Читать книгу Stars of the Long Night - Tanure Ojaide - Страница 20

10

The Great Creator made Oyeghe out of the rarest materials and exhausted the best of his craft on her figure. Her smile was a heart-warming sun in the harmattan season. Her oval face had the smoothness of a full moon. There was no unevenness in her body; everything from her toes to her hair fell into place in a harmonious pattern. She had the complexion of Agbon's superior palm oil, a golden type of colour, that was most cherished by men. She had the aura of a goddess, who had come to live in this world in a human incarnation.

Oyeghe gave the lie to those who saw beauty only in adolescent youth. She was not the type that could be described as an unripe fruit that gave you worries and hurt. Yet she was not in any way close to being old, outworn. She stood in a special age-group that many women would do everything possible to be in but could not achieve because that gift was not accessible to most women. It was this ageless shape that made her shine; the moon in a permanent fullness in the night of Agbon.

Her body was a shrine dedicated to Olokun, goddess of beauty and wealth. She was the only one of a special kind. Her teeth shone; her eyes had a certain glitter that radiated warmth to those who stood close to her. Her eyelashes were dark and long. The entire frame of her body was so proportionate that people sometimes walked onto trees or knocked themselves against others as they looked at her. When Oyeghe passed, men gazed and marvelled at her beauty, and so many women wished they had her frame.

At her age, and with the effortless poise, one would expect Oyeghe to have been grabbed as a prize by some fortunate man for a wife. Happy and fortunate would be the man who married her; everyone would think. Blessed would be that home in which she lived; the men, dazed by her beauty, would think. But what would ignite some people could turn others cold. What was an invaluable gift to some would be worthless to others. Not everyone would recognize a goddess in a human shape in the street.

Oyeghe had experienced marriage in its most cruel condition. Ten years with a man, and yet she remained childless. As a young lady she had heard of the rare case of women who had no menstruation all their lives. She was a normal woman, as she saw herself. There had been no month she did not experience her menstruation, an indication that she was capable of being pregnant, she believed. Yet nothing had come out to show people that she was a fertile married woman. There was no round big belly for her to parade as evidence of her imminent motherhood. There was, despite sleeping with her husband, no nine-month break to her regular menstruation.

Her husband became anxious after many seasons failed to bring forth seeds planted. Despite the farmers' labour of care, the farm produced no crops. The monthly expectation of sprouting seeds proved futile. Each month's desire to blossom went unfulfilled. And this frustrating situation went on month after month and then year after year. By the eight year Okotete realized how difficult it would be for the marriage to go on without Oyeghe conceiving soon. He who had been called fortunate by every other man for marrying Okpara's beauty now began to see himself as unfortunate. “How come about that you like a spindly tree was able to marry this beauty?” his close friend had asked him after Oyeghe was escorted to his house. He who was the envy of other men became envious of others who married women not physically endowed but who had delivered them three to five children in ten years. Was Oyeghe blessed with only stunning beauty and nothing else? He asked himself many questions that he could not answer because only God knew every individual's fate.

Meanwhile Oyeghe's mother-in-law had been pushing her son to try other women. “How long does a man live to spend the better days and years of his life waiting for a barren tree to bear fruit?” she would ask her son.

“I don't think she is barren. Everything is in God's hands,” Okotete would respond.

“People are talking. Do you know what they whisper about when either of you passes? I did not give birth to you to bear these taunts.”

“Don't mind what they say about her or me. God gives when he wants,” Oyeghe's husband would tell his mother.

“You fool! What you have is God's. What you strive for and secure is God-given. You do not stay in one spot in the bush and come back to say that there are no ripe palm-nuts to harvest. You must go round if you are not sick yourself,” she told him.

Of course, he understood his mother's figurative language. He knew all along what she was driving at.

“I am not sick. If I were sick, she would have left me the day after we started to live together as husband and wife. I am doing all I can to impregnate her and she is definitely eager to conceive.”

“Let me tell you. You came from this womb,” she said, pointing to her stomach. “Let me advise you. As the day grows older, so diminishes the freshness of palm-wine. You will not remain young forever. This is the time for you to act,” she concluded in a sober tone.

Okotete was quiet. He could not interrupt his mother, however painful what she was telling him. Mother was mother and must be respected, he knew very well.

“A hen incapable of laying eggs might as well be a cock,” his mother went on.

The mother knew the task she had embarked upon. She knew that despite her son's love for Oyeghe, she could break his resolve with constant salvoes of taunts. She thus gradually eroded the man's confidence to ever make Oyeghe pregnant while she steered him towards some other woman. With the constant taunting, Okotete began to see his own effort to have a child with Oyeghe as futile and wasted.

Suggestions from friends and family members followed. These people came indirectly to test Okotete's readiness to listen. A few did not tell their minds because they surmised that the man was not ready to listen to them insult his wife, and they knew that by insulting his wife they were also insulting him.

Others felt their advice was sought and so gave it. Had he asked his wife to see the famous healer in Agbarho? That healer knew so much about what delayed women from conceiving. Why had he not asked Oyeghe to join the Igbe sect? Many women who found it difficult to conceive joined that sect and within a year began to parade their big round bellies before the doubting public. Other advisers mentioned herbalists or diviners who cracked the riddle of some women's seeming barrenness. Once the riddle was cracked, such women, even at an advanced age, within a year or two came for thanksgiving with their bouncing babies. There was no problem that seemed so intractable for the healers, others suggested.

Nobody asked Okotete to do anything. It was always, “Ask your wife.” Agbon was a land in which women were blamed for whatever went wrong in the family. If the man did not progress in his life, his wife would be accused of witchcraft and of causing the man's wretchedness even if he were lazy. If a couple failed to have children, the wife was blamed for it. Nobody cared to blame the man even when Agbon folks knew that many men had wax sperm that could not impregnate women however often they made love with their wives.

Healers, masseurs, and diviners were abundant and were known to have successfully helped some women seeking conception. Each boasted of his special talent at cracking difficult cases and talked as if he could work miracles. Oyeghe overheard folks talking about these healers, and some talked as if deliberately at her to hear. Some older women proffered their advice on what a young woman should do or where to seek assistance on matters of getting pregnant.

And so Oyeghe went to a masseur highly recommended to her. When she arrived, there was a line of women waiting to be attended to. She discovered that her problem was not unique; there were many women like her who came to seek help to conceive.

Her turn came and she went into the consultation room. The masseur was a bare-chested hairy man who struck her immediately as someone too young for that serious profession of helping married women to conceive. Within minutes, her doubts were confirmed. In the process of examining her body to know that every part of her as a woman was complete or right, he began fondling her breasts beyond the professional limits that she expected a healer to go. Utekpe would have got more intimate with her if she had not shown disapproval at his methods of checking her problems. She had heard stories of masseurs telling their gullible patients that they had to insert some medicines into their womb. They had used unorthodox methods to do this, but the women did not protest. These masseurs had ended up themselves impregnating the women. Such women, happy to be conceived, had kept quiet and had carried some other men's children for their husbands who had been anxious to have children anyway.