Chapter 9

Rahab

The box feels heavier now than when I first held and opened it in the car. Why did he even bother? My mind is reeling with the implication of what this is. Typical Seun, this was the reason we both fought the last time.

I spent several unbearable weeks ignoring him, only for me to finally break the silence, and by then he had gone and gotten himself a girl friend. Awesome!

When he introduced us, I didn't even make the effort to smile. It felt like too much, we had a thing, a connection, not like we were a couple or whatever, but it still hurt either ways. 

I hated how I felt, I hated that he expected me to be fine with this recent development, as if it were nothing. I mean it wasn't like I liked him in that way right? Wrong!

Stupid Seun! Stupid, stupid, Yoruba boy Seun! 

I almost don't notice mama Tunani until it is too late. I slam into her and the box flies from my hand in one swift motion. 

Oh God! No!

The flap comes undone and one sneaker is left in a muddy puddle. A whimper escapes me, I dive immediately to retrieve it, rubbing it vigorously with my shirt, trying to get the stain out, but it only spreads. 

Mama Tunani clears her throat forcing me to acknowledge her presence. I turn around, letting the full glare of my emotions rest on her. At least she has the decency to look bashful. 

I cradle the soiled shoe in one hand, holding the box containing the second shoe in my other hand. 

"Rahab, I need some money" she starts without preamble and I almost choke.

"Look, baba tunani is back from his posting, market has been slow, I had to borrow to pay Tunani and Esau's school fees you know this" She explains in a voice full of plea.

I feel for her, I really do. No matter how miffed I am, baba Tunani wasn't the kind of man you angered. I'd heard the shouts and cries, coming from their house, intensifying late into the night, only to see mama Tunani emerge the next morning, limping and hiding her bruised, swollen face behind a veil.

It was common knowledge what he did to her, everyone knew everyone's secret here, one of the many benefits of living in a compound house. I sigh and shake my head.

"I-I d-don't have mon-ney" I say and try to sidestep but she blocks my path once again...What is she up to this evening? I wonder suspiciously.

"You don't understand, I borrowed your father money sometime ago, and he promised to pay, I need it now." She says more forcefully. I am awed at her transformation from pitiful beggar to aggravated lender.

"What-t Sh-should I d-do?" I shoot letting some of my annoyance seep into my words.

"Kuyet said they paid you people this week at work" she says smartly.

I cannot believe the nerve of this woman. And Kuyet on the other hand, I really do hope she rots in hell. My pity dries up, as the full weight of what she's saying dawns on me.

"He is always borrowing money, everyone knows this. Usually, I am willing to forget, because what is money between close friends? But I need this now."

"Besides, you both have been filling your stomachs from my pot for months now, would you deny me what you owe me?" She continues, her voice going several octaves higher, I see what she's trying to do and wince at her crassness.

"H-how much-ch?" I ask

"My dear, you cannot pay all of it back now, just give me what you have, I'll collect the rest next month, and the month after, and, well at least till you offset it... Or baba Tunani gets posted out again" 

I stare at her out stretched hand, bewildered and angry. I don't doubt my dad owes her, this isn't the first time it has happened, I knew their growing closeness was going to end in tears, I just didn't think it'd be mine.

I consider my options, I could say no and walk away but knowing this woman I doubt that will end well. 

I could give her half and beg her to let me hold onto what's left. I don't need to try really hard, my tears aren't far away. What little sliver of pride I have left, causes me to discard this thought.

I could hit her so hard she ends up with a concussion or brain damage, I don't care which. But I trash this thought as quickly as it comes, I am not a violent person.

I could give her the money now, as it is and starve. Its a lose, lose situation for me, but what can I do? I have so little time and I am running out of options.

"Can I give you tomorrow? Let me talk to my father first".

"You don't understand, I need it now!" Her voice is equal parts anger and exasperation.

Another neighbour opens his door and greets us both, stalling our conversation. I give a curt nod and look away, where is the ground when I want it to swallow me?

"Good evening, Daddy gloria, how is Gloria's stomach now? Has she taken the dry garri I advised?" Mama Tunani says flashing a sweet smile his way.

I don't hear his reply because well, I don't really care about that conversation to be honest.

"No, don't mind us, its just girls chat, " she informs airily. 

"You know how close James and I are, its only fair I become friends with his daughter as well".

I flinch at the use of my father's name, she is sending a silent message, a message that, given the nature of our compound, is bound to spread by morning, that is, if my father hasn't already given them ample information.

I remind myself not to cry, though this time its rage, not sorrow propelling me, as I take the money out of my pocket and hand it to her.

So much for buying foodstuffs at the market tomorrow, I sniff quietly. She takes the money from me, flashes a smile, which looks anything but pleasant and proceeds to her house. 

I walk away sluggishly, it feels like all the air has been punched out of my lungs. I am vaguely aware of Daddy Gloria's hawk like eyes following me, but I don't register it, I really couldn't care less.

Gossips, evil gossips, snivelling belly crawling beasts, the entire lot of them. And my father just keeps giving them more ammo. I swipe angrily at my eyes. I wish they'd all just die!

I enter the house noisily, not bothering to be silent. I cannot suffer alone. The anger I feel makes me so hot I am afraid I might burst. 

I pass the tiny parlour and head straight to my room not bothering to check on my father, he could burn along with our neighbours for all I care... What? No, God no! I don't really mean that, he's my father, of course I care.

I pause for a brief second, giving his closed door a cursory glance.

Maybe i should check on him. 

But I quickly decide against it. I am actually, too angry, not too angry to care... Just too angry to face him at the moment.

Flopping on my face, on my bed, I scream loudly into my pillow till my throat feels sore. It takes minutes, hours even, before I sleep and even then, it comes in restless waves leaving me more tired than rested.

*         *        *

By the time I wake up, the sun is too high for it to be early morning. I've slept too deeply into the day but I don't care. 

Brushing my teeth, but deciding against taking my bath, I perch on a worn armchair in the living room and consider my options. 

I could go out and borrow some money from the owner of the salon two streets down, but I doubt she'll want to, considering my track record.

I could take Seun's gift to the market and sell it, but that's wrong and to be honest, its the nicest pair of anything's I own, parting with it is a no no, call me selfish. I growl in frustration and head to my Father's room. I need to talk to my him, he should know what to do.

His door is ajar, I peep into his dark room, there's no sign of him. Where could he have gone to? He hardly ever left the house. Panic hits me briefly, but i shake it off. He's a grown man, he can handle himself.

I stand at the threshold for a brief moment, before forcing myself to enter.

His room reeks, very badly of stale beer and a concoction of other smells I cannot pinpoint. I am forced to breathe uncomfortably through my mouth.

I try forcing a window open, to let in fresh air, but it's stuck and soon enough, I tire of the task.

I look around, taking in everything. The giant mattress, too big for the room, a cupboard cramped in a corner, with a broken door and collapsed shelf. Some of my baby clothes, but I don't really recall wearing them. My mother's things too. And in a corner, something lacy peeks out of the Ghana must go, it used to be white, but now it is browned as a result of and lack of use and oxidation... Probably.

I used to adore that dress when I was younger, when I still thought things between them might actually work out. 

Silly fantasies. 

I kick the cupboard in anger and something crashes down, satisfied I walk out, but as I leave, I spot my Father's brown leather wallet under a mountain of clothes. Something draws me to it and I pick it up, gasping in surprise as I open it to find wads of new 1000 naira notes stuffed in. 

A barrage of questions run through my mind. But I swallow it all, pushing it down. This, this is money, right here... Real money. I could take a few notes, considering he never really remembers these things, he won't know the difference. 

I rebuke myself inwardly, embarrassed at my first thought. I can't, I can't take it... Its his money. I close the wallet feeling contrite.

But God! I could definitely use it for so many things.. Foodstuff, toiletries, yes, toiletries, God! Its been so long. My mind is reeling with possibilities.

Even though taking the money would be stealing, I reason, and I may be many things but a thief isn't one of them... Right?