“Nothing,” he replied, and hearing his own voice, a familiar thing in this extraordinary landscape, must have been what egged him on. The lines on her neck were a deep brown that could have been purple; he stretched his hand and ran it tenderly over her collarbones. He did not think, What am I doing? He was moved by the twin rising of her breasts beneath her cream T-shirt, and her chest that kept breathing up and down. Barisua shifted on the bed and moved closer to Ajie until they were lying with their noses next to each other. She placed her hand on his cheek and pressed her body to his, and ran her hand slowly from the hair on his head to his shoulders, way down to the small of his back. In that moment, all Ajie could think was So, this is what it means to touch another human being.
—
Bendic came to pick them up the next day. The children had been expecting him all morning. Bibi stood on the balcony looking down at the narrow street as cars approached and then went back inside and brought her bag to the parlor. Auntie Leba asked if they had packed all their things and then handed each of them a wrapped gift. “Don’t open it yet,” she said with a smile. Uncle Tam said he had really enjoyed the children’s visit and that he would ask their father to bring them on their next holiday. “Well, I hope they enjoyed their stay,” Auntie Leba said jokingly. “We can’t force them to come back if they don’t want to.” Bibi said she had enjoyed her stay, and that besides, they hardly got to visit anyone’s house, so this was a rare chance for them. Ajie thought it was weird: Auntie Leba and Uncle Tam asking if they had enjoyed their stay. Couldn’t people just tell when someone was having a good time? Why was Bibi giving that speech?
Paul heard the toot of Bendic’s horn and shouted, “I think he has arrived!” and rushed down the stairs. Ajie and Bibi followed, skipping steps and arriving outside breathless just as Bendic was getting out of the car. They ran toward him, and for a moment it wasn’t clear if they were all going to run into him in some sort of group embrace, but that was exactly what they did, and the impact of their hug made Bendic stagger backward one step, laughing. “Where is Ma?” “What did you buy for us?” “You are looking so fresh, Bendic.” “We were so worried, we thought you were on that plane that crashed.”
Uncle Tam, Auntie Leba, and Barisua all came downstairs to join them. The children ran up to get their bags, and when Ajie came down with his, Auntie Leba was talking to Bendic about the plane crash. Uncle Tam mentioned someone the three of them knew who had died in the crash, and Bendic said the husband of one of Ma’s colleagues was on the flight. Paul and Bibi came down and put their bags in the trunk. Bendic was telling Uncle Tam about their trip, and at some point Uncle Tam stepped back to look at him, saying, “See how America’s cool weather has made your skin so fresh in just two weeks. Sun is killing us here.” He shook his head at Bendic in admiration.
Bendic said it was really nice weather for Boston in early September. That it was not too cold, a bit like harmattan weather. Bibi opened the car and invited Barisua to come sit inside with her. Paul got into the passenger seat, straightened out the sun visor to look at the mirror, then closed it up and went to the back to sit with Barisua and Bibi. Auntie Leba looked toward the car, and Barisua kept her face turned toward Bibi so that her gaze wouldn’t meet Auntie Leba’s — she didn’t want anyone to ruin her nice moment with cautionary remarks or maybe sending her off on a errand.
“So you just rushed down to pick up your children immediately on your return. Do you think something will eat them here if you stay an extra day without seeing them?”
Bendic laughed. “No, they return to school next week, else I would have left them with you for a while.” Ajie knew Bendic was only saying things that sounded agreeable without really meaning them, and Uncle Tam was in on the playful exchange.
“And your driver?”
“He resumes tomorrow.”
“You are sure you can still drive? When last were you behind a steering wheel?”
“Stop that nonsense,” Bendic said with a glint in his eyes. “I drove for over twenty years before I ever needed a driver, and I managed to get here by myself safely, didn’t I?”
It was time to go now, so they came out of the car to say their goodbyes. Uncle Tam gave Paul a firm handshake and then drew him close for an embrace. “Goodbye, safe journey, see you soon, thank you, come back again,” all were repeated several times, and then they finally got in the car. Barisua hurried to the gate to open it, and Uncle Tam and Auntie Leba followed the car as Bendic reversed and headed out.
Uncle Tam, Auntie Leba, and Barisua stood outside by the gate and waved at the Utus as the blue Peugeot 504 rolled down the street. Bendic honked in acknowledgment. The children waved from the car, and Ajie looked back at the three figures standing and waving by the gate, looking smaller and smaller as their car went farther down the road. Barisua was wearing a brown skirt and a green blouse; she did not stop waving until the Peugeot 504 turned a corner and went out of sight.
On the expressway, Bendic drove slowly in the speed lane. Paul sat in front with him, his eyes on the road. Bibi was squinting outside toward the breeze, her hand gripping the coat hook above the door, looking like she had a mandate to mind that exit. Cars overtook them, and some passengers turned back to give them disgruntled looks. Ajie could see that Bendic didn’t care about this. “We have missed you children,” he said. Even though Ma was at home waiting, he still said we.
This was the moment when Ajie realized that Bendic would one day die. He knew this because real people never said such things to their own children, that they missed them. Only people in films said those things, and everyone knew it was all an act. Film talk. Love you, Mum! Love you, too. Miss you, Dad! Miss you, son!
But here was Bendic, saying he missed them.
Whatever was next?
Bendic glanced every now and then in the side and rearview mirrors. His head was still dense with hair but speckled with a rich supply of gray. Looking at him from the backseat, even with the graying hair, Ajie wasn’t able to imagine his father as aging, even though Bendic had turned sixty-seven that year.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Port Harcourt International Trade Fair was scheduled for April 4–18, 1995. The jingle was on the radio long before Ajie, Bibi, and Paul returned for their second-term break. The Rivers State Chamber of Commerce, Industry, and Agriculture also sponsored short TV programs to advertise the fair.
The children were in the car heading home after spending the afternoon in Bendic’s office. Their car sped under a banner left flapping on a high-tension cable up above the road. Port Harcourt International Trade Fair. The Garden City welcomes the world.
They drove past Isaac Boro Park, where sheds, booths, and kiosks had been set up for the fair. Car dealers had erected colorful shops. The TV commercials announced innovative local technology that was relatively cheap but as good as the best the world could offer: portable ovens manufactured in Ilorin, kerosene-run generators fabricated in Awka. Come and see for yourself, the ads implored. There would be sheds for furniture makers and interior designers from home and abroad, displaying standing and decorative wall mirrors, chandeliers, lights, lamps, beds and headboards, boudoir furniture, bathtubs and washstands, chairs, stools, chest drawers, and desks. There would be long rows for textiles, drugs and pharmaceuticals, and engineering goods.
In Shed 33, you would find the renowned trado-medical practitioner, Alahaji Dr. Musa Jubril, whose ads ran most frequently on TV and radio. He had solutions for all ailments stemming from both physical and spiritual sources. He specialized in herbal cures for asthma, barrenness, manhood problems, low sperm count, hypertension, heart disease, diabetes, internal heat, waist, and GBP (general body pain). He would brandish a little wrap of something and say, “This one here, if you put a portion in a bottle and fill with water, kai-kai, or any authentic gin and leave it for three days, then drink first thing every morning for one week, it will restore your body, it is also good for cough and for purging your system, cancer cannot come near you, and if you are having bad dreams, too, they will stop.”