probed the fluffy corners of every compartment then she hoisted herself up. The purse was not there. She called Esther.

"They locked a bag in," Esther insisted. "They said Chief Edosa sent them. They took the key and said they would give it to Justin."

Teresa stared vacantly at the bag. She reasoned that the purse must be in the locked flat, but who had the key? Justin or Chief Edosa, the landlord?

Standing beside the disordered furniture, Teresa thought about why the purse was important. Her mother had died thirty nine years ago while giving birth to her, but not before hanging a locket containing her passport photograph around Teresa's neck as memento. It was a case-like structure with a long chain. While growing up Teresa hung it around her neck as a reminder her mother once lived in this world. She believed it gave her power and protection and company. During the frenzy and chaos while packing she thought she removed it and put it in a purse and thrust it into a bag. Now the bag was locked in the flat it stood the risk of being lost or stolen unless she got it back.

Suppressing the heaviness of her heart, she grabbed Esther's hand and took her to stay with a neighbour.She then turned away with her head sank down to the dirt-scented soil and walked flat-footed out through the gate towards Justin's house. Her trek brought her to the middle of the street and she passed by the coarse surfaced wall surrounding Justin's house against which moss grew on the upper edges. She stopped by the gates and sighed. The imposing gates were forbidding and locked with heavy padlock: her entrance into the house was barred. But ten yards away she saw a middle-aged man in brown shorts and bare chest and holding a pail of water. He was flirting with a tall thin woman in white blouse over black pants with one blind eye.

Seeing Teresa, the man asked: "Looking for Justin?"

Teresa nodded.

The man said: "Just saw him up the street. He's going out."

Teresa reasoned that this meant that Justin was going to his wife's office at Iyobosa Street or his own near the Quarry Side Street or to the chief's office at Quarry Side Extension. She decided to go to his wife's shop through the path leading to the school field.

Getting into the lonely place, she found a herd of cattle grazing in the early rainy season grass. She passed carefully by the side of the field and soon found herself bogged down in pools of water and pond and tall grasses. She moodily removed her shoes and trampled in the dirty water and the grasses scratched her feet and the cold breeze chilled her blood and the smell of cattle overpowered her senses. At the edge of the fields, which led to a narrow grass-fringed path filled with ponds, she dully washed her feet and her shoes in a pool of water and she was discouraged and wanting to forget her quest but she continued her journey.

An hour later she was at Justin's wife's shop. Justin's wife appeared from a connecting passage and a faint frown flitted across her face as soon as she saw Teresa. Its my facial marks, Teresa thought, nodding to her and saying she wanted to speak to Justin.

"He's busy," she said shortly. "I don't think you can see him." And she marched towards the gate.

Teresa's spirit sagged and on another day she would have forgotten her quest but the locket was like her blood so she sank wearily on a bench in front of the store. After twenty minutes she went into the store to announce to Justin that she wanted to see him.

"Sit down," he told her, a nervous and servile smile on his face. "Sorry for keeping you waiting."

Teresa sat on the chair facing his desk.

"I'm supposed to pack out in the evening," she began. "Why have you send thugs to take my thing out? And why behind my back for Christ's sake?"

"As I said, I'm sorry." Justin settled in his chair uncomfortably and continued: "You know Chief, he's stubborn, obstinate and distrustful. He believes everybody is a thief or vandal who wants to steal his property. You can't believe it! Two days ago, at noon, he told me I should take out your property by seven today. Yesterday, by six in the evening, he phoned me and said by seven you should be out of the house. This morning, by five, he woke me up and said: 'Don't forget to get my boys to take off Teresa's property by seven.' I have a wife and children. I had no choice than to do it. Unfortunately, you were not at home."

"And you couldn't plead for me, Justin? Me whom you've know for years."

An uneasy look came into his eyes and he contorted his face as if he had chewed something bitter. "I tried to argue with him," he said, scratching his hair. "I told him its not fair, against the law and that he should allow you do it yourself. He reminded me of Joseph Idemudia, Thomas Aghatise and John Omoregie. You know them—caretakers before me. He told me: 'They disobeyed me, went against my orders. I sacked them as caretakers. I stopped them from working at Okhoro Quarry. By seven, if I hear that woman has not packed, you'll suffer the same thing.' Understand me, Teresa, I'm thirty-three years old, never mind that I dress young. I have a wife and three children. I have brothers, sisters, a mother—they all look up to me. I can't afford to live from hand to mouth like other sacked caretakers."

"So where's the key to the flat? My purse is inside."

"Its with chief's boys—Thomas and Henry. They brought it here but I told them to give it to Chief."

"Where can I find them? If I don't see the purse I'm in trouble."

Justin scratched his hair as he thought for a minute then he clasped his hands together.

"Try the bar at Irobu Street. If there's any problem see me at my other office. And pray hard."

I'll pray hard, Teresa thought, beginning to forget about her facial marks. But she felt slightly apprehensive. She hoped she wouldn't meet Thomas and Henry in one of those moods where one regretted having anything to do with them or knowing them at all. .

Two hours later and after missing the road thrice Teresa found the bar at Irobu Street. She saw Thomas, a young man of about twenty, wearing a long gown that reached his ankles and brandishing a bottle of beer with gusto while the big bump that projected prominently from his forehead seemed to move on its own volition. She also saw Henry, an averagely tall man with thick menacing moustache, hobbling along with a wooded leg towards him. Thomas took a spirited swig from his bottle and accosted Teresa.

"Go away," he said, the bump on his head pointing at her. "I don't want to talk to you. Go away."

Teresa came to a stop.

"I know why you're here," Thomas continued. "But the hands of the clock cannot go back. It is done. Go away"

"I don't understand all this," Teresa said.

"Go away," Henry said, pointing his wooded leg at her. "No Jupiter can save you again."

"Except you do one thing," chimed in Thomas, dramatically tapping at his stomach with one hand and directing the other holding the bottle in an outstretched motion towards the bar. "Payment before service. I and Henry need more bottles of beer."

Teresa stared at the bar and licked her lips as she considered her options..

Thomas looked at her amused for a long while then seeing the doleful look on her black face he felt sympathy for her and shrugged his shoulders and smiled in a conciliating manner.

"Alright, what's the problem?" he said brusquely. "Quick and don't waste time."

Teresa told him her predicament. For the second time that day she found someone staring at her with some nervousness.

"Yeah, Justin called me about you," Thomas admitted, "But I couldn't understand what he was saying." He paused. "In any case, we've been to a lot of places. Oziegbe. Mission Road. Sakponba. Many keys are with us. What kind of key is your own?"

"Camel."

Teresa watched him bring out a bunch of keys from his pocket and peer into it shortsightedly and say at last: "Its not here. You have bad luck."

"Where is it then?"

"We gave it to that albino girl, the chief's new P.A., to give it to the chief. Go and meet the chief. You have bad luck. And pray hard. The chief never gives out anything that enters his hand."

"Is the chief likely to be at the office now?" Teresa knew that in the mornings the chief could be found in his office. Later he would be at the quarry. Teresa didn't know when he left the office for the quarry..

"I'll talk to the manager for you," Thomas said. "But you'll give us beer."

Teresa said she would and watched him dial. He startled when it connected and he scratched his hair and rolled his eyes and spoke into it for half a minute while tapping his shoe on the floor and then switched it off..

"The chief will see you by one. He is at his office," he told her.

So we go to his office, thought Teresa, determination beginning to form in her mind. But the chief unsettled her. He had a way of rousing aggressive impulses in her. Would he do that today? Would that affect her goal? Teresa didn't know..

She had an hour of free time so she decided to leave and find a place to wait. With gathering strength she found an uncompleted bungalow with a bench placed along its damp wall against which the grotesque greenery of moss grew. The building, Teresa saw with interest, was without roof and window and doors and had clusters of grasses growing on the soil of the open rooms and climbing along the walls. She watched with amusement goats entering the rooms and feasting on the grasses and other weeds and monitored by a clucking hen and her twenty chicks. Teresa, not needing to take permission, sat on the bench but it was rotted. It caved in under her heavy weight and something pricked her stomach under her ribs and she tumbled on the soil. As she hoisted herself to her feet beating the dirt from her dress the rain started to fall.

She ran across the narrow street to an opposite bungalow which had a bench under a shack along a fence with old gates unhinged and with a strip of rubbish dump. Teresa sat in peace for about twenty minutes when she felt something move under her thigh—and then an excruciating pain. The terrible pain made her slap at her leg vigorously and she came up with an ant which she squashed between her thumb and forefinger and threw away. As she sat she heard the sound of faeces being flushed down the toilet in the house and then a strong suffocating stench assailed her nose and she stood up, frowning.

She decided to go to the chief’s office at once and to resign herself to the drizzle. At the street she saw from afar the gate where an old man in brown uniform and a paunchy stomach was holding sway. There were two men with him.

Before Teresa got there he swung open the gates for them to pass and then stamped in front of her and barred the way.

"Where do you think you're going?" he barked at her.

Teresa explained that she had an appointment with the chief.

"The chief has gone out," he said in a brusque voice, shutting the gate.

Teresa had spied the chief's car parked in front of a long administrative building thirty yards away. She felt the familiar sodden sinking feeling in her stomach but she squared her shoulders defiantly and raised her chin high and waited.

She saw one man and a woman approach the gate. The man was tall and looked in his mid-thirties and wore a lace top and bottom and had an aggressive frog-like eyes and a thick neck. The woman was in her twenties and was thin and small and barely up to the man's shoulder.

"Our father!" he hollered, banging at the gate. "Your son is here."

"Is that Mr. Aghedo?" The gateman said excitedly, opening the gate.

"Its your son, father."

Teresa saw the quick exchange of money and the new arrivals went in.

"What are you still doing here?" the gateman shouted at her. "Are you deaf? I said the chief is not around. I don't know what you're still doing here."

And he banged the gate against her.

She smiled tolerantly and fished out a note from her skirt pocket and knocked against the gate and when it opened and the gateman about to curse her she flashed the note and he slowly grinned.

"My daughter," he said, opening the gate wide and taking the money from her.

"Come in, the chief is around."

Teresa entered and trudged to the waiting room. It was spacious and outfitted with red black-lined armchairs and sofas and a television set sat at a corner table while perfume scent floated in the air. Teresa saw a guard in brown tunic uniform and cap standing in front of the door leading to Chief's office. At the desk beside him she saw the receptionist writing into an appointment book while Mr. Aghedo and his girl stood over her.

Teresa bent over the desk and the shrill sound of a doorbell rang. The guard automatically adjusted his cap and disappeared through the door behind him. Two minutes later he emerged with a big briefcase and marched to the front door and his boots clicked on the floor.

"The chief is going out," the receptionist said and looked up from her desk.

Everyone in the room stirred.

"I was told to see the chief by one and this is one," said Mr. Aghedo in a loud voice and his frog-like eyes bulged. "What's happening here? I must talk to the chief."

Teresa saw fear cloud the receptionist's eyes.

"Mr. Aghedo," she pleaded, "For my sake, don't talk to him. If you do he'll take it out on me later."

"I'll talk to him," he vowed.

The inner door opened and Teresa saw the chief come out. He was a tall broad shouldered man in his fifties and he had a combative face and a thick head with folds of skin at his nape. Behind him walked an albino girl in red blouse and black skirt. Following them at a distance was old Osasere, Teresa's former neighbor, a man who had a crush on her. He winkled at her but she frowned.

"Chief," a woman with children sitting nearby said and got up.

"Next tomorrow," the chief said in a rasping voice. Teresa also called him but he shouted at her and stamped his feet on the floor and banged the door after him. Soon after car doors slammed shut and an engine started and the car screeched away.

Teresa sank in an armchair and stared stonily at the ceiling. She was furious he could dismiss her so shabbily. At some point she thought she could appeal to his finer senses. When she had been told to go to his office she half-thought he would at least take account of the ten years she stayed in his house. But now, it seemed inconceivable she would get the key unless she did something desperate. By this time, she had forgotten about her facial marks and a burning determination to challenge the chief overtook her.

Justin's office was at the other end of the neighborhood facing the quarry. She got up and walked out of the room into a light drizzle. The water rained down on her and she began to feel the pangs of cold. She gritted her teeth as she got to the main road and branch into a narrow street filled with gullies and gutters and rocks and grasses and sand. She labored to jump over the gullies and something pricked her stomach under her ribs and she shrieked and the stringy grasses grabbed at her feet. The sand was soft and she felt as if she were sinking and the rocks were hard and she slipped and tottered as she stepped on them. The stink from the gutters assailed her nose and streams of water dribbled down her face and she felt their salty tastiness on her tongue.

An hour later Justin gave her a questioning look.

"So how did it go?"

Teresa explained what transpired at the Irobu Street bar and at Chief's office. Justin listened attentively and shook his head sadly. He told her he was going to see the chief and that if he were in good mood he would discuss the issue but he urged her to pray. Teresa pleaded that he take her along. The servile look came into his face.

"You know I can't do that, Teresa," he said in a deliberate and winsome voice.

She was about to argue with him when an idea struck her: it was her and not he to decide whether she could follow him or not. So she shrugged her shoulders and nodding as if in agreement strolled out of the office. Instead of going to Agho Avenue she crossed the street to seek shelter in the shade of a mango tree opposite the office and waited. Two hours later, by which time the drizzle had abated, Justin bounced out of his office and hurried down the road and she followed him. He turned a corner and branched into narrow Osagie lane and headed for one of the tracks that snaked towards Okhoro Quarry. Teresa stopped and thought for a minute then biting her inner lip she decided to follow him by taking a parallel path to his.

Twenty minutes later, after struggling and stumbling through rugged gullies and slippery terrain and the renewed drizzle and sharp slopes, and hiding behind an outcrop of clay, she saw Justin walk towards a gate and old Osasere waddled out of a shack and fiddled with the padlock. Justin disappeared into a small bungalow at the end of a courtyard and Teresa emerged confidently and approached the gate with abrasive seriousness.

"Father," she commanded, "Open the gate. I and Justin came together. Chief sent for us."

"Teresa," the old man said in a drawl, "You still have not met our bargain...after all these years."

"You're an old man," she said brashly. "If I met it I'll break your back."

"Try me," leered old Osasere and he winked suggestively. "Try me and see." But he opened the gate and she went in.

A cemented courtyard faced her and a whiff of cigar smoke wafted into her nostrils and she coughed. To her left was the chief's car. On the rear window she saw posters pasted against it. She saw a shape in red through the glass rummaging through the car and she quickly tiptoed to the front door of the bungalow from where she could hear snatches of conversation. Up to this point she was defiant and determined, but like in the morning her heart fluttered between fear and trepidation. However, raising her chin high and frowning with resolve she passed the doorway and entered.

Sitting on the sofa, facing her, was Chief Edosa. He wore a grey vest and blue jeans trouser and the big briefcase was beside his sofa. Between his thick fingers Teresa saw a stick of cigar which burned over the ashtray on the stool in front of him. Sitting on the armchair to his right, the servile smile on his face and scratching his hair, was Justin. Both of them stared at her as she entered.

"Teresa, what are you doing here?" Justin asked with surprise.

"I came for the key," she said.

"You won't get it!" the chief shouted in a rasping voice and stood up. "Immediately Isabel gets it from the car it goes into my pocket. It'll never get out again."

"No, chief . . ."

"Yes, Teresa," the chief told her and his face looked menacing. "I'll never allow you to steal and vandalize my property; no way. Now that you know, will you leave my compound."

Teresa swung her shoulders around defiantly and raised her chin up.

"I won't leave without the key," she said, her voice rising.

A door near the chief's sofa pushed open and the albino girl entered. She held a bunch of keys in her hand and stretched it out to the chief.

"Bring the lousy key, Isabel!" the chief thundered.

As he stretched his big hand out, Teresa realized this was her last chance, and she sprang into swift motion and scuttled straight at the girl. The chief reached her a split second before her and he snatched the key but he was sent stumbling and staggering by the forceful impact of Teresa slamming into him. Both of them toppled into an armchair in a resounding crash and the key went flying in the air and then clattered on the stone floor. Isabel screamed and hastily backed against the wall and her fingers clutched at her whimpering mouth staring wildly at them on the armchair. Teresa hustled herself up and seeing the key on the floor reached for it her breathe coming in harsh gasps. The chief caught her hand by the wrist in a firm vice-like grip and tried to twist and wrench her hand to him as he cursed her and she rammed her big broad back into his belly and he grunted and resisted and she rammed her back into him again and he left her groaning to crash on the sofa. She guided the key into her brassiere and as he clambered to his feet she turned and faced him.

Justin grabbed the chief and he twisted and hustled his bulk as he struggled to get free.

"I'll follow her," Justin promised . "I'll make sure she doesn't vandalize anything. I'll bring the key back."

The chief writhed and tried to spring free for a while then he stopped abruptly and thought for a second and allowed Justin to steer him away from her.

"Thirty minutes," he said in his rasping voice. "If I don't see the key I'll set the police after her."

As Teresa headed for the front door Justin followed her while Isabel guided the chief to an armchair and sat him down and hoisted his bruised leg on top of a stool. The facial mark never mattered, Teresa thought as she stepped out. And in the long silent journey in the aftermath, once they had struggled through the sheer slippery slopes of the quarry and were in the shade of a big overhanging tree on the road leading back to the neighborhood, she dug her hand into her brassiere and fumbled for the key.

Her hand touched the key and something else. Something in the pocket of her undergarment under her ribs. It was small and solid and round. The cold cluttered coil of chain scraped the tip of her fingernails as well. Where there should only be the side of breast and curve of chest and the cold metallic surface of key were the tiny tangled mesh of chain and case. The locket, she knew immediately. She had put it in her undergarment and not the bag. She fished it out and opened the case. Her mother's gaunt face was sad and sunken. The locket looked worn and old. The picture was flagged and yellow. As Teresa looked away and stared thoughtfully across the road that took her from the quarry, a gusty breeze began to blow and rain clouds gathered in the late evening sky.