There were many tourists that walked the path behind the fishermen: young, old, black and white. America was a melting pot of people from all over the world and yet Tayo had often sensed some unease around this diversity in his classroom. The question of race was something he’d discussed on many occasions with Kwame.
‘Why do you think I left this country to go to Nigeria in the first place?’ Kwame had laughed when Tayo first broached the topic. ‘Look Tayo, if you live in America long enough, you’ll see that there is no way of avoiding race. Race is a part of the fabric of this nation. You’re either black or you’re white, and this affects every aspect of your life. That’s why so many of us left in the 70s.’
‘But it strikes me that it’s not as simple as black and white,’ Tayo mused. ‘I see race playing out in my classroom between blacks, whites and Latinos. And some of the worst tension I find is between Africans and African Americans.’
Kwame laughed. ‘That’s because most West African brothers and sisters don’t understand or appreciate our history.’
‘And the same could be said for African Americans.’ Tayo added.
‘Yes, you’re right, of course,’ Kwame nodded, ‘the misunderstanding is mutual and easily exploited by whites. How many times have you and your daughter been told by white people how wonderful you are, and how different you are to African Americans? I think you should discuss this in your class. See what the students have to say. Hold a debate.’
So Tayo did. He chose a topic that he hoped would make his students think more carefully about Africa’s history, as well as America’s history. In the style of debate that he’d grown to love at Oxford, he chose a quotation and asked his students to use it as the basis for their arguments. The quote, which he considered suitably provocative and sure to elicit some good debate, came from Trevor-Roper:
‘Perhaps in the future there will be some African history to teach. But at present there is none, or very little: there is only the history of Europe in Africa. The rest is largely darkness, like the history of pre-Columbian America, and darkness is not a subject for history.’
As expected, the statement provoked reaction from the students, but not quite in the way Tayo had expected. Firstly, none of his white students wanted to take a position in favour of the motion, so that was the first hurdle. Tayo found himself having to make it clear to his students that arguing a position was not the same as agreeing with it, but this was easier said than done. White students for the motion kept apologising, and the one African student in the class became offended when an African American spoke convincingly in favour of the motion. At one point, there was almost a fist fight. Tayo would not repeat the exercise.
A ship’s foghorn broke Tayo’s thoughts as he made his way back to Kemi’s apartment. It cried its long lonesome call, warning others of poor visibility in the Bay and reminding Tayo of the Aureol and crossing the Irish Sea. A bird hopped close to where Tayo walked. It only had one leg. Were there many one-legged pigeons by San Francisco’s bay, or did he just keep seeing the same one over and over again? It was injured, but still able to fly. ‘Like me,’ Tayo thought. Injured, yet pulling things together, and metaphorically, if not literally, flying again.
Back at the apartment, Tayo found a Federal Express package waiting by the door. He put it to one side, thinking it was for Kemi, but when she returned home she gave it to him.
‘From the Nigerian Embassy,’ Tayo noted, cautiously turning the package this way and that. He thought of Dele Giwa and had the package been any heavier, he wouldn’t have opened it. Still, as a precaution, he went to a different room from his daughter and opened it at arm’s length. A diplomatic pouch fell out onto the floor. Tayo picked it up and found a letter inside. ‘A letter from the President,’ he murmured, reading the note. Kemi had now joined him.
‘It says you’ve been awarded an honorary degree from Oxford,’ Kemi read over his shoulder.
‘Well this can’t be true? Can it?’ Tayo said. ‘I’ve heard nothing from Oxford.’
‘Probably because they sent the letter to Nigeria,’ Kemi offered. ‘Daddy, this is fantastic! Look, it’s congratulating you on a lifetime’s achievement!’
‘I can hardly believe it. Do you think this is really true? They give these sorts of things to famous people with Nobel Laureates, or OBEs and MBEs, not to ordinary people like me.’
‘Well now it’s you, Daddy! We’ll call Oxford later tonight, first thing UK time.’
‘Well,’ Tayo smiled, in spite of himself. If this really was true then there was someone he would have to call first. ‘I must call Vanessa,’ he said, thinking aloud before he had time to check himself.
Kemi smiled and Tayo tried to recall how much he’d told her about Vanessa. With all the excitement, he couldn’t remember. Perhaps it didn’t matter.
Chapter 36
Tayo received an honorary degree along with five other honorees: two were awarded doctorates of Civil Law; one, a doctorate of Music; another a doctorate in Science; and two (Tayo being one), the honorary doctorate of Letters. Encaenia took place in the Sheldonian — a long and rambling ceremony conducted in Latin for six distinguished persons. But in Vanessa’s mind, this was a celebration mainly for Tayo. At last, he was receiving the recognition he deserved. After the ceremony, she stood and watched him with pride as he mingled with his guests. She’d met Tayo briefly, just before the ceremony began, when they’d hugged but hardly spoken; too many people and not enough time. Perhaps that was the way it should be, with no time for sentimentalism. But no, that was not the way it should be. They needed more time together. She needed more time with him.
‘Do you know all these people?’ Suleiman whispered.
‘No.’ Vanessa shook her head, even though she knew many of them.
‘Come and join us!’ a young woman called as she ran towards them. ‘You must be my father’s friend, Vanessa.’
‘Yes,’ Vanessa smiled, ‘and you must be Kemi.’
‘I am,’ Kemi gripped Vanessa’s hand tightly before turning to greet Suleiman. Suleiman took Kemi’s hand and Vanessa breathed a sigh of relief. Suleiman could be funny about things like this sometimes.
‘Come,’ Kemi urged, ‘let me introduce you to everyone.’
Again, Vanessa hugged Tayo and congratulated him.
‘When will I see you?’ Tayo asked, releasing Vanessa from the hug, but not letting go of her hand.
‘I’ll see you soon.’ Vanessa squeezed his fingers, which were being taken by others as more well-wishers surrounded them, jostling and making it hard to stay standing together.
Vanessa moved away and followed Kemi to be introduced to Bisi and Bolaji, and re-introduced to Uncle Kayode. Vanessa did not recognise Uncle Kayode at first and, despite his enthusiastic greeting, he seemed unable to remember her either, which saddened her until she realised that he’d had too much to drink and others were busy trying to find a place for him to sit down. Then Kemi introduced Vanessa to Miriam, and Vanessa was stunned by how youthful Miriam looked. She’d always imagined Tayo’s wife as being someone of her age, and perhaps she was, but she looked younger. She was friendly, too, and instead of feeling jealous, Vanessa felt strangely sorry for Miriam — for all that she imagined she had gone through. They spoke for a while about what each other did and then about their children, who stood not far away engaged in a conversation of their own.
‘So what’s America like then?’ Suleiman asked Kemi.
‘Great! The weather’s good, the music’s great. It’s totally happening. You should come.’
‘But I hear they don’t care much for Muslims over there.’
‘But it’s not like that in the Bay Area. You can be any religion you want in San Francisco, it doesn’t matter. You should come. Come and stay with me.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Of course!’
Vanessa smiled, wishing she could eavesdrop a little more, but Bolaji, whom she only vaguely remembered, was keen to talk as they started
walking towards Balliol, where a reception was being held in Tayo’s honour. Miriam announced that she was leaving early and Vanessa felt she must do the same.
‘Oh, but you can’t go!’ Tayo said, looking at Vanessa.
‘No, you can’t!’ Kemi insisted. ‘Dad’s been dying to see you.’
Vanessa’s heart leapt as she heard these words, touched by Kemi’s kindness but still she insisted on going back. She had to get back to London to look after Edward, she explained.
‘Don’t worry about Dad,’ Suleiman interrupted. ‘I’m going back. Dad will be fine.’
And so Vanessa stayed on at the reception with Tayo and his friends. She wished that there had been time for just the two of them. Perhaps they would meet up in London before Tayo returned to America. And then, just as she was lost in her own thoughts, Tayo walked towards her and took her arm.
‘Come,’ he said, leading her away from the crowd, ‘If we don’t escape now, we never will.’
‘So now it’s Professor Ajayi, Doctor in Litteris,’ she said, smiling as they walked together past Christ Church, towards the river.
‘Ego auctoritate mea et totius Universitatis admitto te ad gradum Doctoris in Litteris honoris causa,’ he replied.
‘So you haven’t forgotten your Latin?’
‘Oh yes, I have,’ he laughed. ‘Truthfully, that’s the only line I can remember, and don’t ask me for a translation.’
She listened to the familiar tenor of his voice and thought that it hardly mattered what he said. Of course, they would both make conversation because that was what one did, but just to be with him, and alone with him, this was what she’d wanted. She was due back in London before dark, and Tayo, she knew, could not abandon his own reception for long; but for a short while they were on their own together.
She watched him looking across Christ Church meadows, where cows basked lazily in the late afternoon sun. Just before they’d ducked out of the reception, Tayo had retrieved a small parcel from the porter’s lodge, which he now carried in one hand. He’d stopped for a moment, turning back to gaze at the college, and she thought he looked more casual and relaxed than the last time they had met. He’d changed out of subfusc and was now wearing pale khaki trousers and a light blue shirt. After all these years, he was still handsome, unnervingly so. She wore the blue cotton dress that Suleiman had chosen, a pair of cream suede shoes (a last-minute extravagance) and a straw hat.
‘What are you thinking?’ she asked quietly.
‘Sorry?’
‘You seem deep in thought. What are you thinking?’ she said, louder this time so he could hear.
‘It’s the history of this place, Vanessa. There is so much history here. Did I mention that I’m staying at the Master’s Lodge?’
She nodded.
‘In the Master’s Lodge, there’s a guest book that starts in 1909. In America, something like that would be treated as ancient, wouldn’t it? But here it’s just an ordinary guest book, and one that I’m supposed to sign alongside all these very famous people. There are Prime Ministers, world leaders, and all sorts. I saw the names of Harold Wilson, Isaiah Berlin, Gandhi, and even Seretse and Ruth Khama.’
‘The Khamas. Now that’s interesting,’ Vanessa remarked, remembering their story.
‘Sorry?’
‘I was just saying how interesting — the Khamas, Wilson, Gandhi, and now you.’
He laughed, and then they walked for some moments in silence, each with their own thoughts. She wanted to ask him more about Kemi, and about his plans for the future. They had not yet spoken about his accident, or the months of his depression in San Francisco which was something Kemi had mentioned to Vanessa in confidence. She wanted to tell him about Father’s book and her plans to return to Nigeria.
‘Oxford really hasn’t changed, has it?’ Tayo pointed to the meadows. ‘Look at Christ Church, and all of this. If I close my eyes, it could still be 1964. The sounds are the same: the bells, the coaches shouting to their rowers on the river, light aircraft in the sky and the sounds of trains in the distance. There is even the same smell of grass and river.’ He paused with his eyes still shut. ‘And then, when I look again — here you are! It’s like a beautiful dream come true.’
‘Well, I’ve certainly changed in the space of thirty or so years.’
‘Ahh, but you’re still the gracious, generous soul that I knew, and the beautiful woman I fell in love with,’ he said, walking more slowly.
She smiled. They’d reached the river and walked along the path that ran in front of the college boathouses.
‘Do you remember Summer Eights?’ she asked, knowing what he would say next.
‘You mean, when you and Gita got completely drunk and wanted to get into the boat with the rowers from St. John’s?’
‘Are you sure it wasn’t the Balliol rowers?’ she laughed.
‘Shall we?’ Tayo pointed to a bench by the river bank.
‘But shouldn’t you be getting back?’
‘I’m sure they won’t miss me. This is where I want to be and I must also thank you, Vanessa, because I know you had a hand in my receiving this award.’
‘Not at all,’ she said, even though it was true that she’d written something to support his nomination, but her voice alone would not have been enough to have him selected. She sat down, pleased for the rest from her new shoes.
‘Kemi’s a delightful young woman, Tayo. I wish that Suleiman had been able to stay a little longer.’
‘So that we could match-make our children?’ Tayo smiled.
‘Oh Tayo! But it sounds like Kemi is already spoken for.’
‘Not until I say so,’ he laughed. ‘And how is Suleiman?’
‘He’s well, very well,’ she smiled, remembering the way her son had teased her as she struggled that morning over what to wear. She’d gone into his room to model her clothes, and at first he said nothing, too busy listening to his music. ‘Chill, Mum, chill,’ he said, when finally he had noticed her. ‘You look terrific. You’ll look beautiful for him.’
‘So you haven’t told me much about your stay in America,’ she remarked. ‘What is this book you’re thinking of writing?’
She listened as he told her about his writings on American racial politics. His perspective as an African in America sounded interesting but, as hard as she listened, it was only him she thought about as he talked — who he’d been and who he still was.
‘Perhaps you should have written about your time in England as a student and the racism here, and I suppose my father and …’ She let the words trail off.
‘It wasn’t just your father ‘Nessa. I was proud, too proud in those days and so stupid, too.’ He paused. ‘Vanessa …’
‘Tayo,’ she said, speaking before he had time to say any more. And then, not wanting to dwell on regrets, she asked him to tell her more about San Francisco. ‘What’s the other project you mentioned — and what about retirement?’ He looked at her but didn’t say anything. Perhaps, like her, he was sifting through thoughts trying to determine what to say and when. What was worth saying? ‘So I take it you won’t be retiring when you return to Nigeria?’ she added.
‘I ought to retire,’ he said, ‘because the age of retirement in Nigerian universities is sixty. But I’ll continue to teach, if not officially, then unofficially.’
‘Oh, but surely now you have this honorary degree they’ll dispense with the official rules and make you Vice-Chancellor for life?’
‘I hope not,’ he said, turning to face her. ‘I just want to go back quietly. I don’t want to be involved in university politics any more. I’ve done my time. I’m too old now.’ He placed one hand along the back of the bench and the other in the space between them. ‘Will you come and visit me one day?’
‘I will, Tayo. And in fact…’
‘And of course, you must bring Edward,’ he added before she could finish.
She smiled. Edward found it hard to travel these days. Even the short journey from London
to Oxford, which he’d wanted to make today, proved at the last minute to be too much for him.
‘I know.’ Tayo nodded. ‘You’ve told me that he’s growing frail. But I pray that he regains his strength. I shall pray for a miracle.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied. ‘Does this mean you believe in prayer now?’
‘In my own way,’ he smiled.
She nodded and gazed at the river, watching the rowers. And how I prayed that you would return, that we would find a way to make things work, she thought. She looked back at Tayo and found him watching her. Feeling shy, she turned away.
‘Look at that!’ she said, spotting a squirrel close to their feet. Its tail was arched and nose lifted, sniffing the air. ‘Do you remember what you used to call them?’ The squirrel scuttled a few feet away, rising now on his hind legs with paws up, waiting. ‘I remember you calling them rats with bushy tails.’
‘Yes,’ Tayo laughed. ‘They were good times together, weren’t they?’ He removed his hand from the back of the bench and rested it with the other on his lap.
‘Yes and…’
‘I miss those days,’ he said softly, filling in for her silence. ‘Sometimes I wish I could just go back in time and re-live them. I would make different choices now.’
‘And what would you change?’ Vanessa asked.
‘I would have married you.’
‘Oh Tayo!’
‘No, it’s true. As an old man, I realise what I’ve missed.’ He sighed and gave her knee a friendly pat.
In Dependence Page 23
