Something Grey, Something New

It was a cold wintry day.

Abeg wetin you dey talk? This sun was not for small children!

Hard as I tried, I couldn't concentrate on what my boss was saying.

'This man is short-tempered, but if you impress him, you can meet your target in one month from his deposits alone. You know what that means right? No smeh-smeh or any ...'

Please. One. Drop. Of. Water. Stop. Talking. It's. Making. My. Head. Ache.

'OK sir'.

'I won't be coming in with you'. Hmm! See setup! 'Oh ok. Oga you have another meeting, and want to save time abi?'

'Yes,' he grabbed at the out I gave him like a rat looking for the nearest exit. 'It's on the next street, so once you're ready, buzz me and I'll have the pool car come get you'.

What. Ever.

'Ok. See you in about 30 mins'

....

Not a shabby office.

'I'm here to see Mr. Dafe. Please tell him I'm colleague to Jide, Marketing Manager at Evergreen Bank. Here's my card'.

Madam Receptionist eyed the card like it had measles, scrutinised me (perhaps to see if I'd hidden my scandalous clothes somewhere underneath the well covered outfit I had on).

'Can I please have some water?'

'Do I look like a water dispenser? Mschew.'

Na wa. See venom. Hater! The only thing that saved her from a nasty verbal bruising was the fact that drama would be bad for new business, and she knew it. Make she try herself for neutral territory. Nonsense!

The dry lump in my throat seemed to increase with her sarky comment, and turn into a spinning, spiky ball. You know, the kind in that strepsil ad, lodged in the poor guy's throat before someone comes along and gives him a lozenge.

Fifteen minutes later Madam Hater ushered me in. I summoned the last few drops of saliva and swallowed to moisten my throat.

'Good afternoon, Mr. Dafe', and I cringed as I heard myself croak!

'Hello, Amaka'. He had an amused smile on his face. 'Please sit. Don't say anything just yet'. He reached into the bedside fridge beside him and brought out the most magical bottle of water I ever saw! I accepted it gratefully, and took a very restrained swig.

'Better now?' With the same amused smile that completely mortified me. I managed a small laugh of my own and said 'yes, thank you very much'

'Unfortunately I have a meeting in 20 mins. How's Jide? He's not here with you?' He queried.

'Jide had to be at a meeting with a client who's abt to leave town for a few weeks. He sent his regards and promised to drop by soon'.

'Ah. I see. Alright then. What can I do for you?'

I threw myself into it, and gave him the best sales pitch I'd ever heard. While we spoke, I took small mental notes. Graying hair - mid-forties. Simply dressed, everything understated screamed "class". His speech told me he was well educated. It was his eyes that told me he was unhappy.

We spoke a bit, and he promised to think about my offer. What I didn't know was that he had an offer of his own.

'When can I give you a call to find out your decision?'

'Over dinner. Tomorrow night.'

'I'm sorry? Dinner you said?' I was going into defence mode - shutters down, bars up, locks and bolts slamming into place.

'I'm busy tomorrow night'.

'How about the day after?'

'Mr. Dafe, I'm going to say this without any offence intended: I do not do dinner with married men, or my clients. I'm not the type. I do not shit where I eat. I want your business, but I will not compromise my morality to get it'.

He didn't look surprised. 'I apologise if it seems that way. I only want your company, nothing else. You seem like a nice lady and an intelligent one at that. I guess I enjoyed our chat and wanted to chat with you again'.

I just shook my head no. 'It was a pleasure meeting you sir. I hope you'll still do business with us'.

'As long as it's alright to give you a call and let you know my decision'.

'I'll expect your call sir'.

.....

I glanced at the image in the mirror on my way out. Satisfied, I opened the door to join my date in the car outside. 


'Hello Richard. You don't look like you've done a thing today' I said, smiling as he kissed my forehead.


'I wish! How was your day?'


'It just got better.'


I know what you're thinking. Stupid stupid girl.


Relax. It's Richard Bankole. No relative of Dafe.


My date with Dafe's tomorrow night. 


I bet you've got ants in your pants right now.

A Life For A Life

I can’t tell you why he’s sitting there, but I’ll try.

You see, the Okafors had just turned him down for the umpteenth time. He knew he had no other alternatives, no one else to turn to, no other recourse. He was entirely at their mercy, but he didn’t seem to care. He just sat there, head hung low, deep in thought, the saddest of expressions on his face.

He was a man whose heart was breaking, with no way to pick up the pieces.

You would feel incredibly sad if you looked at him, without even knowing why, and you’d want to share some of the burden he almost seemed to carry physically.

Jacob was trying to get the Okafors to give him their son to adopt – a case that was lost before it had had a chance to start.

Their gratitude didn’t move him. He needed his rock back. He lived for that rock.

I’ll give you a brief history.

She was young, he wasn’t ready. She tried to abort, and failed. She had the baby and snuck out of the hospital 2 days later, leaving the infant behind. It was that or her parents were going to cut her off and kick her out permanently. He pretended during the whole time that neither she nor the pregnancy existed.

5 years later, they met again, and discovered that they were still in love. So they mended their fences as all lovers do, got married a year later, and started to look for the abandoned child.

The day they came for Peter, Jacob was blissfully unaware. He was drawing animals in the stand with a stick, while Peter would identify them and try to draw his own, very funny imitation. He noticed a couple walk into the compound and greet. Where the greeting had been cordial initially, the temperature dropped somewhat when they saw the boy.

The ‘pleasantries’ were over quickly, the facts established, and a date was set. His wife cried all night that day, and all day the next day, until he had to send her to her sister’s place for a week, knowing Peter would be gone by the time she returned. The Okafors made it clear that they did not expect any resistance, as they would not like to spoil what could be a good friendship between the families by resorting to legal means.

That was when Jacob began what I like to call his pilgrimages. He travelled to the home of the Okafors with his brothers to plead for more time, against his father’s advice.

Too soon, it was time for Peter to move to his biological parents’ home.

For Jacob, it wasn’t that he Hauwa had been unable to have a child for 15 years. He loved his wife more than life itself and their childlessness had never driven a wedge between them.

It wasn’t that he thought the Okafors were unfit parents and should have been jailed for the way they treated the pregnancy. Or that he didn’t think they were ready yet to raise a child.

He thought these things were true, yet that wasn’t what drove him to ask for the impossible.

It was that Peter saved his life, literally.

He’d had severe clinical depression for 2 years, and did not seek help for it because he thought that his symptoms were normal reactions to his worsening financial situation, and a harsher economy. He blamed it on the weather, on bad people, on bad news – it was always bad news on the radio and anything else he felt wasn’t going right. It got worse steadily, until, one day, in desperation and frustration and disgust at himself, he decided to end it. The wife he loved more than life itself was better off married to someone else more deserving.

He went to work at the hospital as usual, and started cleaning. Uncharacteristic of him since his illness started, he had everything planned out. He would finish work, and find a quiet time and place during the day to drink a cup of bleach. He would lock the door so that they couldn’t get to him and try to save him. He figured an hour would be enough for the liquid to work. He was just a janitor. He would be replaced by tomorrow.

At about 9.30a.m., there was a commotion on the 3^rd floor above him, in the maternity ward. The news spread round – the young mother – yes, the one who cried throughout and after delivery; she had turned tail and fled, leaving her baby behind. Purely out of curiousity, he went upstairs to take a look at the unloved infant, thinking that the boy must have been born deformed or worse.

He couldn’t believe how perfect this baby was. Something in his heart broke.

Moments later, when he heard the Chief Matron discussing what to do with the baby, he stepped forward and said ‘I will look after him’. When he insisted that he was serious about it, the matron passed on the news to the hospital management. When he closed for the day at 6p.m., he had the bundle in his arms, and a strict instruction to report the next day with his wife for proper guidance on care for the child.

On what should have been the last day of his life, he had found his purpose.

Jacob’s recovery was remarkable, and the first day Peter smiled at him, he wept tears of joy. Hauwa was thankful that her husband was back to his normal self, and for the little baby who had brought so much happiness to her as well. Though unspoken, it was as if they had both agreed never to mention the boy’s past or the possibility of that past coming to haunt them. Every day in the country, a child is abandoned in some hospital. Many of them never get a chance at having a home and end up street urchins or Lord only knows what. His past ceased to exist for them. They were all the parents Peter would ever need.

Even though Jacob got some assistance from the hospital, he put in extra hours to make extra money. Then he decided Peter needed a father he could be proud of, and enrolled himself in nursing school.

A short week after his final exams, his world had been snatched away from him because someone decided to come to their senses. Why couldn’t they just walk away like the parents of the thousands of homeless, unwanted children on the streets?

Sadly, he noted, they seemed to have cleaned up their act. Mrs. Okafor seemed a little more mature than she looked and acted 6 years ago.

And he? He felt lost.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. It was his darling Hauwa. She had no more tears, only stubborn determination in her eyes.

‘Come, my love. Let’s go. I didn’t want to tell you until I was very sure of it. We’re pregnant’.