The Masked Poet

by Albert Enang Eng Usang

understand you anymore o.

  'You mean they've fought over him before?' Gem asked excitedly.

  'Yes o.' Joanna replied. 'When the guy first appeared on tv upon winning the recent national poetry contest, you need to have seen this girl called Delight. She was all over him from her living room, even comparing him to Victor!'

  'Hmmnn.........' Amaku and Beatrice hummed simultaneously in indicative amazement.

  'I only admired his poetic abilities girlfriend. Please give out the right information and stop peddling lies, or is it wrong to appreciate the talents of a hardworking young man?' Delight chided her.

  - Eeeeeeh............. Admiration of poetic abilities indeed! What about the comparisons with Victor? Are those lies too?

  - And is there anything odd in demanding that from Victor? Every woman longs for such and I'm so surprised you never asked that 'brotherly' Victor of yours to do the simple and necessary.

  - That may be his weakness; everybody has one in the least. He is definitely caring in many other ways. Why don't you put up with this minor inability of his?

  - For God's sake, he can be all! Aren't there many guys out there who possess all these qualities and even more? Must mine be a partial deprivation? Can't l have a full or an overflow? Am l cursed to be deprived of such?

  'Errmmm..........' Gem interrupted them, coughing twice or thrice as a gesture to get their attention. 'I want to say my mind o, about this issue, at least from the little l saw the last time l visited.'

  'Please have your say jare.' Beatrice encouraged her.

  'You did not visit girlfriend.' Delight corrected. 'You were escorting, then you spent the night as circumstances arose. Please put it straight.'

  'Visit o, or spend the night o,' Gem insisted. 'I am trying to say l was here that day or is it that disputable?'

  'Babe,' Amaku cut in, 'go on and say what you want to say na. You are keeping us suspended. Please ignore distractions.'

  'Okay o.....' Gem cleared her throat. 'This Masked Poet guy, l think our sweet girlfriend is in love with this him o, may be unwittingly. You need to see the way she was calling out to him that same night, just after the fight with Victor, in her dreams!!"

  'What!'

  'What!'

  'Chei.......'

  The listening friends exclaimed simultaneously, except Gem and Delight.

  'Are you serious' Amaku reiterated. 'She dreamt about him?'

  'I said, l was awoken as she kept calling out to him.........' Gem continued.

  'Excuse me,' Beatrice probed comically, 'Was she screaming his name?'

  'No, no, no.' Gem emphasized. 'She was whispering it, l guess...........'

  'It was foreplay...........' The friends shouted together, laughing hysterically afterwards.

  'By the way, it is only a joke o. My friend is still a virgin, she said she will only loose it in marriage. I know that of her.' Joanna intervened.

  'How exactly do you know that?' Beatrice quizzed.

  'It's not from her else I would doubt it. Victor told me in confidence he loves her so much he is looking forward to the D-day when he will make her a woman.' Joanna interjected. 'That is why I am so annoyed this my sweet beauty queen is allowing the Masked Poet to get in the way of Victor's love for her.'

  'See, I'm not through with my narrative.' Gem reminded.

  'Ah ah!' Amaku asked. 'You still have more?'

  'Yes o, very important part of the story.' Gem stirred. 'After whispering "oh my love, oh my love," on her way to waking up............

  'She called her my love?' Beatrice interrupted.

  'Yes o, oh my love o!' Gem replied, laughing, as did others. 'Like l was about saying, do you know what Delight did when she awoke?'

  'Girl, gist us na.........' They begged her.

  - She said: "l saw the Masked Poet and he read me an unscripted poem of his love for me, promising to protect me, soothe my shattered

  emotions and gbogbo ti gbo.*"

  'Eheyyyy!!.............' They exclaimed together again.

  'Love nwantiti* ooo......'

  'My friend is in a love pretence o.'

  'Chei! The Masked Poet has taken over o.'

  'Oh! Poor Mr. Victor on the way out eh!!!....'

  'So, Joanna was right all along!' Beatrice asserted.

  'Look, will you all stop this nonsense, l don't love the Masked Poet, only his poems.' Delight fought.

  'Indeed!' Joanna attacked. 'You don't love him consciously but your subconsciousness sings love lullabies of him at night!'

  'It still doesn't mean l love him!' She retorted.

  'But seriously,' Amaku opined, 'l believe breaking up, making up, ending up, and starting up, are all permitted before marriage. It is in marriage l won't advocate to any other than staying in there forever irrespective of circumstances. So girlfriend, l am with you on this. If you feel you can get something better out of love from the Masked Poet, come all out then, stop pretending.'

  'Amaku!!' Joanna shouted her down.

  - Please don't shout at me! I am only saying the truth!

  'Thank you dear.' Delight heaved. 'At last, someone shares my point of view.

  'Come Amaku, are you saying she should leave Victor?' Joanna asked.

  'Please quote me right:' Amaku replied, 'l didn't say she should leave Victor, rather, get more out of love.'

  - And what does that amount to?

  - Anything you want make of it.

  'But you Delight!' Beatrice called her, 'You said someone now shares your point of view; l thought you said you are not in love with the Masked Poet, or are you?'

  Delight remained silent.

  'Chei!!' Beatrice jammed her palms in obvious astonishment as she shook her head simultaneously in dismay.

  *gbogbo ti gbo(Yoruba = plenty others) *nwantiti(Igbo = take it easy)

  'By the way,' Gem interjected. 'Just you guys know my stand on this matter.......... I am with Delight all the way........'

  'Jeezzz!.......' Beatrice exclaimed. 'Gem, you too?'

  Delight's heart developed a joyful swell as her friends got divided over the issue. Then she released a bombshell:

  - Just to inform you girls, I am planning to go to the Emotional House, see the Masked Poet, and tell him "thank you Mr. Masked Poet for making my day on my birthday....."

  'You will do no such thing!' Joanna shouted. 'What has come over you Delight? Are you sure you are okay?'

  - Excuse me? I just want to appreciate him. To say thank you, and not l love you. Is there a crime, a moral crime, or romantic crime in that girlfriend?

  'Victor must hear this!' Joanna threatened.

  - Ten thousand Victors cannot stop me............

  'Oh my God!' Beatrice exclaimed...............

  Joanna did make good her threat. She informed Victor of Delight's plan to visit the Emotional House. In turn, Victor kept to his own promise of not tolerating such a visit. He took it hook, line, and sinker as soon as he was informed of Delight's plan and set about showing her his determination the way he knows best. He thought he had changed, he did everything including his very best to change his mentality, but now, Delight stroked him in the wrong places! And with a challenge he can't take lying low. Usually, in this type of a challenge, it is one directional for him as he knew no other better way to confront it save the way he knows, the only way he knows. Once again, he faced the possibility of loosing Delight. Call it inferiority or mania or whatever as Delight always puts it, one thing is clear: he would not sit back and watch it. Fortunately for him, the last time it looked like he had lost her, it was just the case of a disappearance; an absconding for something good. Now he knows so well who his enemy is, the lion like bravery in him must be properly expended. To crown it all, this strategy has always worked as one way or the other, Delight always finds a way to crumble from the possible public embarrassment thereof and also from the accompanying strain.

  Straightway, he positioned two young men in hideouts opposite the Emotional House to inform hi
m as soon as they witness Delight's planned visit any day.

  As expected, one of those days, he received that anticipated call from one of the stealth observers at last; Delight has come to the Emotional House. Immediately, he jumped into his car and headed for the Emotional House.

  CHAPTER 13

  Meanwhile, the Masked Poet thought he has had a rather quiet day at the office. He had about three clients booked for the day but as at afternoon, none had showed up. He was not disturbed, rather, he used the opportunity he hasn't had in a while, to compose more poems. Then, suddenly, he was told a client had showed up for a specific service. He asked she be allowed in thinking it was one of the clients on appointment. The door opened and Delight walked in graciously, full of smiles. That he was taken aback was an understatement. He just stared at her intently, mouth agape, and glaringly, as she continued to smile at him, and now, at his motionless stare.

  She took a seat directly opposite his side's end of the desk.

  'Good afternoon Mr. Masked Poet, the motivationally irrepressible Masked Poet.' She saluted, still brimming with smiles.

  Now, Delight looked smashing in a green gown with shortened stripes, chevrons, and other multiple designs. The gown was sown body fitted from her neck to her waist and free flowing from thence to her feet. She also wore a light make up with more shades of green. But instead of a lipstick, she used wet lips. She had fixed an overshadowing hair showering on her shoulders, wore simple but golden earrings, a necklace of beautiful locally crafted yellow beads, a large silver bracelet on her left wrist, and two slim gold rings on her right hand's middle and index fingers.

  Despite her greetings, the Masked Poet continued to stare, ignoring her greetings. She understood what that meant and it got her laughing:

  'I said, good afternoon Mr. Masked Poet.' She repeated, in between muffled laughs.

  Then he found his voice:

  'I used to think magnificence

  is a mere description

  a grasp of subjectivity

  the objective can't visualize

  but today l know, yes I know

  that magnificence is an apparition!

  An apparition of tangibility

  like one seated before me.

  I just saw an apparition

  an apparition of magnificence

  and its brilliance dazzles me

  my mouth is an impromptu fountain

  dropping trickles of scentful saliva

  my eyes are so dreamy

  like the aura of a magic wand

  then, it sees multiple stars

  like those after a deadly hit

  just before one passes out

  and it's true, it's true

  I have been hit! Fatally hit!

  by the enlivening shot

  of an altruist stunner!'

  At the last statement, he fell off his seat, plummeting heavily on the office floor. Delight, before now, was getting mesmerized by the unscripted poem improvised by the Masked Poet. With knowledge of the fact she was at the Emotional House, a house of emotional and psychological soothing, which she has been missing for like a lifetime, and which she thinks is a complete quintessence of her life's irony - a beauty like her who should be appreciated every moment but unfortunately not so appreciated, she surrendered her spirit to the poem and trapped in waves after waves of soulful ecstasy, wishing it never ends. But it surely will end; it is earth you know, not El Dorado. And it ended as well, on a rather ironic note still. Suddenly, the machine of her ecstasy collapsed as he ended a poem of vigour, and it appeared, he was webbed in a life and death situation.

  When she came into the office, she understood quite well why the Masked Poet starred so intently at her - her beauty and her surprise visit. But now he collapsed, she did not understand why he did so - still her beauty.

  She became frantic, got up from her seat and ran to him, calling him, shaking him, and almost screaming:

  'Masked Poet, Mr. Masked Poet, what is the problem? Please talk to me. Somebody help me please............'

  He laid still, motionless. She put a finger on his nostrils and discovered he still breathed. She held his wrist and felt his pulse; it was normal. She needed help immediately, so he could be taken to the hospital before whatever it was got worse.

  'Somebody please help me! Anybody out there?' She shouted.

  She left him and ran towards the secretary's office still shouting for help. By now, her voice's crescendo has gotten to the secretary's ears who came rushing in to see what was amiss. Both desperados met at the office door. They subsequently ran to where he laid motionless:

  'Hello sir, hello sir, can you hear me?' His secretary shook and spoke.

  'Mr. Masked Poet, can you hear us?' Delight added.

  Suddenly, he got up with a start as though he was under animated control, or like the WWE undertaker, rising abruptly from the ashes of looming defeat. The helping party were surprised as they looked on with concern, wondering if he was okay.

  'Can you here me sir?' His secretary asked again.

  'Yes ' He replied calmly.

  'Mr. Masked Poet, can you see clearly? Can you see me?' Delight inquired tenderly.

  - Yes. Very clearly.

  - You passed out for a bit and..........

  - l know, l know.

  - Do you think we should take you to the hospital?

  - No, no, no. That's not necessary.

  'What really happened sir?' His secretary sought a clear explanation from the horse's mouth. 'Can you recollect a thing?'

  - Yes. Yes l can:

  My mortality saw a gorge

  of a terminal pedigree

  armed with aesthetic arsenals

  and I had to drop dead

  before she fires at me

  cos she's drop dead gorgeous!'

  Both ladies now understood what was going on. It was the Masked Poet's clownlike prank to pass a message across. The scene changed melodramatically from one of despair to an encasement of laughter as the ladies laughed their hearts out, especially Delight. But the secretary wanted more from it, so she asked:

  'And who is this drop dead gorge sir? Is she around here?'

  'Can't you see her?' The Masked Poet answered, pointing frightfully at Delight in a dramatic way:

  Look at her there

  her statue's like a galloping horse

  flaunting her mane energetically

  when put on play in slow motion

  her camouflage is the rainbow

  bulging my eyes' lenses

  her countenance's a mermaid's

  fairer than ten sunrises

  her hands wield a wonder bow

  full of many Cupid's arrows

  shooting at me, shooting at me

  someone help my helplessness

  cos l may not survive alone

  at the mercy of this gorge!'

  Turning to Delight, he said:

  'And you, drop dead gorge

  please be a good judge

  and hold no amorous grudge

  to degrees that surge

  as it can cause an urge

  towards a 'love' purge

  for the descendants of a certain George!'

  He breathed heavily still like a christmas goat by the time he finished the poetic description of Delight, the drop dead gorge, with fright filled bulging eyes, all dramatically portraying the 'drop dead' concept of the gorgeous Delight Same. In turn, she switched between the blissful silence needed to take in such invaluable description of her beauty, and the fun of a near unending laughter emanating from the accompanying melodrama.

  When the secretary noticed the short drama had ended, she prompted a return to normalcy:

  'Sir,' she told him, 'You are still sitting on the floor.'

  'What?' He screamed mildly as he looked around him in confirmation.

  Then, he got up abruptly, dusting off possible dirt on his clothes as Delight continued to laugh heartily but muffled, gagging her mouth with her righ
t palm.

  'It's okay now Ann.' He told the secretary. 'We have been able to pass across a special message to a special client or is it visitor? Don't you think so?'

  - Absolutely sir. Very appropriate for a most special client.

  - The number one beauty in Nigeria, coming to the Emotional House where we have neither silver nor gold, should at least be offered a drama.

  - And some hearty 'bouts' of laughter.

  - Thanks so much. You can please go back to your office.

  She made for her office. But while on it, Delight asked:

  - Did you two plan this before hand?

  'No, it is an improvisation.' The Masked Poet replied.

  - Wow! I must say I am quite overwhelmed and want to say a big thank you so Ann hears and receives it too.

  'Thanks madam.'

  'Thank you, the conqueror!'

  Ann proceeded to her office while the Masked Poet and his special client resumed their sitting postures prior to the brief melodrama.

  - So, Miss Nigeria, are you here for a specific service?

  - No, l am just visiting.

  - Then, to what do l owe this visit?

  - I am here for paramountly two reasons: a positive one, as well as a negative one.

  - A mixed bag of gifts?

  - Yes. I will start with the negative.

  - Is that? Looks like you have both the yam and knife in your tight grasp.

  - Not really, but that is my preplanned itinerary.

  - Don't mind me. Please proceed. Feel free, like a bird.

  - Thank you. First, l want to express my unreserved displeasure at your faceless performance at my birthday party. That is not acceptable, was not, and is not funny in anyway whatsoever, and l demand a most convincing explanation for what amounted to an embarrassing act by all standards!

  - Excuse me, looks like you are getting something wrong here. You paint me with a colour called blame when in total contrast l fulfilled to the letters, the terms of the performance contract..

  - That is what I am saying; I am not actually blaming you, but only saying that in this day and age, such is not acceptable, therefore, you shouldn't have agreed to such terms.

  - I thought that's what you wanted?