PART
2
At lunch time 
“Pass
the salt please,” says Dad the second time, staring at my guest.
I
stretch my right hand to the little jar, and pass it on.
“Thank
you dear,” says Dad. Smiling, he sprinkles some on his food. Then he hurls
some noodles into his mouth, sips some wine, dabs his lips,and raises his eye brows.
“You
finished very young. Fantastic! At twenty!”
“Yea,” the young man retorts.
Staring at something on the wall. And then spat chicken bones on the white table. The smiles on Dad's face disappear like drops of oil on a hot plate. Wrinkles overrun his
face. Quickly, I collect the bones into an empty bowl. But I am late, Mom is
already smiling at the stains on the white fabric, her finger tapping the table.
Fred stands up, goes round the table, and dishes more fried rice, salad and Ketchup to his plate. And takes the last piece of fish as well. I look up at him, smiling, my fingers fidgeting, my backside sitting on the edge of the chair uncomfortably. He is smiling too.
Fred stands up, goes round the table, and dishes more fried rice, salad and Ketchup to his plate. And takes the last piece of fish as well. I look up at him, smiling, my fingers fidgeting, my backside sitting on the edge of the chair uncomfortably. He is smiling too.
“What course did you read,” Dad asks in a
terrible voice.
“Molecular Engineering in USA,” says Fred.
“Molecular What…Where...What is that,” yells Dad, almost throwing up. Mom reaches out and taps his shoulder.
“Dee, please!”
Fred gulps down more wine.
“Everything has molecules. I studied their strain under stress.”
Things does not add up here. Schooled, yet uneducated, thinks Dad.
I wink at Mom. She grasps my eye contact. She knows. Yes she knows that Dad is losing some patience.
“What do you use that for,” Mom asks.
“Everything, Mrs Dzen. Everything!”
Mom smiles. Then touching Dad’s hand. She asks,
“In the Federal Ministry of Procurement, what exactly are you doing for them.”
Fred throws the last bone of the fish into his mouth, and begin to chew it.
“I procure all the materials for the maintenance of roads and buildings in the South East of the country.”
“I see! That’s great! But what is the link with the molecules?”
“I supervise the quality control of materials.”
“That’s huge,” says Mom.
“Yea…,” says Fred.
My dad is not ready for any ride. More wrinkles appear on his brow. Mom keeps her smiles.
I understand Fred quite well. A calm, composed, spoilt brat, quite my opposite. My sanguine mood does not in anyway match his flair for deep discussions unless his is not in the mood. And right now, he is not in the mood. I hope Dad will get the picture….
“You have a huge job in your hands. But signing papers, pushing and pulling funds under the table without building the roads is stealing. And you are too young for that”
“Daddie…Dad,” I blow up.
“The roads are unsafe, dead traps, filled with holes despite funds shared to it. Where are the money?”
Fred is smiling and picking his teeth.
“Politicians are responsible, Dr Dzen.”
“Do you enjoy working with them?”
Fred laughs. He takes serviette from a glass cup, and wipes his lips.
“Monitoring is the prerogative of the senate,” says Fred.
Then he belches loud.
“If they do not oversight, then nobody is blameable.”
“ What then is your work if there are no jobs in your ministry.”
“Politics, Dr Dzen.”
“What is it?”
Procurement is partisan.”
What do you mean?”
“Every appointment is political?”
Dr Dzen keeps quiet, staring at Fred. He has run out of questions. Mom frees her hand from his.
“Anita, let’s put away the dishes. Gentlemen, excuse us please,” she says, smiling.
Dad and Fred walk into the living room. For a long time, I do not hear any argument. I am glad there is quiet. We cleared the table and I wash up the things. I come out to meet them. Fred is ready to go. He says bye. I escort him to his car.
Fred is angry. He kicks the tyre of his car, and some flowers.
“Ouch! Damn it. What do they take me for? A nobody, shit!Damn!"
“You shouldn’t have lied to them. You should have told them who you are. They are educated, and can make correct guesses”
“So, am not educated,” he cut her off, and spits.
“Understand me Fred, please,” I say, smiling and holding his shoulder. “When you talk to my parents be straight. They don’t care if you’re this or that. Poor or rich. All they want is honest living. Don’t make big plans whenever you meet them. Don’t exaggerate”
Fred smiles and holds her close.
“Educated or uneducated, ” he asks.
“Please don’t go there, Fred. We’ve agreed you would finish up. Did we or didn’t we,” I say, faking anger.
He gives a wily laugh.
“All expenses paid. If only you would be a gentle giant."
He laughs again.
“I will see you later. Congratulations! You passed the first hurdles.
Wait for my siblings! They’re something else, a whole lot, I bet you.”
“I don’t care who is next. So far my darling shields me,” he says, squeezing me.
“Go home,” I say , and push him into the car. He starts the car, zooms off. I wave goodbye.
I walk into the living room, furious. My parents are sitting, waiting for me. They are on dessert, with cups of tea. I coil on a sofa opposite Mom, pouting my lips.
She stands up, walks to the tray, makes tea, and serves me.
“Thanks Mom.”
She nods her head, goes back to her rocking chair.
Dad raises his head, and clears his throat.
“This is an apology, Nne.”
When Dad starts an argument, using a pet name, the best option for an opponent is to keep silent, wait, watch out for any weak spot. Then push him, create a breathing space. So I gonna hold my peace. He drops the cup of tea on a side stool.
“Please he is not your kind. He is not in your class. He is far apart from your background.”
My stomach filled with rubbish, rumbles. Mom doesn’t say anything, just smiling. But I know she is on Dad’s side.
“Dad,” I say touchily, restraining my anger at great lengths. “Dave came. You said he is too old. And now Fred. What is wrong with him?”
“Everything is wrong with him,” he says. Then he sips some tea. “He is not what he said he is. He had no formal education.”
“Dad, why do you hate people? Mom, do hear Dad? How will I descend low to an uneducated person. Doing doctorate myself. Dad, call off the joke, please. And allow Fred be.”
“Sometimes I wonder if I gave birth to you. Are saying that the man passed through any school.”
“Yes he did,” I say owning up.
“His height is impressive. His looks are wonderful. Only that he has no table manners. He ruined our lunch,” says Mom, smiling.
Dad jumps into the fray.
“Read between the lines. The way he used the table will be the manner he’s going to treat you later. He was awful if I should say the least.”
I keep a curious face, I-know-you-are-my-parents-pose. Trust me, they won’t win this argument. My Dad meets a rock this time.
“I don’t think I have any other person other than Fred. Please Dad…Mom reconcile any misunderstanding you have with him. Please do it for me,” I say in a low calm voice, sobbing.
Dad’s hand shakes. He drops the tea cup insensitively.
“This man spat bones on your Mom’s new table cloth. This man ate like a ravenously. He ate fish and chicken as if he was poor. And poured wine like a connoisseur. Did he serve you anything? Did he make any intelligent comment about you? If he didn’t, I wonder whether he would ever. He just minded his business-food and wine. He ate himself to exhaustion. Please keep him at arm’s length for now. And don’t tell me you want to manage him. It has never worked.”
I am restless, breathing heavily. Then I move, and blink, and see some faces looking down on me. I blink again. It is Bob’s, Frank’s, and Lovet’s.
“She has woken up! Oh my God, she is up,” Lovet screams, tears streaming down her eyes.
I can feel the straps on me, and the hospital bed, and the walls.
“What happened,” I asked. “What am I doing here? Oh my head is aching. Ouch this is painful,” I say looking at the pin in my vein.
Then the doctor comes in with a nurse.
“Mrs Anita Fred,“ he says with a smile. “We are happy to have you back. ”
He starts examining me.
Bob, Frank and Lovet are in a corner talking in voices. I overhear what they are saying.
“She is through with this marriage. We can’t continue running to hospitals every month to save her life” says Bob.
“Dad would be restless in his grave. He warned her not to marry this tout,” says Lovet.
Frank is not the talking type. He is gazing at the floor, visibly angry.
“Let him keep the child. She is not going back there. Lovet, she stays with you.” he mutters.
“What of Mom?”
“I will ask Cherrie to pick her up this week,” stammers Frank. "Please nobody should tell her about Anita."
“Molecular Engineering in USA,” says Fred.
“Molecular What…Where...What is that,” yells Dad, almost throwing up. Mom reaches out and taps his shoulder.
“Dee, please!”
Fred gulps down more wine.
“Everything has molecules. I studied their strain under stress.”
Things does not add up here. Schooled, yet uneducated, thinks Dad.
I wink at Mom. She grasps my eye contact. She knows. Yes she knows that Dad is losing some patience.
“What do you use that for,” Mom asks.
“Everything, Mrs Dzen. Everything!”
Mom smiles. Then touching Dad’s hand. She asks,
“In the Federal Ministry of Procurement, what exactly are you doing for them.”
Fred throws the last bone of the fish into his mouth, and begin to chew it.
“I procure all the materials for the maintenance of roads and buildings in the South East of the country.”
“I see! That’s great! But what is the link with the molecules?”
“I supervise the quality control of materials.”
“That’s huge,” says Mom.
“Yea…,” says Fred.
My dad is not ready for any ride. More wrinkles appear on his brow. Mom keeps her smiles.
I understand Fred quite well. A calm, composed, spoilt brat, quite my opposite. My sanguine mood does not in anyway match his flair for deep discussions unless his is not in the mood. And right now, he is not in the mood. I hope Dad will get the picture….
“You have a huge job in your hands. But signing papers, pushing and pulling funds under the table without building the roads is stealing. And you are too young for that”
“Daddie…Dad,” I blow up.
“The roads are unsafe, dead traps, filled with holes despite funds shared to it. Where are the money?”
Fred is smiling and picking his teeth.
“Politicians are responsible, Dr Dzen.”
“Do you enjoy working with them?”
Fred laughs. He takes serviette from a glass cup, and wipes his lips.
“Monitoring is the prerogative of the senate,” says Fred.
Then he belches loud.
“If they do not oversight, then nobody is blameable.”
“ What then is your work if there are no jobs in your ministry.”
“Politics, Dr Dzen.”
“What is it?”
Procurement is partisan.”
What do you mean?”
“Every appointment is political?”
Dr Dzen keeps quiet, staring at Fred. He has run out of questions. Mom frees her hand from his.
“Anita, let’s put away the dishes. Gentlemen, excuse us please,” she says, smiling.
Dad and Fred walk into the living room. For a long time, I do not hear any argument. I am glad there is quiet. We cleared the table and I wash up the things. I come out to meet them. Fred is ready to go. He says bye. I escort him to his car.
Fred is angry. He kicks the tyre of his car, and some flowers.
“Ouch! Damn it. What do they take me for? A nobody, shit!Damn!"
“You shouldn’t have lied to them. You should have told them who you are. They are educated, and can make correct guesses”
“So, am not educated,” he cut her off, and spits.
“Understand me Fred, please,” I say, smiling and holding his shoulder. “When you talk to my parents be straight. They don’t care if you’re this or that. Poor or rich. All they want is honest living. Don’t make big plans whenever you meet them. Don’t exaggerate”
Fred smiles and holds her close.
“Educated or uneducated, ” he asks.
“Please don’t go there, Fred. We’ve agreed you would finish up. Did we or didn’t we,” I say, faking anger.
He gives a wily laugh.
“All expenses paid. If only you would be a gentle giant."
He laughs again.
“I will see you later. Congratulations! You passed the first hurdles.
Wait for my siblings! They’re something else, a whole lot, I bet you.”
“I don’t care who is next. So far my darling shields me,” he says, squeezing me.
“Go home,” I say , and push him into the car. He starts the car, zooms off. I wave goodbye.
I walk into the living room, furious. My parents are sitting, waiting for me. They are on dessert, with cups of tea. I coil on a sofa opposite Mom, pouting my lips.
She stands up, walks to the tray, makes tea, and serves me.
“Thanks Mom.”
She nods her head, goes back to her rocking chair.
Dad raises his head, and clears his throat.
“This is an apology, Nne.”
When Dad starts an argument, using a pet name, the best option for an opponent is to keep silent, wait, watch out for any weak spot. Then push him, create a breathing space. So I gonna hold my peace. He drops the cup of tea on a side stool.
“Please he is not your kind. He is not in your class. He is far apart from your background.”
My stomach filled with rubbish, rumbles. Mom doesn’t say anything, just smiling. But I know she is on Dad’s side.
“Dad,” I say touchily, restraining my anger at great lengths. “Dave came. You said he is too old. And now Fred. What is wrong with him?”
“Everything is wrong with him,” he says. Then he sips some tea. “He is not what he said he is. He had no formal education.”
“Dad, why do you hate people? Mom, do hear Dad? How will I descend low to an uneducated person. Doing doctorate myself. Dad, call off the joke, please. And allow Fred be.”
“Sometimes I wonder if I gave birth to you. Are saying that the man passed through any school.”
“Yes he did,” I say owning up.
“His height is impressive. His looks are wonderful. Only that he has no table manners. He ruined our lunch,” says Mom, smiling.
Dad jumps into the fray.
“Read between the lines. The way he used the table will be the manner he’s going to treat you later. He was awful if I should say the least.”
I keep a curious face, I-know-you-are-my-parents-pose. Trust me, they won’t win this argument. My Dad meets a rock this time.
“I don’t think I have any other person other than Fred. Please Dad…Mom reconcile any misunderstanding you have with him. Please do it for me,” I say in a low calm voice, sobbing.
Dad’s hand shakes. He drops the tea cup insensitively.
“This man spat bones on your Mom’s new table cloth. This man ate like a ravenously. He ate fish and chicken as if he was poor. And poured wine like a connoisseur. Did he serve you anything? Did he make any intelligent comment about you? If he didn’t, I wonder whether he would ever. He just minded his business-food and wine. He ate himself to exhaustion. Please keep him at arm’s length for now. And don’t tell me you want to manage him. It has never worked.”
I am restless, breathing heavily. Then I move, and blink, and see some faces looking down on me. I blink again. It is Bob’s, Frank’s, and Lovet’s.
“She has woken up! Oh my God, she is up,” Lovet screams, tears streaming down her eyes.
I can feel the straps on me, and the hospital bed, and the walls.
“What happened,” I asked. “What am I doing here? Oh my head is aching. Ouch this is painful,” I say looking at the pin in my vein.
Then the doctor comes in with a nurse.
“Mrs Anita Fred,“ he says with a smile. “We are happy to have you back. ”
He starts examining me.
Bob, Frank and Lovet are in a corner talking in voices. I overhear what they are saying.
“She is through with this marriage. We can’t continue running to hospitals every month to save her life” says Bob.
“Dad would be restless in his grave. He warned her not to marry this tout,” says Lovet.
Frank is not the talking type. He is gazing at the floor, visibly angry.
“Let him keep the child. She is not going back there. Lovet, she stays with you.” he mutters.
“What of Mom?”
“I will ask Cherrie to pick her up this week,” stammers Frank. "Please nobody should tell her about Anita."
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