Читать книгу Blessing - Florence Ndiyah - Страница 12

5

Temkeu shoved the blanket from his body, jumped out of bed and fastened his loincloth. Yawning and stretching, inching and groping, he unlatched the door and flung it open. Outside, he traced the familiar path to the back of his hut. Standing with his face to the bush, he emptied his bladder of the overnight load. He walked to a cypress tree and brutally attacked a small branch, not letting go of it until it let go of its hold on the stem. After peeling off the bark, he thrust the branch into his mouth and attacked it with his kola nut-stained teeth. He was walking back to his hut when he ran into Nkem on her way from the latrine located out of eyeshot and earshot from the compound.

‘Has day come, Mbeh?’

‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Yes, Mbeh,’ she answered and then added ‘You are up very early. It seems you want to go out. Should I heat up the fufu corn and njama njama so that you eat before you go?’

‘You know that it is too early for me to eat. I will go and come back before I push down the morning spittle.’

‘As you say, Mbeh.’ She hesitated and then added, ‘Since you may return when I have already gone to the farm, I will tell Fatti to stay back and give you food before she joins me.’

‘I am going far and will surely return very late in the afternoon or early in the evening; so do not worry about food for me.’ He was walking away when he turned and asked, ‘You did not go to greet your white man God this morning?’ He chuckled. ‘Has He travelled? Or maybe you are angry that He has kept Fatti out of your bed for so long. Maybe He is the one who is angry because you go to bed with His name and get up with His name, blaming Him for everything bad, even that which comes from the evil spirits.’ Temkeu laughed as he made for his hut. ‘I warned you people about that white man and his God but you refused to listen to me.’

Back indoors he examined the items of clothing hanging from nails on a lath stuck to the wall and selected one of his pairs of jumpers. In front of his slab, he picked up a comb, passed its teeth through his greying hairs and then covered them with a black twine cap. Finally, he put on Achum’s gift of a leather watch, though it no longer ticked with the passage of time. Before stepping out, he stopped in front of his skulls. ‘Keeper of our people, right hands of our gods –’ Temkeu stared hard at the two skulls ‘– I offer you the mission of this morning. Bless my feet so that I hit no bad stone on the road and put the right words into my mouth. I beg you today that you reveal to me that which will bring peace back into my heart.’

Temkeu closed the door behind him and set out. He did not need to lock the door. Though access into his hut was open to anyone, respect kept everyone out, even a stranger who came by when the compound was devoid of human presence. The doors of the women’s huts remained ajar throughout the day. They did not just leave the door wide-open but displayed food for any hungry passerby. These could be men, women or children on the way to or from their farms. All a hungry person needed to do for food was arrive at the nearest compound. The only price was that they keep in mind the next hungry passer-by. It was always easy to tell which hut belonged to the head of the compound: that with the closed door.

After many hours of trekking, Temkeu finally sat opposite Samboa, the diviner in Nchusa village. ‘The last person to bring dust into my shrine yesterday was your son. You are the first to wake up the dust today. What would we do without sons to announce us?’ Samboa said.

‘Yes, our sons are our feet when we are young and our walking sticks when we grow old.’ Temkeu answered and then cleared his throat. ‘So tell me, eye of the gods, what have your powerful eyes seen about Saha Tpune, that man to whom my Fatti was sent? I have carried these past two years with much anguish. You are the eye of the gods, and you should know that I had visited Tchafo on this same issue. I invited patience into my bed, just as Tchafo had told me to do, but patience got tired and it has now run away. I know that this matter has already been buried in the minds of many in my compound and beyond, but not so for me… not so for me.’ He paused for a while. ‘Look at my forehead. The furrows are now as many as those on my wives’ farms. I am the head of a large family. I get up every morning and go to work. I do not sleep until I know that my family is sleeping – yes, our fathers did not teach us to sit and wait. That is why I am here. I am sure that you will see something which remained hidden to Tchafo. I am sure that the gods are going to use you to bring peace back into my life.’

The sound of cowries being ruffled on Samboa’s palms was subtle compared with human voices. Silence soon took over as Samboa concentrated on reading the message of the cowries he had thrown on the floor. Temkeu watched and waited.

‘I see a young man,’ Samboa said abruptly. His eyes were now fixed inside one of his many clay pots. ‘You said that you knew Saha Tpune when he was a child?’

‘When I was a child, Saha Tpune was already an adult. He was one of my father’s friends.’

‘I see a young man,’ Samboa repeated and then cried out, ‘Ah, what is happening? The image is disappearing!’ After many attempts at wiping his eyes and returning them to the pot, he looked up at Temkeu, shaking his head. ‘It just disappeared in front of my eyes. I do not know what happened, but all I can tell you is that it disappeared.’

‘But look again. I am sure you will see something. Send your eyes right inside the pot and look again.’

‘I have told you that it has already gone. It has disappeared!’

Temkeu had not moved from the spot where he sat. He folded his arm over his chest, sighed and looked at the ground. He lifted his head and toyed with his chin. He got up and edged towards Samboa’s clay pot. ‘Let me help you to look. I am sure I will see something. Since this matter concerns me, I am sure the gods will use my eyes where yours have failed.’

‘Sit down, Temkeu. I know that you worry about your child,’ Samboa said with concern. ‘What I can tell you is that I think you need to wait. What has just happened is a sign that the gods want you to wait. Come back when some time has passed, and I will try again to see if the gods can reveal more to me.’

‘You mean that I should go back as empty as I came?’

‘The gods sent man to earth with a cock in his hand and a hoe on his shoulder. “Eat the fowl when you are hungry. Spill its blood as tears to us when one of you dies. Live with it in your compound, for it will help you not to forget your cutlass or harmer.” Just go back to your compound, listen to your cock, and make use of your harmer. Do your part and the gods will do their own.’

Temkeu arrived at his compound to find his son Achum, who had been home for a three-day visit, preparing to take off. ‘Papa, I was just waiting for you. Do not tell me that you still put on that old watch which surely no longer works. I will bring you another one next time.’

‘Come, my son, let us go inside.’

Inside his hut, Temkeu took a gourd and half-filled it with water. He stood above his skulls, uttered some words, sipped from the gourd and then handed it to Achum: ‘Drink, my child. May our ancestor go with you and watch over you.’

Achum accepted the gourd with both hands, drank and handed it back to his father. ‘Thank you, Papa.’

Staring blankly at the mud wall, Temkeu said, ‘I have had no news of Makam since he went to Nigeria to add the amount of knowledge in his head. Have you heard from him? You know that you are the only one who gives us news about Makam.’

‘Since he left I too have not heard from him. I sent him a letter through the post and I am waiting for his reply. I will inform you as soon as I have any information.’

Once Achum walked through the door, Temkeu returned to his skulls, this time with a question: ‘Why has Fatti’s life become a riddle which no one can solve?’

When Achum finally left for Douala, thirty minutes later, more of Temkeu’s peace of mind left with him. He ignored his hammer and his chisel and locked himself in his compound for three days – the duration of Achum’s short visit but a very long time for one with Temkeu’s will and principles.

Saturday arrived, a special Saturday since it was a Country Sunday, the day set aside for the gods to bless the land for a good harvest. Farm work was consequently forbidden on such a day. Anyone caught farming paid a heavy fine. Again, popular myth held that injury sustained on the farm on a Country Sunday never healed. Rest from the farm gave the villagers time to trade and relax. The Country Sunday was also the weekly market day, one which rotated on a weekly basis.

The arrival of the Country Sunday was what succeeded in returning to Temkeu some of his former zeal for life. Given that it was a Saturday, some of his children had accompanied their mothers to sell their produce while others had gone out to play. The elderly men of Mumba quarter could be found only in one place: under the palm tree in the village square. Even with his eyes, closed Temkeu could trace the track from his compound to The People’s Club, as Pouafo Fatamba, one of the club members, had named it. The planks that had been nailed around the four corners of the palm tree, as makeshift seats, would have been hard even for someone with surplus hips; however, they served their purpose. So did the female trader’s maimed table chair which had prostheses of two earth bricks in place of its missing legs. Apart from being a drinking spot where men chatted over corn beer and palm wine, the site had also gained a reputation for hosting championships of backgammon or mejang as it was known locally. Some with freshly tapped palm wine, others preferring that with increased alcoholic content because of overnight fermentation, the spectators often sipped as they watched the two contestants.

Temkeu sat down, commanded a bottle of corn beer and joined in the discussion. When someone mentioned kola nuts, he picked up his raffia bag and started rummaging inside: a chisel, a hammer, a measuring tape, a black twine cap, snuff tied in dry tobacco leaves and some kola nuts. Releasing the five nuts from the nylon wrapping, he handed them to Pauofo Fatamba, who said some prayers for protection and in turn handed them to another club member, who segmented them and walked around from member to member, his palms serving as a plate. Each person took one lobe. Amidst the noise and laughter as they encouraged and taunted the two competitors, Temkeu kept his eyes fixed on the palm-size receiver speaking at the corner. It belonged to Pouafo Fatamba, an ex-military officer and another of the educated few in the village. He was notorious for reading any piece of paper the wind threw at him, whether a fading three-year-old newspaper clipping used as salt wrapping or a loose scrawly page from a child’s exercise book. His appetite for information was just so voracious that no piece of inked paper escaped his inquisitive eyes. It was not surprising then that he was the one who kept his friends informed on happenings around the territories and world.

‘Any news for us today, Pouafo?’ Temkeu asked.

‘I am full only of old news,’ Pouafo answered. ‘But is there any subject in particular on which you want information?

Yes, Temkeu was eager for information about his son Makam but he knew that Pouafo could not satisfy him. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I do not want news about any particular situation, but you know that my ears are always open for news about our people and also our African brothers in neighbouring countries.’

‘Temkeu, would you like to play the next round?’ someone asked.

‘What else can a man do at The People’s Club on a Country Sunday? Help the women to sell vegetables?’ A gale of laughter broke out as Temkeu moved to take his place in front of the game board, a new one. Superstition held that the first time a newly carved board was used, good luck was to knock on the door of one or several of the contestants.

‘Yes Temkeu, play,’ someone said. ‘Maybe that good luck which this board brings is meant for you. We have been playing since afternoon but are still waiting for good news to meet us.’

‘How could you think good luck would recognise you when my hands have not touched the board? I am Temkeu and when Temkeu is present things happen. Let the game begin!’

After several rounds of playing by the rule of elimination, Temkeu sat face to face with Angu Matamo.

‘If we sit facing each other now, it is because we are the masters of this game, Angu said. ‘We have crushed all who came to try our might. Let us now show them how to play real mejang.’

Moving the horn away from his mouth Temken replied, ‘This is the part that makes my blood become red. I will do anything just to add some colour to the game.’

‘One cock each,’ Angu proposed. ‘The winner takes the two.’

‘I prefer women – I mean hens.’

‘As long as it walks on two legs but is not a man.’

The deal set, the game went underway with Angu picking up the seeds used as dice. As they played he bragged, ‘I have told you not to argue with one who knows more than you, Temkeu. I will show you that I started playing this game when your father’s father had not even picked out your mother for his son.’

‘You can argue with your mouth, Angu. I will argue with my hands on the board.’

Fifteen minutes later, Angu had more reason to hit his chest. ‘Temkeu, I have told you that a duck will never grow teeth. See, I have just added a hen to my poultry simply by moving a few seeds around a board.’

‘It is luck which helped you to win, not big sense,’ Temkeu defended.

‘I prefer to argue with my hands on the board, not with my mouth. Let us play again, and I will show you that luck did not even come near me – you know that luck does not smile two times with the same person at the same place on the same day.’

‘Stop the talking and show us the action,’ one of the spectators intervened. ‘Show him that he is just throwing empty words, Temkeu. Play the game to show him that you are the master.’

‘I came here to play and I will play and even show Angu that I started playing this game long before he ever saw a mejang board.’ As Temkeu yielded to the baiting, the spectators exploded into a round of applause.

Angu had not yet given his last word: ‘I will defend my title, yes, but on one condition.’

‘Talk it, shout it, sing it, Angu. I will do anything to show you that I was born with a mejang seed in my hand.’

‘Anything I say?’

‘Yes, anything. Anything …’ Temkeu hesitated.

‘Are you changing your words, Temkeu?’ Pouafo said. ‘Is fear taking control of you? You are the one who has to show us that you are a man. So you have to accept Angu’s condition.’

‘Okay, let us hear your condition, Angu.’

‘Hm, let me see ... what if I ask for the hand of your daughter?’

‘What?’ Temkeu exclaimed. ‘I am not sure I heard well. Somebody should tell me that Angu did not just ask me to give him the hand of my daughter over a mejang board.’

‘You heard well, Temkeu, and if you want to hear again, I will repeat it. You said I could ask for anything in return for playing another game with you. So I ask for the hand of your daughter.’

‘Land of our ancestors! So he is serious! He is talking about my only daughter, my treasure! My answer is No! No! No!’ Temkeu took a deep breath, looked straight at Angu and then asked, ‘Tell me, did you have this idea in your head ever since?’

‘Whether I had it in my head or not one day she will have to marry; and if that day is today, then you will start enjoying today.’

The onlookers, who at first had seemed shocked at Angu’s proposal, now nodded in agreement. ‘Yes, think about it, Temkeu. Fatti is still young – that means you are still a long way from owning the respect of a father-in-law. But if you are wise enough to exploit this opportunity which the ancestors have put at your door, you may climb that ladder very soon, even today, even in some minutes.’

Temkeu quickly got over the initial shock. He looked from Angu to the crowd and back to Angu. Could seeds of a marriage planted under a palm tree by the roadside ever grow? And if those gathered around were really his friends, would they urge him to plant where he may never reap. When his gaze merged with Angu’s, he remembered the promise the former had made to him at Fatti’s first funeral: ‘If it means that we hack our way through, we will uncover that road which leads to a compound of fertile women, and we will pluck another ripe fruit for you. You will have another daughter, Temkeu. I will not sleep until it happens.’ How could the very Angu who had promised to help him find the mother of his second daughter now try to steal his only daughter even in the presence of so many witnesses?

‘Temkeu, you know that tomorrow is pregnant and nobody knows what it will bring forth’ someone was saying. ‘Who knows? Fatti may even die again, and the ancestors would surely not be so kind to send her back to life a second time. They cannot allow her to make history two times on such an important issue. She shocked us when she came back from the land of the ancestors the first time. It cannot happen again! Therefore, you should act with wisdom and use this opportunity which the gods have sent to you. I am not saying that I want your daughter to die, but tomorrow is pregnant. If she is engaged today and dies tomorrow, you would have at least tasted something on her head.’

Several times, Temkeu had envisaged sitting down with famous families to discuss Fatti’s engagement. He had fantasised about how he would drink palm wine only to spit it out later because a promising trader was not good enough for his Fatti. He had imagined himself turning down a worthy suitor and then confidently waiting for the next important man and his family to show up. But here he was under a palm tree with more than twenty pairs of eyes from different families, all looking at him and waiting for his decision about his daughter’s future. They were not even in his compound but under a palm tree by the road! He could get up and walk away or he could stay there and prove he was a man, one capable of making a courageous decision under complex circumstances.

‘Fatti will make a good wife,’ Pouafo added his voice to the chorus. ‘But remember that her chest is still flat. You also have to keep in mind that many other girls are as nice as Fatti, but those girls have small balls on their chest and they see some blood each month. Also, Angu here – I do not need to tell you that he is not just a titleholder but also a man with open hands. You know that many men send their daughters to go and swing their hips in front of him. So are you going to behave like a man of wisdom and give Fatti the chance that she may never again see? Are you going to offer her to a great son like Angu or are you going to reserve her for hunters and palm wine tappers?’

‘Pouafo, do not waste too much spit, Angu said. ‘No one can force Temkeu to play, but I still repeat that I will play with him only on the condition that I take Fatti if I win.’

‘Temkeu, do not allow Angu to be declared a champion with your hands down! Do not give him an easy title,’ someone declared.

‘By the way, Temkeu,’ another person said, ‘the talk in the village is that Mefo said that you did not want to bury Fatti on the day she first died because you were hanging on to the money you had lost through her. They say that you …’

‘Enough! Enough!’ Temkeu screamed. ‘If you, Angu, win this game, I will give you the hand of my daughter.’

‘Which daughter?’ a voice asked.

‘How many daughters do I have?’ Temkeu spat out.

‘Temkeu has spoken like a man,’ Angu stepped in. ‘There is much wisdom in your words, Temkeu. I tell you that you will not regret. Bring the seeds and let us play.’

‘On one condition.’ Temkeu’s words brought all eyes back to his face.

‘What?’

‘If you win I will give you Fatti only after she has cut thirteen branches from her tree.’

‘No problem. Let us start the game.’

‘But you will start paying the bride price now.’

‘If that is how you want it, Temkeu.’

‘And if I win what will I take from you?’

‘If you win’ – all ears opened to hear Angu’s measure for Fatti’s hand – ‘I will divide my big farm by your compound into four parts. If you win I will give you one part.’

‘Has everybody heard?’ Temkeu asked.

‘Yes, we have heard and we will put our weight behind you if Angu brings trouble tomorrow.’

‘Let us play.’

‘Wait!’ The twenty or so pairs of eyes shifted backed to Angu. ‘How many branches has Fatti cut from her tree?’

‘Eleven.’

‘Let us play.’

The rules set, the game went underway, the game that had the capacity of bringing significant change to the Fopou family. As news of the quality of the bet reached ears around the square, more and more people stopped by to receive first-hand information on the contest of such an unprecedented scale. Though two played, it was a mammoth crowd that acknowledged the victory of one contestant about twenty minutes later.

The superstition surrounding a new playing board had prevailed. At least one person was to go home a happier man than he had set out; one person was to add to his riches in either people or in property; one person was to be the talk of the village during the next few days. That person was Angu Matamo. He had emerged victor and with that, he had won the hand of Temkeu’s only daughter, Fatti Ashi.

‘Bring some palm wine so that Temkeu should drink and clear his eyes,’ Angu ordered the female trader.

‘How many litres?’

‘As many as he can drink.’

A crowd had goaded him to play, yet he was walking home alone. A crowd had watched him play, yet he was walking home alone. A crowd had joyfully acknowledged Angu’s victory and the crowd was celebrating with Angu, while he was walking home alone. ‘I have lost, yes, but I am not going home an angry man.’ Temkeu beat his chest. ‘Why had I not even closed Fatti’s door since? What was I waiting for? That would have prevented me from openly betraying my manhood as I did when she was called for a visit to the land of the ancestors. Imagine how I used to fix my eyes on her chest like a hungry young man! I should really have closed Fatti’s door a long time ago.’ He lifted his head, looked up at the fading sun and then sighed. ‘Mefo! You showed the village my nakedness, but I will show you that I am the man and my words are heavier.’

As soon as Temkeu arrived at his compound, he sent for Fatti.

‘Has night come, Papa?’ She walked in and stood in front of the figure warming himself by the fireplace.

He stared at her for some moments. ‘Turn around.’

She did.

‘Walk to my slab and back.’

She did.

He nodded and sipped some palm wine.

‘Do you know Angu Matamo?’

‘Yes, Papa.’

‘On the second market day after this one, Angu and his family and I will sit down to talk about your marriage to him, which will happen when you cut thirteen branches from your tree.’

‘Yes, Papa.’

‘You can go now.’

Fatti stepped out as solemnly as she had stepped in. The door hissed her goodbye. Moments later, the door’s hinges cringed loudly as it was thrust violently.

‘You ... you ... you ... You should be ashamed! What is this I hear? I heard it on my way back from the market, but I thought it was just empty talk. Now Fatti has come and told me the same story? So you really want to sell her? Are you not ashamed? Do you not look at her age?’

‘Are you talking to me, Mefo. I thought you hated my voice more than any other sound. You have not talked to me for one week now. You should be happy that you first heard this news from strange voices which surely sound better than my own.’ Temkeu concealed a queer smile. ‘I do not want our neighbours to hear my voice this evening. So I beg you to leave my hut now. Go before your headache starts.’

‘You, Temkeu, whom I carried inside my stomach during many market weeks! Now you ask me to get out of your hut? I will not leave, and you will not marry Fatti to any man. You neglect your hammer and now you want to make easy money over Fatti’s head? She will not marry.’

‘Fatti is my child. You will not tell me what to do with her. I have given her to Angu, and nothing you say or do can change that.’

‘Look at you! Because of you I did not marry, and you again want that I live and die without having anyone to take my place? No! I will not accept it. Fatti will not marry! She will be my successor.’

‘It is nobody’s fault that you did not give birth to a girl. And who says that Fatti cannot be a married Mefo? Even as a married woman she can still be your successor.’

‘No! My successor is not to marry! Fatti is not to marry!’

‘That is your problem, Mefo. Fatti will marry and she will marry Angu Matamo. Just two more years and she will be Fatti Angu. Two more years – that is all you have left with her. Teach her how to be a bad wife if you want, but she will marry Angu Matamo.’

‘Yes, you stand there now and talk bad against me, me who failed to marry because of you.’

‘No, Mefo, it is not because of me that you failed to marry. I am not the one who told you to have a boy.’

At these words Mefo breathed deeply and then said, ‘Our people say that the people who planted did so under the rain, but those who came to harvest did so when the sun was up and shining brightly. I will tell you only one thing and I will say it only one time: The day you give Fatti to marriage will be the day you forget that I am your mother.’ With those words, she strode out. She did not bang the door as she usually did under such circumstances. She left it ajar.

That night Temkeu slept little. However, dawn brought some brightness as some neighbours got him out of bed with congratulatory messages. Though the controversy surrounding the bargain was not lost to them, the villagers revelled in pleasant thoughts of another feast in the making. A forthcoming betrothal did not just formally announce the bonding of two families and the tying of a girl’s hands, but it was also an occasion to consume exaggerated quantities of meat and palm wine and even rare commodities like whisky. By the time the sun gilded the sky, Temkeu’s mood had lightened further. When the sun started going down, he returned home from his workshop to adopt a position in front of his hut, making himself available to any passer-by who had not yet dropped by to acclaim his achievement.

A woman with a daughter in marriage always had something to brag about. Having Angu Matamo for a son-in-law had to automatically take a mother’s joy to a higher height. With his wealth measured in farms, land and five wives, his fertility in thirty-one children and his nobility in a title, Angu’s illustriousness was never disputed.

‘Has night come, Mbeh?’ Nkem greeted as she walked into the compound with a cainja on her back. She unloaded the pods of beans to the ground, placed the cainja and the hoe at a corner outside her hut, adjusted her loincloth, and then crawled back up to her husband. She opened her mouth as if to say something but closed it as though already aware that whatever was hanging on her lips would make no difference.

‘Have you come back from the farm?’

‘Yes, Mbeh.’ Looking everywhere but in her husband’s eyes, Nkem ventured, ‘Mbeh, do you not think you are rushing the child to go to a place where she will spend the night? Our people say that it is not good for a man to rush to go to a place where he will spend the night.’

‘It is better if nightfall meets her when she has already arrived at her destination, not when she is still on the way. Do not worry; Fatti will marry only after she has cut thirteen branches. And Angu is my friend; he will take good care of her.’