Forty-three
The documentary was called Chief Boniface Mbamalu
- The Politician, The Man. All his years of living on stage, of
playing the parts of ambassadors and business moguls and top
government officials, were definitely paying off. Cash Daddy sat
composed in a knee-length isi-agu outfit and red cap. With legs
spread slightly apart and hands folded on his knees, my uncle
stared the viewers straight in the eyes and repeated his original
promises. He had mapped out strategies to attract foreign investors
for the development of infrastructure. He was determined to
eliminate corruption from Abia State, starting from the grass
roots. He knew he had enemies who did not want him to be governor
because they were afraid of his planned reforms, but he was
undeterred. It was all about the people of Abia. He was willing to
lay down his life for us.
The producers had also interviewed his mother,
people from his local community, and people who had benefitted from
his various works of charity. I was shocked to learn that, for the
past five years, my uncle had been giving scholarships to every
single law student from Isiukwuato Local Government Area who was
studying in a Nigerian university. He had boasted to me about
almost every work of charity he was engaged in. Why had he never
mentioned this?
‘Why did he choose only the law students?’ Eugene
asked.
‘We’re the learned profession,’ Charity
replied.
‘Please, shut up,’ Eugene said. ‘You make so much
noise about this your law. What do you then expect us doctors to
do?’
This was one of those rare times when all my
siblings were back home on school holidays at the same time.
Godfrey had made my house his permanent base for the past year or
more; Eugene and Charity had come from Umuahia a few days ago. All
universities had thought it wise to take a break and reopen after
the elections. No school wanted to bear the burden of quelling any
tempests that might arise from polling day turbulence.
My mother’s niece’s daughter came out of the
kitchen.
‘Brother Kingsley, your food is ready.’
I left my siblings to their teasing and went over
to the dining room. They had already eaten. I realised how hungry I
was when I got a whiff of the thick paste of egusi soup that had
huge chunks of chicken, okporoko fish, and cow leg protruding from
the exotic china bowl.
The front door opened and there was a noise as if a
riot had just started in the market.
‘Hey, Kings!’ Godfrey shouted on his way
upstairs.
‘Hello,’ I responded.
Godfrey was hardly ever without his party of
friends. Each day, he appeared with a new set. The two chaps he had
come in with also greeted me and followed him upstairs. They were
having a rowdy conversation about a European Champions League
football match and making almost as much noise as the supporters
who had gathered in the stadium for the match must have made.
Recently, my brother had bestowed his life on the Arsenal football
club. He never missed watching any of their matches, knew the names
and birthdays of all the players, and had their face caps,
mufflers, T-shirts . . . If only my brother could be more
responsible with his time and money.
My cellular rang. It was Merit.
‘Did you remember to watch the documentary on Cash
Daddy?’ I asked.
‘No.’
‘Oh, you really should have. It was quite
interesting. His villagers even have a special song they composed
to extol his good works.’
I sang a bit of it and laughed. She may have
laughed, she may not.
‘O dighi onye di ka nna anyi Cash Daddy, onye
Chineke nyere anyi gozie anyi,’ I sang some more.
I laughed; she certainly did not.
‘Merit, is everything OK?’
‘Kingsley, why did you lie to me?’ Her tone of
voice could have slain Goliath.
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I’m so upset with you. I don’t believe you had me
fooled. Did you really think I wasn’t going to find out? Kingsley,
what do you do for a living?’
Her question struck me like thunder.
‘What do you do for a living?’
‘I’m into contracts and investments,’ I replied
calmly, though sirens were blaring in my head. ‘I already told you
that before.’
‘Kingsley, stop! How long were you going to keep
lying to me?’
‘Merit, honestly, I don’t know what you’re talking
about.’
She was silent.
‘Merit, I’ve—,’
‘I’m not that type of girl, OK? I’m not into guys
like you. Just stay out of my life. Please.’
She hung up.
I was numb. I kept staring at my phone screen and
replaying Merit’s words and wondering when this latest nightmare
would end. How could a relationship that seemed to be going so well
suddenly turn awry?
I sank back in the chair. It was all my fault. I
should have known that, sooner or later, she would hear something.
Merit might not have been so mad if I had told her myself. After
all, 419er or no, was I not still Kingsley? Was I not the man who
had come to my family’s rescue after my father had failed? Was I
not the man setting aside my own dreams for the sake of my mother
and my siblings? Was I not the man still making efforts to reach
out to my mother, even when she had been so judgmental and
unreasonable?
I flung the phone on the table and hissed. I felt
like screaming, grabbing the crockery from the table, and flinging
each item against the wall. Instead, I placed my head in my hands
and leaned my elbows on the dining table.
What a rotten world. Other poor people found women
to marry them, other 419ers were besieged with desperate Misses.
Many mothers would give an arm and a leg to have an opara like me.
Yet my own mother was still bound by the mental shackles of a
husband who had lived from beginning to end in a cloud. Maybe I was
the one who suffered from bad luck - surrounded by ingrates and
utopians. But no matter what, my siblings would have the best
education I could afford. And I would never go back to a life of
poverty and lack. Not for anyone dead or alive.
Perhaps Merit would understand. By morning, her
anger would have subsided and I would explain everything to her. I
was not a criminal. I had gone into 419 so that my mother could
live in comfort and my siblings have a good education. Yes, I
should have told her but I was not sure how to broach the topic,
and I was very sorry for deceiving her. Besides, things were on the
verge of changing. I would soon start work at the Ministry of Works
and Transport. I would soon have a respectable job. I would soon
have business investments.
Godfrey and his friends brought their noise back
downstairs.
‘Charity, is Kingsley still in the dining room?’ I
heard Godfrey ask from the staircase.
I raised my head quickly and turned back to my
meal. My appetite had definitely fled, but I dipped my hands into
the soup and pretended to be deep in chow.
His friends sat in the living room with my other
siblings while Godfrey strutted over to me, pulled a dining chair
noisily, and sat. The fragrance of his freshly sprayed Eternity
wiped out every trace of the egusi aroma from the air.
‘Kings, there’s something I’ve been wanting to
discuss with you,’ he began without any ceremony.
I looked at his two friends sitting within earshot
of us and looked back at him. He did not seem to mind their
presence, so why should I?
‘Kingsley, I’ve been thinking about it for some
time. I’ve decided that I want to quit school. I’ve been thinking
about it for a long time and I’ve decided that there’s no point. I
really don’t want to go on. I’m thinking of going into
business.’
‘You want to go into business?’
‘Yes. I’m tired of school. There’s no reason for me
to keep wasting my time in school when there’s so much money to be
made out there. The sooner I start making my own money, the
better.’
Without a doubt, this boy was crazy. From the
depths of my vexation, I borrowed from Cash Daddy’s patented
lingo.
‘Godfrey, is your head correct? Have you been
drinking? Are you on drugs?’
He appeared surprised at my reaction. Then he
toughened up his face and seemed to be bracing himself for a
stronger argument.
‘Kings, let me ex—’
‘Shut up!’ I barked. Like Azuka, he sounded so
idiotically confident. ‘Just forget about it. End of discussion.
Forget it. There’s nothing to talk about. It’s not my business what
else you do with your life, but you must remain in school and you
must graduate. Don’t ever raise the matter again.’
Godfrey watched me while I washed my hands, put my
phone into my pocket, grabbed my glass of water, and stood. When I
started walking away, he also stood.
‘Kings, you’re the last person I’d expect to be
making such a fuss. Look at you. After all your education, you’re
not even doing anything with your degree. What was the point? Do
you think I don’t want to make my own money for myself? You’re just
being hypocritical.’
The glass cup dropped from my hand and colonised a
large portion of the marble floor. I stopped in my tracks and
mutated into another being. My brother had the guts to spew this
breed of rubbish after everything I had been through for them? Was
I being hypocritical when I put their welfare and comfort ahead of
mine? I turned round and gave him a wholehearted slap on the
face.
‘Do you think this is the sort of life I wanted to
live?! Do you think I had much choice?!’
I slapped him again, grabbed his shirtfront, and
pushed him against the wall.
‘Don’t you realise that I made the sacrifice for
you people?!’
I tightened my grip on his shirt, pulled him
towards me, and screamed into his face.
‘I am the opara! I did it for you people! Do you
understand me?!’
Right from childhood, Godfrey had had the formation
of a gangster. He did not squeal, he did not try to escape, he did
not beg for me to stop. And because of the age difference that
granted me automatic authority to discipline him, he dared not
fight back. He just stood there looking at me through squinted eyes
and using his arms to shield himself from my blows.
By this time, Eugene, Charity, Godfrey’s two
friends, my cook, my washer man, my gardener, my mother’s niece’s
daughter had gathered. They all pleaded and begged and blocked.
They were wasting their time.
‘Kings, pleeeeease! Please leave him! Please leave
him!’ Charity wept and screamed.
I dragged my brother by his shirt collar and yanked
him towards the staircase. I turned round to the sympathetic
crowd.
‘Nobody should follow me upstairs!’ I warned.
My cook, whose communication with me never exceeded
‘Yes, sir!’ ‘No, sir!’, shouted, ‘Oga, abeg no kill am, abeg no
kill am!’ and ventured up the first stair. I pulled off the right
foot of my natural viper snakeskin slippers and flung it at his
head. The slipper missed, but he learnt his lesson.
I hauled Godfrey into his bedroom and deposited him
in a heap on the floor. I shut the bedroom door and looked round.
The first thing that caught my eyes was the sound system that stood
by his dresser. I punched it. It fell with a huge crash.
In one sweep of my hand, everything on his dressing
table tumbled to the floor. The air filled with the aroma of a
mixture of designer fragrances. I yanked open the wardrobe and
grabbed an empty bag. I dragged his clothes from the hangers and
stuffed as many of them as I could fit into the bag. There was no
time for me to pause and tear them into shreds like I really wanted
to do. I heaved the bag across my shoulder and caught Godfrey by
his shirt collar again. On my way out, I reached out my free hand
and knocked the compact disc rack. The stack of disks rattled to
the floor in a pile. I brought down my left foot on them. They
crackled with each fresh stomp.
Outside, the sympathetic crowd had regrouped by the
bedroom door. With more pressing tasks to tackle, I ignored their
disobedience and descended the stairs with my two pieces of load. I
went straight to my Lexus and tossed Godfrey and the travelling bag
inside.
‘Open the gate!’ I shouted.
The terrified gateman rushed to obey.
My foot did not leave the accelerator until we
arrived in Umuahia. Godfrey sat in stunned silence as I sped
straight to the flat on Ojike Street and deposited him and his
luggage outside the door.
‘I never ever want to see you in my house again,’ I
warned.
My mother was on her way out of the house when I
jumped back into my car and vroomed off.