FEATURE ARTICLE

Chigachi EkeMonday, May 21, 2012
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“RIVER JUJU”
CHAPTER 2

omrado!” Adasingo’s voice carried all the respect he had for Dandy. “My comrado are you migrating?”


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“To the Kingdom of Bacchus to drink the Holy Waters of Mariba.”

“In John 2: 1-10 the Master took the faithful to the gyration in Galilee. Am I not worthy to be called?”

“It is also written in the Book of Life, ‘Ask and you will receive, seek and you will find, knock and it shall be opened unto you. For asking I therefore ordain you join this chosen few on holy pilgrimage without fear or favour.’”

“Blessed are the merciful for they shall have Esther.”

“Gbosa!”

“May the ancestors never allow you to stumble and fall.”

“Yes o.”

“Your down-below shall never disappoint you.”

“You are karried.” Dandy was highly impressed.

“May you never see Janet and call her Agnes.”

“I say you are completely karried, my man.”

“You will never see bicycle and call it caterpillar.”

“Scatter your legs and fall in line.”

That was all Adasingo needed to hear, very much gratified. Forgetting all about the draught game he scrambled up upsetting the bench which tilted over throwing the eccentric electrician called Mr. Offiong flat on his buttocks.

“Idioni nofi!” The electrician’s anger was short lived as usual but he repeated his wish to see a grandpapa who behaved like a small boy getting what he deserved in this Port Harcourt. Dusting his buttocks, “That na my prayer since you no know your age. My prayer na for you to see wetin you dey find.”

“Leave Adasingo alone,” Uwalaka cautioned. “How can a family man with responsibilities be fooling around with small boys. If you ask him he’d tell you that it was not his fault. It is my fault. Leave Adasingo alone.”

But the ecstatic Adasingo was past caring as he dashed into the yard for the green regalia worn by members of the Palmwine Drinkards Club. When he emerged again it was only for him to follow the master leaving family and friends behind. Anyone who lays his hands on the drinking horn and looks back is not fit for the Kingdom, Mathew chapter Rose, verse Till-Day-Break. Refer.

Adasingo lived for the day Dandy would redeem his promise of taking him to University of Port Harcourt for a formal baptism. For now he did not see himself a real Kegite. If only Dandy would take him to a campus gyration. He’d love nothing better than mingling with those undergraduates who read medicine and engineering and still shared palm wine with you as comrados.

Walking the gangplank into the street where the others were waiting he relished the envy he provoked in the other unfortunate tenants who gloated anytime he socialized with the young bachelors in the yard. But the men appeared to have forgotten all about him having returned to their interrupted game. Together the comrados strolled towards the waterfront where the sharp barks of goat skin drums beckoned.

Dandy led with Silver and Etete flanking him on both sides. Since the outbreak of militancy in the Niger Delta every youth knew by heart the 39 Laws of Leadership. The two walked a step behind not to outshine him. Adasingo followed the trail with Ndifreke who carried Dandy’s drinking horn. Their green regalias casually thrown over their shirts marked them out in the crowded street.

Natives coming in the opposite direction stepped aside for them to pass. Dandy was a local trouble maker with a bad name. On sighting him young girls instinctively turned away with hands ready to shield their breasts. He pretended not to notice such insult but there was always another time and place. With his blunt head moving from side to side he unhurriedly led his disciples in the direction of the poor people’s colony by the river.

Eugene the chemist man smiled approvingly on seeing him and the boys. He knew when not to interfere and cautiously raised a respectful hand in greeting. Opposite Eugene was the Judean Miracle Church where Dandy’s landlady and her old goat of a husband worshipped. As they swept past Pastor Benji unlocked his KIA Cerato and began to reverse furiously out of the slum. It was a common knowledge that his wicked landlady circulated lies about him, the very reason why that pastor was biased against him. But the day that Benjamin opened his mouth too wide and mention his name would be the day he’d burst his head for good. He heard the car’s engine revving as it climbed out of low grounds towards Lumumba Street.

Silver invited two girls standing in front of Abode of Miracle Bible Worldwide Outreach to join them but they fled into the sanctuary of their church laughing. The girls were Esan by tribe and no one knew a thing about them except that they worshiped with Deaconess Agbon who also accommodated them. But Silver who had an eagle’s eyes remained adamant he had seen them entering a vehicle with an Asian inside. If that wasn’t a pointer to the girls’ true profession then he was damned. Deaconess or not, it was time for him to host them one of these days.

They reached the point where land ended and swamp began. Take another step and you’re on the moon where time and space had no meaning. The waterfront shanty began here. Your disorientation also began here.

From the Transfiguration Holiness Center till the mangrove stopped you a hundred meters away, the wooden houses here were closely packed leaving little space for leisure or entertainment. Not that the souls living here had need for any, anyway. Decades of unemployment had gingerly tapered the line between deliberate leisure and enforced idleness. Unless one understood entertainment to mean the everyday quarrels between neighbours; quarrels that ended as suddenly as they began without a single blow delivered or taken. Natives loved to talk. You saw two people cursing each other the whole morning. Just show them gun and they screamed the blood of Jesus and ran.

Waterfront people held serious matters as nothing while taking to heart things relatively inconsequential. They resigned to fate when jailed arbitrarily by the police but spent thousands of naira interpreting a bad dream. Putting it mildly, life in the Port Harcourt backwaters, or waterfronts, was lived in quasi-religious, quasi-metaphysical fantasy. The enduring minds were those mercifully cocooned in prayer houses where crusades and open revivals lasted the entire week. To be sober was to die.

Dandy lifted his foot and climbed this lunar surface. The first person he ran into was Jeff Banigo who assured them that the venue was crowded. Banigo himself was hurrying down to Mile 1 to bring over comrados from Okrika. Dandy muttered his blessing making the sign of the cross over the head of the faithful Banigo who dashed off again.

A family man stopped him next complaining that his business stand was being contested by a rich trader who threatened to use militants against him. “Let him bring them but don’t shift your yams. I am busy. You know my house, now? See me tomorrow,” Dandy walked off rapidly not wanting to be held up any longer. Nearing the venue they saw natives rushing towards Saturday Nwipene’s massive lodge where Kegites danced in a circle.

Dandy belonged to the first generation Nollywood actors but was soon made redundant because of his stubbornness. Apart from minor roles in two cheap run-of-the-mill movies, he never got a third chance. But even this short spell in the popular culture was enough for him to go about introducing himself as a movie star. And this type of introduction naturally caused a stir in the ghetto.

He had the common sense to go all out for money without which his over bloated ego suffered. What the movie world denied him the Mile 1 market gave him as he emerged from Bonny where he briefly worked for Julius Berger and got for himself a business space. His line was bulk purchase of fresh vegetables.

The moment he mastered his trade he carefully identified the lapses and began a quiet expansion which saw him supplying vegetables directly to four caterers feeding oil multinationals. Dandy completely cut out the contractors who bought from bulk traders like himself and became the contractor himself. He taught Silver, Etete and Ndifreke the vegetable business. Today he no longer went to bush markets but made more money than his three friends who did. But the more money he made the more truculent he became.

In his ecstasy after a particular hefty profit supplying vegetable oil to Government House he started a popular song composed by Kegites while Silver and company cheered in admiration. As his wild gyration progressed Dandy, who was an initiated Kegite as undergraduate, suddenly rediscovered his roots. That was how he founded the Palm Wine Drinkards Club here in the slum and became its Chief Priest.

They burst into the venue and joined the dancing troupe. The only exception was Dandy himself who sat on a traditional three legged seat cut from a tree branch. From his throne he received salutations from members.

Four comrados pounded away on their drums. Saturday Nwipene who was the Megida Minister since he was hosting came out instructing five guys to deposit their jerry cans of palm wine at the Chief Priest’s feet. When this was done the Chief Priest raised his hand and made the sign of the cross over them with a quiet resignation. Nwipene had his own speed boat and had hauled the fresh wine direct from Ogoniland where he came from.

“The Wise One,” paying his obeisance seeing that the Chief Priest was impressed by his effort.

“All these direct from Kaa?” indicating the forming containers.

“It is the Lord’s doing and wonderful to drink.”

“Reserve one jerry can for me.”

“I reserved a ten liter container for you to rinse your mouth tomorrow morning with.”

“Your first son shall never resemble your landlord…”

A group of young men interrupted him. They all wanted to become members, they said. The Chief Priest did not say yes to their request. He also did not say no. He simply nodded at Nwipene and asked them to apply through him. Dismissing the hopefuls he drew his first cup.

Ashawo no get money

Aya you go pay-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y!

Aya you go pay

Hosanna!

Hallelujah!

Okpeke no wan’ marry me

I go follow ashawo!

Seventy year old Adasingo was the envy of everyone. Pulling out a handkerchief he vibrated his upper body in an Owigiri dance step. Very few young persons had ever seen in real life this rare traditional dance actively promoted in the ‘90s by Boma Erekosima. None. Adasingo maintained his speed and foot coordination, his tempo gaining momentum. A Daughter of Eve unable to restrict herself any more literally descended on him. Stooping low she gyrated her hefty waist at an impossible speed drawing a resounding applause from the crowd.

The drummers maintained the crescendo for two minutes within which the human body was expected to withstand a grueling torture before beating out the lead signal to stop. Through it all was Adasingo who danced head to tail with the girl like two termites. The drums thudded to a stop with everyone pointing him out as the better dancer. Detaching herself from the embrace of her friends the girl came over to pester Adasingo. She wanted another dance, a real competition this time.

“Fa-fa-fa-fa-foul!” The Chief Priest over ruled. “You’re not even a Kegite. You smell like a Congo, vamoose.”

“But I’ve already applied to Nwipene but that Ogoni man told me you were the one holding up my baptism.”

“You still suffer from colonial mentality. For you to become one of us you must be born against.”

“I am. I love my culture and I am proud of my roots.”

Gasping as he separated his lips from the horn, “In the Palm Wine Drinkards Club we frown at all forms of religious fanaticism.”

“I know.”

“You cannot love your culture and at the same time hate your neighbor.”

“True talk no be curse.”

“If your eye will cost you the Kingdom of God then you must pluck it out and throw it away.”

“Amen, Hallelujah!”

“Likewise, if your abunna will cost you your husband’s house then you must distribute it without fear or favour.”

“That is Sermon on the Mattress. I be original distributor.”

“Ajuwaya.”

Two hours later Chief Priest Dandy ordered the dancing to stop. From a list presented by Nwipene nine persons were called out for initiation. Among them was the dark girl who danced with Adasingo not long ago. She was an Opopo girl who stored drums of diesel once bootleggers ferried them in with speed boats.

The drummers sat on their equipment drinking. They were all youths from neighbouring streets. Silver picked his way to this group and struck up conversation with Segun Popoola who was an expert with the Yoruba drum. Popoola read Sociology from Uniben. He refused to relocate out of Independence Lane even when NAFDAC recruited and offered him a decent accommodation. One Mbaise girl he was befriending was keeping him back.

Robed in Kegites’ green regalias the initiates were each given a drinking horn full of palm wine. Dandy rose to the occasion as the Chief Priest pronouncing his blessing over them. The attentive crowd watched.

“Seek ye the Kingdom of God and all other agwalagwas shall be added unto you.”

Led by Nwipene they chorused, “Amen!”

“It shall be well with the Ijaw and It shall be well with the Annang. You will drink without getting karried.”

“Ise!”

“Oh yes, the gods are wise. Now, therefore, be faithful to your culture and shun all colonial mentality. You have been called to increase and multiply and fill the earth, when you drink you multiply. When you multiply you drink. This mandamus I give unto you: Love one another even as I love Ekaete.”

“True talk.”

“Dominus vobis cum.”

“Et tu Brutus”

“And by the powers vested on me by the Almighty Natty above as the Comrado-In-Chief in this Independence Lane jungle, having found you wanting in character and learning,” making the sign of the cross, “I hereby and hereafter and heretofore mandate and declare you Distinguished Kegites and Comrados Plenipotentiary fit to be admitted into the exalted membership of Palmwine Drinkards Club.”

“Gbosa! Gbosa!! Gbosa!!!”

A worried Dandy consulted his watch rubbing his smooth face. Another long draught from his horn did not seem to cheer him but his eyes followed the vibrating hips of one of the girls he just initiated. The girl must be new comer here. What he saw greatly pleased him as he continued to stare at her ikebe, gnashing his teeth absent mindedly. Taking a deep breath his eyes moved from the girl to the horn in his hand. But he had lost all appetite. The happiest man in this world is the man without problem. The very palmy in his cup had no attraction for him just because he had a problem. Finally he signaled Silver over.

“It’s like we’re going to leave early.”

“I know. I told Uwalaka to flash me if the woman comes.”

“I prefer being in the yard to handle things myself. I don’t want scandal.”

“Do you suggest we leave immediately?”

“I think we have to. The landlady is the one gingering them to make trouble with me otherwise the whole thing is non-issue.”

“I don’t agree with you. Rekiya’s age is what worries me. You know these Moslems and their weird ways. This thing can lead to a riot.”

“A riot in this Niger Delta? If anyone thinks of starting up religious crisis here we shall simply behead them. Moslems are not the only people who can carry knife? The North is for them but South here belongs to us.”

“Not when you put a Moslem girl in the family way.”

“And how many Christian girls have their almajiris killed this year, mathematician tell us? I want to be in my room by 6 o’clock. Tell the others we’re going now.”

* * *

No. 57 Independence Lane was a Face-Me-I-Face-You yard accessed through a long passage with doors facing each other on both sides. It wasn’t much of a shelter. Built during colonial days, Chief Desmond Fubara who owned the place had allowed it run to seed.

The roof leaked when it rained. Huge cracks zigzagged on the walls like fierce tribal marks on the face of a Kanuri. As one progressed near the bathrooms, which in recent times had become a mass of slimy filths, strong stench from clogged toilets became overbearing. This stench was permanent. It was there come harmattan or rainy season until the nose gradually got used to it then it no longer mattered. When it flooded pools gathered in front of the secluded out house posing no problem for tenants with rain boots.

A single toilet served the entire tenants, a colony of some thirty-eight odd souls. The curse of living in a place like this was inadequate convenience and this yard was no exception. You had to make it very early in the morning to escape being harassed by impatient neighbours urging you to hurry up. The second toilet was for Chief and his wife, Sister Matilda. Tenants avoided this toilet the manner poor parishioners avoid the Bishop’s table. The only exception was the hot headed Dandy who openly used the convenience daring Chief to call the police. It was a mystery that not minding Dandy’s insolence the landlord and his wife were at pains to remain on good terms with the young man.

The yard itself would have been cleaner had the owner and his tenants observed a healthy life style. Broken personal effects were never discarded. Old refrigerators, doorframes and household trashes were left to decompose in the humid tropical air. The entire courtyard at the back of the building was congested with heaps of rusted metals and engine components reputed to be Chief’s once movable car. On happier occasions he talked about bringing home one special mechanic who’d revive these remains into a befitting car once more. His anxious tenants, oh-yes loyalists to the core, cheered him on during such talks only to pick their teeth at his foolishness behind his back. Mildew was a common thing here as none bothered about the environment. The struggle for survival was harsh enough for one to worry about the aesthetics.

Dandy had lived in this cesspit close to thirteen years. From habit had devised an easy way of identifying which door was his in the dark passage. All he needed do was to stick out one finger, usually the first finger of his left hand, as he walked the narrow space. The fourth door was the right one. It led to the standard twelve by twelve room. For this dungeon without adequate ventilation and water he had to palm his landlord two thousand naira every month. Arriving home from the gyration ground he immediately divested himself of his regalia before collapsing on a settee. He was full of drink but far from happy. His enemies were plotting against him just because of this one mistake. Who does not have sex, so why crucify me over nothing? All of a sudden everyone is murmuring against him, Dandy did this and Dandy did that. Heaving a mournful sigh he promised not to run away. Problem must come as long as you’re alive.

Rekiya’s mother did not come that night and by the following morning he began to breathe with ease. If only this girl wasn’t so young. But she looked even younger than her age in her present condition. Dandy was thankful for the hijab she wore every day or else people’d have stoned him. Let them say what they like. As long as they didn’t say it to my face, looking up as the door curtain parted. It was Silver.

“It’s true. Rekiya’s mother and her uncle are bringing her this evening. They came here yesterday but we were at the waterfront so they went back.”

“How did you know?”

“I heard it from a tenant living at No. 38.”

“Is it true that our landlady is supporting them?”

“But she’s the person gingering them to call the police,” stepping into the room.

“That woman is wicked.”

Silver said the palm wine he took yesterday was making him drowsy. Getting hold of an old magazine he began to fan himself while waiting for some reaction from his troubled friend. From the passage Uwalaka’s voice receded as he rushed off for the Sunday service. The yard was busy with children wailing to be fed. He continued to wait, the magazine giving him momentary relief. Finally Dandy looked up from the carpet. He was never defeated, not Dandy.

“I think I know what to do. I shall ask her uncle their requirements to marry her.”

“That’s a good idea. That’d definitely calm them into dropping the whole idea of bringing in the police. Another point is this,” Silver explained, “accepting their requirements will cover you if anything goes wrong during her pregnancy. But is she moving in with you?”

“My brother, that one tire me.”

“Let her live with you for some time before sending her to your mother in the village.”

“God forbids. If you send her there and anything happens to her how do you explain that to her mother? Rekiya is her only child and her husband died years ago. I do not know the devil that pushed me into all these.”

“Cool down. This is no time for regrets. Just focus on the immediate problem and make sure it is properly handled.”

They went to the front of the yard and stood watching those in the street. Properly weighed Dandy hadn’t the least problem in the world, Silver consoled. If the girl decided to born a baby for Dandy was that not a blessing? What was more valuable than a child in this world? But his reasoning sounded hollow. What could be more damning than having people point at you as a corruptor of the young? They soon dropped that topic and resumed their silence.

If Rekiya was older then he had nothing to worry about. Again the embarrassment of being fingered for putting a 15 year old SS 2 student in the family way could kill him. Just thinking about it made him cringe, totally blaming himself for this mess. Clearly troubled waters were ahead and he needed time to clear his head.

If money was the problem then he had no problem at all. Union Bank alone held nearly half a million of his. Rekiya’s mother didn’t look the troublesome type. She sold textile materials at Mile 1. He knew her very well. She could accept money and take her daughter away. Sister Matilda Fubara was the problem. She had been pushing the girl’s mother to make trouble with him. Dandy wished he never talked to that small girl because the whole thing was turning into a big scandal. Not minding his pains he still acknowledged that the whole hullabaloo was worth it.

Rekiya was not like any other Muslim girl he knew. Her sweeping gown covered her ankles with a matching head scarf leaving only a long face that made you look twice. But the moment you talked to her you immediately got the impression that she did not belong to her world. She was a friendly child with a quick smile which immediately dispersed any uncertainty in your mind.

Dandy had observed her coming back from school wondering what it would be like sleeping with her. The leering devil in his head screamed bah! You’ll never succeed. Have you forgotten she’s a Muslim girl who must remain a virgin till marriage? This voice placing Rekiya beyond his reach was just the tonic to propel him into action.

The opportunity came on a Sunday like this when he espied her returning from a visit at the waterfront. He had always known she frequented there because Boma’s sister was her friend. She came over at his command saying she had no phone number to give. No problem, he assured, but if I buy you a cell phone will your mother ask how you came by it? No. Sometimes I hold my friends phone in the house. My mother will not ask me, she innocently answered.

The next day Dandy got her a brand new phone. In two days flat she accepted his invitation for a visit. Over the phone Dandy had assured her he was not a sex-minded maniac. All he wanted was touchery. What is touchery? You know, now. Like touching and rubbing your hands gently to relax you.

So she agreed to meet him at Timber Street in the house of a guy called Richmond. Within minutes of her arrival he had her cossetted between his legs while they watched porn with her consent. He never did a thing without first asking for her consent, he was such a clever fiend. The scenes playing out on the screen completely numbed her innocent mind. Dandy continued to smoke in complete silence. His stiffness pressing into her back disoriented her. The loud music transported her to another world. And the dim light of the mercury bulb gave her the courage to play along. Then he leaned forward putting out his cigarette. Outside Richmond’s generator continued to clatter.

She would never forget that eternal moment when he parted her legs and tenderly stroked her with his tongue. Looking down the broad outline of his shoulders Rekiya gasped as he nibbled at her with his lips. It came to a stage when she simply clamped her knees together panting she could no longer stand it. It’s alright, he agreed. With the same meekness he then begged for some affection which she readily agreed. But this time I won’t use my mouth. She nodded again for him to go ahead. Without another word he shifted up to her belly throwing off his pant with one hand. Instantly she knew she wouldn’t survive the day.

The certainty of her death was never so real. She told herself she was going to have babies, suffer, become old and eventually die. Her utter helplessness was scary because she brought all these on herself by being a woman. Men would hurt her every night. She was going to bleed. She saw the rotating ceiling fan through misted eyes knowing she was now helpless under him.

The growing pressure became unbearably painful. Just when she found the courage to struggle it was all over. She simply stopped struggling not to cause herself more pains. The first thing she did when he rolled off was to conduct a check with her fingers. Void. A big emptiness was all she felt. From that day life became meaningless without Dandy.

For five months their love blossomed until he suspected without being told that she was pregnant. Rekiya did not know until a lab test he paid for confirmed it.

“I will marry you if your mother will agree,” he had consoled.

“I can’t marry now.”

“Why?”

“My mother will be angry.”

“Why?”

“I am afraid.”

But the bulge of pregnancy cannot be hidden forever. The prying eyes of the women in her yard at No. 38 soon detected a change in her. Rekiya refused to tell her mother the name of the man who got her pregnant until a neighbour called Madam Vicky volunteered to get to the bottom of it all, cursing the wicked child whose only reward for her mother was prostituting around. Whether it was magic or sheer intelligence, that busy body of a woman narrowed her search with a pin-point accuracy on Dandy and rumors started flying. He maintained a straight face in the street though all ears, swearing that the first person to publicly call his name would die. He also took the precaution of not being seen with her.

Rekiya stopped attending classes at Army Day Secondary School for fear of what the soldiers would do to her, she told him on one of their tryst. Stroking her face he told her that it was alright to keep away from classes and the soldiers before stripping her naked once more. Drawing her legs into the bed she asked, but will you marry me as you promised? Why not? Lowering himself because of her delicate condition.

Then he travelled to Yenagoa to collect his money from someone owing him. In his absence Madam Vicky, peddling her frightful old wife’s tale of bad girls dying during childbirth, succeeded in frightening her into an open confession. Rekiya broke down and named Dandy drawing a whisper of incredulity from tenants around. His enemies even plotted for his arrest the moment he returned from Yenagoa but Rekiya’s mother said she was only interested in Dandy taking care of her daughter. From friends he knew today must be the day. Rekiya’s mother was coming to surrender her daughter to his care in the presence of his landlord.

Chigachi Eke is an Igbo entrepreneur living in Port Harcourt. He is married and well travelled.

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