by Myne Whitman
“What!” Nneka cried in mock outrage. “Give me my baby…”
Efe burst out laughing, blinking in the flash of Dozie taking a picture of her and the baby. Nneka and Anuli were the only ones who made her truly happy.
When they were alone, she said to Nneka, “Remind me of something I have to tell you.”
“What is it?” Nneka asked.
“Later,” Efe insisted.
The other couple left not long after, and Dozie went to put Anuli to bed. Efe helped Nneka tidy up the dining and sitting rooms.
“You have something to tell me?” Nneka asked in the kitchen, handing over a dripping plate.
Efe dried off the suds in silence not knowing how to start. Finally she spoke. “I saw Kevwe’s twin yesterday. He was in my office.”
“What?” Nneka whispered, “How did you take it?”
Efe mocked herself. “I almost fell at his feet.”
“You fell?” Nneka murmured.
“Almost,” Efe nodded.
Nneka drew closer. “Did he recognize you or your name? Did you tell him?”
Battling the hovering tears, Efe shook her head. She blamed her seething emotions on having spent time with Anuli.
Nneka put a finger under her chin and raised it. “Talk to me…”
Efe blinked again and the heavy tears spilled over her lashes. She wiped at her cheeks and saw another drop splash on the back of Nneka’s hand.
“Look Efe, I’ve told you several times, it’s time to forget that bad experience.”
“You don’t understand.” Efe managed a weak grimace. Nneka thought seven years was enough to mourn a broken engagement. She wanted Efe to try other men, and didn’t understand why Stanley wasn’t in consideration.
Efe knew Nneka’s argument by heart now and brushed her off when she attempted to speak. “Eh… eh, don’t say anything…”
“I’ll say it,” Nneka insisted. “A man who loves you is the tonic you need to heal your wounds and break you out of the fiasco with Kevwe. But no, you chase them away. You want to be free. At thirty, Efe, what kind of freedom do you want?”
“I’m not thirty yet.” Efe forced a smile.
Nneka rolled her eyes. “Do you want to be single for life? Do you enjoy breaking other men’s hearts because yours was broken?”
Efe began to bristle. She wasn’t up for a lecture. “Nneka, you know that’s not true. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you about Kevwe’s twin. I couldn’t keep it to myself.”
“Why did he come to your office in the first place?” Nneka asked after a beat of silence.
Efe sighed. “My assistant didn’t get his bill and audit ready on time. I’ve promised him Tunde will take it over to his office next week Friday.”
“Why not go yourself?” Nneka asked.
“After what Kevwe did to me?” Efe was in control of her emotions now, turning to put the plate in her hands away. She’d thought of going, but there was no need. Dr. Mukoro, like his parents, must have known of what happened, and approved of it. She would not demean herself by going to him for whatever reason.
“These things happen, Efe. You have to get over it. I’m sure you will feel better if you tell him who you are and get it off your chest.”
They heard Dozie coming, and Nneka changed the topic, saying in a loud tone, “You told me you went out clubbing with Ovie and the rest. How did it go?”
Efe breathed a sigh of relief and recounted the antics of the previous night. Dozie joined them and began to reminisce about his early years as a student in Chicago.
They talked for a while before Efe reminded them it was time to leave as tomorrow was a workday. Nneka saw her off and asked again if she would take the doctor’s accounts to him. She didn’t like fights, she told Nneka, but maybe this was one she had to face.
**
4
Lagos. November 20, 2009. 7pm
Sidestepping heavy machines, Kevwe walked ahead of the three men with him. Just back from a meeting with potential clients in the city, he had on a suit under his long khaki overalls. Usually he would be wearing his preferred denim jumpers and working beside his staff in the factory. But his mind was still groggy from the insufficient sleep of the last night, and he didn’t want to be unsafe. He only came down to the factory to escape his office and the memories shadowing the corners.
“It is the machine over there, sir.”
The deep voice snapped him out of his reverie. It was Gideon, the company foreman, a tall, lanky and light-skinned Uromi man. Kevwe looked to the left, in the direction he pointed, and along the production line of the latest project at his company. One of the machines had broken down, and no one knew the cause, including those specifically trained to man them. Instead of solutions, they preferred to blame each other or the junior boys.
As they passed, a junior technician whispered to the foreman. “Oga Gideon, it’s not the machine fault. See, NEPA take light yesterday night. That is why.”
Kevwe stopped and cursed. Inside, he almost smiled. Finally, something to focus his anger. Inadequate power supply had been his first challenge when he went fully into designing and manufacturing industrial refrigeration machines. The government-run electricity company supplied less than a quarter of his factory’s power needs.
“Odion, what happened? Didn’t I leave instructions for the generator to be left working last night?” Kevwe turned to his right with a frown.
“You did sir, but there was an unexpected leak. I had to shut the generator down,” the electrical overseer replied.
Recently, his company had pioneered a technology that helped to increase the quality of cooling products. As he’d hoped, this led to an increase in the demand for the company’s services, and the signing up of big clients. They now had several orders to meet in three different cities, and he would deliver the ones to Sheraton Hotel himself next week.
To meet their target, they had to have the production machines running nonstop, which meant using generators round the clock, and running double shifts. However, it was now obvious his men were not as well trained as they should be.
He faced Odion, whom he often left in charge. “You could have worked on it immediately so that the men on duty could get back to work, couldn’t you?” He threw up his hands in irritation, “I don’t want this delay.”
“There were parts I had to buy, sir…”
Kevwe waved his hand to cut him short. “Enough excuses, my friend. I want this line to start working in the next hour. At least by the time the evening shift comes on, there should be power for them, OK? We don’t have much time to waste; you know that.”
He couldn’t afford any slow down on the production rate they’d increased over the past three years, not this moment. He’d imported the cutting-edge equipment to prevent this from occurring. With it too, they would be able to develop an ice-block making machine which might even be cheaper than imported machines.
“I’m sorry sir. I promise,” Odion rubbed his palms together, “I will do it right away, now now, sir. It won’t happen again.”
“It better not!” Kevwe snapped. Two things were clear from this incident. Either his technicians were slack, or the power requirements of the machines were not compatible with the output the factory generators produced. Both meant trouble. He sighed.
“Odion, make sure the generator is up, and works as I want it,” he said, turning away, “I don’t want more of these new machines blowing out and needing work.”
“Do we get an extension to our deadline in delivering the ice machines to Sheraton?” Gideon asked as they walked back.
“No, those dates we have are fixed. I thought you already knew that?” Kevwe raised his eyebrows at the man. Sheraton’s order was one of his main ones. By satisfying them, he hoped to get more clients in other hospitality establishments.
“We all have to work through the night,” he added. “Odion and the electricians will also be here. Tell the men, we’ll pay extra.”
Kevwe sig
hed as he walked to his office. He had been harsh with his staff, but he knew his temper was not just their fault. He sighed again. Efe Sagay.
**
Abuja. November 21, 2009. 8am
With eyes foggy from interrupted sleep, Efe arrived for an early Saturday morning shift at the office. After leaving Nneka and Dozie, most of the night had been spent tossing and turning, with only short snatches of real rest. Kevwe loomed large in her thoughts, leading her down the paths of young love, days when she’s been so carefree and open. When she’d loved him and lost.
Efe shook her head. She would return Dr. Ofure Mukoro’s expense sheets as she’d told Nneka. She was scared and excited at the same time, but since that was a week away, she needed her work to distract her.
Her Blackberry pinged as she walked into her office, and she stared at the ‘private number’ on the screen before opening the message. It was from Stanley, her former boyfriend, whom she parted ways with just before her departure from the States in April.
He’d wanted her to stay back and think about marriage to him, but she knew it wasn’t possible and had told him so. Stanley was good-looking and engaging, and they’d dated twice in three years, ending last December. When she got the job offer to move back to Nigeria, and knew she’d have her own apartment, she’d felt free.
Even with what happened with Kevwe, her plan had always been to return to Nigeria, and the Abuja job offer provided the first shot at living on her terms. She longed to be closer to her parents and siblings, and also take time to explore the beautiful city she would live in, enjoying all it had to offer, with no parents, aunt or man to stand in her way. She deleted Stanley’s message without reading, just like she’d done to his last two, and snapped the phone shut.
On the elevator ride to her office, Efe argued with herself whether to resume a relationship with Stanley. Meeting Ofure yesterday had hit her hard, and she needed the distraction. Also, with Stanley in the States, it wouldn’t be more than a dalliance. She shook her head. Stanley knew of the heartbreak that continued to haunt her, and it wouldn’t be fair to lead him on, knowing he was only second best. It was a similar situation, hoping Stanley would help her get over Kevwe, which made her date Stanley in the first place, three years ago.
There was laughter on his lips but pain behind his eyes when he invited her out for drinks. She knew he was just out of a relationship, and assumed they suited each other, his loss mirroring her own. He did liven up her monotonous days for a while, and a curious understanding had grown between them.
The first time they broke up, it was because Stanley had gone back to his ex-girlfriend. However, they reconnected last January as friends, and then dated again when it turned out they were both single. This time she’d been the one to pull back around Christmas, asking for space. Stanley had become too hot and heavy, and she needed a break. Of course he resisted, but in the end he let her be, going on to see another girl.
Then just before her return to Nigeria, he was back, single again and all charm, saying he still liked her and wanted another chance. She refused because the four-month gap had given her time to make other decisions, most of which did not include him. Efe thought her explanations were clear enough, and dreaded another call to make him realize she hadn’t changed her mind.
She switched on her computer and was soon lost in the details of a fraud case. Her main duties were accounts and business, but Mr. Akinyele, the managing director, had asked her to investigate the credit-card scam. The fraud department of the bank’s MasterCard processing company had called a couple of months ago, and alerted the hotel controllers to several anomalous submissions on different credit cards which had been charged at the Abuja Hilton.
They flagged some minor credit transactions involving frequent flyer points and cash change orders for the airline crew who often stayed at the hotel. The investigation had also shown some other scams originating from the Palm Beach Hilton.
So, Efe had been fingered as a suspect for a while, having worked at both branches. However, the Abuja managing director, whom she’d got close to since returning, had sworn by her. It was after she’d been cleared that he handed the case to her. He knew her audit background and counted on her technical know-how.
Their resident auditor was ruled out since he was also a suspect, and with Nigeria’s unsavory reputation, it wasn’t looking favorable for their branch. Efe was intrigued by the case, and thanks to the intranet, knew she could discover the perpetrator. Computers were deaf and dumb, but they obeyed orders, and the figures they yielded were quite useful.
Her beeping phone interrupted her an hour later with a call from Temi, one friend she’d maintained contact with after leaving West Palm Beach. Efe picked the phone, smiling.
“Hello?”
“Hey Efe, it’s been a long time.”
“Yes, it has. How’re you?” Temi had not called for the past two months, and her American accent hit Efe with a wave of nostalgia. Temi’s parents were Nigerian immigrants to the States, and she was more American than Nigerian.
“I’m okay.” Temi said. “I came back from the club and couldn’t sleep so I called you.”
Efe thought of those nights when she couldn’t sleep, tortured by dreams. She would call someone in the States next time. The timing would be perfect for a midnight chat.
“Thanks for thinking of me,” she said to Temi. “I’m in the middle of work, but I can talk for a bit.” She leaned back in her seat, “So tell me what’s been happening. I miss you guys sometimes and may be coming to America soon.”
“Already tired of Nigeria? How is Abuja?”
“So-so,” Efe replied with a shrug.
“You’ve started saying that again; where did you even pick it?”
“I can’t remember, it must have been as a child,” Efe said, though she knew where or from whom she’d learnt it, and also why it had crept back. However, Temi didn’t know about Kevwe, and she wasn’t about to tell her.
“I’m thinking of visiting. I’ve heard so much about the place.”
“Temi, you should. The city is beautiful.”
“Abuja is in the northern part of the country, right?” Temi asked. “Aren’t you afraid of ethnic clashes? What was the latest one on the news, about western education being forbidden or something?”
“You mean Boko Haram?” Efe did not laugh this time. She’d been terrified while it raged in August, before the police killed the leader. The only reason she hadn’t run back to Lagos was because Hilton beefed up security, and she’d taken to sleeping at the hotel where she could feel safe. Her parents had called every day.
“Yes, that’s the one. Did they get there too?”
“No they didn’t, and actually, the Boko Haram episode was more of a religious crisis than an ethnic one.”
Efe still had terrible flashbacks to the violence in Warri all those years ago, with dead bodies on the streets, explosions and looting. She had panicked while the Kano riots lasted, only taking solace in how multicultural Abuja was, without much of the ethnic and religious problems affecting other parts of the country.
“To be honest, Abuja is OK; some say it’s boring, but I call it peaceful.”
“I heard the internet connection is unreliable,” Temi said, “How do you deal with it? And I also want to know if there are places one can have fun.”
Efe smiled. Since Hilton hotels most times operated bars and nightclubs, her friends often depended on her for information on party venues. “Oh, there are some great clubs. I was out with friends some nights ago, and it was off the hook. People here sure can party.”
“Have you met up with Stanley yet?”
“Stanley?” Efe laughed. “No, why do you ask?”
“Stanley’s been in Nigeria for the past one month!”
“No!” Efe jerked to her feet, and then immediately regretted the outburst, but it was too late. Temi loved gossip and would always harp on this information she’d passed to Efe. Efe rolled her eyes as Temi cro
wed in her ear.
“Didn’t he tell you? He asked me if you’d changed your number because he said you hadn’t been replying his calls or texts. What’s happening? Are you guys off again?”
“We were off even before I left the States. I stopped reading his texts some months ago. He wanted us to get back together which I didn’t want...”
“Well, he’s in Lagos, and you should talk to him…”
Temi trailed off, and Efe said a silent prayer for the call to end. In the course of the conversation, she’d been reminded of two people she’d rather not think about.
“Efe, I have to go.” Temi said, “I’ll call you later.”
Efe thankfully clicked her off and leaned back with eyes closed. She thought of sending Stanley a BlackBerry ping but put it off for later. She’d had enough distractions in the past couple of days and wished she could concentrate on work.
But she couldn’t stop thinking of the two men who were mistakes in her life. One was a disaster she’d still been trying to get over when she allowed herself to be persuaded into the second. Wasn’t it strange they’d both become problematic about the same time? What was she to do, and about Kevwe in particular?
**
5
Lagos. November 27, 2009. 9.30am
Kevwe strode into the Sheraton Hotel Friday morning, and was quickly directed to the reception for operations manager. His technicians had been able to complete the project without any hitches, producing and installing all the units the hotel ordered for their kitchens.
Thirty minutes later, the man was still absent, and taking a break from the journal he’d come with, Kevwe looked around him. One would have thought a private hotel chain like the Sheraton would have more punctual managers. In the glass paneled office beside him, an assistant was elbow-deep in papers. After checking her name tag, he walked over and knocked.
