Continues from last week…
Many things had gone wrong. Ulari reminisced over her friendship with Bisi and Bukky. It was what people called great friendship. Although for the four years they had known one other, Ulari had not been allowed to spend a full holidays in either Bisi’s or Bukky’s house, the two Yoruba girls had visited and stayed in her house in Aba severally and she had spent few days in their houses too. They had shared and copied great values from each other. It was Bisi’s mother who rebuked her for not curtseying to her when she first met the older woman.
“Kneel and greet properly!” Ulari’s knees had hit the floor in a sudden reflex action and her nerves were badly shaken.
“Momsy!” Bisi screamed. Her voice marching her mum’s in loudness. “She’s Igbo and they don’t curtsey.” She sounded displeased that her mother would embarrass her friend so.
“Then, she should learn it. What nonsense!” She refused to recognise or accept other people’s culture as Bisi wanted her to. Tears sprang into Ulari’s eyes. She had never been so embarrassed in her life but she insisted that she didn’t mind being taught to curtsey. She believed it was better custom than young people standing straight to greet adults. She took the culture home.
Bukky and Ulari had met at their faculty secretariat, The Faculty of Social Sciences, as they were registering for their courses as JAMBites and they fell into conversation.
Bisi the two girls had met months later one Sunday evening at a reception held for all newbies of the Anglican Communion students in the Akoka campus of the University of Lagos. Bukky was called out and recognised. Her father was the bishop of the Lagos diocese. Bisi was already a well-known face among old members of the fellowship. Everyone seemed to know her. She stood out, her teeth gleaming and her eyes piercing through the crowd. It was later that they learned that Bisi’s brother was the immediate past leader of the fellowship and her sister was choir leader and in her final year.
Ulari had whispered to Bukky before Bisi approached them to greet them as new comers, “I like her.” Bisi was also a new student but in the Faculty of Arts. Later, they found out that they were in the same hall, the Moremi hall. Since then, they had stuck together. And this was their fifth year in school having lost one year to strike.
The girls had agreed that they would make a great difference in life. They would not sacrifice their ambitions on the altar of marriage. They had great aspiration.
“It’s been a very difficult relationship.” Jamin wore a strained countenance. His eyes wore a far away look half shut with anxiety.
Marfi Terver, his childhood friend and constant companion considered what he said and nodded. If it wasn’t Jamin, he would have said something like, “Quite a mess you got yourself into.” But he dared not. Jamin was more than a friend to him. He was his prince and master. Although Jamin did not know it, he was on the Tiv royal payroll to keep an eye on him. They had attended all the schools together, from elementary to military. When he told them that the preaching bug had bit him, the Torkulars agreed, but instructed him to pastor in cities where Jamin lived.
It was a mess visiting Bukky in order to see Ulari. Jamin explained that there was no other way. He met Bukky first. A powerful magnet had pulled him to the girl. But he had confided in Marfi that although Bukky was a brownish dimple-faced pear-shaped cutie with a ready smile, she also had a quick tongue. She was a chatterbox. Jamin preferred ladies on the quiet side because of the nature of his job. His work entailed cerebral activities as an officer in the directorate for military intelligence in the Nigerian Army. But he liked Bukky, in a way.
He had driven her to the clinic on the day of Unilag quelled cult war. She was reported to have fallen from the staircase from the third floor, all the way through to the ground floor. The porters feared she might have broken a bone or two. He had stayed with her at the clinic until she fell into a sedated sleep. After that, he visited her once in her room and they had spent a pleasant evening chatting. She got a promise from him that he would visit again to see her friends. Strangely, something kept reminding him of that appointment until the D-day!
“Don’t shop around for a partner.” Jamin had heard a famous pastor preach. “When you want to marry, go to your creator. There’s someone he created just for you. You can’t miss it going to God,” he had said.
Jamin wasn’t shopping for a mate when he met Bukky. When he returned to see her the second time, he wasn’t even thinking of a mate. Sitting blithely in Bukky’s corner that fateful day, in fact, he knew that date like his second birthday, something most unexpected happened. Two tall girls walked in: one, ebony black and curvy, the other light skinned and lanky. A drop of red liquid fire exploded in his system and he acted stupidly. He stood up and sat down again mumbling something he couldn’t remember afterwards. For several visits he didn’t know what to do. Most times he just sat and starred into space furtively stealing glances at the gazelle they called Ulari. The girl never said a word. He brought in Marfi and his wife. But Marfi seemed to have other problems. One look at her, Marfi called Jamin for a meeting.
Marfi and Jamin had been together since they were few months old in Rukuba Barracks, Jos. In the twenty-five years they had been on earth, they had discussed everything on the surface of the earth, including women. Marfi knew this was it. If there was any woman made for Benjamin Nguuma Torkular, it was the tall shapeless music undergrad in Unilag. Marfi had trembled with fear.
“This girl is not Tiv.” Marfi’s voice had a tremor. Jamin’s mother would blame him. He knew the meeting with Jamin was late. He should have talked him out of visiting a Yoruba girl from the onset. Now, another girl Marfi wasn’t sure of her ethnicity had come into the picture. She looked and acted everything Jamin had shared with him that he ever wanted. But his background check on her came out frightening. He set out to destroy it. However, Mrs Marfi Terver counselled that they ride the tide.
“I know.” Jamin’s response had been short and impatient. “Please, take care of Bukky.”
Marfi did the dirty jobs. He braced himself. It may not be easy. They all loved Bukky. He chose a day after a gospel musical concert they all attended.
Bro. Francis stared at Bisi with bulging eyes as she narrated to him what had been going on with her friends and her.
“So, I gave Ulari enough time before getting up to use the bathroom. Honestly, I had no idea… I mean I didn’t know where J was. I had thought that even if Ula was doing Number Two, she would have finished by the time I got up. In fact, I expected to meet her in the hallway. And I did (she caught her breath in a sob), in J’s arms. (Francis’ heart skipped a beat) They were lip-locked and clinging to themselves. I retreated, the need to pee fled. I…I…honestly don’t know what’s gotten into – into Ula…”
The quickening of Bro. Francis’ blood had nothing to do with Bisi’s tears. He hadn’t an idea that he was a man of great imagination. He saw it all. As he starred into his imagination, the images changed into Bisi in his arms. And he blinked. Bisi was still sniffing and weeping gently, sight as rare as blue moon. If only she was this human, Francis thought. The sound brought him back to the present and to the fact that he had to say something.
“Eh… you know (he paused trying to choose his words before Bisi killed him)…I know…feelings are natural (Bisi’s head jerked up) but we must try to contain them (Bisi’s eyes pierced into his soul). I will talk to Ula.” But he had no intention of doing that. That night, he prayed for Ulari and her friends. He too needed a girl who would melt in his arms, but where his heart had been stolen by an adamant stone; she was brittle hard.
When Jamin returned into the living room where his guests were watching the movie One Night with the King over luxury wafers and almonds, their pomegranate juice in frosty glasses sitting by their sides, he looked ignited. His eyes which were always hollow with hunger looked fed.
“She kissed me.” Although he spoke in Tiv, Bisi understood him by intuition. She almost hated him. But he wasn’t to blame. Ulari was not forced. Her hands were around J!
Why is he telling his friend? Bisi mused. She would have a talk with Pastor Marfi later, and maybe with Brother Francis their overall leader. This thing would have to be stopped, Bisi decided. She dragged Bukky to sit with her in Marfi’s car with the pretence that she wanted to see the mini movie The Bridge which she really wanted to see in Marfi’s car as they drove back to school. But dragging Bukky with her was to record her protest to Jamin. Bukky always rode with Jamin while she and Ula rode with Marfi and his wife. To her chagrin, that night, J declared that Ulari would ride with him and no one protested.
“She saw you, the head girl, she saw you. (That’s what they called Bisi in Tiv) Her face was pale when she returned to the room. She went to…” Jamin didn’t let him finish. “I saw her too. When someone walked into the hallway, I opened my eye a crack and saw her.”
“What’s keeping her?”
“She’s broken by love.” He laughed. Bisi threw him an evil glare. Jamin smiled at her.
At the floating bar of Eko L’Merriden, J ordered enough snacks to cover their table. They were all there: Jamin, Pastor Marfi, and the Tree Tall Girls. Mrs Marfi was very close to her EDD (Expected date of delivery) so she couldn’t come. An air of trouble hung in the atmosphere.
Bukky was telling the story of the maid and the toothpicks. They had all heard it before. To Bisi, it was sickening.
“So, when the oga said, ‘Who’s been finishing the toothpicks?’ the maid said, ‘Not me sir, I always put mine back after use.’” Everyone laughed, including Bisi in spite of herself.
Talk moved to great places they had visited. Bukky was well-travelled by reason of her father’s work, and she dominated the conversation. Ulari and Bisi had not travelled much, especially Bisi, she was a Lagosian. Ulari had at least moved from her state to Lagos for schooling. She had traversed many other states as she travelled by road to Lagos. When there was a lull in the conversation, Marfi excused Bukky and took her out to the balcony. Bisi groaned. She had attended the gospel musical concert because Pastor Marfi said they could talk during the outing as he was too busy to carve out a day for whatever Bisi wanted to see him for. At that point, Bisi was just about to ask for his audience.
“I hope I’ve not committed anything, my pastor,” Bukky said with a laugh.
“You can do no wrong, omo Bishop.” Marfi always called her Bishop’s child.
Outside, they watched the shimmering reflection of the moon and the stars on the black waters of the lagoon for a while. The wind blew, chilly and ferocious. In the distance where the land encroached on the sea, they could see heavily pregnant coconut palms, reminding them of Mrs Marfi, silhouetted against distant city lights. It was a beautiful sight to behold, and the two tarried there awhile. Pastor Marfi recounted memorable events when he was courting his wife. Then, he settled his gaze on Bukky, his expression thoughtful.
“You know a Christian bachelor is not supposed to hang around a single lady without a mission. Has the Lord spoken to you about my friend?” Marfi’s eyes held only curiosity.
Bukky looked at him with raised brows. Inside, three people munched silently on their food, engaged in private thoughts. Bisi’s face was burning with resentment. The only reason she came, was because she wanted to talk to Pastor Marfi, not because she had to chaperone anybody anymore as the catechist’s wife had counselled. Jamin stared unabashedly at Ulari with a secret ‘triumphant’ (as Bisi thought) smile playing around his mouth. When he caught Bisi watching, he smiled at her and explained.
“I’m sorry if this offends you, but I’m in love with your friend.”
Ulari started and dropped her drink. The glass broke. A waiter emerged from the shadows to clean up the mess. J made a great fuss. He stood up hastily cleaning her with napkins and water. They soon excused themselves and went to the bathroom, maybe to boil her dress!
Love – what kind of love? Bisi was thinking. There were many sinful things going on in the name of that word and Bisi had chosen to examine them in her project. She didn’t bother to ask J which one of her friends he meant. It was obvious now. And it was scandalous to Bisi. She could see that J had infected Ulari with a deadly virus. Ulari had lost her mind. What would J do in the Gents or Ladies? – wash Ulari’s dress and clean it with heat from his body? The whole thing sickened her. And to think that a Pentecostal pastor was part of it! It would end tonight, she swore.
Outside, Bukky said, “Why is everybody asking me if God had spoken to me about J? Is God supposed to speak to me about him?”
“Who else asked you?”
She hesitated and then said, “Bisi.”
“What was your response?”
“No, God has not spoken to me about J.”
“Have you prayed about it?” Marfi probed.
Bukky snorted angrily. “Why the same questions, what’s going on? J didn’t say he wanted me. Why should I pray about him? No, I have not, I did not and I probably won’t!”
As Marfi was considering it, Bukky threw him a question. “Has God spoken to your friend J about me?”
Marfi’s reflex nerves were made of steel. Although he was surprised, he betrayed nothing. Nevertheless, it bothered him that Bukky might misunderstand this little talk. He stared intently at her trying to read her mind and see that which she might not put into words.
“Would you want God to speak to him about you?” Marfi probed further, his thick eyebrows drawn together in curiosity, his broad shoulders shielding Bukky from the wind coming from his direction. He was taller than Bukky, six three or four. Bukky’s shoulders were hunched for her black silk blouse upon tight satin killer skirt was inadequate for protection from the ferocious wind.
“Hey, you don’t answer a question with a question, my smart pastor!” Bukky laughed.
Marfi chuckled. He was tired but not yet done with Bukky. Bisi could wait. He suspected why she wanted to see him.
Bukky was watching him intently. “Can I ask you a question?” she said.
“Shoot?”
“Is J interested in my friend, Ula?”
Marfi stared at her with eyes that expressed nothing. “What gave you that impression?”
“Some things.”
“Like?”
“But, is it yes or no?” Bukky was cold, impatient and almost tired. She stamped her feet.
They waited for a helicopter to fly over their heads. Marfi told her that it was a chauffeur taxi that operated from the island to Maryland and back.
“I know,” she said impatiently. “My dad often uses it when he’s in a hurry to catch his flight at the airport. You haven’t answered my question.”
“What are the things you spoke about?”
“OK. J sent a book to Ula sometime ago. It read: How To Please the Man Who Loves you.”
“Ulari told you this?”
“No.”
“Then how did you know?”
“You’re supposed to answer my question, first.”
“Not until you tell me how you knew.”
“The porter gave it to me to pass to her and I opened it.”
“That’s not honourable.”
“She’s my friend.”
“She’s entitled to her privacy.”
“Is J interested in her!?” Bukky was exasperated.
“I think he wants to marry her… that’s if …”
Bisi jumped at the yell Bukky let out at the balcony. She ran out. Bukky was talking fast and too loudly. Initially Bisi couldn’t make out what she was saying. Marfi was talking to her in a low tone as if ashamed.
“What’s it?” Bisi asked. Bukky was speaking Yoruba. She did that when she was very angry.
“Calm down. Calm down.” Marfi’s voice was still low, but now Bisi could hear him being close to them. Bukky was yelling, “I knew him first… where’s the respect? It’s not done…”
When Bisi understood what was going on, she felt like slapping Bukky. “Shut up! Let’s go,” Bisi said to Bukky and turning to Marfi, she said, “Please, take us back to school.”
They were fortunate that no one was in the floating garden except them. On hind’s sight, Bisi saw it was all planned.
“Where’s Ula?” Bukky asked.
“She went to the Ladies,” Bisi replied. “And bring your voice down.”
As if on cue, the Ula and J emerged. Bukky pounced on her. “Ula, you’ve been sneaking behind me to see J, isn’t it?”
Ulari withered.
To be continued…
.Culled from The Girls Are Not To Blame by Lechi
