Forty-three

The documentary was called Chief Boniface Mbamalu – The Politician, The Man. All his years of living on stage, of playing the parts of ambassadors and business moguls and top government officials, were definitely paying off. Cash Daddy sat composed in a knee-length isi-agu outfit and red cap. With legs spread slightly apart and hands folded on his knees, my uncle stared the viewers straight in the eyes and repeated his original promises. He had mapped out strategies to attract foreign investors for the development of infrastructure. He was determined to eliminate corruption from Abia State, starting from the grass roots. He knew he had enemies who did not want him to be governor because they were afraid of his planned reforms, but he was undeterred. It was all about the people of Abia. He was willing to lay down his life for us.

The producers had also interviewed his mother, people from his local community, and people who had benefitted from his various works of charity. I was shocked to learn that, for the past five years, my uncle had been giving scholarships to every single law student from Isiukwuato Local Government Area who was studying in a Nigerian university. He had boasted to me about almost every work of charity he was engaged in. Why had he never mentioned this?

‘Why did he choose only the law students?’ Eugene asked.

‘We’re the learned profession,’ Charity replied.

‘Please, shut up,’ Eugene said. ‘You make so much noise about this your law. What do you then expect us doctors to do?’

This was one of those rare times when all my siblings were back home on school holidays at the same time. Godfrey had made my house his permanent base for the past year or more; Eugene and Charity had come from Umuahia a few days ago. All universities had thought it wise to take a break and reopen after the elections. No school wanted to bear the burden of quelling any tempests that might arise from polling day turbulence.

My mother’s niece’s daughter came out of the kitchen.

‘Brother Kingsley, your food is ready.’

I left my siblings to their teasing and went over to the dining room. They had already eaten. I realised how hungry I was when I got a whiff of the thick paste of egusi soup that had huge chunks of chicken, okporoko fish, and cow leg protruding from the exotic china bowl.

The front door opened and there was a noise as if a riot had just started in the market.

‘Hey, Kings!’ Godfrey shouted on his way upstairs.

‘Hello,’ I responded.

Godfrey was hardly ever without his party of friends. Each day, he appeared with a new set. The two chaps he had come in with also greeted me and followed him upstairs. They were having a rowdy conversation about a European Champions League football match and making almost as much noise as the supporters who had gathered in the stadium for the match must have made. Recently, my brother had bestowed his life on the Arsenal football club. He never missed watching any of their matches, knew the names and birthdays of all the players, and had their face caps, mufflers, T-shirts… If only my brother could be more responsible with his time and money.

My cellular rang. It was Merit.

‘Did you remember to watch the documentary on Cash Daddy?’ I asked.

‘No.’

‘Oh, you really should have. It was quite interesting. His villagers even have a special song they composed to extol his good works.’

I sang a bit of it and laughed. She may have laughed, she may not.

‘O dighi onye di ka nna anyi Cash Daddy, onye Chineke nyere anyi gozie anyi,’ I sang some more.

I laughed; she certainly did not.

‘Merit, is everything OK?’

‘Kingsley, why did you lie to me?’ Her tone of voice could have slain Goliath.

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I’m so upset with you. I don’t believe you had me fooled. Did you really think I wasn’t going to find out? Kingsley, what do you do for a living?’

Her question struck me like thunder.

‘What do you do for a living?’

‘I’m into contracts and investments,’ I replied calmly, though sirens were blaring in my head. ‘I already told you that before.’

‘Kingsley, stop! How long were you going to keep lying to me?’

‘Merit, honestly, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

She was silent.

‘Merit, I’ve-,’

‘I’m not that type of girl, OK? I’m not into guys like you. Just stay out of my life. Please.’

She hung up.

I was numb. I kept staring at my phone screen and replaying Merit’s words and wondering when this latest nightmare would end. How could a relationship that seemed to be going so well suddenly turn awry?

I sank back in the chair. It was all my fault. I should have known that, sooner or later, she would hear something. Merit might not have been so mad if I had told her myself. After all, 419er or no, was I not still Kingsley? Was I not the man who had come to my family’s rescue after my father had failed? Was I not the man setting aside my own dreams for the sake of my mother and my siblings? Was I not the man still making efforts to reach out to my mother, even when she had been so judgmental and unreasonable?

I flung the phone on the table and hissed. I felt like screaming, grabbing the crockery from the table, and flinging each item against the wall. Instead, I placed my head in my hands and leaned my elbows on the dining table.

What a rotten world. Other poor people found women to marry them, other 419ers were besieged with desperate Misses. Many mothers would give an arm and a leg to have an opara like me. Yet my own mother was still bound by the mental shackles of a husband who had lived from beginning to end in a cloud. Maybe I was the one who suffered from bad luck – surrounded by ingrates and utopians. But no matter what, my siblings would have the best education I could afford. And I would never go back to a life of poverty and lack. Not for anyone dead or alive.

Perhaps Merit would understand. By morning, her anger would have subsided and I would explain everything to her. I was not a criminal. I had gone into 419 so that my mother could live in comfort and my siblings have a good education. Yes, I should have told her but I was not sure how to broach the topic, and I was very sorry for deceiving her. Besides, things were on the verge of changing. I would soon start work at the Ministry of Works and Transport. I would soon have a respectable job. I would soon have business investments.

Godfrey and his friends brought their noise back downstairs.

‘Charity, is Kingsley still in the dining room?’ I heard Godfrey ask from the staircase.

I raised my head quickly and turned back to my meal. My appetite had definitely fled, but I dipped my hands into the soup and pretended to be deep in chow.

His friends sat in the living room with my other siblings while Godfrey strutted over to me, pulled a dining chair noisily, and sat. The fragrance of his freshly sprayed Eternity wiped out every trace of the egusi aroma from the air.

‘Kings, there’s something I’ve been wanting to discuss with you,’ he began without any ceremony.

I looked at his two friends sitting within earshot of us and looked back at him. He did not seem to mind their presence, so why should I?

‘Kingsley, I’ve been thinking about it for some time. I’ve decided that I want to quit school. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time and I’ve decided that there’s no point. I really don’t want to go on. I’m thinking of going into business.’

‘You want to go into business?’

‘Yes. I’m tired of school. There’s no reason for me to keep wasting my time in school when there’s so much money to be made out there. The sooner I start making my own money, the better.’

Without a doubt, this boy was crazy. From the depths of my vexation, I borrowed from Cash Daddy’s patented lingo.