CHAPTER NINETEEN

Richard Cory. Before Nandem found himself in police cell, his friends called him Richard Cory, from Edward Arlington’s poem ‘ Richard Cory' and that became his moniker. He too was a gentleman but Richard Cory’s end was the difference- Richard Cory in spite of his wealthy and affluence committed suicide, he shot himself in the head. Nandem was still alive, Nandem wouldn’t kill himself. Some didn’t even know how that name came about, for those lucky enough to have read the poem or known about the poet, they carelessly assumed his love for the poem made him name himself Richard Cory.

Some didn’t even know where the name came from, they just joined others in calling him ‘Richard Cory’. His friends had given him the name after studying it in their literature in English class. They said he too was gentle and handsome like Richard Cory; that was how the name stuck. After all, 'guys' would name themselves after a celebrity or an object, or others did it for them. He had classmates whose monikers were ‘Xzibit, P Diddy, Starzy, Yuzeh, Loco,’ and what have you. He had been taught from young age to be a gentleman and that was how he grew up. 

From a polygamous home, his father had married three wives; his mother was his father’s third and last wife, while he was her only male son and his father’s youngest child. His father made his fortune as a farmer. He would farm yams and take them to the East and other southern states. Whenever he returned from such journeys, all his kids would know ‘yes father had returned.’ He would bring gifts for all his kids- clothes, shoes and even give them money. For his wives, well, he tried to love them equally and treated them equally too. After all the Bible had taught him to love and treat his wife like himself.

A devout Catholic, he loved being a Catholic. He was glad he was Catholic. He was not ostracized for marrying more than one wife. Those who had married more than one wife were seen as sinners, some even had to let go of their other wives and cling on to the first wife in order to participate in church activities. Catholic Church didn’t stop him from taking alcohol, he would openly take his alcohol whenever he felt like. He however felt pity for his friends who went to Protestant churches where alcohol consumption was seen as a sin, friends who would hide before taking their alcohol.

 His father’s friend from a neighboring town had come to visit his father one day. A Protestant who had been ostracized for drinking and marrying more than one wife, he had gladly accepted their decision. “Will the pastor come and help me farm all my farmlands if I let go of my wives? In fact will he marry them for me, will I not be pushing these women into more temptation if I let them go?” So many like himself had married these women to help them in their farmlands, before giving birth to children that will help them again, it was a sign of strength, power, why will they now tell him to let go his wives, his help. 

 After they had eaten a delicious african meal that was well garnished with some local spices which his father had brought from the east and fish his step mom had bought from Ibbi River, a river that connected the Southern with northern part of the neighboring states.

His father called him to come and finish the leftover. It was customary in some african culture for fathers to keep leftover food for their kids and Nandem loved it when his father left his for him. Of course, it wasn’t as though it was a special meal but most kids loved it non the less. As they began drinking their palm wine, his father’s friend began to smile, Nandem a few feet’s away from them smiled. He saw how his moustache got wet from the palm wine. He had obviously thought of something, something he wanted to tell Nandem's father. 

“They put me at the back seat because I refused to send my other wives away,” he began. 

“That’s not just the reason,” Nandem’s father interjected. 

“Oh no , that’s not just the reason, don’t be faster than your shadow,” his friend retorted.

“I see, in that case pardon me my friend.”

“Pardon you I shall” and they both laughed. He continued. “The other reason was because I would not stop drinking. When elder Yossi, an elder in our church confronted me and told me to stop drinking, I told him to his face, I wouldn’t stop drinking and that it was better I let them know rather than sneak at night to enjoy this wonderful drink. He continued pressuring me, as if they had told him he must win a soul today, I asked him a question.”

“What was the question you asked him?” Nandem’s father didn’t even know he had asked, since it concerned alcohol, he desperately wanted to know the question. 

“The question I asked him was if you say taking palm wine is a sin, will you take me to the woman that prepared it or the factory that produced it? Take me to the woman and I will reconsider. He didn’t give me and answer, he scratched his chin as he thought of an answer but none came.”

“Good question indeed.” Nandem’s father had said and they both laughed. laughed again. 

“I think I have gotten an answer for whoever tells me to stop drinking, only that I can’t use it for the local gin' and beer because they can take me to the woman who prepared it and they can also take me to the brewery that brewed the beer,” and they both laughed again. 

“It didn’t end there,” his friend continued. Nandem didn’t know whether the man was actually in a mood for story telling or it was the alcohol setting in. Or could it be that the meal he had just had had made him think of these stories?