“Why can’t we stay here on our own?” Paul hissed.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
By Thursday their bags were packed and ready for their two-week stay with Uncle Tam, who lived on the second floor of a two-story building at D-Line. The house was close to a railway track, and near the track was a hub of women who sold roast plantain and fish, corn and pear in their season. There were always people on the streets here, and kiosks were rampant. Some walled compounds had faucets sticking out of block fences where borehole owners sold water to their neighbors.
Ma had given them little lectures on how they should behave. Dishes must be washed right after meals and beds made on waking up. The children were also expected to sweep and keep the house clean. Ma counseled them to ask permission before touching anything and not to oversleep. Bibi would give Auntie Leba a hand in the kitchen, while Paul would supervise the cleaning of the house and the conduct of his younger siblings. “As for you, Ajie,” Ma demanded only one thing: “be obedient.”
Bendic said he didn’t really need to advise the children. They knew what was right and how they ought to behave. However, they were to observe how their hosts did things and try to follow. “Every house has its own culture and pattern of doing things,” he said. “When you go there, watch. If there is a table clock that is kept facing east, when you clean the table, don’t leave the clock facing west. Pay attention, but enjoy yourselves. Tam and his wife are happy that you are coming.”
—
When Marcus dropped them off on the narrow, tarred street, he waited for the gate to be opened before he drove off.
In all the lectures they received, nobody had bothered to mention that Uncle Tam had a house girl. She now appeared to receive them, since she was the only one at home. As far as Ajie was concerned, such an oversight by his parents was significant. It just confirmed his misgivings about grown-ups, how they constantly missed the point.
The girl held the gate open for them and didn’t say a word. Her hair was cut short, like a boy’s. She was wearing a long black pleated skirt that was too big for her. She held it up from the wet ground with one hand. She wore white bathroom slippers and no earrings. Ajie was still taking all that in when she said, “I have been waiting for you people since morning. I could have gone to the market and returned by now.” She waited for them to file into the compound before closing the pedestrian gate behind them and bolting it shut.
“Is Uncle Tam not at home? Or Auntie Leba?” Paul asked, attempting to take charge of the situation.
“They have gone to work,” she replied with a quizzical look, as if Paul should know better than to expect people who worked to be at home at that time of day. “But they told me to wait for you people and show you everything until they return.”
The stairs were steep, the banisters rusty and riddled with holes, waiting to drive splinters into any hands running over them.
She walked quickly ahead of them and opened the door that led to the flat, holding the curtain out of the way. The house smelled of scented soap, and the living room flooring was of plain terrazzo. In front of the set of wooden sofas, a small TV was placed on a sideboard by the wall.
“Uncle said you should relax and feel at home until he returns, and that I should show you your rooms.” She looked at Bibi. “Me and you are staying in the same room, so wait.” Then to Paul and Ajie, “Two of you, come.”
She opened the door to a room and walked right to the center of it. The room was spacious, with high ceilings, filled with the sharp light of afternoon. The curtains were all drawn and tied to a knot. “This is the boys’ room,” she pronounced with a wide sweep of her hand, as though she were a monarch bequeathing a kingdom to some deserving warriors. Ajie gave Paul a telling look. Bossiness was an instant offender. Paul acted like he hadn’t noticed Ajie’s face but immediately asked just as she was leaving the room, “So, what is your name?”
She turned around, and a fleeting gentleness crept into her face. “Barisua.”
Paul nodded. “My name is Paul.”
“I know your names,” she responded.
—
That first night, Uncle Tam made it clear that he didn’t mind where they had their dinner.
“I eat in front of the TV all the time,” he said. “You are free to join me if you like.” So they sat with their plates of rice and stew in their laps, watching a fictional cast of family members scheme against one another on Checkmate.
Uncle Tam held a drumstick in his left hand, having rested his spoon, and tore at the meat with his teeth. His maroon socks were pushed down to a fold near his ankles. He hadn’t taken them off when he changed from his work clothes. His blue shorts ran way up his thighs, and just above, there was the heaving mound of his belly and the carpet of hair that continued to his chest.
Auntie Leba was still in the kitchen with Barisua. Because it was their first night, she said, they ought to be given a treat. She had a print wrapper tied over her breasts, and the tiny straps of her chemise showed off her surprisingly slender shoulders and smooth back.
“Dumle was at my office today,” she said to Uncle Tam as she came back into the parlor carrying a tray with bowls of fruit salad. “Did I not mention it already?”
“Dumle? What did he want?”
She passed a bowl of the fruit salad to him, and he lapped up some of the juice with a spoon, then put the bowl down on the side stool.
“Dumle can go to hell, as far as I’m concerned. Now that they have seen how powerless we have made them, they are tiptoeing back. What did he say?”
“Nothing, really. He said that he was passing by and stopped to say hello. He said I should extend his greetings to you.”
“Indeed.” Then he said something in their native Ogoni. Auntie Leba said something back, and Uncle Tam frowned and Auntie Leba laughed.
—
“Dumle used to be a friend of my uncle and auntie,” Barisua said to Bibi as they went about cleaning the house the next morning. “Every Sunday after church, he would come here to eat jollof rice and salad. Every Sunday.”
Ajie was listening in, waiting to hear what this man had done.
“But now he has become a betrayer.” She spoke of him as if he were a family member who had engaged in misconduct and tarnished the family name.
Universities had closed for the semester, but Uncle Tam and Auntie Leba still went out every morning. One day just after they had gone to work and Barisua had done the laundry out on the balcony, she said, “Don’t be there thinking that as they go out every day, it’s all work they are going to,” her voice decidedly casual.
“Okay.” Paul nodded.
“They go for secret meetings, too,” she said, again in the same tone, as if it weren’t a big deal for her to know, although it should definitely be for them. There was an important man from their village, she continued, who had been arrested by the government and kept in detention for over a year now because he had told the government and the oil companies in their village to come and repair the damage they had caused or leave.
Paul’s ears flicked. “What was the man’s name?”
When Barisua said who it was, Ajie was disappointed. The whole buildup she gave to her story, only to tell them about someone they all knew about. A man who was frequently in the news and whom Bendic and Ma often discussed with their visitors. Bendic had even met him several times in the High Court premises. Barisua flapped a pillowcase, and droplets of water landed on Ajie’s cheeks.
“Oh, we know him,” Bibi said, but Barisua didn’t look like she had heard and began singing an Ogoni chorus that sounded mournful and celebratory at once.