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| They came in the morning | |
| By Iheoma | ||||
| 10 April 2006 | ||||
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Short story about the fortunes of a recently widowed young woman, her in-laws and their demands on her as a widow and the help she receives from an unlikely source. The word "Nda" literally means "uncle or aunty" in the Igbo language. Bang, bang, bang this continued for some time until Chidinma realised it was happening downstairs and it was at their door. The voice shouted again, “open this door, eh, rubbish are you people deaf”. Slowly and with extreme hesitancy Chidinma tried to lift her head from the tear dried pillow but she couldn’t move, she blanked out the racket and dozed off again. The commotion continued, far nosier now and almost as if she was dreaming she heard Mama Ike “it’s okay, ah, what is wrong with you people, eh should the door come off as well”. She heard her remove the padlock, slide the blot through it’s holes, open the door and footsteps shuffle in. It was a little like trying to get into the alcartraz. Let’s face it nobody lived like this, only those of us in down trodden Lagos, bustling with armed robbers and touts, known locally as area boys, all struggling to make ends meet and along the way making life just that little bit difficult for the rest of us, ordinary Joe Bloggs. A deep voice she did not immediately recognise ask, “who are you exactly and who invited you here?”. Mama Ike did not have time to respond before another voice added “where is the so-called widow, where is she, after all, is her husband not dead?” “Eh, she should come out and tell us what happened again, that her story did not make sense” continued the deep voice speaking to no-one in particular. Mama Ike sighed and folded her arms “she’s been up all night and is sleeping now” legs and arms akimbo, bra straps exposed under too thin spaghetti straps. “Sleeping? What do you mean, is her husband not dead she has all the time in the world to sleep. She should be here, were we can look at her with pity”. The same voice added. Another chorused, “ah, ah at this time of the day, go and wake her up, jo” Mama Ike had noticed that they had already invited themselves to the comfortable settee in the living room and had it not been for the way she had stood in front of the kitchen door they had already started looking in the direction of the fridge. Greedy bastards, anyway let them wait, shebi it is her and them, today na today. They where five in number, but not all were as vocal as the leader and his really vertically challenged side kick he had no height at all. She had experienced such scrounging relatives before and they were all the same, had she not seen them do the same to her all those years ago. Their spots did not change they just got a little better at it, now they spoke a little English. Not very well, but enough to get by in Lagos. As she too was a guest, she offered a conciliatory gesture “so, what can I offer you? We have fanta, coke, mostly minerals”. “Eh, I want beer, infact let me go and see the fridge” echoed the most vocal who chanced on being the infamous Nda Paul. “No, there’s no need. We don’t have any. There’s only coke” she responded sending a cursory glance in their direction and walking towards the kitchen herself. She had changed her mind about the coke she offered them the fanta only. She picked up five fanta bottles and glasses placed them on the fruity coloured plastic tray finding some groundnuts from one of the cabinets and carried them into the nicely laid out parlour. Swiftly, Mama Ike placed everything on the mahogany carved wooden table and began by placing a bottle of fanta and glass besides each visitor. She opened each bottle as she did so. One even asked “is there nothing to eat?” Mama Ike quickly retorted “we are in mourning no-one has had time to cook. You hear, and anyway, where is your wife to help?” letting out an undignified hiss. With that, she brought the traditional Igbo kolanut with accompanying peanut butter and garden eggs, placed them on the table and left the parlour as she did so. Mama Ike had been on a visit to Lagos when she’d heard her son’s former classmate whose own mother had died while they where still at university had just lost her husband to the unbelievable cold hands of death. Death had come and stolen him in the night, just like that, pinched him off the shelves leaving an empty space in his place. Her son Ikenna had always had a soft spot for Chidinma and was worried for her just as he had been when her mother died all those years ago. He had begged her to come and stay with Chidinma reminding her that she had invaluable experience to share at a time like this. Mama Ike was a thick set ochre-coloured Igbo woman with an ample bossom that heaved up and down as she spoke and jingle jangled when she moved about. She found Lagos too hot and humid causing her to sweat all the time, seeking solace in bathing three times a day and in wearing flowery cotton tops with loose fitting equally flowery cotton trousers she had had the tailor make for her in a rush the first week she arrived. Mama Ike’s colouring was the honey that brought her fortunes, men approached her and she was never short of suitors, of all persuasions. Quite a few were not well in the head, others had more money than sense and she could count the others that had bad breath. In this Lagos, where everything is fake even the complexion of any women can be achieved through the bleaching bottle her complexion was locally called “original flavour”. Nice bright ochre not fake. She’d learnt how to maximise this to her advantage and had decided early on not to remarry again after the death of her husband. Luckily, she had learnt how to be discreet with these friendships and her children had never known she had been sexually active for a very long time. These causal, but important friendships as she choose to call them had given her a fair sense of independence, she was still sexually active, just that now menopause had crept in and her friend too was getting old like her. So they did not do it as often as she’d liked. Chidinma wanted and needed to sleep, her body hurt in places she never knew could pain, only intercepted by the racket from the air condition, which had now completely broken down and was more of a hot fan than a cool breeze. This of course recycled the fine brown dust pouring out of the open vents, further into the room. Chibueze, her husband had always said he’d fix it, she realised she’d have to do that now. Beginning from her toes inching slowly through her resiliently solid thighs upwards to her stomach and there, where it hurt the most her chest. It was suffocating and often times she was surprised when she woke up in the morning, the pain was more evident when she attempted to sleep at night and was unbearable. One night after she’d been told of his death, she dreamt she was with Chibueze in that place with bright lights, she was begging him to come home sobbing her heart out and was truly surprised to find Mama Ike shaking her with a passion and willing her to wake up. That night, and for several nights after Mama Ike brought the synthetic floor mat and had slept right next to her bed covered only in her famously flowery wrapper. She had come to keep her company and make her feel safe and Chidinma did not say so at the time, but was so pleased that someone knew sleeping at night was now hard for her. The commotion downstairs was intense and she knew that if she did not go down it would be one mark against her that she will have to deal with at a later date. Chidinma chose to get out of bed and head downstairs ignoring how her body felt. “Good afternoon, Nda Paul ah, Nonso you’re here as well. How now, long time no see, abi”. Silence engulfed the room, then Nonso spoke at last “ah, our wife, how are you now, eh?” Paul the eldest of the brothers and the most obnoxious retorted “they said you were sleeping, it’s a bit early for that now, don’t you think!” Chidinma, did not respond immediately, it was too early to fight she needed to know why they came so soon. Nonso came to her aid once again and she was grateful for that, but also wary for his reasons which she did not know yet. “Paul, she looks tired, she too needs to sleep, aba!”. Unease settled in the modestly decorated parlour. Silent thoughts gripped all and no-one spoke, clearly they’d had a meeting and she would soon know what the visit was all about. Everyone was waiting for Nda Paul to speak. Chidinma focused on how her fingers presented themselves realising that they had not been dipped in hand cream for some time, they too were suffering. Her nails were chipped and cuticles split at the sides, they did not have a coat of polish, Chibueze had always insisted she take care of herself, and loved looking at her painted nails. He liked the colour red especially on her toes as well. From a far away place she heard a slight coughing sound and realised that Paul had started addressing her. “Eh, Chidinma, our wife, you know why we are here. It is a sad time for the family and we have to see how we bury our brother Chibueze”. Chidinma, didn’t say she did not know why they came but kept quiet. She continued admiring her fingers and now stretched out her feet lifting them slightly to look at her toes. No-one paid attention to her. Paul continued. “We think, eh, the body should be taken home on Tuesday for burial in the village later. We have no date yet, but we will let you know once we have set a date. Your concern now is to bring out some money for these arrangements”. She heard “…..bring out some money….” And knew that the struggle for Chibueze’s assets had started, saying nothing she waited for Paul to indicate if he had finished. Paul added, “I’d seen Chibueze with a stock taking book for the provision shop in Simpson street. Bring it for me and also the keys to the shop. We don’t think you can manage all the shops now, can you? Anyway, that is not your duty anymore”. Chibueze had already told her what to expect and for once she felt as if he was speaking to her from the mortuary. Chidinma, very slowly asked Paul, “but were will I get the money, Chibu never left money in the house, not a lot anyway” willing herself not to cry and be seen as weak. Paul’s immediate response was, “what are you saying, that you want to eat it all! E, you see what I said about her, she is a very greedy woman”. She noticed he had shifted a little to the edge of the settee. “No, just that we have to sign at the bank and it might take too long” she added realising that Chibu as she called her husband had not informed Nda Paul of the recent change. The recent bank consolidation exercise had forced them to switch banks and she had been added as a signatory to the accounts with no limit to her spending. In reality, with the death of her husband, she was now the sole signatory. Chidinma did not say otherwise. She kept this knowledge to herself. “Hm, my dear, let me tell you now. You are just a wife and you only have a girl for our brother. You better know what you will do to bring that money now, you hear”. Paul, was half sitting and leaning forward on the long settee. His head contorted and at an angle jutting out of his body like playdow, his eyes wide and mouth wild. His fingers claw like and spidery as they pointed at her. “But…” Chidinma never got to finish her sentence. “No buts, Chidinma what nonsense. Who do you think you are, eh?” Paul raised his voice pointing at her “it’s my brother’s money, not yours, eh, you hear.” She shrank back into the comfort of the settee, with everyone watching her, inquiring as she did so, “shebi, we have to pay the hospital and mortuary people” struggling to keep focused on her fingers and not staring directly at Nda Paul. “So, na you sabi. Bring the money in which we will travel home with, remember we need to pay the ambulance that will carry the body, buy tickets for the kindred from Lagos to travel with the body and have some extra, for food. If you have ears hear” he added, thugging his right earlobe for good measure. As Chibueze prepared himself to die he had told her, “if they come asking for money, give them, but a small amount at a time. Do not give them plenty otherwise they will waste it and still come back for more”. She had cried as he gave the instructions reminding him of the better times they had. Chidinma knew it was a loosing battle arguing, she climbed the stairs one at a time holding the banister tightly in case she fell. She made her way to Chibueze’s slim-line brown leather briefcase with initials that matched hers in which lay Naira 340,000 and counted out N45,000 thousand Naira. She did not wrap it in a black nylon bag as was the custom. Closing the leather briefcase, she placed it back under the fairly new cotton covered mattress locking the door behind her. Chibueze had told her this would happen and had tried as much to arrange things before he died, but he knew that he could not protect her from the greed of his relatives and archaic traditions that only they understood. Nda Paul, “here, this is the remaining money left. I had wanted to use it for the market” Tilting his head slightly, he grabbed the slim bundle and started counting the N20 Naira notes, adding “is that all, how much is this exactly?” scorn obscuring his hideous looks further. “Why don’t you check, I’m not sure. I did not count it”. Suspecting that they’d go by bus for the burial and not by plane as he was suggesting. “Chidinma”, echoed Nda Paul with as much venom as he could muster “surely this is not all the money my brother has, you mean to tell me you are giving me only N45,000 thousand Naira. Hmm, my dear, you’d better go and get his money, you hear. Need I remind you that the money is no longer yours as we are not even sure that this baby girl you claim is Chibueze’s is actually his”. Paul said this as a matter of fact and with authority as the eldest of the boys. Clearly, he’d expressed the views of the entire family of sons present in her parlour. None disagreed with him or even the views he expressed. None came to her aid now not even Nonso who had been so kind earlier. Nda Paul shaking his head vigorously and visibly annoyed added, “where are the keys for the shop and the stock taking book” his palms open. Unfolding her arms and outstretching her palms, she handed him the keys but not the stock taking book. She didn’t know where it had been kept. She’d have to ask the boys in the shop, well, that is if they have not sacked them by the time the funeral took place. Chidinma did not respond to Nda Paul’s provocation as there was no need too and like the others, waited in the living room to hear what other pronouncements he had to make. When none was forthcoming, she excused herself and left her parlour, shortly thereafter she heard them leave and waited with anticipation for the next unpleasant incident. She knew that she had a fight on her hands and was not for the first time sure that she had the will power to go through with the strategy Chibueze had laid out for her. Mama Ike, had sat through the whole visit and not uttered a word all she did was to just listen and her presence ensured that Chidinma had at least a supporter. One sole member of the “Chidinma widowhood fan club”. Someone too was looking out for her. Mama Ike had taken a good look at Paul realising he was not too educated and clearly had been jealous of his younger brother’s success and beautiful wife. Otherwise how come it did not take him long after his death for him to start making financial demands as if, he has no wife himself. Infact staying in the house had ensured that Mama Ike had heard the latest gist about Chidinma’s in-laws and not all of it palatable. Current rumour was agog about how Paul’s wife had left for the village taking the children with her as things had been hard for them in this Lagos, reportedly telling all and sundry who’d cared to listen, “marriage is not for suffering, after all these other women whose husbands are doing well, do they have two heads!”. This had angered Paul, who blamed his younger brother Chibueze for bringing this shame onto him by not supporting his last request for financial assistance. What no one was saying loudly enough was that, this was the fourth time Paul had come for start-up money and this was the first time his brother had turned him down. He had done so because he realised his time was limited and had started to put his affairs in order. Mama Ike had learnt that Paul had first been given money to start a spare-parts business dealing in recycled peugeot parts and had started off rather well, but once the profits came in had lavished the money on young girls looking for good time and had not reinvested the money in the business as he was supposed to do. One day, the landlord with whom he had rented the shop came and evicted him, while his apprentices who had not been paid in months sold off the remaining stock to make-up the salaries owed to them. This had been a consistent pattern of behaviour for the subsequent requests for assistance and had culminated in an emphatic No from his brother the last time he had asked. Paul immediately blamed Chidinma for poisoning his brother’s mind against him and had been lying in wait for her since then. So, Mama Ike was indeed worried when she realised that morning that it was the very Paul in the parlour that day. Ah, she decided to sit in the parlour too and hear with her own ears what he had to say. Knowing from experience, people like Paul who are desperate, can go to any lengths to get what they wanted, including a visit to the local witch doctor. Confusion surrounding the preparation for the funeral came and went, Chidinma did not argue about the amount of money she was asked to fork out every two days but kept a meticulous record of how much was given to Nda Paul, for what purposes and in the presence of whom. She also did not mention that after collecting the shop keys he had taken to collecting the profit each day from the shop boys and was now left with a shop with no stock as none had been replenished since he collected the keys. Infact she had gone to see for herself and had become visibly upset when she saw the state it was in. Paul had not bothered to pay the shop boys and had made it clear that the shop was now his and he did not want them there. Chidinma expected more to happen on the day of the burial and after, but she was not sure what. Mama Ike had suggested one day that as the funeral drew closer Chidinma should cut her hair. Chidinma had wept, but Mama Ike had a plan. She figured that at least they would have to work very hard to cut her hair any shorter. So, the barber had come to the house and had left Chidinma with one inch on her head, which she dyed a brilliant brown to make herself happy. Though she looked now looked very bald indeed, she also knew that there was no tradition about cutting hair she could think of but anyway, did not want to get in the way. Early one morning, two days before Chidinma was to leave for the village Mr Igbokwe a lawyer came in the midst of all the wailing, the fat aunts occupying too much space and the oppressive heat, and said “he had been given instructions to act as Chidinma’s lawyer”. He apologised for getting to her late, that he had not been notified and had only just seen the big obituary placed by a committee of friends in the daily newspaper that morning saying, “the probate will be easy to complete as all the paperwork was in order”. Chidinma was too embarrassed to ask what a probate was and resolved to question Mama Ike later in the evening as they ate their evening meal. Eating together had now become a regular routine for them both. Mr Igbokwe was a very short Igbo man with a very shiny head that squeezed out sweat as words tumbled from his mouth. He spoke too fast, shaking his head from side to side saliva collecting at the corners of his mouth while his vomit coloured lime green linen tropical suit had been assembled for a much taller and probably better looking man. Anyway, Mama Ike sensing that he had something more to say ushered him upstairs away from the preying ears and eyes of the in-laws who had all stopped wailing when they heard the words “Lawyer” and sat him down inside the only free space available, the main bedroom. As was the custom, being a man Chidinma did not know, Mama Ike was forced to wait with her to hear what he had to say. Mr Igbokwe had a lot to say and before he had left Chidinma had signed several papers with Mama Ike acting as a witness, she had signed all of them even though she understood little to nothing of what he was saying. Mr Igbokwe used big words. The funeral came and went. Chidinma returned from the village, bruised but alive and her hair no shorter than when she’d left. She was glad it was over, Mama Ike had followed her to the village and her relatives had come as well, but that still did not stop her in-laws from inflicting serious bodily harm on her. She had refused to drink the water in which Chibueze had been washed with as they prepared the body for laying in-state at the wake-keeping. For this indiscretion, she had received a resounding slap from a female in-law she had never met before but who was a member of the Umuada. This had added more confusion to the highly charged atmosphere and had taken the diplomatic intervention of Mama Ike, her relatives and Chibueze’s friends for it not to degenerate further. Chidinma was pleased with herself as she had done only those things she knew her husband would not have minded. They whispered to her hearing “stupid girl, eh. Why are you so stubborn? Eye will clear you soon. Ha, the life of a widow is hard!!!”. Her heart still hurt and sometimes she called out his name before remembering that he could not answer her. She felt safer in Lagos and more in control. After the funeral, a family meeting to discuss her and their daughter was called and she was summoned to attend. Nda Paul was at the meeting and had insisted she list all of Chibueze’s assets, and in the same breath she was informed that as she had a girl she was not entitled to her husbands share of the family land. Mama Ike had left Lagos and returned to her home, but you know the surprise came from Chibueze he’d left the ace for last. Even though he was now six fit under and in the arms of the lord, he’d always been a fanatic chess and card player. He’d known what was going to happen and had set the stage by writing his last will and testament, and had written down everything he wanted done. No-one can remember the time an Igbo man had written a will like the one Chibueze wrote while he was still alive. The Umunna called a meeting of the elders and kindred to discuss it; it was whispered in hushed tones at community gatherings the length and breath of Lagos, least the women get ideas. The Umunna and Umuada, called Chidinma to several meetings for her to explain how this could have happened. They did not like her response. When Mama Ike heard about The Will she danced and her breasts jingle jangled while her buttocks did a dance on their own. She was so impressed with how things had worked out and secretly hoped her own son whom she had struggled to educate could display such protection of his wife and children. After all had he not experienced the harshness of being brought up by a poor widow. Well, Nda Paul had it coming, just that he did not see it on time, Chibueze had seen it though.
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