Grandpa’s Clothes by Ohikhuare Isuku
In the night of that same day Grandma burnt all of Grandpa’s clothes, the palace messenger came to our compound. When he knocked on the door, it was Joy who asked who was that.
‘It’s me.’ A deep masculine voice replied.
‘Who are you?’ Joy asked with an intonation which sounded slightly rude.
He introduced himself as a messenger from the palace and made a joke of Joy’s voice being too stern. Later he would say he had a message for Grandma. Joy would become very accommodating. She would tell him with a kind voice to wait there on the verandah while she would go to call her. I didn’t move from where I sat – on the arm of the short sofa backing the dining room. Grandma had warned me on many occasions never to sit on the arms of the sofa. ‘They would yank off before you know it.’ She would complain every other time she saw me sitting defiantly on it. I was reading through the old Guardian Newspaper and at the same time watching the news on TV of women protesting along dirty roads. Their placards read: ‘Edo Women Vanguard for Change ’, ‘Give Oshiomhole his Mandate’. There were many other inscriptions with political punctuations. There had been elections in April. The former NLC president – Oshiomhole – had been the flag bearer of the opposition party. But according to INEC, the opposition party had lost the election. When the election result was declared, Grandma said the bad people had rigged the elections in broad day light. She said this like someone who had lost hope and was confused about the world.
‘You see, this country,’ she had said dejectedly to nobody in particular that day, ‘those who can change it from the crazy state it is now can never be allowed to get to government house. There are forces of darkness responsible for that and we must destroy them with the fire of the Holy Ghost.’ She stood up and went into her room. That night she prayed even more, cursing those holding the country sway in darkness. The fact was that she was very active throughout before the election, supporting Oshiomhole because she claimed he gave Obasanjo’s government tough time, fighting for the right of workers. She was not the only one who was so active; other teachers were. They would gather some evenings in front of our house and discuss the way forward and how to mobilize the villagers to vote for their hero.
Joy came out from the hallway and moved to the verandah to tell the palace messenger Grandma would soon join him. It wasn’t long, I heard Grandma’s footsteps approaching and I immediately stood up from the arm of the sofa. My eyes were fixed on the door – its curtain had been changed to blood red colour with bright red flower embroidery at its base. The curtain of the front door had been changed too, from the white it used to be, to blood red. I liked the two curtains because they seemed to match with the large curtain of the dining room. When Grandma entered the parlour, she looked at the women protesting on TV and gave a long hiss like a snail. She shook her head and walked towards the door.
‘Where’s the person looking for me?’ She asked as she got to the door.
‘I am here outside.’ The Messenger said.
‘You should come inside.’
Grandma turned around and went to sit on the long sofa. She crossed her legs and put on a look which wasn’t too bright. The messenger entered and bowed his head to greet her.
‘You should sit down please.’ She said. There was no modesty in the way she said it.
‘There’s no need.’ He said. ‘I just brought message that the chief and elders want to see you in the palace as soon as possible.’
‘Why do they want me?’
‘I don’t really know. I am only a messenger.’ He said.
When he left, Grandma went inside to change into her oversized brown T-shirt and her blue wrapper. ‘If by the time you want to sleep I have not come back, just close the door.’ She said and left.
Joy went to close the door without bolting it. ‘I am going to bed.’ She said to me.
Although I was sad she was, I didn’t show it. I told her goodnight. She stood for a while looking at me, but I didn’t turn to her. I only saw her from the corner of my eye. She turned around and moved into the hallway like someone chasing something.
I thought Joy
had grown a lot these past three years, but I had not noticed much. Well maybe
because we had been together all this while. Months ago, one of her aunts who
came to visit her, hinted that she had grown taller, and that her hip was
already pushing out. But I had noticed her chest – her breasts pushing out:
they were as small and round as the green fruits from Old Uncle’s lime tree.
It didn’t take long as I expected before Grandma came back looking quite angry. ‘What’s their business if I have to burn my late husband’s clothes?’ She said angrily when she sat down. I put away the old Newspaper and watched her very keenly – the way she jerked her legs and twisted her lips, the way she joined her palms together in front. I knew the Chief and the elders must have chided her as regards Grandpa’s clothes she burnt. I wanted to know more; to know how she had displayed in the palace. She must have insulted the elders and even the chief himself.
‘They have been threatening me with ostracism.’ She said. Her voice was calm. ‘Let them do it. We’ll see who’ll get tired. The fire of God is burning them – all who have planned to ruin my life.’
I took the old Guardian Newspaper and journeyed towards the door of the hallway.
‘Who will put off the TV for you, Ohiole?’ She asked me angrily.
I turned around swiftly to turn off the TV, and then strode slowly towards the hallway. The fear was dissolving – the chronic fear which overwhelmed me when she was present. But one thing had remained constant over the years – the manner we related. We still related like strangers. We only spoke when there was need to speak.
The next day, some youths came to our house. They stood outside under the drizzling rain and folded their arms on their chests like factory workers protesting peacefully for an increase in pay. I knew some of them – they were members of our egwa. They demanded peacefully that they had to see Grandma or they would not leave. Grandma refused to come out to the verandah to address them. She was praying inside her room. Her prayer became more violent and vigorous. I feared the bulbs and fans would crash from the ceilings, the wall of the parlour would quake, the wood-framed photos would crash to the floor and had their glass faces cracked. They stayed till evening, drenched by rain – their hair and eyelids were wet and I thought they were shedding tears silently. Grand Uncle came with an umbrella and he begged them to go home and have some rest.
‘You should go home and have some rest.’ He said calmly. ‘You can come back tomorrow to tender your grievance, please.’
They began to discharge without hesitation. They strode weakly out of our gate. Joy teased them silently that they were already tired, but just needed somebody to beg them to go. She explained that they agreed to go away, not just because they respected Grand Uncle, but because they were tired of standing outside drenched by the rain which had been drizzling since morning.
When the last man had left our compound, Grand Uncle came into the verandah and knocked on the open door. I stood still on my knees on the short sofa close to the door where I had been looking at what was happening. I whispered to Joy that it was Grand Uncle. She knew already, so she didn’t ask who was knocking, rather she hurried to the door and flung the cotton open.
‘Good evening sir.’
‘Yes, evening.’ He replied. ‘Is your mother at home?’
‘Yes sir.’ Joy replied agitatedly. ‘She’s inside her room.’
‘Can you go and call her for me?’
Joy sped off into the hallway without saying anymore word. Grand Uncle placed his shoes beside the foot match and then entered the parlour. I was stunned by his presence. I did not think he would enter. It had been over two years now since he and his wife entered our parlour or even trod our compound. They had relocated home from Lagos since three months ago, yet they had not stepped feet here that I knew and I was sure Grandma had not visited them in their mansion. She had warned us many times to stay away from them; that they were evil people. But they greeted Grandma when they saw her not too far from them and she would respond not too lively. She replied their greetings as if someone forced her to do so.
I sat alright and greeted him like someone who had almost lost his voice. He replied jovially, tapping my back gently before he sat down. He had become wider almost occupying the long sofa. Joy came with a sad look and told Grand Uncle that Grandma was asleep. ‘Sir, I can’t wake her up.’ She said with a quavering lip like a child who had been drenched by the rain for a very long time.
‘It’s alright.’ Grand Uncle said and smiled suspiciously.
I became uncomfortable where I sat. I shook restlessly as if the sofa was unbearably hot somehow.
‘Tell her I came here to see her.’ He said and stood up. He was at the door when he turned around to us again. My heart thumped faster; the evening was cold but I felt pickling sweat on my forehead. He dipped his hand into his wide pocket and brought out a bundle of crisp naira notes. He dragged out two notes from the bundle. He gave one to Joy and the other one to me. We thanked him sincerely. My heart became at ease. ‘Don’t forget to tell your mother I came here.’ We replied happily and bade him goodnight.
In the dim light of the evening which streamed through the window in grey sheet, I saw that Grand Uncle had given us two hundred naira note each. We sprang up as if there were springs under our feet. When I landed, I fell on the centre-table with a very loud report and it shifted position near the other short sofa backing the dining room. Grandma entered just then and I stood with all the strength I had. I felt the pang of the centre-table but tried to straighten up. Through the dim light, I could see her stern face. She didn’t look like someone who had been sleeping. I suspected she didn’t sleep in the first place; she must have pretended she was asleep or even directed Joy to say she was asleep. That could have been the reason for Joy’s nervousness when she reentered the parlour.
‘What’s the cause of the excitement?’ She asked.
‘Uncle gave us money?’ Joy replied. She went close to show her the naira note in her. She held her palm spread out.
Grandma snatched the money from her palm like some motor-park tout. ‘Which Uncle are you talking about?’
Joy began to fidget. I did not fear Grandma that evening, rather I hated her at the moment. Joy explained to Grandma painstakingly that it was the man who owned the big mansion beside our house. The way Joy described Grand Uncle, it made him seem like someone who I had barely known in my life: a total stranger whom I had just seen for the first time that evening.
‘Why is he giving you money?’ Grandma exploded. She moved towards me and snatched my own note from my hand. I would have wrestled with her if I had not considered her massive frame. ‘Oh, he wants to use my children for rituals. God has put him to shame again. This time around, I’ll summon him in the Chief’s palace.’ She began to tear the notes into pieces.
I felt it was me that she was tearing into pieces not the naira notes and I wanted to pounce on her like a lion and tear off her annoying face. She continued to tear the notes into pieces. At the same time, she uttered curses in the name of Christ. She stormed into the hallway and returned to the parlour immediately.
‘I’ll be back very soon.’ She said. ‘Stay inside. Don’t go out.’
Joy nodded nervously. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t shake nervously. If I could, I would tell her to go and never return. When she left, we remained in silence. Joy looked down – she could not look at my face. Mama Ijewemen was the first to come into the parlour to inquire what the problem was; Omoadoni came and left almost immediately. New Miss came in and met Mama Ijewemen sober in the parlour. She had wrapped herself with her wrapper. She complained about the rain which would neither stop drizzling nor fall like true rain.
‘Where’s madam?’ She asked us after the greeting.
‘She has gone to the chief’s palace to summon Broda.’ Mama Ijewemen said dryly and pointed to the direction of Grand Uncle’s mansion.
‘What happened again?’ New Miss asked as she sat down.
Mama Ijewemen explained to her what we told her, that Grand Uncle had come to our house to give us money and that was all Grandma had taken as an offence. New Miss didn’t believe that was all; she insisted that there was something more that must have transpired to make her go to the chief’s palace.
‘That was what they told me.’
‘They are just children.’ New Miss said. ‘Joy, go and bring your lantern. This place is getting darker.’
Joy left and I followed her into the hallway. She went into the kitchen to find the lantern. Some dishes fell on the floor. She struck a match stick to light the lantern on the floor, after which she put off the burning stick by plunging it into her mouth. She took the lantern by its handle and approached the door. She still didn’t look at my face, but I saw her own face smeared all over with guilt as if she was the one who had caused the whole problem in the first place. She just moved to the parlour without saying a word to me. I wondered if we would remain like this for the time being.
By the time Grandma returned, New Miss and Mama Ijewemen were still in the parlour discussing in low tones. From where I sat on the threshold of the hallway shielded by the curtain, I could barely hear them hum. But when Grandma came, they raised their voices.
‘Is it true you went to the chief’s palace to summon your husband’s brother because he gave money to the children?’ New Miss asked with a voice which revealed she didn’t believe.
Wherever Joy was now, I knew she would be fidgeting, because she would be scared that Grandma would be mad at us for telling New Miss her destination. But I was not scared what her reaction would be. The only thing which governed me now was anger.
‘Can you imagine?’ Grandma hinted churlishly. ‘That evil man gave these children money in order to use them for his rituals. You can imagine.’
I saw her shadow through the curtain – she was shaking bitterly. New Miss and Mama Ijewemen just sat silently and watched her shake. She sat on the long sofa. I didn’t think Grand Uncle gave us that money in order to hurt us; he had given us wholeheartedly. Grandma was just callous and I didn’t like her for that.
‘Madam, I think you are taking this thing too far.’ New Miss said calmly.
‘What do you mean?’ Grandma reply was fierce as if we were the one she was chiding.
‘You should bring your voice down, please.’ New Miss replied sternly. ‘The truth must be said. It didn’t worth going to report him to the chief.’
‘I didn’t go to report him.’ Grandma said. ‘I went to summon him to tell me why he gave them such huge amount of money when it was not Christmas.’
‘It was uncalled for.’ New Miss said. ‘That man may have done what he did from his mind.’
‘You really think so, right?’
‘Yes I do.’ New Miss replied calmly. ‘You should have settled down first before taking a decision. You took the decision you took out of anger.’
Grandma became silent. But I could hear her solid heartbeats – they showed how remorseful she was for her crazy action.
‘I did.’ She replied. ‘The chief said he’ll be summoned tomorrow.’
‘You should find a way to stop it.’ New Miss said. ‘It’ll be very awkward.’
‘I won’t.’ Grandma said it calmly at first, and then yelled it again to establish her stand.
New Miss left for home late that night trying to convince Grandma to drop the fight. Although Grandma remained silent all through, I could not tell whether she had refused to drop the fight or not. She only hummed and rocked herself. Mama Ijewemen didn’t say anything – she was against Grandma’s action but she would dare not oppose her openly – she was as scared as Joy.
Early in the morning the next day, just before the sun rose with its fierceness above the great evergreen tree, the messenger came to our house. Grandma and the young man stood on the verandah outside and discussed in muted tones. When he left, Grandma went to her room and returned to the parlour. She changed into a native shirt with raised shoulders and a wrapper that made her appear even more massive in frame.
‘You should eat the rice.’ She told Joy and I before she left. ‘I am leaving for the chief’s palace and won’t be back till everything is resolved.’
Joy remained silent throughout the morning; throughout when we had our breakfast; when she swept the kitchen and cleaned it and when she washed the clothes thoroughly on the back verandah with the water from the earthen pot. Grandma came back late afternoon after Joy was done sunning the clothes on the line. Our uniforms were not there among other clothes on the line – it was holiday and Grandma had folded them neatly inside her box till when next term would begin.
‘You should get ready.’ Grandma said to me sadly as soon as she entered the parlour. ‘You are going to follow me to the chief’s palace to testify.’
‘I can’t go.’ I said with a voice I doubted was mine. That was the first time I had revolted openly to her face. She was as startled as I was. She stood still and gazed at me with disbelief; then she began to sob, muttering that her enemies had poisoned my mind. I ignored her tears and looked away from her direction. By the time I turned to look at her, she was wiping her tears with the edge of her wrapper which she raised to her eyeballs. Her eyes were red like someone with chronic polio. She left into the hallway and returned after a long time with Joy who was dressed in a different dress. Her face didn’t brighten up – it carried fear and confusion combined. Before they left, Grandma near the front door turned to me but I turned away without fear. Not too long, they came back. There were some women who came with them outside. They stood in front of the verandah and insisted calmly that Grandma ought to apologize to grand Uncle.
‘That man has done nothing bad to you.’ One woman said.
‘You should apologize.’ Another woman said. ‘We’ll join you to beg him.’
Grandma did not say anything, but she was on the verandah either sitting on the bench or standing beside the flower hedge. Joy forgot she had not been talking to me, and whispered into my ear that Grandma had been scolded by all at the palace. ‘They told her to put pride aside and apologize.’ I barely responded to her because I was angry with her for ignoring me all this while.
‘Grandma was shedding tears.’ She said calmly.
I turned to look at her – her sober face like that of a mourning widow. ‘Is it true?’
‘Yes it’s true.’ She replied with sincerity.
I could not imagine Grandma cry before the chief and elders and everybody who was around in the palace just because she was being scolded. She must have cried because of me – because I had revolted against her openly for the first time since I came here. I was very sure. I stood up and went straight into my room. I lay down. The golden rays of the sun streamed in through the old white curtain. The rays were warm; dust flailed in the stream of light. I fell asleep. I fell deep asleep because I didn’t dream. Joy woke me up in the evening; I had wet the bed with my sweat – the afternoon must have been a scorching one.
‘Where’s Grandma?’ I asked.
‘She has gone to New Miss’ house to thank her.’ She said and peered fearfully in the direction of the door.
‘Why has she gone to thank her?’ I asked.
‘Oh, you didn’t know.’ She lowered her voice. ‘She took some other women to Uncle’s house to plead for forgiveness.’
A sound of a dish crashing onto the floor reached us in the room. Joy was transfixed for fear. She did not close her lips. Later, she turned to my direction and whispered that it could be Grandma. ‘She must have come back.’
‘And so what’s frightening you about that?’
‘I was speaking about her at the top my voice.’ She replied very scared. ‘She could have heard.’
‘I don’t think so.’ I said to her.
‘Are you sure?’ She asked, begging me with her eyes to speak the truth.
I said yes by merely nodding my head. I stood up and went into the hallway. There was no body there. I became very scared. I tiptoed towards the kitchen. Through the kitchen door, I saw a hen skirting around looking for grains. The door which led into the back verandah was flung wide open. It was a black maiden hen I didn’t think had started laying eggs. I drove it away and then entered the kitchen. On the floor was a broken dish and beside it was the hen’s dropping – dark in colour with white capping its tip; it had the shape of a small palm kernel. Joy entered the kitchen soon afterwards and began to wail loudly.
‘Grandma will kill me today.’ She said. I saw real tears in her eyes.
‘Why will she kill you?’ I asked flippantly.
‘I opened the kitchen door.’ She said amid tears. ‘Now see what has happened to the dish.’
‘Just throw it far away before she returns.’ I suggested.
‘No.’ she cried louder. ‘She knows the number of plates, cups and dishes in this house. I am very sure of that.’
I wasn’t sure Grandma was that fastidious, but in order to calm Joy, I suggested again she should pack the broken pieces and throw them far into the bush. ‘I’ll tell Grandma I broke it if she finds out.’
One moment she was very calm, looking at me as her saviour – someone she should fall before his feet and worship, another moment she was agitated, searching for a broom and packer. She swept the floor hurriedly at first and went out to the backyard to throw it away. When she returned, she stamped her feet against the base of the door and nearly tipped over like a log of dead wood.
‘You should take it easy.’ I said.
She didn’t say anything. She bent over the floor and then swept the floor slowly. There was calmness in the way she moved. At her back, her dress was wet with her sweat. She swept the floor thoroughly. I told her I thought I would tip over if I moved carelessly on the floor which was perfectly clean to smoothness. She smiled – the kind of smile which sent shock down my spine and made my hands and legs very weak. Mama Ijewemen had come back from the farm – her face was dull and black with soot. I went to help her down on the verandah – her eyes were bloodshot with tiredness.
‘Where’s Eseoha.’ She asked holding her waist.
‘She has gone out.’ I replied. Her farm clothes smelt strong of sweat. I believed the T-shirt she wore was white when it was still new. It had turned grey with stripes of black here and there. She yarned heavily and headed to her room.
Grandma returned not with the soberness I had pictured on her face when she returned from the chief’s palace in the afternoon; it was a gay expression which had spread across her face like fresh grease – a kind of gleeful countenance like someone who had won a fight against her foes. But I ignored her – I was angry with her. She prepared food that evening in the makeshift kitchen. She cooked bitterleaf soup and Joy pounded the yam. I saw the crescent moon, curved like banana fruit against the dark western sky; its light was insignificant in the vast darkness. The night was cold – the shadows of the trees bent over in refined melody and exchanged greetings with their branches. The shadows were dark and they scared me. Later that night, after we had dinner silently in the dining room, we heard noises outside in the direction of Grand Uncle’s mansion. Joy sneaked out to find out what was happening. She returned to tell me that termites were coming out from their underground hives under the great tree.
‘They are very many.’ She said to me excitedly. ‘They are flying outside our compound.’
It didn’t take long as I expected before Grandma came back looking quite angry. ‘What’s their business if I have to burn my late husband’s clothes?’ She said angrily when she sat down. I put away the old Newspaper and watched her very keenly – the way she jerked her legs and twisted her lips, the way she joined her palms together in front. I knew the Chief and the elders must have chided her as regards Grandpa’s clothes she burnt. I wanted to know more; to know how she had displayed in the palace. She must have insulted the elders and even the chief himself.
‘They have been threatening me with ostracism.’ She said. Her voice was calm. ‘Let them do it. We’ll see who’ll get tired. The fire of God is burning them – all who have planned to ruin my life.’
I took the old Guardian Newspaper and journeyed towards the door of the hallway.
‘Who will put off the TV for you, Ohiole?’ She asked me angrily.
I turned around swiftly to turn off the TV, and then strode slowly towards the hallway. The fear was dissolving – the chronic fear which overwhelmed me when she was present. But one thing had remained constant over the years – the manner we related. We still related like strangers. We only spoke when there was need to speak.
The next day, some youths came to our house. They stood outside under the drizzling rain and folded their arms on their chests like factory workers protesting peacefully for an increase in pay. I knew some of them – they were members of our egwa. They demanded peacefully that they had to see Grandma or they would not leave. Grandma refused to come out to the verandah to address them. She was praying inside her room. Her prayer became more violent and vigorous. I feared the bulbs and fans would crash from the ceilings, the wall of the parlour would quake, the wood-framed photos would crash to the floor and had their glass faces cracked. They stayed till evening, drenched by rain – their hair and eyelids were wet and I thought they were shedding tears silently. Grand Uncle came with an umbrella and he begged them to go home and have some rest.
‘You should go home and have some rest.’ He said calmly. ‘You can come back tomorrow to tender your grievance, please.’
They began to discharge without hesitation. They strode weakly out of our gate. Joy teased them silently that they were already tired, but just needed somebody to beg them to go. She explained that they agreed to go away, not just because they respected Grand Uncle, but because they were tired of standing outside drenched by the rain which had been drizzling since morning.
When the last man had left our compound, Grand Uncle came into the verandah and knocked on the open door. I stood still on my knees on the short sofa close to the door where I had been looking at what was happening. I whispered to Joy that it was Grand Uncle. She knew already, so she didn’t ask who was knocking, rather she hurried to the door and flung the cotton open.
‘Good evening sir.’
‘Yes, evening.’ He replied. ‘Is your mother at home?’
‘Yes sir.’ Joy replied agitatedly. ‘She’s inside her room.’
‘Can you go and call her for me?’
Joy sped off into the hallway without saying anymore word. Grand Uncle placed his shoes beside the foot match and then entered the parlour. I was stunned by his presence. I did not think he would enter. It had been over two years now since he and his wife entered our parlour or even trod our compound. They had relocated home from Lagos since three months ago, yet they had not stepped feet here that I knew and I was sure Grandma had not visited them in their mansion. She had warned us many times to stay away from them; that they were evil people. But they greeted Grandma when they saw her not too far from them and she would respond not too lively. She replied their greetings as if someone forced her to do so.
I sat alright and greeted him like someone who had almost lost his voice. He replied jovially, tapping my back gently before he sat down. He had become wider almost occupying the long sofa. Joy came with a sad look and told Grand Uncle that Grandma was asleep. ‘Sir, I can’t wake her up.’ She said with a quavering lip like a child who had been drenched by the rain for a very long time.
‘It’s alright.’ Grand Uncle said and smiled suspiciously.
I became uncomfortable where I sat. I shook restlessly as if the sofa was unbearably hot somehow.
‘Tell her I came here to see her.’ He said and stood up. He was at the door when he turned around to us again. My heart thumped faster; the evening was cold but I felt pickling sweat on my forehead. He dipped his hand into his wide pocket and brought out a bundle of crisp naira notes. He dragged out two notes from the bundle. He gave one to Joy and the other one to me. We thanked him sincerely. My heart became at ease. ‘Don’t forget to tell your mother I came here.’ We replied happily and bade him goodnight.
In the dim light of the evening which streamed through the window in grey sheet, I saw that Grand Uncle had given us two hundred naira note each. We sprang up as if there were springs under our feet. When I landed, I fell on the centre-table with a very loud report and it shifted position near the other short sofa backing the dining room. Grandma entered just then and I stood with all the strength I had. I felt the pang of the centre-table but tried to straighten up. Through the dim light, I could see her stern face. She didn’t look like someone who had been sleeping. I suspected she didn’t sleep in the first place; she must have pretended she was asleep or even directed Joy to say she was asleep. That could have been the reason for Joy’s nervousness when she reentered the parlour.
‘What’s the cause of the excitement?’ She asked.
‘Uncle gave us money?’ Joy replied. She went close to show her the naira note in her. She held her palm spread out.
Grandma snatched the money from her palm like some motor-park tout. ‘Which Uncle are you talking about?’
Joy began to fidget. I did not fear Grandma that evening, rather I hated her at the moment. Joy explained to Grandma painstakingly that it was the man who owned the big mansion beside our house. The way Joy described Grand Uncle, it made him seem like someone who I had barely known in my life: a total stranger whom I had just seen for the first time that evening.
‘Why is he giving you money?’ Grandma exploded. She moved towards me and snatched my own note from my hand. I would have wrestled with her if I had not considered her massive frame. ‘Oh, he wants to use my children for rituals. God has put him to shame again. This time around, I’ll summon him in the Chief’s palace.’ She began to tear the notes into pieces.
I felt it was me that she was tearing into pieces not the naira notes and I wanted to pounce on her like a lion and tear off her annoying face. She continued to tear the notes into pieces. At the same time, she uttered curses in the name of Christ. She stormed into the hallway and returned to the parlour immediately.
‘I’ll be back very soon.’ She said. ‘Stay inside. Don’t go out.’
Joy nodded nervously. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t shake nervously. If I could, I would tell her to go and never return. When she left, we remained in silence. Joy looked down – she could not look at my face. Mama Ijewemen was the first to come into the parlour to inquire what the problem was; Omoadoni came and left almost immediately. New Miss came in and met Mama Ijewemen sober in the parlour. She had wrapped herself with her wrapper. She complained about the rain which would neither stop drizzling nor fall like true rain.
‘Where’s madam?’ She asked us after the greeting.
‘She has gone to the chief’s palace to summon Broda.’ Mama Ijewemen said dryly and pointed to the direction of Grand Uncle’s mansion.
‘What happened again?’ New Miss asked as she sat down.
Mama Ijewemen explained to her what we told her, that Grand Uncle had come to our house to give us money and that was all Grandma had taken as an offence. New Miss didn’t believe that was all; she insisted that there was something more that must have transpired to make her go to the chief’s palace.
‘That was what they told me.’
‘They are just children.’ New Miss said. ‘Joy, go and bring your lantern. This place is getting darker.’
Joy left and I followed her into the hallway. She went into the kitchen to find the lantern. Some dishes fell on the floor. She struck a match stick to light the lantern on the floor, after which she put off the burning stick by plunging it into her mouth. She took the lantern by its handle and approached the door. She still didn’t look at my face, but I saw her own face smeared all over with guilt as if she was the one who had caused the whole problem in the first place. She just moved to the parlour without saying a word to me. I wondered if we would remain like this for the time being.
By the time Grandma returned, New Miss and Mama Ijewemen were still in the parlour discussing in low tones. From where I sat on the threshold of the hallway shielded by the curtain, I could barely hear them hum. But when Grandma came, they raised their voices.
‘Is it true you went to the chief’s palace to summon your husband’s brother because he gave money to the children?’ New Miss asked with a voice which revealed she didn’t believe.
Wherever Joy was now, I knew she would be fidgeting, because she would be scared that Grandma would be mad at us for telling New Miss her destination. But I was not scared what her reaction would be. The only thing which governed me now was anger.
‘Can you imagine?’ Grandma hinted churlishly. ‘That evil man gave these children money in order to use them for his rituals. You can imagine.’
I saw her shadow through the curtain – she was shaking bitterly. New Miss and Mama Ijewemen just sat silently and watched her shake. She sat on the long sofa. I didn’t think Grand Uncle gave us that money in order to hurt us; he had given us wholeheartedly. Grandma was just callous and I didn’t like her for that.
‘Madam, I think you are taking this thing too far.’ New Miss said calmly.
‘What do you mean?’ Grandma reply was fierce as if we were the one she was chiding.
‘You should bring your voice down, please.’ New Miss replied sternly. ‘The truth must be said. It didn’t worth going to report him to the chief.’
‘I didn’t go to report him.’ Grandma said. ‘I went to summon him to tell me why he gave them such huge amount of money when it was not Christmas.’
‘It was uncalled for.’ New Miss said. ‘That man may have done what he did from his mind.’
‘You really think so, right?’
‘Yes I do.’ New Miss replied calmly. ‘You should have settled down first before taking a decision. You took the decision you took out of anger.’
Grandma became silent. But I could hear her solid heartbeats – they showed how remorseful she was for her crazy action.
‘I did.’ She replied. ‘The chief said he’ll be summoned tomorrow.’
‘You should find a way to stop it.’ New Miss said. ‘It’ll be very awkward.’
‘I won’t.’ Grandma said it calmly at first, and then yelled it again to establish her stand.
New Miss left for home late that night trying to convince Grandma to drop the fight. Although Grandma remained silent all through, I could not tell whether she had refused to drop the fight or not. She only hummed and rocked herself. Mama Ijewemen didn’t say anything – she was against Grandma’s action but she would dare not oppose her openly – she was as scared as Joy.
Early in the morning the next day, just before the sun rose with its fierceness above the great evergreen tree, the messenger came to our house. Grandma and the young man stood on the verandah outside and discussed in muted tones. When he left, Grandma went to her room and returned to the parlour. She changed into a native shirt with raised shoulders and a wrapper that made her appear even more massive in frame.
‘You should eat the rice.’ She told Joy and I before she left. ‘I am leaving for the chief’s palace and won’t be back till everything is resolved.’
Joy remained silent throughout the morning; throughout when we had our breakfast; when she swept the kitchen and cleaned it and when she washed the clothes thoroughly on the back verandah with the water from the earthen pot. Grandma came back late afternoon after Joy was done sunning the clothes on the line. Our uniforms were not there among other clothes on the line – it was holiday and Grandma had folded them neatly inside her box till when next term would begin.
‘You should get ready.’ Grandma said to me sadly as soon as she entered the parlour. ‘You are going to follow me to the chief’s palace to testify.’
‘I can’t go.’ I said with a voice I doubted was mine. That was the first time I had revolted openly to her face. She was as startled as I was. She stood still and gazed at me with disbelief; then she began to sob, muttering that her enemies had poisoned my mind. I ignored her tears and looked away from her direction. By the time I turned to look at her, she was wiping her tears with the edge of her wrapper which she raised to her eyeballs. Her eyes were red like someone with chronic polio. She left into the hallway and returned after a long time with Joy who was dressed in a different dress. Her face didn’t brighten up – it carried fear and confusion combined. Before they left, Grandma near the front door turned to me but I turned away without fear. Not too long, they came back. There were some women who came with them outside. They stood in front of the verandah and insisted calmly that Grandma ought to apologize to grand Uncle.
‘That man has done nothing bad to you.’ One woman said.
‘You should apologize.’ Another woman said. ‘We’ll join you to beg him.’
Grandma did not say anything, but she was on the verandah either sitting on the bench or standing beside the flower hedge. Joy forgot she had not been talking to me, and whispered into my ear that Grandma had been scolded by all at the palace. ‘They told her to put pride aside and apologize.’ I barely responded to her because I was angry with her for ignoring me all this while.
‘Grandma was shedding tears.’ She said calmly.
I turned to look at her – her sober face like that of a mourning widow. ‘Is it true?’
‘Yes it’s true.’ She replied with sincerity.
I could not imagine Grandma cry before the chief and elders and everybody who was around in the palace just because she was being scolded. She must have cried because of me – because I had revolted against her openly for the first time since I came here. I was very sure. I stood up and went straight into my room. I lay down. The golden rays of the sun streamed in through the old white curtain. The rays were warm; dust flailed in the stream of light. I fell asleep. I fell deep asleep because I didn’t dream. Joy woke me up in the evening; I had wet the bed with my sweat – the afternoon must have been a scorching one.
‘Where’s Grandma?’ I asked.
‘She has gone to New Miss’ house to thank her.’ She said and peered fearfully in the direction of the door.
‘Why has she gone to thank her?’ I asked.
‘Oh, you didn’t know.’ She lowered her voice. ‘She took some other women to Uncle’s house to plead for forgiveness.’
A sound of a dish crashing onto the floor reached us in the room. Joy was transfixed for fear. She did not close her lips. Later, she turned to my direction and whispered that it could be Grandma. ‘She must have come back.’
‘And so what’s frightening you about that?’
‘I was speaking about her at the top my voice.’ She replied very scared. ‘She could have heard.’
‘I don’t think so.’ I said to her.
‘Are you sure?’ She asked, begging me with her eyes to speak the truth.
I said yes by merely nodding my head. I stood up and went into the hallway. There was no body there. I became very scared. I tiptoed towards the kitchen. Through the kitchen door, I saw a hen skirting around looking for grains. The door which led into the back verandah was flung wide open. It was a black maiden hen I didn’t think had started laying eggs. I drove it away and then entered the kitchen. On the floor was a broken dish and beside it was the hen’s dropping – dark in colour with white capping its tip; it had the shape of a small palm kernel. Joy entered the kitchen soon afterwards and began to wail loudly.
‘Grandma will kill me today.’ She said. I saw real tears in her eyes.
‘Why will she kill you?’ I asked flippantly.
‘I opened the kitchen door.’ She said amid tears. ‘Now see what has happened to the dish.’
‘Just throw it far away before she returns.’ I suggested.
‘No.’ she cried louder. ‘She knows the number of plates, cups and dishes in this house. I am very sure of that.’
I wasn’t sure Grandma was that fastidious, but in order to calm Joy, I suggested again she should pack the broken pieces and throw them far into the bush. ‘I’ll tell Grandma I broke it if she finds out.’
One moment she was very calm, looking at me as her saviour – someone she should fall before his feet and worship, another moment she was agitated, searching for a broom and packer. She swept the floor hurriedly at first and went out to the backyard to throw it away. When she returned, she stamped her feet against the base of the door and nearly tipped over like a log of dead wood.
‘You should take it easy.’ I said.
She didn’t say anything. She bent over the floor and then swept the floor slowly. There was calmness in the way she moved. At her back, her dress was wet with her sweat. She swept the floor thoroughly. I told her I thought I would tip over if I moved carelessly on the floor which was perfectly clean to smoothness. She smiled – the kind of smile which sent shock down my spine and made my hands and legs very weak. Mama Ijewemen had come back from the farm – her face was dull and black with soot. I went to help her down on the verandah – her eyes were bloodshot with tiredness.
‘Where’s Eseoha.’ She asked holding her waist.
‘She has gone out.’ I replied. Her farm clothes smelt strong of sweat. I believed the T-shirt she wore was white when it was still new. It had turned grey with stripes of black here and there. She yarned heavily and headed to her room.
Grandma returned not with the soberness I had pictured on her face when she returned from the chief’s palace in the afternoon; it was a gay expression which had spread across her face like fresh grease – a kind of gleeful countenance like someone who had won a fight against her foes. But I ignored her – I was angry with her. She prepared food that evening in the makeshift kitchen. She cooked bitterleaf soup and Joy pounded the yam. I saw the crescent moon, curved like banana fruit against the dark western sky; its light was insignificant in the vast darkness. The night was cold – the shadows of the trees bent over in refined melody and exchanged greetings with their branches. The shadows were dark and they scared me. Later that night, after we had dinner silently in the dining room, we heard noises outside in the direction of Grand Uncle’s mansion. Joy sneaked out to find out what was happening. She returned to tell me that termites were coming out from their underground hives under the great tree.
‘They are very many.’ She said to me excitedly. ‘They are flying outside our compound.’
As much as
I would like to join the villagers to catch termites outside, Grandma would
forbid us to associate with them. I whispered to Joy that Grandma would not let
us go out. The smile dried on her face gradually. She looked in the direction
of the hallway and whispered that we could just catch those ones flying in
front of the compound. I thought of it for a while and decided to give it a
try. Joy hurried to the kitchen to bring our wide basin. I took the lamp from the
centre-table and followed her out. She placed the basin outside the verandah,
in the open space. She hurried inside to get some water. The termites swarmed
around me and I beat them off with my palms. Joy returned with a bowl of water.
I wondered how she was able to locate her way in the dark kitchen and parlour.
‘I hope you didn’t spill water on the floor.’
‘I didn’t.’ She replied curtly. She poured the water on the basin. It barely rose from the base. She took the lamp from me gently and placed it inside the basin. The base of the lamp drowned half-way into the water. Not long the termites began to swarms around the lantern and some of them fell into the water and were trapped.
There was lot of the termites flying. One bumped against my eyes. I saw silver lights. The noise under the great tree increased. People streamed in with their basins and lantern – they were young women clad in their shabby wrappers and children with pants and torn dresses. Grand Uncle had put on his mighty generator and the great yellow bulb shining from his garage had shown the villagers streaming into the compound, heading towards the great tree which was dark. Grandma came out to the verandah.
‘I nearly tipped over in the parlour because it’s dark in there.’ Grandma said. She was calm.
For a moment, Joy was shocked, rooted to one spot. There was a moment of silence. My heart thumped for a while and then I became very placid. Grandma turned around and sat on the bench. She seemed unruffled at all. Joy regained back herself and turned to me with an impassive face.
‘What do you want to use them for once you’ve caught them?’ Grandma asked.
I thought the question was unnecessary. She either wanted to put up a conversation or she was mad somehow. Joy explained to her that we would shed the wings and fry the termites with salt using frying pan.
‘I know.’ Grandma said. ‘I was a child once in my life. We did this. But you can’t eat all that you’ve caught. You’ll get irritated and vomit.’
She was right. I didn’t like the delicacy that much. It would make me nausea when I ate it a lot. Joy gave me a look – a calm one as such, and then she removed the lantern from the basin of water. Some of the termites stuck around the base of the lantern. She picked them away one by one and proceeded to clean the wetness with her dress.
‘Are you mad?!’ Grandma thundered from the verandah. She was very loud and bitter that it seemed that she unleashed all the anger she had been shielding since daybreak on Joy. Joy stood still, frightened. She almost dropped the lantern all together. ‘Why are you this dirty? Do you think you are still a baby who rolls on sands? Very soon you’ll develop breasts and men will come.’
Joy walked slowly to the verandah. I took the basin. There were many termites trapped inside the water. Some of them were still moving with bedraggled wings. Others were dead; forming what appeared to be a soup of termites.
‘You won’t take that into my house.’ Grandma said authoritatively. ‘Remove the wings first and throw away the dirty water.’
I dropped the basin on the step. Joy hurried into the room and returned with a clean rubber plate. We sat on the verandah and began to separate the wings from the termites. Grandma left us on the verandah. Joy whispered to me that she was probably going to bed. A figure emerged from the direction of the gate just away from the path walled by the chamomile. It was definitely Omoadoni; his gait was unique: he walked fast and swung his hands to and fro like a schoolboy matching. I smiled. My heart rejoiced. I always felt this way when I saw him. When he had fully emerged, we greeted him and he replied in his usual jovial manner.
‘Where’s Mama?’ He inquired.
‘She has gone inside.’ Joy replied – her voice low as if she was whispering.
‘Has she gone to sleep this early?’
‘We don’t know.’ I replied.
Omoadoni touched our heads playfully and shook them as if he wanted to pluck them out of our necks. Joy stood and ran to the corner of the verandah, feigning anger.
‘I didn’t see you in the store today.’ He said to Joy amid a soft laughter. ‘I’ll suspend you if you continue like this.’
‘Broda, don’t be angry.’ Joy pleaded. Her voice showed that she was truly remorseful. ‘I was very busy today.’
‘Busy with what, Joy?’
‘I was washing dirty clothes.’
‘I think I’ll have to cane you.’ Omoadoni said jokingly. He looked at the basin and the many insects inside and said, ‘Can you eat all these?’
‘No.’ I replied. ‘We’ll dispose some.’
He bent over and helped us separate a few before he bade us good night. Joy threw away the remaining ones with the water on the field. They were more than the ones we had separated out. After throwing them away, Joy prayed that all the troubles which had erupted since Grandma burnt Grandpa’s clothes should go away with the water of the termites. Her prayer was fervent, it was true. I believed God would answer it.
Later that night, I lighted the green stove without taking permission from Grandma and fried the termites we had separated out with the frying pan. Joy added a little salt. We ate the crisp insects with garri – dry like grains of sand which slipped through the fingers.
OHIKHUARE E. ISUKU
‘I hope you didn’t spill water on the floor.’
‘I didn’t.’ She replied curtly. She poured the water on the basin. It barely rose from the base. She took the lamp from me gently and placed it inside the basin. The base of the lamp drowned half-way into the water. Not long the termites began to swarms around the lantern and some of them fell into the water and were trapped.
There was lot of the termites flying. One bumped against my eyes. I saw silver lights. The noise under the great tree increased. People streamed in with their basins and lantern – they were young women clad in their shabby wrappers and children with pants and torn dresses. Grand Uncle had put on his mighty generator and the great yellow bulb shining from his garage had shown the villagers streaming into the compound, heading towards the great tree which was dark. Grandma came out to the verandah.
‘I nearly tipped over in the parlour because it’s dark in there.’ Grandma said. She was calm.
For a moment, Joy was shocked, rooted to one spot. There was a moment of silence. My heart thumped for a while and then I became very placid. Grandma turned around and sat on the bench. She seemed unruffled at all. Joy regained back herself and turned to me with an impassive face.
‘What do you want to use them for once you’ve caught them?’ Grandma asked.
I thought the question was unnecessary. She either wanted to put up a conversation or she was mad somehow. Joy explained to her that we would shed the wings and fry the termites with salt using frying pan.
‘I know.’ Grandma said. ‘I was a child once in my life. We did this. But you can’t eat all that you’ve caught. You’ll get irritated and vomit.’
She was right. I didn’t like the delicacy that much. It would make me nausea when I ate it a lot. Joy gave me a look – a calm one as such, and then she removed the lantern from the basin of water. Some of the termites stuck around the base of the lantern. She picked them away one by one and proceeded to clean the wetness with her dress.
‘Are you mad?!’ Grandma thundered from the verandah. She was very loud and bitter that it seemed that she unleashed all the anger she had been shielding since daybreak on Joy. Joy stood still, frightened. She almost dropped the lantern all together. ‘Why are you this dirty? Do you think you are still a baby who rolls on sands? Very soon you’ll develop breasts and men will come.’
Joy walked slowly to the verandah. I took the basin. There were many termites trapped inside the water. Some of them were still moving with bedraggled wings. Others were dead; forming what appeared to be a soup of termites.
‘You won’t take that into my house.’ Grandma said authoritatively. ‘Remove the wings first and throw away the dirty water.’
I dropped the basin on the step. Joy hurried into the room and returned with a clean rubber plate. We sat on the verandah and began to separate the wings from the termites. Grandma left us on the verandah. Joy whispered to me that she was probably going to bed. A figure emerged from the direction of the gate just away from the path walled by the chamomile. It was definitely Omoadoni; his gait was unique: he walked fast and swung his hands to and fro like a schoolboy matching. I smiled. My heart rejoiced. I always felt this way when I saw him. When he had fully emerged, we greeted him and he replied in his usual jovial manner.
‘Where’s Mama?’ He inquired.
‘She has gone inside.’ Joy replied – her voice low as if she was whispering.
‘Has she gone to sleep this early?’
‘We don’t know.’ I replied.
Omoadoni touched our heads playfully and shook them as if he wanted to pluck them out of our necks. Joy stood and ran to the corner of the verandah, feigning anger.
‘I didn’t see you in the store today.’ He said to Joy amid a soft laughter. ‘I’ll suspend you if you continue like this.’
‘Broda, don’t be angry.’ Joy pleaded. Her voice showed that she was truly remorseful. ‘I was very busy today.’
‘Busy with what, Joy?’
‘I was washing dirty clothes.’
‘I think I’ll have to cane you.’ Omoadoni said jokingly. He looked at the basin and the many insects inside and said, ‘Can you eat all these?’
‘No.’ I replied. ‘We’ll dispose some.’
He bent over and helped us separate a few before he bade us good night. Joy threw away the remaining ones with the water on the field. They were more than the ones we had separated out. After throwing them away, Joy prayed that all the troubles which had erupted since Grandma burnt Grandpa’s clothes should go away with the water of the termites. Her prayer was fervent, it was true. I believed God would answer it.
Later that night, I lighted the green stove without taking permission from Grandma and fried the termites we had separated out with the frying pan. Joy added a little salt. We ate the crisp insects with garri – dry like grains of sand which slipped through the fingers.
OHIKHUARE E. ISUKU
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