Thirty-eight
I had tried to keep track of their names. After
Camille, there was Jackie. Then Imabong, then Chichi, Precious,
Amaka . . . These days, I no longer bothered to ask. Today’s girl
was getting up to go to the bathroom when I noticed that her right
foot had a big toe that was much, much smaller than all her other
toes.
The one thing these strange girls had in common was
that they were all undergraduates of the neighbouring universities
and poly-technics. They were forced to exchange their bodies for
cash in order to bear the burdens of survival in school.
Interestingly, of the girls that Camille sent, the ones drenched
from head to toe in Fendi and Gucci and Chanel, were usually the
ones who carted off all the soap and shampoo and body lotion from
my bathroom, and the Cokes and bottled water from my fridge, on
their way home. One particular girl had even stolen the pack of
toothpicks, and the roll of tissue paper from the holder on the
wall.
My cellular rang. It was Aunty Dimma.
‘Kingsley Ibe! What kind of child are you?’
Her voice singed my ears.
‘Aunty, what do you mean?’
‘What do you mean by what do I mean? I find it
difficult to believe that you, of all people, have turned out like
this. Men! You people are all the same.’
‘Turned out like how?’
‘So you think your lifestyle is normal? You
actually think your lifestyle is normal? That’s the problem with
money. It’s an evil spirit. Kingsley Ibe, I don’t like the person
you’ve become!’
What made her think I liked the person she had
become? She used to be less opinionated and less aggressive. If
Aunty Dimma so badly wanted to be a man, she could at least try
being a gentleman.
‘Aunty, why are you shouting at me?’
‘Kingsley, when last did you visit your
mother?’
Her question threw me off balance.
‘Errrr . . . I’ve . . . She . . .’
‘Kingsley, I’m asking you. When last did you visit
your mother?’
‘Aunty, I’ve been very bu—’
She detonated.
‘Busy doing what?! What is so busy about your life
that you can’t travel down to Umuahia and see your mother
regularly? Is that too much to ask of a first son?’
I was defeated.
‘OK, Aunty, I’ll go and see her this
weekend.’
‘You can’t wait until weekend. Go today! Your
mother hasn’t been feeling well.’
I swung my feet to the floor. The girl came out of
the bathroom wearing nothing. My heart slammed against my chest. It
had nothing to do with the temptation in front of me.
‘Not feeling well? What’s wrong with her?’
‘You should be ashamed of yourself.’
‘Aunty, please.’
‘You should have been the first person to know. You
should have been the one calling to tell me. But you’re too busy.
Busy making money for that criminal.’ She paused to suck in a
breath. ‘She’s been having eye trouble. I’m just coming from
Umuahia. I spent the past two days with her.’
She ranted some more. I apologised. She terminated
the call halfway through my apology. I sprang up from the
bed.
‘Is everything OK?’ the naked girl asked.
I had actually forgotten that she was there.
‘Get dressed,’ I replied. ‘I need to go out
now.’
‘Would you like me to wait for you?’
Never. Apart from the Cokes and toilet paper, it
had taken a pair of Prada slippers, 100mls of Issey Miyake perfume,
a pack of Calvin Klein boxer shorts and $3,500 cash for me to
learn. These strange girls were never to be left alone.
‘Get dressed,’ I said.
I jangled my car keys and waited for her to gather
her clothes. When she was through, I removed five $100 bills from
my wallet and pushed them into her palm. She stuffed the money into
her Ferragamo handbag and walked out ahead of me.
My mother was lying flat on her back. I held her
hand and stroked her face. Her eyes were red and swollen.
‘Kings, how was your trip?’
My trip to America had gone very well. It was my
neuroscientist mugu’s turn to visit Nigeria next. America was all
that Cash Daddy had said it would be and more, but I was glad when
my stay eventually came to an end. With the mighty portions of food
they served in American restaurants, it would only have been a
matter of time before my bathroom scale started reading
to-be-continued when I stepped on it. No wonder many shrivelled
Nigerians who visited yonder returned massive overnight.
‘Mummy, how are you? How are you feeling?’
She sighed.
‘They gave me some eyedrops at the hospital, but it
doesn’t seem to be helping much. The eyes have started swelling
again and they’re aching me right inside. I’ve booked to see the
specialist next Thursday.’
I hissed.
‘Mummy, don’t worry. I’ll come tomorrow and take
you to the Specialist Eye Hospital in Port Harcourt. I hear they
have the best ophthalmologists there. I’m sure someone will be able
to see you immediately.’ It was just a matter of cash.
My mother closed her eyes.
‘Mummy, did you hear me? I’ll come and take you
tomorrow morning. First thing in the morning. OK?’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll wait for my turn at the General
Hospital.’
‘But they ca—?’
Realisation struck me dumb. I continued staring at
her in disbelief.
‘Mummy, please,’ I said quietly. ‘We’re not talking
about a car or a house. This is a matter of your health. Please
don’t make a fuss over anything.’
Her sore eyes caught mine and held onto them with
as much strength as they could muster.
‘Kings, I’m not going with you to Port Harcourt,’
she said calmly.
I stood up from the bed and paced up and down the
room. I stopped abruptly in front of her with arms akimbo.
‘Mummy, are you trying to kill yourself just to
make a point? This is your health.’
‘Kings, I’ve told you that I’m not going. Just
forget it.’
Her voice was soft and steady, betraying neither
stubbornness, nor resentment, nor contempt. I sat back on the bed
and kept quiet. Then I pretended as if I had taken her seriously
and started chatting about different trivial things. After a while,
I left.
Before she had even woken from sleep the next
morning, I turned up again at the house. Her eyes were so swollen
that she could hardly open them. When I touched her, she sucked in
air and grunted with pain.
‘Mummy, get up.’
She raised her hand and shook it from side to side.
No.
‘Mummy, please get up,’ I insisted.
This time, she did not even bother raising her
hand. I cajoled some more, she remained silent. Finally I lost my
temper.
‘Well, if that’s what you want,’ I scolded, ‘if
what you’re trying to do is punish me, you can have it your way.
God knows I’m doing—’
‘Kings,’ she interrupted, speaking in the same soft
and steady of yesterday, that betrayed neither stubbornness, nor
resentment, nor contempt, ‘the only way you can make me happy is to
leave this thing you’re doing and get a job and settle down. It’s
not your money, it’s not your cars, that can make me happy. You
know it really worries me no end.’ Her voice became less soft. ‘The
way it is now, there’s no time I think about you and I’m happy. No
time at all. It’s always worry and fear. And with Boniface and his
politics, I’m terrified each time I think that you’re—’
‘Mummy, I’ve told you. I’m not involved in the
campaign. I work strictly in the office while Cash . . . Uncle
Boniface has other people working on the elections.’
She forced her eyes as far open as they would go.
Her look seemed to ask if I genuinely thought she believed anything
I told her any longer.
‘Kings, please . . . Your father would be miserable
seeing you like this.’
I slammed the door on my way out.
My car was parked beside Mr Nwude’s blue
Volkswagen. One of the back tyres of the faithful car was missing
and had been replaced by a cement block. Some children were
gathered around my jeep. They caressed the body and peered into the
rear lights. One stood beside the driver’s door, mimicking the
whirr of the engine and pretending that the deflated football in
his hands was the steering wheel.
Quietly, I retreated into the vestibule and
watched. The likelihood that any one of them would ever grow up to
own a car like that was low. Very low. I was one of the lucky few.
And my own children would be bred from birth with cash. The good
things of life would be natural to them.
Alas, with the kind of girls I had been hanging out
with, the prospect of marriage and children was still very far
away.