by Odafe Atogun
‘I’m going to be a merchant one day,’ he told them. ‘My mother is teaching me how to trade. When I become a merchant I will travel to far places and bring new things to our village.’
The boys were excited. Some said they wanted to be farmers; others said they wanted to be fishermen because fishermen are known to be very rich. One boy said he wanted to become a bus driver so that he could travel to the city and see the wonders there.
‘I want to become a politician,’ Bekes said. ‘And I will make laws that will transform our village into a city.’
‘How can you become a politician when you have not been to school?’ Tudoh said. ‘You’re dreaming a dream that is too big for you.’
‘No dream is too big for me!’ Bekes retorted. ‘I will go to the city one day, like our new Chief did. And I will go to school when I get to the city. And then I will become a politician. You will see.’
‘My mother said you can become anything you want to be,’ Noah said. ‘But she also said that you have to work for it. I’m sure that we can all become what we want to become.’
‘I want to become Chief one day,’ Tudoh said. ‘Me, I want to remain in the village. I don’t want to go to the city or any faraway land. I want to stay here and become Chief. And all of you will bring me presents and bow before me.’
A fierce argument broke out. ‘We are not going to bow before you!’ Bekes snapped. ‘Who are you that we would bow before you, tiny as you are?’
‘I will be Chief,’ Tudoh said calmly.
Several boys chased him, wanting to beat him to show him that he could never rule over them. He ran very fast on his spindly legs and they could not catch up with him. So they turned back, panting, and continued to dream about their own futures. Bekes’ vision – to transform their village into a city – fired their imagination most.
*
There were times when business was so slow we would not see a single customer in many hours. I used such times to tell Noah more stories about the village of our birth. And, eventually, I told myself that it was time to tell him the origin of the dream that we shared there, a dream which earned me the death penalty and forced me to flee.
I realised that it was my duty to tell him the origin of that dream exactly as it had been. It was what gave meaning to all our struggles, even our existence. So I took my time to tell the story so that he could relive it as we had lived it then. I saw in his eyes that his memory was being rekindled. And I knew that it was just a matter of time before we began to dream that ancient dream all over again. It was as Mama had told me; I felt certain that this was both of our destinies. I had seen so many things by now to know what destiny was. And I had enjoyed so many blessings, enough to know that we could only live the fullness of our destiny by becoming a blessing to others.
I began by telling him about the evil tradition of our village which labelled orphans evil children. I told him of their plight and how they often ended up in the abandoned building on the outskirts, the halfway house from where they travelled to distant lands never to return. I told him of the day the old Chief had convened a meeting at which he spelled out my rights and obligations as a widow. And how, when we got back home, he, Noah, had told me of his encounter with four orphan boys when he had gone to pick mangos with his neighbourhood friends on the outskirts, against my wishes.
And so the story slowly unfolded.
He did not ask questions; he just listened. I could tell that his emotions were the same as they had been all that time ago. I could also tell that he felt the same way about the orphans as he had then. And I saw a kindness in his eyes that reminded me of his father.
*
I had forgotten what it was like to be in love. I had left that feeling behind in the village of my birth. But I soon discovered that Kewe was trying to revive that feeling in me. He brought me fruit often. And now that I worked in the shop full-time, he would stay by the window and engage me in chit-chat when there were no customers around. He was a very witty young man, and very good looking too. But it was not about him; I could no longer feel the beat of love in my heart.
‘I’m a widow,’ I said to him and laughed, ‘a widow who no longer submits to the longings of the heart.’
It was Noah’s day off. There were no customers around. Kewe had brought me a bunch of bananas and some oranges. I peeled some of the oranges and passed a couple to him through the window. I watched him suck his orange. I liked the way he sucked his orange, as if it was the sweetest thing in the world. I finished sucking an orange and I ate a banana. I had put some away for Noah. Kewe always came on Noah’s day off, and I always kept some of the fruit he brought for Noah. Now, as we chatted, it occurred to me that I was developing a fondness for Kewe, but it had nothing to do with love. The only man I had ever loved was Tanto. Of course, I no longer knew what it meant to be in love.
‘But you’re a very beautiful widow,’ Kewe said.
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘That’s what everybody says, but it does not make me special, or better than any other person.’
‘I think you’re special,’ he said. ‘And I think I like you a lot.’
‘I like you a lot too,’ I said, ‘not because you’re good looking but because you have a kind heart.’
‘That’s such a nice thing to say.’ He smiled. For a few moments we were silent. ‘You work too hard,’ he said. ‘You need to do other things.’
‘Well, work keeps me busy and I enjoy what I do.’
‘Still, you must take time off now and then. I want to take you out,’ he said.
‘Take me where?’
‘To the Gate to watch the sun set. It’s very beautiful out there.’
‘I know, I have been there a few times. That was where I met Mama when I first arrived here. And it was where my son found me when he came in search of me. The Gate is a very special place for me.’
‘I would like to take you there tomorrow. Maybe you could close early? Please don’t say no.’ He smiled.
His smile was charming. ‘It wouldn’t be a bad idea,’ I said.
*
We went to the Gate the next evening. We got there just before the sun began to sink behind the horizon. There was no one about. I sat on Mama’s rock and Kewe sat on another, close to me. A gentle breeze was blowing. I looked down the road that had brought me, and then Noah, to the village, and I smiled, grateful that the road was there.
The sun was a shimmering orange ball. We watched it with fascination. And as we did, it suddenly disappeared then appeared again, as if playing a trick on us. I smiled. We watched for many minutes, following which the sun began its final descent. Now it was a ball of many fiery but subtle colours blending together. A dark cloud slowly encroached on its edge, swallowing it up. And darkness promptly fell upon the world.
We turned to look at each other with faint smiles.
‘It is such a beautiful sight, isn’t it?’ Kewe said.
I just nodded, saying nothing.
In that silence we sat for a while. Strangely, the sky seemed to brighten a little, even though darkness had fallen. The road was empty. But I knew that one day it would take my son back home to his roots, and I knew that when that time came I would have fulfilled my destiny. I smiled and blew the road a kiss.
My mind suddenly went to Bomboi and the others, but I did not think of them in a sad way. ‘I understand that orphans are treated badly here,’ I said.
‘It has been like that for ages. It is tradition,’ Kewe replied.
‘It’s an evil tradition,’ I said quietly.
‘I agree with you, but there’s nothing any of us can do about it.’
‘Only because no one wants to do anything about it.’
‘Mama tried to, but the Chief at that time and the people resisted it.’
‘Let me ask you, would you want to see that tradition change?’
‘Of course I would!’ Kewe said. ‘Some of us would love to see it change. The new Chief is doing things differently.
Maybe things will change during his reign. Everyone is afraid of the priests. But I’m hopeful even that will change one day.’
I nodded in agreement.
‘Do you have a girlfriend?’ I asked suddenly.
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘But I like you in a way I cannot explain.’ He reached for my hand and pulled me to my feet. ‘Let’s go back.’
We walked back to the village slowly.
‘Come with your girlfriend to the shop tomorrow,’ I said. ‘I would like to meet her.’
‘Okay, I will do so. But don’t forget that I like you in a really special way. Honestly, I do.’
‘I know. It’s called friendship,’ I said and laughed.
*
Her name was Chamuke. She was a very pretty girl. And I could tell that she was very shy, too. I came out of the shop to greet them. I remembered that I had seen her on a few occasions before, even on the day I opened the shop, when the whole village had come. I remembered seeing her and thinking how attractive she was. I was not surprised; she and Kewe were a perfect match.
After we had greeted each other, I said to her, ‘Your boyfriend and I are good friends.’
‘I know,’ she said and smiled. ‘He talks about you always. I was jealous at first. But not anymore.’
‘Good, I’m glad to hear that. I hope you will come to see me often.’
‘Yes, I will.’ She nodded and then said, ‘I see Noah around a lot. He is such a lovely boy, far bigger than others his age. He told me he is eight, but he looks twelve.’ She laughed.
‘I’m surprised myself the way he is growing,’ I said.
‘It’s good,’ Kewe said. ‘He is going to be a big strong man, like me.’
‘No, like his father,’ I said and we all laughed.
They took their leave when customers began to trickle in.
And then it was time for lunch. I closed the shop when Oyi came to inform me that lunch was ready. To my surprise, Noah was not at home for lunch. He was always there for lunch; he knew when to come.
‘Where is Noah?’ I asked Oyi.
‘I’m surprised he has not shown up,’ she said. ‘He must be on his way.’
‘I will wait for him to come.’
‘You go ahead and eat,’ Soluso said. ‘I will go and find him.’
I had almost finished eating when Noah turned up with Soluso. ‘I’m sorry I’m late, Mother,’ he said, grinning broadly. ‘My side was losing a game and I had to make sure I scored a goal before leaving.’
‘So did you score the goal?’ I asked.
‘Yes, I did, and my side won!’
‘Go and wash your hands and come and eat,’ I said, smiling.
Soon he came to join me at the table. He was still eating when I went to reopen the shop.
*
Business was very good.
At the end of our first month of trading, I returned to the town with Oyi to renegotiate my contract with the merchant.
The merchant was delighted to see us and to hear that business was going well. He entertained us with cold Fanta and biscuits. The drink was so cold I felt a chill right from my head all the way down to my feet, and it was as if my brain had stopped functioning for a moment or two. The Fanta I sold in the village was never cold because I had no fridge, and even if I had had a fridge, there was no electricity to power it. So I sold warm Fanta to my customers, who drank it that way and liked it. But cold Fanta was a totally different experience. I promised myself that once electricity came to our village, I would buy a fridge to sell cold Fanta and Coke.
After I had renewed my contract, Oyi and I strolled through the town. I was not yet at ease like Oyi, but I was starting to get used to the town a bit. As we went, I noticed children in uniform carrying books. Oyi explained that they were just finishing school. ‘One day they will grow up to be lawyers and doctors and politicians,’ she said.
As I watched the children an idea suddenly came to me. ‘We could have a school in our village too,’ I said, excited. ‘And our children could become great one day too.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Oyi asked.
I did not answer her. I just pulled her along, the idea growing in my mind.
FIFTEEN
Time passed and I forgot that orphans existed in the village. I forgot about the brilliant idea for a school that had come to me when I visited the town with Oyi. I forgot about so many things; only my son and my business mattered to me. And I started to drift, like you drift when life becomes monotonous.
And then I went to shop alone one market-day, and I bumped into Bisco, the young merchant who did business in the village of my birth, and often boasted of his journeys to the big city. I could not believe my eyes. I stood before him, peering at him as if I had been blind and had suddenly recovered my sight but was not sure if I was seeing right. For a long moment, he also peered at me, disbelief in his eyes. And then, raising his hand to his mouth, he whispered my name, ‘Ese.’ He nodded his head, as if to assure himself that it really was me. ‘Ese,’ he said again.
‘Bisco!’ I cried, reaching out my hand until I was almost touching his face. And then we both shouted with great delight and rushed into each other’s arms in a warm embrace.
‘Is it really you, Bisco?’ I asked after we had broken apart.
‘Yes, it is me!’ And then, looking deep into my eyes, he said, ‘I’m so sorry about everything that happened to you. I visited your village to see if business had picked up, but it hadn’t. Chair-Lady told me all that happened.’ He shook his head.
Several curious onlookers had gathered around us by now. Afraid that he would say something that would expose my secrets, I took his hand and led him quickly through the market to a quiet spot.
‘What was it Chair-Lady told you?’ I asked.
He sighed. ‘She told me how your son died and of your involvement with the orphans, and the death penalty being imposed on you.’
‘My son did not die!’ I spoke fiercely, keeping my voice to a whisper. ‘It was a lie made up by the Chief because I refused to marry him. My son lives in this village with me now.’
A look of confusion spread across his face. ‘But everyone I spoke with in the village told me the same thing,’ he said.
‘I told you, it was all a lie made up by the Chief,’ I snapped.
The look on his face deepened. He shrugged. And then he jolted me with these words: ‘I saw Kpofe in the city.’
I screamed with joy. ‘You saw him?’ I looked round to make sure that no one was paying attention to us. ‘You saw Kpofe?’
‘Yes.’
‘How? Where did you see him?’
He shook his head slowly, as if lost for words.
‘What is it?’
‘I saw him in the wholesale market where I usually go to buy goods. He came there to look for a job.’
‘I thought he had a job in the city?’
‘He told me that he lost his job. He told me he lost his girlfriend too. He looked very unhappy.’
‘I thought they were going to get married? What happened?’ I could not hide the anguish in my voice.
‘He didn’t say,’ Bisco replied. ‘I begged my friend who owns a shop in the market to give him a job. It is the biggest market in the city. He works there now.’
I stayed silent, my heart beating unevenly, and I wondered why things had gone so wrong for Kpofe.
‘It’s my first time in this market.’ I heard Bisco’s voice, as if from a distance. ‘I just came to see it. I may come to do business here one day.’
‘When are you next going to the city?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know, maybe in two weeks’ time.’
‘When you go, please tell Kpofe I live here now. Tell him I had to leave our village.’
‘I will tell him.’
‘Bisco . . .’ I said hesitantly.
‘Yes.’ He leaned closer to me.
‘No one in this village must know anything about me, anything about what Chair-Lady
told you.’
He nodded. ‘I understand,’ he said, pursing his lips.
I managed a weak smile. I left the market and returned home, saddened by the news I had received.
*
I did not mention my encounter with Bisco to Noah because I did not want him to know about Kpofe’s tough times in the city.
In the following days, I agonised over Kpofe’s fate. I wept silently for him, and I prayed that Bisco would go to the city soon and deliver my message to him. I wondered if he would come to visit Noah and me. Suddenly, I hated the city for what it had done to Kpofe. And I came to understand what he meant when he said the city was a difficult place when you have no job. But I remembered him telling me that God in heaven answers prayers. So I prayed for him, hoping that things would get better for him.
Not long after, just when I had begun to wonder if God had answered my prayer for Kpofe, Noah encountered an orphan.
It was Noah’s day off. He had gone out early because Ladu wanted to show him how to prepare a fishing line. On his way to Ladu’s house, he passed a rubbish dump. And to his surprise, he saw a boy about his age scavenging for food. The boy looked very thin. He began to move away when he saw Noah approaching, as if he had been caught in a criminal act.
‘What are you doing?’ Noah asked, surprised to see the boy carrying a bowl which contained some of the items he had dug from the rubbish. He had never seen the boy before, and he wondered if he was from the village.
The boy continued to retreat backwards in slow steps, holding the bowl close to his chest. Noah walked towards him. And then the boy turned and began to run and Noah pursued him without thinking. Soon he caught up with the boy because he was much stronger. The boy stopped running, panting and cowering in the presence of Noah.
‘What were you doing there?’ Noah asked, reaching out to touch the boy gently.
The boy looked up, saying nothing.
‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ Noah said. ‘I’m a boy like you. I won’t hurt you. I just want to know what you were doing there.’
‘I was looking for food to eat,’ the boy replied. He had begun to relax a little because Noah was a boy. If he had been an adult, he would have run without stopping.
