Читать книгу Under Fire - Chinedu Ogoke - Страница 8

Coloured water slopped over the brim of oily bowls, unto the dining tables. This created pools which branched into deltas; eventually rid from steep slopes. A student carelessly released water on his hand over a sated bowl. The unwanted water dropped on the table, and stretched its fingers towards the table’s borders. Another student rescued his legs from the flood. “Sorry,” the offender waved, and descended on the garri before him. Ahead, a hand was dangling out of a wall, collecting money and presenting tickets. The line progressed, but was broken by an unpleasant announcement. Invectives followed.

“These people are not serious,” somebody remarked, going to a corner for his books.

“Only 9.15pm; if you people are tired, you better hand over to a new management,” some said loudly.

“Pigs.”

Imoni fled the place in anger. Anger over laxity and programme misapplication. He caught the road to trade fair, the late comers’ terminus. As usual, self-ordained oppressors were distributed in outdoor conferences in the place. Whereas, for most students, it still remained an unavoidable junction.

At the immediate quarters of a kiosk, a rising voice touched him. The voice owner measured about six feet, even in his sedentary posture, and boasted about five listeners. Imoni meanwhile discovered an inconspicuous corner, from where he called for two wraps of moi moi in exchange for four naira. He undressed one of the wraps, and cut into it. The voice still dominated the airwaves, transmitting ridiculous things. “It’s like, I don’t have any problem in my life,” it was saying, “but to spend my old man’s tickets.... What? My old guy is bastardly loaded, my three brothers swim in money around the world, and our only sister, a lawyer, is married to a Colonel. My admission was a foregone conclusion. I deferred it.” So, you’re yet to be admitted? Imoni thought.

“We used tickets to blindfold them,” the fellow still continued.

After putting away the second moi moi, Imoni didn’t stay on a minute, but not before a closer look at the fellow. Singing in the room, announced the return of Yunusa’s musical set. Mickey’s voice mingled with the music when he tapped on the door. All three were in the smoke-filled room, and all but Aham contributed to the smoking affair. The discussion on hand must have been enthralling to deny Imoni his usual reception. “Why? It’s like you’re not looking very cheerful,” Mickey remarked, shaking hands. “Anything the problem?”

“Nothing.” Imoni shook hands with the others.

Mickey was gay as usual, with a new bend to his voice. He toyed convincingly with a Don Cornelius baritone. “It’s like one got no reason in life not to be happy meen,” he said. “Never and never gonno be sad in my life. “Aha, Like I was telling you guys,” he continued. “I got this babe. But, it’s like she proved a little difficult. My God! I didn’t know it was the shirt!”

Aham and Yunusa laughed. Imoni joined them ignorantly. “My God!” Mickey continued. “You did this thing to me, Imoni.”

So, Imoni found himself facing a charge. What was his offence? he queried, amused. He hadn’t even familiarised himself with the discussion on hand. He knew it would turn out trivial, but it bothered him. Mickey was delaying pronouncing it. He heard it instead from Yunusa. He had failed to restrain Mickey from leaving earlier in the day with the wrong clothes. Imoni took it with amusement in his eyes. How could he have interfered with Mickey’s chosen taste? he wondered. And, didn’t they try to talk him out of it?

He did, agreed, Mickey said. But he hadn’t insisted. “In fact, people were turning and looking at me. It’s like, I thought I was giving it to them. I thought I was oppressing. How could I have known they disapproved? That I was a fuck.” Then, where was the shirt now? “It’s like I had to tear it to shreds in a friend’s room, and throw it away. The friend lent me his shirt. This shirt I’m wearing now. It was even him whom the girl told about the shirt, and then he told me. The girl happens to be this friend’s girlfriend’s friend.” Mickey stuck out a leg. “I’ve fallen in love, meen. It’s like the girl’s pa is swell, a millionaire. We threw some pay around today, men. We just took off. We were wild. Blowy. People’s mouths were agape. Just like we’ve been doing at Sinai. What we did there is still reverberating in school. It’s like every chic wants to get pally with us. Already I have two after me. I haven’t seen them, any way. And, it’s like, they, each, told some of my guys.”

Yunusa rightly chose a good incident to keep the excitement going. He saw him at the suya spot two days before, he said. “Right! You did?” Mickey got up excitedly. “You did? You go there, too? You’re big, now?” He put out a hand. They shook.

Imoni added his own suya spot experience. “That was a day after. I had already bought suya, but some other guys couldn’t buy any. They wanted to tear, searching for somebody’s face to paste. Guys were going to catch fire.”

Things were shaping up for Mickey, the way he never expected. “Ha, ha, ha,” he laughed.

Yunusa livened a diminishing cigarette with another. Same thing he observed too, he said. Mickey was smiling gleefully. That was another front. Yunusa and Imoni had been spectators too, and were saying it. It was coming from left and right. “It’s like we had no choice but to give it to them.... And, all over the school now, everybody is talking and pointing. Girls are screaming, falling over one another.” He demonstrated with his hands. “We’ve been declared wanted dead or alive.”

Aham was trying to put things together and weigh the psychological impact on other students. “Silly,” Mickey helped him. “It was, total, itinerant oppression.”

Mickey’s absolute religious devotion to his recent adventure showed in his eyes. He poured his emotion and his entire soul into all he related.

Both Imoni and Aham’s eyes shared something, by intuition.

“Like what happened at Lake Tchad the day before yesterday,” Mickey continued, seeking Imoni’s approval. “It’s like, we had a swell time there. Every dud in attendance was just an on-guy. No sme sme guy. It’s like all the older folk who must have felt the place was exclusively theirs, just felt threatened. They were turning every now and then to look at us bubbly young folk, with their eyes bulging from their sockets.” He demonstrated this. He made an indication with his thumb. “Salaudeen was there too.”

“He asked of you. I told you,” Imoni complemented that. “That you both were at Tchad.”

“Yes,” Mickey said. “Just sorry I ignored him and entered the hall.... Well, at Lake Tchad, he just came in with his Medinatu, and Major General Dauda’s son. You know these guys.... gave me a smile, after shaking my hand warmly.... I was with a babe, and so was Ed, and these other guys.

“Waoh, it’s like that Medinatu is a dame! Kept looking at me, like...”

His looks, obviously would hold any girl’s attention, Aham told him. “It’s like,” Mickey interrupted him, “she would be saying, ‘What a guy!’ I tell you, if her boy hadn’t been a big fella like Salaudeen, I would have screeched off with her.”

“Really.” Yunusa nodded.

“You know,” Mickey referred to Imoni, “like I was telling these guys, that Dr. Maxwell is a circus clown. Guys are even saying his unconventional teaching method is a concern to the school. It’s like he just disgraced himself today.”

Aham defended the man’s teaching style. The man did right, and Salaudeen deserved it, he maintained. Imoni was saying the same thing. Dr. Maxwell had to contain the excesses of some of those students. In his class, one must never do as one pleased. A lecturer had to have the proceedings in his class under control. If Salaudeen so fancied his shoes, he should have stayed away or displayed them in a show room. Mickey was offended, but he played it down. “That thing was naked envy. These are people who shouldn’t be in this school. Between him and Salaudeen, who is a minus to the school? Who would students prefer to dispose with? I’m surprised big guys like you are saying this. Guys were saying it was envy. It’s like that boy is great, Imoni. Didn’t you see how he honourably left the hall? Had he refused to leave, nothing would have happened.”

To tell him, Aham said, the Dr. Maxwell had a different world view from those people. Until now, Mickey had been winning all verbal contests. Finding his voice was becoming now difficult. “You’re talking of people who own this country,” he found his voice finally. “Somebody who can buy him. Dr. Maxwell? That frustrated Marxist with that civil war relic,” he shouted. “He’ll die yet. He’s not a lecturer. He’s a stage clown.”

The accumulated tension now wore out with some silence. “It’s like a big party is slated for tonight,” Mickey said authoritatively. “One Lara is flinging tomorrow’s.”

“The one that uses a BM.?” Yunusa asked.

He acquired a new cigarette. “Yes, a black BM. It’s like every big guy is attending.” He had a finger list. “Salaudeen, Saminu, Audu, Lara, Cynthia, Bath, Ijeoma, Azu, Ruf. Lotta guys.” Rufus? Aham asked, with mouth agape, looking at Imoni, that the name made the list.

“Yes. All of them.” Mickey even slightly enlarged the list, and retained Rufus’ name. Imoni was himself surprised to find Rufus’ name in almost every such list. “It’s like Lara’s new boyfriend is throwing,” Mickey continued saying. “But Olivia is doing hers all herself.”

He was barely in school, Imoni said, and he had such a frighteningly wide list, and up-dated roster. He laughed. “Any fella who calls himself a happener should. Especially have a physical contact with them, and fix names to the faces, and vice versa. I almost forgot. You’re some dud. I heard your name mentioned somewhere. But a guy says you’re kinda withdrawn.”

“This Olivia you mentioned, she’s throwing a party too?”

“Yes. It’s like hers on another day.... Nothing’s gonna stop me from dancing with either Lara, Cynthia or Ijeoma, tomorrow. If possible, all three of them. It’s like they’re the big three.” Olivia’s name didn’t enter in this one now. Yunusa reminded him of the omission, pulling another stick. “She, too. But, it’s like these three stick together always.”

“Why I don’t like partying here,” Imoni said, “is, you get hooked on it like drug, and the sacrifice and suffering involved.”

Both Aham and Yunusa agreed with him. “Like hanging around in the academic area, begging people to take you to party venues. And worse, on your way back, because everyone just disappears without telling the other person. Aham, like the numerous times it happened to us last semester.”

Mickey was casual in his response. “It’s like, it depends on your connection, any way. Okay, do you expect a guy like me to experience such a thing? When, already, guys are offering their cars? Aha, I remember, that guy who came here with that blue Golf car has even promised to take me along. But I may disappoint him.” He paused for a while, then continued. “Nothing in this world will stop me from coming with a car next semester. What am I saying? It might even be this semester.” That must be the Golf? Yunusa said. “No. The Ford. It’s like my friend, Ed, will bring his, too. He had a Corolla in mind, but it’s like he’s changed to Ford. He won the bet on who would adjust. Kinda uniform. Haven’t you met him before?”

“Who?” Imoni asked.

“Ed.”

The name, before now, had never been heard, he was told. “Don’t you know him? The guy I walked off with after that lecture? Really? We’re always together. It’s like he should be the most handsome boy currently on campus. Much more handsome than even myself.” The others nodded. “It’s like, he’s being begged to enter for Mr. Unimaid. No need saying it, it’s like he’s won already. Will be competing against himself. Check out his well modelled physique, sex appeal, rich voice and diction, everything. The girls scream for him every where he goes. I envy him. Gets more attention than even me, with all my attributes. I will bring him for you guys to see. It’s like there are guys now on this campus. Everything is changing. Unlike it used to be, guys say.”

What fallacy, Aham screamed. A campus was like any other society. Universal, with people coming and going. So, how could he be saying that? He could see things himself, Mickey said. There was silence for a while, but Mickey was routed by good music. He stood up to dance, but the music suddenly stopped, followed by the announcer’s voice. “Fuck! It’s FM.”

“Yea,” Yunusa said.

The music came up again. “These fucking presenters. How can you tune to FM.? It’s like I have the track in a cassette. I’ll get it tomorrow.”

Need he worry? Yunusa asked. Imoni had it in one of his collections. “Really?” Mickey asked. “What a guy.”

Imoni was smiling as he went to fetch them. He came back with five cassettes. “God!” Mickey exclaimed. “Maxell, and chrome! This is gold! And you lock them up?”

There had been nothing to generate the music, Imoni said. The musical set just arrived. “The room had one of the best collections in school,” Yunusa added to what Imoni was saying. “So many before. People take them, they don’t return them, some guys simply steal them. People turn off their sets, open our door and scream ‘Volume!’”

“Phew. What’s this collection like?” Imoni called out names. “Can’t believe this.” He inserted a cassette. “What? Perfect production.” He turned the music set on, too loud. He removed that without moderation, and inserted another, nodding. “I’m taking this one to the party tonight.”

Imoni showed understanding, but pleaded with him to try not to lose it. The music was so loud, Mickey had to carry his voice above it. “We’re going to have an overhaul here. This rug is super, I tell you, but we have to change it, or even try to acquire the next room, and put it there. This tape isn’t bad, especially with its dub system and continuous play, but it has to give way to something superior. With disc, remote, all.” He smiled. “Then a colour teevee, video game and recorder sets. The walls,” he turned, “will be given their own treatment... then not just anybody will be admitted here. And no ugly girl will come here.... You know I’ve not come to school yet. Just came to check my result, and that was it.” He went to retrieve the cassette.

“You can replace it with this one.”

“Okay.” He did so, and it started to play. “All of them. Well, I’ll catch ya.”

He was opening the door.

He was leaving his pack behind, Yunusa said, displaying the packet. Mickey asked him to keep it. He had over fifty in a bag. He would give him some more the next day. Lest he forgot, Ed was coming with him the following day, eight.

“We’re always around,” Aham promised him.

The door banged noisily after him. “What do you make of this guy?” Yunusa asked later.

“A perfume guy, actually,” Aham said. “But he isn’t a fake. He’s rich. But he talks too much. Ya, ya, ya.”

“About himself especially. Partying, flamboyance, of oppression, wealth and all that mean all the world to him. I wonder if his kind can ever sit down to research.”

“Never.”

“And he’s not the traditional ruler’s son we thought he was. But he’s still rich. There’s no doubt about that.”

“But why does he think so much of Salaudeen, Lara, Audu, Cynthia and the rest? You get the impression he’s bigger than those guys, and the next minute you start thinking he’s no way up their wrung.”

Yunusa went and reduced the volume of the music. “Even this Cynthia, Lara, Olivia and Ijeoma, too. Why should any sane person think anything worthy of them?”

“People do,” Aham said. “If not, why are they so prominent here? I rarely see those girls but I hear about them more often than my own name occurs to me. And, if you haven’t seen them, you take them for ancient Roman goddesses.”

Yunusa laughed. “This Mickey is a fresher here, but has gotten to know a lot of the so-called big guys. Well, he’s a good mixer and don’t they say that birds of same feathers flock together? For instance, that guy who came here with Iyke...”

“Modesty.”

“Where is he?”

“I saw him and Iyke picking some girls in the academic area,” Imoni told him.

“They were at the new complex, too,” Aham said. “In less than two, three hours, not less than ten girls had ridden in that car. I don’t know weather they have turned the car into a campus kabu kabu.”

They were all laughing. “Iyke is restless,” Yunusa said. “Any time you see him, there must be a girl beside him. But, there is this remarkable thing about him, he can’t really be identified with a particular girl.”

“You guys say the Golf belongs to Ime, while the Tipo is Iyke’s?” Imoni asked.

“That’s the picture,” Yunusa said. “It will be clarified eventually.”

“And, if I may ask again, do you think this Mickey will come around if he brings these things he’s just mentioned?”

Yunusa replied again. “He may and he may not. He’s down-to earth, the way I see him. But we may then be seeing the last of him, then, like that Modesty. You know I was watching his eyes. I wasn’t comfortable with the way he was looking at the room.”

“But, there is this observation. I may be proved wrong, any way. This guy said yesterday he had a Golf and a Fiat Tipo. Now, the second car isn’t a Tipo, but a Ford.”

“I thought so, too,” Aham said.

“Imo, what of you?”

“I, too.”

“Well, let’s say the Ford may be his younger or older brother’s. But this shows how rich some people in this country are.”

“Some are super rich,” Aham contributed. “So rich that a few of them can off-set this country’s entire debt. And a lot so poor that a lot feed from dustbins, and don’t have shelter.”

Yunusa got up to switch off the musical set, then he came back. “Just like a handful of students can feed the entire students’ population here, and about seventy percent of the population can’t throw three simple daily shagallo.”

“What’s three times?” Imoni asked. “Only a few can afford two daily. We’re just fresh from home. Only two weeks. Alarm is knocking, already. People are on 0. 1. 1. After another two weeks, it will drop to 0. 0. 1. Just once. Starvation. And in contrast, during electioneering, a student splashes good thirty thousand tickets from his pocket.”

“We haven’t told you, Imoni,” Aham said. “Gladys was here while you were away. She had even come two times previously. She stayed long,” he said to Imoni’s question, laughing. “Mickey was here too. She pulled Yunusa and me out.” Imoni was puzzled. “She said somebody saw you lap this girl, Eva, in cafe B. She just wanted to tell us. She was going to talk to Eva, but we talked her out of it.” Both of them were laughing.

Imoni joined in the laughter, then suddenly got angry. She did know the direction to his room, after all, he reasoned. The person who did the gossip must be a fool, Yunusa commented. Imoni shouldn’t hold it against the girl. The instance must have been edited. Depending on how it ran and what she made of it. “You see what I’ve been telling you?” Imoni said. “This Gladys is sick. This guy, Cent, took me to that cafe to fill our tanks, this Eva girl came in. She came over, and was sitting on Cent’s lap. I joked that she was discriminating. I didn’t mean it. She just came and sat on my laps. Should I push her out?”

“Wao!” Yunusa shouted.

“Imoni Waltz!”

Imoni didn’t give up his anger. “She’s coming only for the second time since school resumed. And you know these people,” Imoni continued. “And while I was there, they pretended to shade me.”

“Imoni Waltz?” Aham stroked him. “Who won’t notice? A star? Who can shade you?”

What was she trying to gain? Imoni wondered. He was going to approach it the way it would suite both of them, he threatened. But his friends appealed to him not to appear provoked. He should rather show maturity, and leave mischief unfulfilled. It was a reconciliation strategy from the girl. Girls were like that. What did he think? She wouldn’t come knocking on the door that easy.

There was silence, moments later. Aham started making his bed. Imoni was tired to the bones.