Ordinarily, I would have expected that my mother would be the one to cry. But from what she said, as soon as I rose to collect my certificate, her only response was to stand and clap. My father, on the other hand, sat in his seat and wiped his eyes. I was the very first of the second generation of university graduates from the whole Ibe extended family.

After the ceremony, I left the auditorium and went to meet them at a prearranged location, under the mango tree by the university health centre. Aunty Dimma was waiting with them. She had insisted on coming to the school as well, instead of just turning up at the house later in the day like our other invited guests. As soon as they saw me approaching, all of them rushed towards me.

‘Congratulations,’ my father said, shaking my hand.

‘Congratulations,’ my mother said, giving me a hug.

‘Congratulations,’ Ola said, placing her hands on my shoulders and giving me a holy kiss on the cheek.

Ola had worn a smart blue skirt suit which my mother later told me was too short.

‘Congratulations,’ Charity said, hugging me around the waist and refusing to let go.

‘Congratulations,’ Godfrey and Eugene said, with their eyes on the coolers of food that would soon be opened.

‘Mr Chemical Engineer,’ Aunty Dimma said, locking me inside her arms and pecking my cheek.

We ate. Some people I knew and many people I did not came round, and my mother dished out some food from the coolers for them. The total expenditure for the day’s celebration had seriously head-butted my parents’ budget and broken its two legs, but they did not mind. My graduation from university was supposed to be the dawn of a new day in their lives.

Fortunately, things were different this time around. I had made sure of that. Finances were the last thing my family had had to worry about while preparing for Charity’s matriculation.

We would never have found Charity in that crowd. There were human heads everywhere. After the ceremony, I and my mother and Aunty Dimma proceeded to the designated meeting place by the car park and waited. It was not long before Charity joined us. She and my mother and Aunty Dimma did their hugging routine.

‘Hmm… Charity, you’re now a big chick!’ Aunty Dimma said. ‘You look so beauuuuutiful.’

‘Thank you,’ Charity said and blushed.

In her dark green River Island skirt suit and black Gucci heels, Charity definitely looked sharp. I had purchased the top-to-toe outfit specially for this day. No stupid man would ever jump out of the hedges and turn my sister’s head upside down because of Gucci.

‘Did you people see me?’ Charity asked.

We had seen her sitting amongst the matriculating students, but at the end of the ceremony, she had disappeared amid the sea of tasseled caps.

Eugene could not make it. He had exams coming up soon and the nine-hour journey from Ibadan would have been too much of a distraction.

Godfrey eventually arrived. Accompanied by three of his friends. Dressed like a drug baron. Pierre Cardin shirt unbuttoned almost to his navel, white Givenchy, silver-capped shoes, and texturised hair. Two gold chains dangled from his neck, a gold bracelet danced around his wrist. No wonder he was constantly running out of pocket money and ringing me to send some more. Often, I succumbed. I wanted to be as much of a father to him – to them all – as possible. I wanted to be there for them in ways that my father had never been there for me. The few clothes I had in school – the ones that were not gifts from Ola – had come from the ‘bend-down’ boutiques, where different grades of secondhand clothing that the people in Europe and America no longer wanted to wear were displayed on waterproof sheets on the ground and sold. I made sure that my siblings wore the latest styles and the best quality.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ Godfrey apologised. ‘Our car had to keep stopping because one of the passengers had a running stomach. If I had known, we would have just paid for all the seats and had a taxi to ourselves. Kings, where are the things you bought for me?’

‘I wasn’t able to do much shopping on this trip,’ I said.

‘You didn’t buy the CD?’

‘I really didn’t have the time.’

He frowned.

‘Kings, that CD is the hottest thing right now. They haven’t yet started selling it in Nigeria so just a few people have it.’

‘I’m sorry. But don’t worry, I’m travelling again soon.’

We posed for several photographs. Godfrey put the camcorder to work and attracted quite a few stares in the process. For the first time in a very long time, I missed having my father around. I could perfectly imagine him on a day like this. Proud, emotional, optimistic. Matriculation was not such a grand event as graduation from university so my mother had not done any cooking for today. But Charity had made me promise that I would take her and her friends out to a fancy restaurant. It was Godfrey who had given her the suggestion.

Charity went off to find her friends. My cellular rang. It was Protocol Officer.

‘Kings, Cash Daddy said I should tell you to look out for him on TV on Monday night. He’s appearing on Tough Talk.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘He said you should also make sure everyone in the office watches it. It’s at 10 p.m.’

‘OK, I will.’

I noticed Aunty Dimma staring at me in a funny way, as if she had been trying to read my lips. As soon as Protocol Officer hung up, my aunty miraculously found herself by my side.

‘Kings,’ she said quietly, ‘what are you doing the Friday after next?’

‘I’m not sure. Why?’

‘I want to invite you to a special programme we’re having in my church. It’s a one-day deliverance session.’

‘Deliverance from what?’

‘All types. Deliverance from enemies, from your past…’ She paused. ‘Deliverance from demonic influences and evil spirits.’

‘Ah. Aunty, I just remembered. I don’t think I’ll be free on that day. I have some things I planned to do.’

‘You can still try and make it. Honestly, it’ll be worth it.’

I promised her that I would try. I knew that I would not. Charity returned with her friends. About seventeen of them.

‘Aren’t they too many?’ Aunty Dimma rebuked Charity in a red-hot whisper.

‘Aunty,’ I cut in, ‘there’s no problem.’

My pocket was more than equal to the task.

Thirty-four

The American Embassy officer scrutinised my documents. She scanned the pages of my passport and saw evidence of my frequent trips to and from the UK and the Schengen region. She saw written evidence that I had my own importing and exporting business. She observed my bulging bank accounts and knew that I could not be planning to remain illegally in her country, flipping burgers in McDonald’s or bathing corpses in a morgue.

Still, the scowling brunette on the other side of the glass partition grilled me belligerently, as if it was my fault that she had found herself in such a lousy job.

‘What are you going to the United States to do?’

‘Let me see your tax clearance certificate.’

‘Fold it!’

‘How long do you plan to stay?’

‘Why aren’t you going with your wife and children?’

‘Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking!’

‘Have you ever been involved in any terrorist activity?’

‘How do I know you’re planning to return to Nigeria?’

After about forty-five minutes, the inquisition was over. The Gestapo officer instructed me to return to the embassy by 2 p.m. the following day for collection of my stamped passport. Hurrah. My journey from Aba to Lagos had not been in vain.

‘Thank you very much,’ I replied. It was always best to repay evil with good. Besides, it could not have been any easier for Columbus; what right did the rest of us have to complain?

‘Congratulations, my brother,’ several panic-stricken visa seekers mumbled as I walked past.