Jowhor Ile - And After Many Days

Bendic and Mr. Ifenwa talked into the night, long after Ma had done most of the marking and teased that Mr. Ifenwa had just brought the work for her while he spent the time arguing with Bendic. Bibi had fallen asleep on the couch, and Ma shook her gently and asked her to go to bed. She sat up quickly with her back straight and said she wasn’t sleeping. Paul was sitting beside her. His eyes were on Bendic saying something about “street politics.”

They stood up to escort Mr. Ifenwa to the gate, except for Bibi, who had fallen asleep again. Mr. Ifenwa kept saying, “Nne, thank you,” to Ma, and said he should hurry home now, as it was late. “Friday,” he said.

“We are here,” Bendic replied.

After they had said good night and Mr. Ifenwa had walked down the road, Ismaila came and locked the gate for the night with a heavy iron chain and a big padlock.

Bibi saw the crowd first and then leaned out of the car to get a better look. A slow line of traffic was building up in the other lane. Ma didn’t tell Bibi to get back into the car and not waste the coolness from the air conditioner. She was way too tired from all the haggling and trekking about the market and was in no mood for talk, so she switched off the air conditioner so they could all feel the heat, and maybe Bibi would behave herself and shut that window.

Bibi was still looking outside. “It’s like the riot is happening in front,” she said, and Ajie put his head out the window to get a look. “I won’t be surprised,” Ma responded, looking up as the lights turned orange. “Let us pick up your skirt and get home, then they can riot all they like.” The family had just left Mile One Market after half a day of trudging stalls and bargaining for school supplies. “I hope you are both settled for school now. Anything you haven’t mentioned will have to wait till when you come home on your midterm break. No more buying. I think we’ve done just enough.”

The students swamped the lane as they marched so that cars couldn’t go through. Some had placards held up high with sticks, while others pinned them on their bodies. Hawkers solicited from the sidelines with trays of mangoes, baskets of oranges, and soft drinks. A small group of students gathered around a hawker who had set down his basin for the students to take water tied up in clear freezer bags about the size of a big fist. The line of cars held up by the protesters stretched the entire length of Aggrey Road. A young man jogged ahead of the crowd. He waved his hands like a traffic warden and shouted something to those nearest to him. Then they all started moving to the right and formed a dense pack on one side of the road, giving way for the traffic to flow.

“It’s a peaceful demonstration,” Ma said to Bibi, “not a riot.”

“I hope they burn some government cars,” Ajie said.

Ma turned her head to face him. “What do you mean by that?”

“They should burn some government cars, destroy a few things, then they’ll get some attention.”

“Have you seen the mobile police waiting to pounce?” Bibi offered.

“Let him sit there and talk nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense. If my school were in town, I would join.”

“You will not join in anything like that.”

“They are university students, anyway. Can you see your age mates there?” Bibi said.

“Paul is entering university soon.”

“You are not Paul.”

“Doesn’t matter. If he joins, I can follow.”

“Yaya yaya ya, talk talk talk.”

“Quiet, the two of you!” Ma shouted. “Let me hear something, please.”

Green leaves were stuck onto car fenders to show solidarity with the students. Some drivers shouted support from their windows. A bus driver held out a clenched fist. His bus had not just green leaves but a young tree branch. It tilted forward each time the bus slowed, as if bowing down to the road. A loud Oliver De Coque tune blared from his windows as he drove past, leaving behind an air of jubilation.

They got to Borokiri, and it was time for Ma to wonder aloud if the tailor had finished making Bibi’s skirt. Twice she had failed to have the skirt ready on the agreed date. With only a few days remaining before their return to school, Bibi’s wraparound sport skirt was the only item left to tick off on their list.

“What is it with tailors?” Ma parked the car a block away from the shop. “Bibi, pass me my handbag.” She opened the door and climbed out of the car.

They walked down the block and crossed the concrete slab over the smelly gutter and stepped into the tailor’s shop. A young woman was working the sewing machine with her hands and feet. “Welcome, madam.” She stopped pedaling when she saw them. “My madam no dey, but she keep something for you,” then she went into a back room.

Several almanacs of women dressed in different styles were hanging on the wall. One almanac was captioned First Ladies’ Designs . A model was pictured in all the shots, sampling Ankara fabrics. Ma took a seat as they waited, and Ajie wondered if the model sampling all the different Ankara designs had taken all those pictures in one day.

Ma stood by the curtain while Bibi tried on the skirt. Ma kept asking, “How does it feel? Is it tight? Is it comfortable? It’s sportswear. You should feel free and relaxed in it,” Ma went on, even after Bibi had indicated it fit her well and that she was comfortable.

—

The next morning, Bendic and Ma left early for work. The rain came down heavily from dawn till about midday. When NEPA restored power, Ajie went to the parlor and turned on the radio. As he lay on the sofa, his mind was filled with the mix of fear and excitement that he had always associated with returning to school. He made a mental list of the things he needed back in school, legal and contraband. He thought of how school life might change for him now that Paul wasn’t there. Ajie could hear Bibi talking to Paul in the corridor and Paul was saying, “I have no idea where it is.” He heard Bibi go into the bathroom, and after a while came the whirring sound of Ma’s hair dryer.

Paul was standing, leaning on the room divider in the parlor, on this Tuesday morning when rain had left all of Port Harcourt soaked and dripping. He bent a little to tune the big radio — he turned the knob slowly, deliberately, so that there was the voice and static and voice again, as happens when one tunes a radio. And this irritated Ajie as he lay there on the couch. He heard the hair dryer go on for a long time and then fall silent for a while.

It was only eleven-forty-five a.m., because on Radio Rivers II the News in Special English had just begun: “Countrypeople,” the newscaster said, “na the things wey dey happen for this country I want tell una so.” The voice was low and familiar. “Him name na Boma Erekosima.”

Here was Paul, in shorts and singlet and a Carl Lewis haircut that needed shaping up, on the day when he would eventually disappear.

Everyone forgot Bibi was supposed to return to school that Saturday, until Marcus, with his sense of duty, whispered it to Ma right after Bendic had returned from the TV stations to schedule an announcement that Paul was missing. Marcus said, “Madam, your daughter go still go today?”

Ma just stared at him and did not know what to say. Her eyes were glassy wet. She glanced at Bibi, who was standing about, not knowing what to do with herself or how to be. “I am sorry, Bibi,” Ma mumbled.

Bibi could have said something back, like she didn’t really need to go that day; that it was fine, there were other things. Paul was still missing after four days. But she just nodded.

Before Bendic went to the radio and TV stations, Ma had to find a picture. “A recent picture,” the office manager at the TV station had said to Bendic over the phone when he called to ask what was needed. Ma went through the photos and couldn’t decide which to choose. She pulled out a photo album with a heavy brown cover and spiral binding; she flipped through the pages, looking for something that might be suitable.