Adaobi Nwaubani - I Do Not Come to You by Chance

I pressed the buzzer on the wall. The gateman peeped through a spy-slide in the gate. Before he had a chance to question me, a voice boomed from an invisible mechanical device.

‘Allow that man to come inside my house! Right now!’

I was jolted. The gateman was unperturbed. He unlocked the gates and showed me inside.

The vast living room was a combination of parlour and dining section. There was a winding staircase that escalated from behind the dining table to unknown upper regions of the house. Everything – from the leather sofas, to the humongous television set, to the lush, white rug, to the vases on the bronze mantelpiece, to the ivory centre table, to the electric fireplace, to the high crystal chandeliers, to the dining set – was a tribute to too much wealth. I almost bowed my hands and knees in reverence.

A well-fed man standing by the door asked me to sit. Then he opened a huge refrigerator. Like the one in the office, this one was stacked with all manner of drinks.

‘What would you like to drink?’ he asked.

‘Nothing. I’m fine, thank you.’

There were two framed photographs of Cash Daddy hanging on the wall above the television screen. One was taken, apparently, while he was playing golf. In the other, he was sitting on a magnificent black horse. How on earth had my uncle managed to manoeuvre his super-size onto the narrow saddle?

There were five young, equally well fed men sitting around the dining table. They ate silently, but eagerly, making sloppy, kissing sounds as they licked their fingers.

Shortly after I sat down, Protocol Officer – the very same one of the other day – descended the stairs.

‘Cash Daddy is ready to see you,’ he said, and waited.

I stood up quickly and joined him at the foot of the staircase.

‘Good morning,’ I said to the feeding men as I walked past.

The tantalising aroma of edikainkong and onugbu soups whispered to me from the huge tureens before them. The men grunted nonchalantly.

Protocol Officer led the way. At the third-floor landing, he opened one of the doors and entered a large bedroom. He continued to where two men were standing beside another open door within the room. The men shifted to create space for me in the narrow doorway.

Inside, Cash Daddy was crouched on the toilet seat. Apart from the boxer shorts rolled around his ankles, he was as naked as a skinned banana. Imagining that I had barged in on a most private moment, I muttered an apology and was turning to leave, when his voice flashed like lightning and stopped me in my tracks.

‘Kings, Kings! How are you? How is your daddy doing?’

I ducked my eyes and replied that my father was still in hospital.

‘What of your mummy?’ he continued. ‘I hope you told her that I greeted her.’

‘Yes, I told her. She said I should thank you very much for your gift.’

He ignored me and spoke to the other men, apparently continuing with a discussion that had begun before I arrived.

‘Don’t forget that we’re supposed to see Police Commissioner by Monday. Make sure you don’t forget. When one sees a dog playing with somebody it’s familiar with, it looks as if the dog can’t bite. I don’t want the type of situation we had the last time to happen again.’

I tried taking advantage of this diversion to make my escape – and bumped into Protocol Officer, who was firmly entrenched in the getaway route behind me. I gave up and stood still. Cash Daddy was still speaking.

‘That seven hundred and fifty-five thousand dollars has to be ready before weekend. There are some things I can afford to play with but not things like this. Have you made arrangements with-’

Cash Daddy broke off his speech. He contracted his facial muscles and made a low, grunting noise. He relaxed his face again and took in a deep breath. I heard the dull thud of solid hitting the surface of water. This process was repeated three more times before he was finally satisfied. Then he stood up, yanked some tissue from the roll strapped to the wall, bent slightly forwards, and wiped. Cash Daddy tossed the used tissue into the toilet bowl and flushed. Before continuing with what he was saying. Starting from exactly where he had stopped.

‘… with Sonny and Ikem about the government official we’ll need for the Japan transaction?’

The man on my right confirmed that the arrangements had been made. From the corners of my eyes, I looked at each man standing beside me. None of them appeared to be the least bit discomfited.

The stench had started disorganising my brain cells, when Cash Daddy pulled up his shorts and made his way towards the door. Honestly, it is such a pity that some people just never learn. The number of times my dear mother had berated Uncle Boniface in the past for using the toilet without washing his hands. We parted to let him through and followed into the bedroom.

The bedroom had the exact same personality as the living room. A wide canopy bed, plush sofas, humongous television, huge refrigerator, crystal chandeliers, exotic vases, elegant photographs of him taken in different poses and at different grand events. A closed-circuit television screen that showed coverage of several different parts of the house, in different segments of the large screen, stood directly opposite the bed. Cash Daddy planted himself on the thick mattress, lifted a handset from the bedside stool, pressed a button, and yelled into the mouthpiece.

‘Bring my food! Right now!’

A fat man on one of the CCTV screen segments went into action in what looked like the kitchen. Another one of the screens clearly showed the front gate and everybody coming in or walking past. Aha! Via his CCTV, Cash Daddy must have sighted me coming into the house and then yelled his instruction to the gateman, using this same handset.

Cash Daddy stretched out his chunky legs and slapped a harmonious tempo on his belly with his hands.

‘I’m so hungry,’ he announced. ‘Kings, sit down.’

I sat in the chair directly in front of him, while the other men remained standing by the bed in silence. Suddenly, he stopped the music he was making with his belly and looked as if seeing me for the first time. He frowned.

‘Kingsley.’

‘Yes, Uncle?’

‘What is this you’re wearing?’

I scanned myself in utmost terror. What could it be this time?

‘Kingsley, am I not talking to you? What is this thing you’re wearing?’

My brain was as blank as an empty bottle.

‘Kingsley.’

‘Yes, Uncle?’ I whispered.

‘Are you sure it’s not a carpenter that constructed your shirt? You’d better be careful.’ He raised his index finger and wagged it at me. ‘Be very, very careful. One day you’ll be walking down the street and the police will just arrest you because of the way you dress. It’s only the fly that doesn’t have advisers that ends up in the coffin with the corpse. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

The fat man arrived with a tray of food which he placed on one of the side stools. He readjusted the stool to suit Cash Daddy’s position on the bed.

‘Do you want to eat anything?’ Cash Daddy asked. He did not wait for me to answer. ‘Cook, bring this man some rice, chicken, goat meat, beef… Just bring him everything you have in the stew.’ He turned to me. ‘I want you to eat well. You’re too skinny.’

I did not bother telling him that there was nothing he could do for me in that area; I was destined for perpetual skinniness.

Cash Daddy plunged into his meal.

‘Go,’ he said to the waiting men.

His rice bowl, as large as a bathroom washbasin, was filled to the brim. The rice was served with a bowl of tomato stew, a separate bowl of assorted meat, and a one-litre packet of Just Juice. He held his spoon like a shovel and clanged his teeth against the steel each time he shoved food into his mouth. While he chewed, I could look right into his mouth and watch the entire process of the solid rice granules being crushed. With his free hand, he pushed the pieces of meat to the very back of his mouth and tore them apart with his molars. Then he spat the unconquerable bones straight into the tray with such noise and force that no doubt was left that his upbringing had definitely been lacking.