Adaobi Nwaubani - I Do Not Come to You by Chance

Merit proceeded with a running commentary on everything that was going on in the hall. She commented on the way people were going for third and fourth helpings and the way some people should have known that they were too fat to be eating so much; on the way the guests were laughing too loudly and the way nobody was listening to the bride’s father’s speech; on the way the elderly people were frowning disapprovingly at the young people’s fashion sense each time any of the young people walked past them.

Wit came easily to Merit, like money from America. I found myself laughing a number of times. Camille and her crew were excellent in unprintable ways, but none of them had ever captured me with such humour.

‘How do you know Nwaeze?’ Merit asked suddenly.

The question was so out of the blue that I was taken aback. It took me a long moment to remember that she was referring to Protocol Officer.

‘We both… He… He works for my uncle,’ I stammered. For some reason, I was ashamed of the truth.

‘Cash Daddy is your uncle?’

‘My mother’s younger brother.’

‘No wonder.’ She sighed, apparently with relief. ‘All the while, I’ve been wondering how someone like you knew Nwaeze. So what do you do?’

‘What do I do?’

‘Where do you work?’

‘Oh, I do my own thing. I’m into contracts and investments.’

‘Where-?’

‘How do you know Nkechi?’ I asked, shifting the spotlight from me.

‘Nkechi and I were best friends when we were ten. Even though we attended different universities, somehow we managed to keep in touch over the years.’

‘Merit.’ One of the other bridesmaids tapped her. ‘Let’s go.’

Merit stood.

‘Are you leaving?’ I asked, alarmed.

‘Not yet. We’re going to distribute souvenirs. I’ll be back.’

She strutted off with the other bridesmaids. I noticed that Cash Daddy had left. Soon, the bridesmaids were going from table to table with huge sacks, distributing plastic bowls and buckets. There were also jugs and trays and mugs, and towels and notebooks and calendars. The souvenirs had smiling faces of Protocol Officer and Wife plastered on them, with names of the family members or friends who had donated these gifts. All of us at the CIA had contributed towards the notebooks and calendars.

Merit skipped several tables and hurried round to mine. She gave me two of each item in her sack and hurried off again.

Long after my colleagues at the special tables had left, Merit reappeared. The peach flower was missing from her hair. Her fringe was standing on end.

‘Have you people finished?’ I asked.

‘Can you imagine?’ she sulked. ‘These people wanted to tear off my dress just because of souvenirs. Some people had up to ten trays in their hands, yet they were scrambling for more.’

‘At least, when they get back home, they’ll have something to boast with to those who didn’t bother coming for the wedding.’

She laughed.

‘You’re so funny,’ she said. ‘Anyway, I just came to tell you that I’m leaving. All of us bridesmaids have to accompany Nkechi to her husband’s house. They’re expecting more guests there.’

I stared. I knew what I wanted to say but did not know how to. Truly, shy men suffer a serious disadvantage in this world.

‘Take care,’ she said and turned to leave.

‘Merit.’

She turned back.

I was starting to feel like an idiot again. I forced the words out of my mouth.

‘Is it OK for me to give you my number so you can call me sometime?’

She shrugged.

‘OK.’

Delighted, I fished in my wallet for a complimentary card. My fingers had just caught one when I came to my senses. This girl might see beyond the Investment Coordinator of Bon Bonny Capital Investments appellation on my complimentary card to the real situation of things. She was smart.

‘Sorry, I don’t have any of my cards here,’ I said. ‘I’ll just write down the number.’

I tore a sheet from one of the souvenir notebooks and scribbled. She took it from me and looked at it.

‘Talk to you soon,’ she said and smiled, then sashayed away.

Once again, Mr Winterbottom was getting out of control. I was tempted to end the show, pull back the curtains and allow the mugu to see the brick wall at the back of the stage, but that would be premature and cowardly. And I, Kingsley Onyeaghalanwanneya Ibe, had nothing to fear from any mugu in any part of the world.

I decided to press another button. Hopefully, more dollars would come forth.

The Contracts Review Panel

Central Bank of Nigeria

Abuja

Nigeria

Dear Mr Winterbottom,

PAYMENT OF OUTSTANDING DEBTS TO FOREIGN CONTRACTORS

We apologise for the delays in payment of $200,851,070 (USD) owed to you by the Nigerian government for the execution of Ministry of Aviation contract number (FMA/132/019/82). The delay was due to an ongoing restructuring within our organisation.

Please be informed that, owing to interest accrued over the extra delay period, the amount owed to you currently stands at $374,682,000.15 (USD). This outstanding amount will be paid into your designated bank account as soon as the additional fluctuational charges of $4.5 million (USD) are received by our office. Once again, we apologise for any inconveniences caused by the delays on our part.

Yours faithfully,

Mr Joseph Sanusi

Governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria

Now that the debt had ballooned to $375 million – almost double the initial contract amount – it would be very stupid of Mr Winterbottom not to keep playing along, especially when he had already invested so much.

My phone rang. It was Protocol Officer.

‘Cash Daddy said I should tell you that he’s going to be on TV on Saturday night,’ he said. ‘It’s a phone-in so make sure you call. Tell the others in the office as well. Write out some questions for them. I’ll ring again later so that you can tell me what the questions will be.’

I went into action on the assignment immediately. When it came to running errands for Cash Daddy, Protocol Officer was as brisk as a bailiff. His ‘later’ could expire within the next thirty minutes, and then he would be at my throat again for the list. I had gone as far as the seventh question when, suddenly, Azuka screamed.

‘Hallelujah! Hallelujah!’

Everybody else rushed over to his desk. I looked up from my screen.

They all joined in the screaming.

It turned out that Azuka’s good luck had reached its very peak. So far, his Iranian mugu had dropped about $70,000. He was eager to invest another $150, 000 and had just sent an email inviting Azuka to a business meeting in Tehran. The Iranian businessman wanted Azuka to meet some of his businessmen friends who were also willing to invest more tons of dough.

‘Congratulations!’ I shouted across.

‘Thank God!’ Azuka replied.

Knowing Azuka, he would probably want to move out and establish his own office as soon as he received his booty. Not that I minded anyway. I preferred working with Wizard and the two new recruits. There was a youthful passion they brought to the work that was almost beautiful to watch, a pure zeal that was not tinged by desperation. Unlike for most of us, who were nudged into this business by circumstances, 419 was a choice they had made simply by aspiring to be like their role models.

Azuka declared free lunch for everyone in the office, then came over to discuss the documents for his Iranian visa.

‘How easy is it to get a visa to Iran?’ I asked. I had never known anyone who went to Iran.

‘It shouldn’t be a problem,’ he replied. ‘It’s almost the same as any other embassy.’

I started putting together the list of documents that Dibia would need to produce.