Efuru, p.19
Efuru, page 19
‘Woman, you are so unreasonable. How many times have I heard this? You know why I took the title. You know how much I was humiliated by the members of my age-group who took titles. You yourself were in support of it at the time. I consulted you. Why are you talking now as if I took it without your consent?’
‘You did not consult me. You are lying. That’s how you lie against me all the time. You had made up your mind before you told me about it, and I could not stop you. And let me tell you, I am not going to pawn my children again. I will rather starve with them than do that. We have pawned our first daughter already. If you have scraped your eyebrows, I have not scraped mine. I will not go to Efuru either. She is a woman like myself, and therefore I will find it more difficult to go down on my bended knees and beg for more money when we have not paid the debts we owe her. And, mind you, we are already so much indebted to her. She sent you to hospital and was responsible for your bills there.’
‘My wife, this is not the way to solve the problem. Let’s put our heads together and decide on what to do. This is not the time to blame me. You always blame me when things go wrong.’
‘You make me blame you. You think that you know everything when you know nothing. So there is nothing I can do. What can a woman do after all? I have one pound which I changed into paper money. It is the only money I have. I shall use it to trade in cassava. Our second daughter will look after the children, and Idika will go with me.’
‘And where do I fit in?’ Nwosu asked.
‘You fit in nowhere. I warned you not to take that title. You took it because some members of your age-group laughed at you. Are you richer now that you have taken the title? Is it a sin to be poor? Are the members of your age-group who laughed at you, your chi? Have they no poor people in their families?’
Nwosu saw that this would lead them nowhere. He appealed to his wife to see reason, and when it was all in vain, he fell asleep. When Nwabata saw that her husband was asleep, she was furious. Her first impulse was to wake him up to watch the night with her. But her good sense prevailed and she allowed him to sleep. Her life with Nwosu had never been different from what it was that night. Most of the time, they were so poor that they nearly starved. But miraculously enough, they had nearly always managed to solve their financial problems.
This was the fifteenth year of her married life and, when she looked back on those years, she saw that they made up one long suffering. She could not attribute their poverty to laziness. Her husband was not lazy. It was their chi that was responsible. Her husband had worked very hard in his farm and she too had contributed in her small way. But they were always in want. The sense of insecurity had aged her a great deal. But then what could she do? Her husband was good to her. He had never beaten her. In fact he had never been deliberately unkind to her. Her husband had no other wife, and her mother-in-law was dead years ago. So nobody molested her. What molested her was poverty.
Looking back on those fifteen years of her married life, she saw her husband in his youth when he was courting her. He had been a handsome man and she had loved him. She did not go to the farm with her parents, but remained at home with her aunt who traded in palm oil. She and others of her age-group went to the beach to collect oil. They made quite some money out of this and she was able in those early days to buy clothes for herself, and to look as beautiful as other girls of her age who collected oil from the beach.
Nwabata’s eldest brother objected to Nwosu marrying his sister for no reason at all, or for reasons known only to himself. Nwabata was angry and threatened to elope if her brother did not see reason. Nwosu came to see her one moonlight night. Nwabata’s brother together with his gang waylaid him, beat him up and tore his loin-cloth into pieces. This loin-cloth had been bought by Nwabata.
Nwabata wept when she learnt of this. She had an open quarrel with her brother. She told her brother in no uncertain terms that if he tore Nwosu’s loin-cloth twenty times, she was going to replace it twenty times.
In the end, she had her way and married Nwosu. That was the beginning of her suffering. She had to go to the farm with him and she had to learn the hard way. She was able to endure it because of the tremendous love she had for her husband and her children.
Surprisingly enough, the following evening husband and wife found themselves going to Efuru’s house. Efuru was in. As usual, Ogea brought kola for her parents and took her little brother to the kitchen.
‘So these are your eyes?’ Efuru asked Ogea’s parents after the kola. ‘You have not done well. Evil is not good. Since you returned from the hospital, Nwosu, this is the second time I am setting my eyes on you. Did I quarrel with you? Did you hear I said anything behind your back? Why do you behave so childishly? And Nwabata, you have not done well. You have the greater blame. You should correct your husband, for what do they know after all? What you have done is not good at all. And right I have said what I had in mind, and everything is cleared from my mind. Welcome again. Ogea, bring Idika to me.’ Ogea brought the baby. ‘You have grown, my child. Children grow so rapidly. He is laughing, laugh again, my child. Ewo-o, there is no tooth in your mouth. How old is he?’
‘Four months.’
‘Four months! That’s too early. He cannot have his teeth now. If he has his teeth at this time, it won’t trouble him though. No, let’s see, those are two teeth I am seeing. That’s right. Did you see them, Ogea?’ Ogea shook her head and laughed mischievously.
‘You have seen the child’s teeth first. You owe him. You have to give him something for seeing his teeth first,’ Ogea said, still laughing. ‘There you are, you saw the teeth first. I know how observant you are. You owe your brother, not me.’ Ogea continued to laugh.
‘Never mind, I shall do it for you,’ Efuru continued. “When your parents are going, give them one of the fowls in the kitchen to cook for Idika.’
‘No, no, that’s not it. That’s not how it is done. We won’t take it,’ Nwosu and Nwabata protested.
‘That’s how and what is done. I saw the child’s teeth first and I must give him something. So our fathers did in their days. A fowl is nothing,’ Efuru added.
A fowl costs nothing in fact. Since she worshipped the woman of the lake, she had to sacrifice a fowl every Orie day, so she kept fowls. It was cheaper for her to do so.
‘Did you hear of a baby born with two teeth in his mouth?’ Nwabata asked.
‘Ewo-ol,’ exclaimed Efuru.
‘The baby was born in the farm just after the planting season, a big baby boy. It was the first baby boy of the mother. She had three girls previously. The men in the farm were furious. “You have desecrated the land and the goddess of the land will not give us plenty this year,” the men said to her. But the husband was strong. He sharpened his knife and dared anybody to come near and take their baby boy.’
‘What happened in the end?’ Efuru asked.
‘Nobody troubled him. The child is living now.’
‘And the harvest?’
‘The abnormal boy was the cause of the poor harvest last year,’ Nwosu said sadly. ‘The goddess of the land was angry with us and we must appease her. So before we start tilling the soil this planting season, we shall sacrifice to the goddess of the land.’
‘It is an abomination, our gods, our ancestors, forbid! And the mother of the baby?’ Efuru asked.
‘She is there, she was afraid, but her husband strengthened her.’
‘He must be a remarkable man,’ Efuru said. ‘Very remarkable indeed.’
They went on talking about many things, then Nwosu asked. ‘We heard that you have installed Uhamiri in your room.’
‘So they said,’ Efuru replied, laughing.
‘Well done,’ Nwosu congratulated. ‘We are glad. It befits you. You are a woman of note in our town today and if you don’t do it, who else will do it?’
‘That is right,’ Efuru said of want of any other thing to say.
‘Efuru, we have come to your house. My husband and I have come to your house,’ Nwabata said unexpectedly. Nwosu was surprised but glad. At last the ice was broken. They had quarrelled last night, and this evening his wife had asked him to go to Efuru with her. He had obeyed. It surprised him to see that after all his wife’s vehement protests about going to Efuru the night before, she was ready to go with him unsolicited. He attributed this again to the unpredictable nature of women.
‘I don’t know how to begin,’ Nwabata went on. ‘We owe you. And we are not even able to pay. We thought we could pay part of our debt after this harvest, but it was not possible. Our harvest was poor. Let me cut a long story short. It is planting season again and we have no money to hire labourers to clear the farm. We have no money to buy yams to plant. That is why we have come, Efuru. Please help us. There is nobody we can go to. You are the only person we can go to. You know us well and our nakedness.’
Efuru shook her head and hissed. ‘You don’t know the value of goodness,’ she said sternly. ‘Poverty does not affect the reasoning power or the innate goodness in human beings. Poor people do not behave foolishly. I gave you money last year without interest. You harvested your yams and did not bring me yams. You did not even come to tell me that you had sold your yams and could not pay me. Nwosu, you were ill and I sent you to the hospital. I paid for everything. When you returned you disappeared. What I heard next was that you had taken a title. It is planting season and you have come to me, hoping to get some money. Have I a tree that bears money as its fruits? Am I not a human being? Am I not free to be angry when I am provoked? Ogea’s parents, you have not done well. Put yourselves in my position and see whether you would be pleased if someone did this to you. It is because of Ogea that I have the patience at all to listen to you. I am fond of her, otherwise, I would not have listened to you. How much do you want?’ Efuru asked to the surprise of Ogea’s parents. They had thought that after scolding them, she would send them away empty-handed. Nwosu looked at his wife, but she was not helpful.
‘Whatever you give us, we shall take,’ Nwosu said.
‘Will ten pounds be enough for you then?’ Efuru asked.
‘Yes, ten pounds will be enough for us.’
‘All right. It is late now, and my husband is not at home. When he returns, I shall tell him. So come on Nkwo evening.’ Nwosu and Nwabata went home. Husband and wife slept soundly that night.
After a short time, Nnona was seen coming from the gate of the compound. She was apparently sad. All day she had been muttering volcanically to herself. She had on two wrappas, one round her waist and the other round her chest. She greeted Efuru in a sad voice and sat down. ‘What brings you here this night? Is it well?’ For an answer, Nnona began to weep. ‘Why are you weeping? Please don’t weep in my house this night. What is the matter?’
Nnona wiped her eyes and said: ‘Efuru, my daughter, I don’t know what to do.’ Tears filled her eyes again and she wiped her face with one side of her wrappa and continued: ‘I don’t know what to do. Every day, I go to ferry people across the lake, I come home with one shilling, and some good days with one shilling and sixpence. I put the money in a cigarette tin and put it in my box. Yesterday, I came home with only ninepence. It rained heavily and so we did not have passengers to ferry. I looked for the box, but it was gone. I ransacked everything in my house but it was nowhere to be found. My world is bad. My chi does not take care of me. My chi has left me. I have been saving this money with the hope that I can use it in buying an old canoe next year. And now the money is gone. A thief has stolen everything. Our ancestors please visit that thief. See that nothing good comes his way. See that a sudden death meets him on the way. See that he is inflicted with the white disease. See that that money…’
‘That will do,’ Efuru said quietly but firmly. ‘Wipe your eyes. How much was in the tin?’
‘Fifteen shillings, sixpence and halfpenny.’
‘Ogea, bring me that small box near my bed.’ Ogea brought the tin. Efuru opened it and brought out sixteen shillings. ‘You take this. But if you want me to keep it for you, I shall do, so it is all yours.’
‘Weo-o, my daughter, my daughter how can I thank you? Eh Ada Nwashike Ogene, how am I to thank you for this? Thank you, my daughter, thank you. Ogea, please thank her for me Nwaononaku, Mbona, my daughter.’ She took the money and went away.
‘If you continue giving people money in this way, they will take advantage of your generosity and worry you all the more.’
‘I know it very well, but what can one do? It is difficult to deny these people anything. Come, Ogea, unroll the mat; I want to go to bed now. What is keeping Eneberi from coming home again this night? The night is deep and people have gone to bed.’
‘He said he was going for a dance and some drinks.’
‘So he said. I am sure they are not dancing and drinking now.’
Efuru then went to bed. She had not been asleep long when she heard a knock on her door. She got up quickly and opened the door. Gilbert was standing at the door. He was not drunk but his mouth smelt of home-made gin and cigarettes. Efuru hated the smell of home-made gin and cigarettes. It made her sick. If Gilbert was drunk that night, she would have simply shut her door and refused him entry.
‘I am sorry I could not come home in time. We went to drink in Okoroafor’s house. One of our age-group’s child died and we went to cheer him up. So Okoroafor, our group-leader, invited us to his house for drinks. We started dancing there. Then Anozie invited us to his house, we drank and danced there. Adiberi Izunne invited us also, and there we met our age-group women’s branch, we joined them and danced till now.’
‘And danced till now? Nobody told me there was a dance of our age-group tonight. And in any case, no woman in our age-group will continue dancing till this late hour. You know where you go every night. One day you will reveal yourself. I am old enough not to worry. Do you still want to have your supper?’
‘Of course yes. I am very hungry.’
‘I thought you were given food where you went.’
‘No, my wife, I was not given food there. You know I enjoy your food very much. So I always look forward to eating your food. None of the women of our age-group can cook half as well as you. So I consider myself lucky in being your husband.’ Efuru laughed aloud. What woman was not susceptible to flattery. Especially if it comes from a man she loves.
While Gilbert was eating, he insisted on his wife sitting beside him and filling his glass with water. ‘When I tell some of my age-group that I am greater than they are, they think that it is because I am prosperous. They don’t know that it is because I am blessed with a good wife. My wife, this soup is very delicious. It is like the one you cooked for me when I was courting you and…’
Efuru laughed loud and long. ‘The difference is that you did not kill the fish,’ she said, still laughing. Gilbert went on eating.
When he finished he washed his hands and relaxed in his chair. By the time Efuru finished clearing the plates, he was asleep.
‘Eneberi, Eneberi,’ Efuru called, but there was no answer. ‘That is what you do every night. You come home late, eat and sleep. You and your wife cannot sit down like husband and wife to discuss important things that affect us. Tomorrow morning you go off and I don’t see you again till night.’ She sat down beside her husband. She was soon asleep.
The cock crew and she got up to start the day’s work. She was surprised to see herself in her husband’s bedroom. She did not remember going there last night. She looked for the small hurricane lamp under the bed and lit it.
‘The day has not broken,’ Gilbert said sleepily.
‘The cock has crowed.’
‘Has it? You are very light you know, and a heavy sleeper too.’
‘So you carried me to the room last night?’
‘Yes, I did. What is today?’
‘Nkwo.’
‘Tomorrow I shall go to the Great River to buy some fish and crawfish.’
‘Eneberi, I am thinking of getting a wife for you.’
‘Why?’ Gilbert asked, surprised.
‘You know why. This is the fourth year of our marriage and I have not had an issue for you. We have lived happily these four years. And I am worried. If we get another wife, a young girl, she will have children for you and I will love the children because they are your own children.’
‘I may not like your choice,’ Gilbert said.
‘That is no problem. You are going to be shown several girls and you are to make your choice.’
‘I don’t quite like this arrangement. I don’t care whether I have a child or not. And…’
‘No, please be frank, you do care. Don’t feel for me. All men care for children. If you don’t like the method I want to use, say so. Perhaps you want me to leave it entirely in your own hands?’
‘Not exactly that. Well, if you want it that way, I won’t insist. But see my mother about it.’
‘Yes, I shall see your mother about it. She is going to help too.’
‘All right. It is settled then. Let’s go to the stream.’
‘I like them,’ one woman said as Gilbert and Efuru were leaving the stream.
‘When two people live like that, then the world is worth living in,’ another added.
‘What do you admire in the lives of those two?’ Omirima asked contemptuously.
‘Do you know what they went through last night? Don’t be carried away by the fact that they come to the stream together and swim and play in the deep.’
‘You are right,’ one of the women said.
‘Have they children?’ another asked.
‘Children? You don’t pluck children from a tree you know. You don’t fight for them either. Money cannot buy them. Happiness cannot give you children. Children indeed, they have no children.’
