Continues from last week…
At the Tervers
“Would you rather we end this relationship?” Jamin’s smouldering eyes searched Ulari’s face.
“We’re not in a relationship.” Her response jolted Jamin. She sat like someone who was ready to get up and leave. Jamin suspected that this setback was from her older sister in the US. That morning, Ulari had received an email from her.
Ulari had arrived before him at the Tervers and used their desktop to check her mails and printed out some. According to Mrs Terver, since then, her mood had changed. By the time Jamin arrived, she was ready to leave, return to school, but Jamin wouldn’t have any of it.
She seemed very uncomfortable and almost near tears. They had taken great caution. A tinted car had whisked her off from Unilag’s usually deserted 2nd gate to the Tervers in Ikeja GRA. Only the two of them sat in an outhouse with dwarf walls which was for a sitting place during hot seasons.
None of them paid attention to a steaming bowl of boiled maize and some Igbo pears roasted over fire; the blisters on the pears told Ulari how they were prepared. At home, pears were prepared in hot ashes or by a fire, not over it, but the Tervers were Tivs.
She rolled her eyes. Iveren had equally rolled her eyes when Ulari asked for boiled maize and pears instead of with coconut. Well, she was an easterner. The food sat facing them on a coffee table, untouched. Jamin noticed how Ulari’s knuckles were almost white from the pressure she exerted on her fists clutching the indigo, black and white adire (tie and dye fabric) pillow of the cane chair she sat on. He wondered what the problem was and couldn’t help thinking, again!
“Okay, would you rather we stopped seeing?”
“We’re not seeing …in…in…that sense of seeing, like…like dating.” She was stuttering. He winced.
“So, I should stop calling you…you want a disconnection?”
He saw a tremor go through her. She released the pillow and covered her eyes. Her fingers were long and tapering, vanished with nail hardener. “I…don’t know…I think, yes…”
Jamin did a quick calculation. If he danced to this girl’s tune, they would never get anywhere. He had studied her, she needed some firmness. They must make progress and right at that moment, they were stalling.
“What did Grace say to you?” He knew all her siblings now without meeting them. He pried their names out of her and checked them out on the internet. When Ulari told him that she was number six of eight children, Jamin had cried, “Eight? In 21st century Nigeria?” Ulari had smiled and said, “My mother is a housewife. She did what housewives do, produce babies.”
“Oh, you don’t think that’s a good idea?” His face had betrayed no emotion.
“For her, it may be a good idea.”
“For you?”
“No. I have things I want to achieve in life besides marriage and child-bearing.”
“I think she’s crazy.” He had confided to Marfi later.
To Ulari he had said with a laugh, “What things? Do you want to build a spaceship?”
He saw that it offended her. “I’m not going to spend my entire lifetime as a housewife.”
“You can get a girl into bed just by mentioning marriage,” Jamin had said to his friend, “not this one. Not that I sleep around, but marriage isn’t a big deal to Ula.”
Marfi had asked him, “What is?” Jamin had spread his hands. “I’ve no idea.”
Jamin’s mind was drawn to the present as the ruffle of papers from Ulari’s direction produced a paper from her bag. She stretched it out in front of her towards him. He took it and read silently:
“I took Jaazaniah the son of Jeremiah and his brethren and the whole house of the Rechabites; and I brought them into the house of the Lord and I set before the sons of the house of the Rechabites pots full of wine and cups, and I say unto them, ‘Drink ye wine.’ But they said, “We will drink no wine; for Jonadab the son of Rechab our father commanded us saying, ‘Ye shall drink no wine neither ye nor your sons forever.” – Jeremiah 35.
“Ulari m, we’re taught to keep ourselves until marriage; our father commanded us. I think that’s sound. It’s safe. It’s prestigious and healthy. Don’t lose your head over a guy. Please, do keep yourself until then. And don’t dream about boys; keep your mind off them for now. It’s not true for any virile young man to say he doesn’t want sex. It’s a ploy to trick you into sin (when Jamin got to the last sentence, a cry escaped his mouth – ‘w-h-a-t!’).”
There was no need to ask her what she said to her sister. Jamin could guess. He stared at the girl and almost drowned in her large oval eyes slanted at the edges with large brown pupils like fish gills set in shimmering pools of white diamonds. When she lowered her eyelids, the lashes would spread out like a Chinese hand fans over her eye bag areas. Jamin used to think they were fake.
“I should be on my way now.” Jamin tore himself away from her eyes. Her full red lips like skinned tomatoes were trembling begging him to crush them with his mouth.
“Wait!” Jamin cried suddenly. He stood up and searched his back trousers’ pocket and produced a paper. “I have a paper too.” Ulari looked surprised. He unfolded it and stretched it to her. “This isn’t from my sibling, but from the Lord.” Ulari’s eyes dilated. She took the paper and stared at it. Then she started laughing.
“The properties of love? Love isn’t self-seeking.” She read out loud.
“You think about yourself,” Jamin fired at her. It was intentional, to put her on the defensive.
“No. I think about what is right.”
“Not true. You think about your little image and how to be a good girl. But, you lack sensitivity. You ought to consider time – what time it is in your life.”
“J, I have to go.” She stood up. Her voice sounded weary. “But why are you carrying this paper around?”
“If you want to know, sit down.” She hesitated but sat down. He smiled. “You want the truth?” She nodded. “I wanted to sleep with you so badly that it used to make me cry in the night. (Her eyes said, O my God!) One day, the Lord told me to get over it. He said I should seek help from Him, ask Him for grace to stop wanting to sleep with you. (She sat up straighter) I asked Him why. He told me that love is not self-seeking. I should think of what’s good for the two of us.” Her eyes became round with respect as he spoke. When he finished, she said, “Wow! You hear God like that?”
“Just like that!” He snapped his index and thumb fingers in the air and smiled exposing strong long white teeth set in black gums.
“Well, what’s good for the two of us is what my sister, Grace said.” She stood up again. “Please, can you call the driver?”
“Please, don’t go. I cancelled everything this afternoon to be with you. I can’t touch you here; the Tervers are protection for us.”
She stood with her olive green bag slung over her high broad shoulders striking the pose of a mannequin in a white floral dress that stopped above her knees.
“I want to marry you.” His voice was desperate. She froze. The butterflies flew up fluttering all over her inside. Jamin oozed raw sex. He stood like the statue of the Unknown Soldier cast in bronze. He couldn’t have been anything but a soldier. He was all muscles and no flesh, and very D-A-R-K. As Ulari took in this bronze statue oozing great sexual pheromone, Ulari’s usual placidity fluttered. She was about to sit down again when she heard the voice of her Grandma Ugorji, “Marriage proposals are made in question and answer form so that a girl could answer yes or no.” She was a girl very equipped. Another problem was that it was too early in her To Do List!
Jamin observed all her vacillations. “Can we just stay and play with Baby Terver so that Mrs Terver can sleep? She told me she needs rest. Her mum hasn’t come for the omugo.” Ulari’s eyes lit up. “How did you know the word ‘omugo?’” she cried. “Because your mum will be coming to our house to do it.” He laughed. She laughed too. Her eyes shone with joy and he moved closer to her and gathered her in his arms. She did not resist him, but kissed him back. For a moment, they were lost in each other, and then she recovered and pulled away.
“I wouldn’t have gone any further!” She nodded and they burst out laughing. She knew that was why the catechist’s wife counselled that there must be a chaperon should two opposite sex who fell in love needed to court. He took her hand and she allowed him to hold it and they strolled into the house.
Marfi Terver had a sleepless night. And that was not because the baby bawled almost all night. Ulari kept him up. He had no idea what to do. His friend, Benjamin was gone, completely and totally gone, his heart stolen by this girl. And the girl wasn’t Tiv! And the girl wasn’t pure Nigerian. And that was just half his worry. Where would he begin? What would he say to the Tor Tiv family? He felt like weeping. Iveren, his wife had counselled that they rode the tide; this was where the tide brought them – Jamin saying he’d marry the girl.
Iveren rubbing her eyes their first child clutching her nightgown sauntered into the room where he was with the baby. He was startled by their appearance.
“What time is it?” he asked.
“4:30.”
“Go back, sleep some more,” her husband encouraged her. She shook her head. “Let me feed her.” He was grateful and released her to her mother. The baby, who had been sleeping in his arms, began to suck as if it were awake when her mother put her to the breast without opening her eyes. The couple exchanged glances and smiled. Marfi picked the little boy who had followed his mum out and put him on his shoulders and carried him back to bed. Few minutes later he was back without him.
“What’s the problem?” his wife asked him.
He shook his head.
“What’s it? You look worried.” Marfi rubbed his head. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Was it the baby?”
“No.” He paused and hesitated. “It’s Ula.”
“What about her? I told you to leave them alone, you’re not God. Let God handle it.”
“Have you ever considered why she’s that light skinned?” Marfi asked.
“Many easterners are very light-skinned. I don’t know why,” Iveren said. She looked down on her breast. The baby’s mouth had fallen open releasing her mother’s black teat and a milky liquid trickled down the corner of her mouth. She looked up to meet her husband’s gaze and they smiled.
“Let me put her to bed,” he said bending to scoop her from his wife’s arms.
“You’re a great husband,” she said, “and I love you.”
“Don’t talk so close to my nose, you haven’t brushed your teeth.” He laughed as she slapped him lightly on his shoulder. He returned immediately and sat with her.
“We have ten minutes before prayer,” he said.
“Uleri…” Iveren began.
“Ulari,” Marfi corrected her. Both Marfi and J were expert linguists. In the DMI (Directorate for Military Intelligence, a major skill for all soldiers is that you must be a polyglot. They are all great with languages).
“Many easterners must have copulated with white men when they arrived.”
“Hian! Are you sure? My Ibo friends used to tease me that they were not as promiscuous as Tivs who give their wives to their guests to sleep with as kola when they visited.”
Marfi laughed. “They’re crazy. That’s an old custom now extinct.”
“I used to tell Ngozi, my friend, that thank God we’re not cannibals like the Ibos.”
“Igbo, not Ibo.”
“Be there correcting. Ngozi told me Igbo is a corruption of Ibo, that the word Ibo came from the Hebrew name Eber which later became Hebrew. She said Ibo is Eber…”
Marfi chuckled. “That’s their problem. They should all relocate to Israel nau instead of being in Nigeria agitating for a separate state of Biafra.”
Iveren chuckled. “But, what about Ula? You were saying something about her.”
Marfi was quiet for a long time. His wife was just about to tell him that they had a few minutes left before Prayer Time, when he spoke.
“I don’t know what to do; I don’t know how to broach the issue with the House of Torkular. And …”
“Whether you tell them or not, they’d blame you.”
He nodded
“And, and Ulari, Ulari’s father was a love child.”
Iveren Terver’s jaw dropped; she got up and blasted out in tongues. Tears stood in Marfi’s eyes.
To be continued next week…
Culled from The Girls Are not to Blame by Lechi Eke.
*to read past excerpts, visit www.thenicheng.com and click on columnists*
