Ben Okri - The Famished Road

Wewereplayingintheforestoneday whenwecameuponMadameKoto.Shelay on the earth, at the root of the legendary iroko tree, her white beads like a jewelled snake in her hand. When sheheard us comingshejumpedup anddustedherself.Shelooked very embarrassed.

‘Who’s your friend?’ she asked, blinking.

‘Ade,’ I said.

She gave him a curious intense scrutiny. Ade said he was going home. He wandered off and waited ashortdistanceaway,watchingusfurtively.MadameKototurnedher disquieting gaze on me. She studied my stomach. The merest hint of compassion crossed her face.

‘So you don’t like my bar any more, eh?’

She smiled.

‘Are you hungry?’ ‘No.’

‘How is your father?’

‘No.’

Shestared at me. Then sheunwound her wrapper and untied thebigknot at theend. I had never seen so much money in my life. She had a thick wad of pound notes at her wrapper end that could easily have choked a horse. She unwrapped several notes and gave them to me. At first, lookingover at Ade, I refused. But shepressed themon me, shuttingmy fingers tightly.

‘If your mother asks, tell her you found them in the forest, eh?’

‘No.’

‘Don’t tell her I gave them to you, you understand?’

‘Yes.’

She touched me gently on the head. For the first time I saw that she had changed. She was now wholly enveloped in an invisible aura of power, a force-field of dread. Her stomach was really big and she seemed very wide. There was a heaviness about her that made her look as if weariness had moved into her face as a permanent condition. Even her shadow weighed me down. Her eyes were distant. They couldn’t come near human beings any more. They had the same quality that the eyes of lions have. Her face was round and fresh and she seemed very well.

‘I am not happy,’ she said, suddenly.

‘Why not?’

She gave me a puzzled look, as if she were surprised that I had spoken. Then she smiled, and turned, and shuffled down the forest paths with the grace that most human beings seldom have. The midges trailed her.

Ade didn’t speak to me for days because Madame Koto had given me money. And when I gave the money to Mum it caused an upheaval in the house. It turned out to be much more money than I had imagined. She made me sit on the bed and spent hours subjecting me to the most rigorous questions about where I had found the money. She feared that it belonged to some trader, to ritualists who could infuse syllabic curses into their possessions, or some powerful figure who might hunt us out and punish us. But it was her suspicion that I had stolen it which annoyed me so much that I burst intoangry weeping.Dadsat inhischair,rockinghimself,smoking.Muminsistedthat I take her to the spot where I had discovered the windfall. I told her I didn’t remember, that I had stumbled upon it as if I were in a dream, and that it was on the ground near some bushes.

‘Are you sure it wasn’t spirits who gave it to you, eh?’ Mum said with more than a hint of mockery.

‘Yes,’ I said.

Then Dad broke out of his imperturbability and threatened to beat me if I didn’t tell the truth. I went on lying. He got so impatient that he slapped me on the face. I stared hard at him. My body suddenly became serene. Then he held me to his chest and swayed and said:

‘Forgive me, my son. I did not mean it. But we are not thieves in our family. We are royalty. We are poor, but we are honest.’

Then he asked me again where I had stumbled upon such an amount of money. Still I went on lying. They gave up trying to get any sense out of me. They had been at it for hours and night had fallen. They decided they wouldn’t touch the money for a weekandifthey didn’thearanythingfromanybody they wouldconsideritagiftfrom heaven. Dad, in a mood of celebration, sent me to buy a big bottle of ogogoro. When I got backhespent anotherhourprayingtoourancestorsandtotheinscrutabledeities. Then heand Mumspenttherestofthenightdiscussingwhatthey woulddowiththe money. Dad wanted to buy all the paraphernalia he needed for boxing. Mum wanted to open a shop of provisions and a boutique. They argued bitterly all night and I fell asleep to the sound of their raging acrimony. When I woke up in the morning they were still boiling with discord. They were both foul-tempered. For three days they went on like that. Another four days passed and they still hadn’t reached an agreement and they quarrelled the whole time, dredging up old memories about a hundred unforgiven matters relatingto money.DuringthattimeDadusedsomeofthewindfall to buy drinks, entertain friends, and to buy a pair of canvas shoes and a second-hand pair of boxing gloves. As it turned out there was more than enough to get Mum a completely fresh stock of provisions for her trade, to buy us all some new clothes, to pay our rent, and to feed us happily for more than a good month.

THE DAY OF the great political rally, which had been much talked about and much postponed, drew nearer. The most extraordinary things were happeningin Madame Koto’s bar. The first unusual thing was that cables connected to her rooftop now brought electricity. Illiterate crowds gathered in front of the bar to see this new wonder. They saw the cables, the wires, the pylons in the distance, but they did not see the famed electricity. Those who went into the bar, out of curiosity, came out mystified. They couldn’t understand how you could have a light brighter than lamps, sealed in glass. They couldn’t understand how you couldn’t light your cigarette on the glowing bulbs. And worse than all that, it was baffling for them to not be able to see the cause of the illumination.

Madame Koto, much too shrewd not to make the most of everyone’s bewilderment, increased the price of her palm-wine and peppersoup. Then, for a while, she began to charge a modest entry fee for merely being able to enjoy the unique facilities. She was after all the only person along our street and in our area who had the distinction of electricity. She was so taken in by this distinction that she had her signboard amended to highlight the fact.

The next thing was that people heard very loud music blaring but saw no musicians performing. After that came stories of strange parties, of women running naked into the forest, of people who got so drunk they bathed in palm-wine, of party members giving away large quantities of money to the women whose dancing pleased. There were lush rumours of the things the men and the women did together, screaming into the electrified nights. In the midst of all this Madame Koto grew bigger and fatter till she couldn’t get in through the back door. The door had to be broken down and widened. We saw her in fantastic dresses of silk and lace, edged with turquoise filigree, white gowns, and yellow hats, waving a fan of blue feathers, with expensive bangles of silver and gold weighing her arms, and necklaces of pearl and jade round her neck. When she walked all her jewellery clattered on her, announcing her eminence in advance. She painted her fingernails red. Her eyelashes became more defined. She wore lipstick. She wore high-heeled shoes and moved with an increasingly pronounced limp, walking stick always in hand. She began to resemble a great old chief from ancient times, a reincarnation of splendour and power and clannish might.

Cars began to converge at her place. The lights burned till deep into the night and always from the street I could hear them talking, planning heatedly, and could see their shapes through the strips of curtain. Rumours, always stale, began to circulate that she had joined the most terrifying cults in the land, that she had been accepted in organisations that usually never allow women, that she performed rituals in the forest. I heard of bizarre sacrifices, goats being slaughtered at night, of people dressed in white habits dancing round her house, heard of cries that pierced the ghetto air, of drumming and thunderous chants, but the strangest thing I heard of was the forthcomingbirth of thefour-headed Masquerade. No oneknew what it was.