‘We will drop these hints to him,’ Alhaji Mukhtar said.
Chief Amechi stood up. ‘Very well then.’
‘Peace and love to you, Sir.’
He led them to their cars, each holding a thick envelope in their hands.
Before Chief Donald Amechi travelled to England as a teenager, he was called Nwiphuru, an Ikwo name which means ‘child of a thief’. There were many reasons why people were given such a name, just like there were many reasons why at that time people were named Nwuzor, ‘child born on the road’, or Nwite, ‘child of a pot’, or Nwewo, ‘child of a frog’. People were named according to the circumstances surrounding their birth.
Donald Amechi was born in the season when some criminal organizations from the nearby Izzi clan were terrorizing the Ikwo people. His father was wealthy because he was one of the few at that time with a Western education. His father worked with Norwegians in a small agricultural research centre. He boasted about his education before his people and caused a lot of trouble. He was well feared because murder ran in his blood. ‘Don’t fight him,’ people would say. ‘Remember, his father once killed a man and hoisted his skull on a tree at his compound.’
When the Norwegians were leaving, they offered to take his son Nwiphuru with them. He was a brilliant boy – and at the age of nine he already knew how to bud oranges. At the age of seventeen, his gift for football took him to England for a teen tournament, where he was spotted by a club that signed him up. He played for them until he was eighteen before relocating to Spain. At twenty-two he returned to England and played for Leicester City, and after four years he transferred to Italy to play in the Italian League.
When Donald returned to Nigeria, no one from his clan would give him their daughter’s hand because of his father’s reputation, so he travelled back to England. Soon after, he sustained a major injury and his doctor said he would never play football again. He worked as a TV football analyst for two years before coming back to Nigeria as a national hero with his young Italian wife, whom he had met in England. However, despite all his success Donald could not deny the bloodlust that ran through his veins, nor the origins of his name, and he soon became an influential member of the Sacred Order, rising swiftly through the ranks, until he took on the role of Sacred Lord.
The evergreen trees swirled in different directions. The wind sent electrifying waves through people’s nerves. Donaldo drove steadily, only swerving occasionally to dodge the potholes that characterized the roads leading to the outskirts of the town from Mile 50.
The car windows were down and raindrops splashed him. He needed to think. He wondered what he was going to say when he got to his destination. He became nervous.
As he drove into Obashi Crescent, he slowed, passing No. 15, and kept going. On a rectangular sign attached to the fence was the inscription ‘No.12’. From his car, he saw hibiscus and some Queen-of-the-night flowers that had overgrown and spread their branches along the security wires on top of the fence. It appealed to his artist’s eye.
He got out of his car and pressed the buzzer by the gate. The bell chimed several times before someone peeped through a small opening in the gate. Several seconds elapsed before the guard opened it. He might not have opened it at all had he not seen a Volkswagen Bug parked by the man who was standing at the gate. The gateman carried an umbrella. Donaldo tried to enter but the gateman blocked him so he could not pass.
‘Who are you?’ the gateman asked, looking at Donaldo from head to toe.
‘I wish to see the young lady who lives here.’
‘What’s the person’s name? I mean the person you are looking for?’
‘Sir, sincerely, I do not know her name.’ Donaldo gave a boyish smile. The gateman looked at him and pushed the gate, trying to close it.
‘Wait, please. She is tall, black, with black hair,’ he explained, brushing off some water from his own hair.
‘Oh. You want to see my madam. No, people don’t see her like that. Just leave.’ He began to push at the gate again.
‘Wait, Sir—’ The gate slammed instantly against Donaldo. By now he was wet all over. There was a sudden flash of lightning, followed by a roar of thunder. Why is it raining in February? he thought. Then he remembered that in the car he had a thick pad of paper that he used for his outdoor sketches. He grabbed it and used it for an umbrella. Then he pressed the bell again and again until the gate opened. The gateman came out with an older, tough looking man. He became more nervous. What do I do now? his mind sang.
‘This is the boy,’ the gateman said.
‘I am the security here. You have been disturbing us with the bell. Who are you?’ The older man wore a khaki security uniform with a logo saying Towers Security. He had protruding eyeballs and broad shoulders with a lean body and a flat stomach. His bushy eyebrows almost stretched into his eyes.
Donaldo hated telling people he was the son of Chief Donald Amechi, but he knew that without the name he would not gain entry to the compound.
‘I am Donaldo Amechi, I live at Williams Island.’
The two men exchanged glances. ‘So you are the Chief’s son?’ the gateman asked, surprised.
‘Yes, Sir. Sir, biko, could you permit me to see her?’ The two men looked at each other again and ushered him in. They took him to the porch and offered him a seat. The security man went inside and called Miss Spencer, who emerged a few minutes later wearing a sweater. Her feet were encased in black socks and Dunlop slippers.
Miss Spencer’s heart skipped on seeing the handsome boy stood before her.
‘Good morning, young man.’ She eyed him cautiously. ‘Can we help you?’
Donaldo faced her. ‘Good morning Ma, I ask to see the young lady of the compound.’
‘My name is Miss Spencer… don’t call me Ma.’ The gateman looked at Miss Spencer. He looked at her voluptuous breasts and wondered why she was not married.
‘Okay, Ma… ehm… Miss Spencer. I… please can you allow me to see her?’
‘Adeline? What do you want with her?’
Donaldo’s eyes lit up. ‘If that is her name, then yes. I have some… business to discuss with her.’
Miss Spencer coughed slightly. She could guess what ‘business’ this boy wanted to discuss with Adeline, who was never short of admirers. Still, he was brave to come so brazenly into the Chuba residence. Brave, or naïve, and naïvety could be a dangerous thing.
‘Listen, I’d advise you to leave immediately,’ she told him, ‘here we follow rules, and the rules won’t allow you to see her. Understood?’ They were all quiet. The breeze swirled her skirt. It made a sizzling sound. The trees made a noise too. The weaverbirds were chirping and the rain had stopped. The compound was serene.
Then, just as Donaldo looked at Miss Spencer, then at the security man, and back at Miss Spencer, the door opened. As if the weaverbirds had called her out, as if they had asked her to come and behold the face she had been thinking about, Adeline stood tenderly by the doorway.
‘Hi,’ Donaldo said, his voice unsteady. He fidgeted. He felt like sprouting wings and flying away.
‘Why don’t you come in?’ Adeline said, ignoring everyone. Miss Spencer looked at the security man and nodded for him to leave. As she stood watching the two, she allowed herself to think for a moment how beautiful they looked together.
Donaldo was still wet from the rain.
‘No.’ He looked down at his clothes; Adeline’s eyes followed him. ‘I am in no state to enter your home. I am happy just to know where you live. I am sorry for any trouble I have caused.’ He looked from Adeline to Miss Spencer, whose expression did not change.
Adeline was surprised; she wanted him to stay. ‘No. It’s okay. I mean… we can get you towels. Please do come in.’
‘Please, if you don’t mind, I will leave now.’ There was no way he could stay: he was shy and he was soaked through. He turned to walk back towards the gate.
‘It is strange to come here and then refuse my invitation. I
don’t even know your name,’ Adeline called behind him, ‘you could at least return another day.’
He turned back to face her, the hint of a smile on his lips, and for a moment their eyes were locked together.
‘My name is Donaldo, and with your permission, perhaps I can return tomorrow.’ He glanced at Miss Spencer. ‘If it is not any trouble.’
Adeline smiled. ‘No trouble at all. I am Adeline. Until tomorrow then, Donaldo.’
He turned and walked away, never looking back.
That day, there were a lot of arguments in the Chuba residence.
They were gathered in the kitchen.
‘I don’t want that boy to come back, Adeline.’
‘Why, Miss Spencer? Why?’
‘Because it is not right. Your father… he made it clear that no boy should—’
‘I don’t care about my father. I can’t continue to be in this house every day, every year, without going out. I have no friends.’
‘It is for your own good, Adeline.’ Miss Spencer’s heart thought otherwise. She was so confused.
The maids were in the kitchen too. Michelle said, ‘Perhaps we shouldn’t… I mean… you shouldn’t deprive Adeline of the chance of making friends.’
Miss Spencer barked, ‘Are you stupid, Michelle? Are you Adeline’s father or mother? Now get out.’
Michelle hurried out of the room.
‘All of you!’ Miss Spencer screamed. The others followed Michelle, but they stood beside the dining room, eavesdropping.
Miss Spencer approached Adeline. ‘Please, Adeline,’ she said, her voice calm now, ‘I don’t want trouble.’
‘Who will give you trouble? Donaldo?’ Adeline said in a pleading voice. ‘He looks gentle.’
‘Ah. What will your father say when he finds out?’
‘His father is Dad’s friend.’
‘All the more reason why you shouldn’t see this boy. Your father won’t like it.’
‘I can’t continue to please my parents all the time and displease myself.’ Adeline sat down on a chair. ‘Please, Miss Spencer. Please.’
Miss Spencer was silent.
‘They don’t need to know.’
TWELVE
Tuesday, 16th February 2010
The next day Adeline waited in anticipation, checking the window every now and then. Once, she had gone as far as the gate to look. Finally, when she had given up and gone back to her room, he came.
She was called down. She was surprised to see that they had brought him into the sitting room. She stood by the staircase staring at him.
‘I am sorry to come late in the evening – if this is a bad time, I will leave.’
She came forward shyly. ‘Mba… sit down.’ She wanted to say more, but it was as if her lips had been sealed with glue.
‘You have a nice house.’
‘Thanks,’ she smiled at him, unsure of what to say next.
Donaldo sensed her uneasiness. ‘Perhaps you would like to sit, too?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Adeline approached and sat down on the sofa beside him, turning her body slightly to face him. He wore a T-shirt and jeans. She couldn’t stop admiring his long hair. They continued to sit silently. After a few moments a maid appeared.
‘We have a visitor,’ Adeline told her, grateful for the interruption. ‘Get him some snacks, anything hot because it is cold.’
Donaldo smiled uncomfortably. She had not even asked him what he wanted, or if he wanted anything at all. He guessed that she wasn’t accostumed to having visitors.
‘So what do you do?’ she asked.
‘I am an artist.’
‘A musician?’
‘No. I paint. I draw and paint.’
Adeline was thrilled. ‘That is so cool. I do some drawings. But I am only an amateur.’
‘You will get better.’ Donaldo’s eyes fell on her neck and the creases around it. He swallowed. Adeline didn’t notice.
‘You studied that at college?’
‘What?’
‘You studied Fine Art?’
Donaldo hesitated, then said heavily, ‘I did not go to college.’
He bent his head, and she was surprised to hear that.
‘The harmattan has worsened,’ Adeline commented awkwardly.
Donaldo nodded, grateful the conversation had steered away from his education, ‘It must be the rain. When it rains in January or February it makes the harmattan worse.’
‘I wonder how it will be in the North.’
Donaldo didn’t respond; he hadn’t travelled out of the town since he was born.
Adeline switched on the television, hoping the distraction would calm her nerves. The maid returned with a tray carrying a drink, a meat pie and a bowl of groundnuts. She placed it on the table in front of them.
‘Please, help yourself,’ Adeline said.
‘Thanks.’ He pointed at the flickering set. ‘You watch TV all the time?’
‘Yeah. I enjoy watching TV,’ she said. Another maid brought her a glass of juice.
They watched the television together in silence.
In the kitchen lounge, adjacent to the dining room, the maids and the nurse chatted with Miss Spencer while she cut up ugu for the stew they were preparing.
Miss Spencer said, ‘I wonder if she is going mad. How could she bring him inside?’
‘They look beautiful together,’ Michelle said and giggled.
‘If e go make small madam happi me I no see anything wrong for there,’ Ngozi said. There was a water lily in bloom in a large vase on the table, and Miss Spencer stared at it as if it would reveal what they were discussing. Ngozi found a cloth and began to clean the flowers.
Miss Spencer said, ‘What are you doing that for?’
‘I think say you wan make I clean am. You just dey look am,’ Ngozi responded.
‘No, I was staring far beyond the flowers. Something tells me we are stepping into a big booom, wahala.’ She made an awful sound as she said the word booom. They all laughed.
‘Check the rice. She might want to eat with him. Adjust the cooker too,’ Miss Spencer ordered and Ngozi went back to the kitchen.
‘I love them… I really do. So much,’ Michelle said.
‘I wish na me be Adeline oh!’ Ngozi’s voice echoed from the kitchen.
‘What is happening to all of you? Just the second time you are seeing that boy and all your mouths are wagging kpam kpam kpam like a typewriter.’
They sat at the long dining table. Miss Spencer, Donaldo and Adeline. The maids were desperate to know more about him, so they stood by the door leading to the kitchen and listened in. Donaldo felt exhilarated. Adeline felt full of gladness.
They ate in silence till Adeline asked, ‘Do you like Miss Spencer’s stew? She is the best cook in the whole world.’
‘Yes. Yes.’ Donaldo couldn’t look at either of them. But the stew was good.
There was silence again.
By the time they had finished the meal, it was getting dark and they went back to the sitting room. Donaldo stared at the framed photos on the wall.
‘You have a nice family.’
‘Thanks.’ Adeline picked up a novel on the coffee table, Devil on the Cross by Ngugi Wa Thiong’o, ‘Have you read this?’.
‘I don’t read books. I find it difficult. I find it easier to draw and paint.’
‘Hold on.’ Adeline hurried upstairs. When she came back she was holding some sheets of paper. She smiled childishly and showed him her own drawings. ‘They are just amateur sketches.’
She sat close beside him. He had never sat that near to a woman before other than Madam Vero. His heart began to run a marathon.
‘What you draw. They… they look sad.’
Adeline looked at him. ‘I feel sad, at times,’ she admitted. ‘I draw when I am bored. But I love to read. I have hundreds of novels.’
‘Boredom brings out ingenuity and creativity.’
‘Hmmn, you really have a love for art, then?’
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‘Yes. Every artist should.’
‘Your father loves art too?’
‘He was a footballer. Are footballers artists?’
‘Well, I guess so.’ She laughed.
‘I inherited my love of art from my mother, Christiana.’ He smiled sadly.
Adeline looked affectionately at him, she knew Chief Amechi’s wife had died many years back, it was popular knowledge. ‘Where was your mother from?’
‘Palermo, in Sicily.’
‘Oh. I couldn’t have guessed that. Ever!’ She giggled happily.
‘Let me show you something,’ He took one of the pieces of paper and on the other side sketched the tree by the window. In no time, he was done. She looked at it and marvelled.
‘It’s beautiful. Gosh, this is amazing,’ she said, her eyes filled with admiration.
‘I’ve been talking only about myself since I came here, Adeline. Unless you want to write a novel about me, I would love to know more about you.’ Donaldo smiled at her and their eyes met briefly. His body trembled. He felt heat engulf him. He wished he could just sit there forever.
THIRTEEN
Saturday, 20th February 2010
Simon Chuba was a civil engineer with the Ministry of Works in Awka in Anambra State. While in secondary school, he founded the Black Scorpions Fraternity and lured many students into it. The fraternity terrorized the other students, the school and all nearby schools. He beat up teachers and flouted school rules. And his brother, Evangelist Chris Chuba, bailed him out in times of trouble. Back then Chris Chuba was building his religious ministry and had just returned from the United States. So, whenever he wanted a rival pastor threatened, the young Simon did it for him.
Simon got whatever he wanted, even women, either by kind or by force. Only a few in the fraternity knew about his perversion for rape. Once, at the age of nineteen, he had raped a fourteen-year-old girl selling oranges. He called her into an empty building pretending he wanted to buy some fruit from her. He knocked her down and tore her clothes. The young girl’s eyes were red and filled with tears and fear. And he liked the fear that had engulfed his prey. He entered her forcefully. The next morning, they found her dead body in the building. Years later, as he watched his niece Adeline grow into a woman, he knew he had to fight with himself not to commit a taboo.
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