THE ELDERS WHO ATE THE CHILDREN’S FOOD.
I wonder what it was that I did to deserve those stinging lashes from the secretary. Why was she always
proving so difficult when she was just within an ace of the babies’ welfare? If insults and curses were
hailstones, she would have long been pelted to death. Certainly she wouldn’t have survived the volcano
of invectives of an embittered grandmother and a slighted couple. I’m quite certain too that the babies,
in their pitiable innocence, have been communing to their gods on this illwind that was blowing against
their survival. Mama Dika, my mother-in-law had made a scene when I intimated her of my last trip to
the Council Headquarters. She had raised her hand on her head in bewilderment, the way old women do
when they receive news of a dead relative. In a brusque unguarded moment—her wrapper nearly fell
off—she had gone on bended knees and had raised her hands in heaven in supplication. I heard her call
the god of her ancestors who gave her those grandchildren to come and fight her battles for her.
She had come all the way from the village to take care of Dika after her delivery. I wonder what I would
have done without her with the whole place swarming with kids. The aluminum-walled one room
structure where we live has assumed a conspicuous neatness since her arrival, unlike the other batchas
around. Ours was no longer littered with rags and and all sorts of filth. No wonder the neighbours had
nicknamed her Sanitary Inspector.
I’m still perturbed about the whole issue. Was it a sin that my wife gave birth to a set of triplets?—To a
second set of triplets? Was it a crime? Was it my fault she had them two in a row? Triplets! This was
barely two months she gave birth to another set of triplets. Yes, I can still remember that day very well,
the day the first set of triplets saw the light of day. The bespectacled chimpanzee-nosed medical doctor
had called me into his office and said, “Congratulations, Mr. Tochi. You are a lucky man.”
After shaking my hand, he quickly added, “Of course, the government will help in raising them. That’s
the new government policy. I will give you a note. All you have to do is to go to the Municipal Council
Headquarters, to the department of family welfare and register their births. It’s government
responsibility to contribute with a monthly allowance for the welfare of triplets.”
I had gone to the Municipal Council Headquarters that same day as the doctor had directed. A week
later, I was paid ten thousand for the upkeep of the babies. I also received milk provisions and clothing
for them. I was told the payment would be on a monthly basis. I was quite overjoyed. Dika was the
happiest. Just recovering from the debility of a monstrous pregnancy, she felt she had enough reasons
to rejoice. She never stopped singing praise hymns to the Almighty, and most nights, her melodious
voice shook the walls of our little room.
I only received the triplets benefits for the next three months that succeeded their births. By the fourth
month, I started hearing tales from the secretary. When I could no longer withstand the hateful look in
her eyes, I stopped going.
She was such a woman that exuded contempt anytime you peeped into her face. Right from the first day
I stepped into that office, she had always given me a cold shoulder. Even when I received the cheque
from her, I would hear her muttering and hissing contemptuously behind my back.
When I discovered that it had become futile going for the triplets’ allowance, I focused on the blind alley
job that had supported my life for seven months now, that is since I received the sack from Ndudinanti
Frozen Food Co. LTD. The days became tough and rough. At PMWU (Professional Manual Workers
Union), where most of us jobless men gathered, we struggled and even fought each other to be picked
by any passerby for either a job in painting, brick-laying, carpentry, roofing, etc. An incessant drought
set in our lives, which was matched by an insane will to survive.
Dika’s delivery of the second set of triplets set my legs back to the plush offices of the Council
Headquarters. The director was more surprised than annoyed to see my wretched face again. After
looking into the note I brought with me, he raised his eyebrows without raising his head. He stared at
me quizzically. His eyebrows went up and down mechanically like a lever. After a moment, he asked,
“Are you not the same Tochi whose wife gave birth to a set of triplets last time?”
“ Oh yes, sir. I’m the one, “ I replied, my face lit up with an obsequious smile.
His eyes glowed with incredulity. “She gave birth again to another set of triplets?”
“ Yes sir. Two boys and a girl, sir,” I replied, then added as an afterthought, “They are all alive sir.”
There was an uncomfortable silence during which the director seemed lost in thought. He blinked
severally, screwed and unscrewed his face many times, looking at that moment more beastly than
human. I shifted uneasily in my seat. A cavalcade of thoughts crowded my mind. Was I really qualified to
receive those benefits after a second set of triplets? Was that actually what the director was debating in
his mind? Would I be entitled to the unpaid benefits of the first set of triplets? Did the director think I
would lay claim to all that? All these I told myself would be decided here and then. I knew it was hard for
him to believe the providential reenactment of my visit to the Council. Maybe it never occurred to him
that he would cross paths with a man who got half a dozen kids in two deliveries.
Suddenly the director jerked out from his reverie like guard caught napping.
“Congratulations!” he said. I was taken aback by that outburst. Strangely, his face at that moment was
the frostiest thing I’ve ever seen. He scribbled down a few words and handed me the note.
“ Go and see the secretary with this,” he said.
The secretary recognized me at once as I stepped into her office. Beyond all doubt, I was the least
person she expected to see again. She stared hard at me and at the note I’ve just handed. Then her lips
thinned into sneer.
“So the government should now be the one raising children for you, ehn? Last time it was a set of
triplets. Now another set of triplets. Mr. man, do you expect the government run into debts because of
you?”
I stood there not saying a word. Though I felt nervous, I was careful not to met her searing eyes. For a
long moment she glared at me, stared all my strength away. I could feel the flaming arrows of her hate
tinge my body. She gasped several times before she took out a cheque book and wrote a cheque for me.
She pushes it contemptuously towards me on her desk with a hateful gesture. I took it and thanked her.
She didn’t respond. I didn’t expect her response anyway. I walked out of the office.
I walked into that office this morning to mark the second month of the birth of the triplets. I was
prepared to face the snobbish secretary once again. I had met Ogana at PMWU the previous day and
intimated him of my ordeal. He, on a rage of wounded susceptibility, told me the director and the
secretary wanted to intimidate me on the benefits meant for the triplets and divert the money to their
private accounts. He called the director “the bloody son-of-an-embezzler-of-public-funds”, and the
secretary, “a shameless witch that sucks the blood of infants.” To such people he said, corruption has
become second nature. They needed to be publicly disgraced, he swore. He proposed they should be
flogged before a crowd to teach others that we have had enough of those execrable practices. His last
words were a sort of an encouragement I really needed. Consequently, I girded my loin and took a
decision to confront those hawks.
I have been waiting for the best part of an hour sitting on one of those pneumatic leather settees that
hissed whenever you heaved your weight on it. The secretary had not yet arrived. An oval shaped clock
hanging on the wall said 9:30. The receptionist, a slim girl with a pair of bamboos for legs sticking out
under her skirt had ushered me in when I arrived. She told me I would have to have patience till madam
arrived. I replied that I wasn’t the least in a hurry. I was ready to wait till the end of the day just to make
sure I saw the secretary.
I must have fallen asleep for I didn’t notice when she came in. (Building fantasies in anticipation of
events had become my pastime and I have been carrying on with it with a dreadful enthusiasm. This
burden was an additional stress as it afforded me little time to rest from the previous day work) I woke
with a start to find her towering over me and staring hatefully at me. She was like a wild beast waiting
for its prey to stir before it pounced on it. Her eyes were all over me. I rubbed my eyes and sat up.
“Go-good morning madam,” I stammered. A horrible stare was all I got back from her as response. Then
on a sudden impulse, she pointed fiercely at me.
“You again!”
Her buxom frame shuddered a bit. She swayed in that truculent mood for a while, then stormed into her
office. I sat back and took in a large breath. My eyes met the clock again: 10:20.
I waited. The receptionist went in and out of the office to attend to the secretary. My eyes were glued to
her long slim legs. They moved like those of a remote-controlled marionette. I soon discovered why her
legs were so prominent. She had high hips that gave her figure a disproportionate shape.
I kept waiting. Th secretary was still in the office. A woman with a disconsolate mien, dressed in dark
green faded wrapper and black head-tie came in. The receptionist ushered her to a seat beside me. It
was likely she knew her very well from the manner the newcomer was welcomed. The woman greeted
me. She wore a strange maudlin look—that look I’ve often seen on the faces of widows when you pay
them a condolence visit.
A pot-bellied man in a russet-coloured suit came in, acknowledged the ‘good morning sir’ of the
receptionist with a wave of his hand and went straight into the secretary’s office. My mind leapt
forward: I had thought it was the director. He would have enliven the atmosphere now that the strongheaded secretary had given me a cold welcome, I thought.
A slightly-built middle-aged man with an overgrown beard walked in. His eyes darted about the
reception room like a man who had lost his way. Finally, he walked up to the reception desk. I heard the
word ‘director’ being mentioned by the man and the receptionist. The latter waved the man towards
our direction. He came over and sank into one of the balloon settees.
The bulky man came out a short time later. A bell rang. The receptionist sprang to her feet and went
into the secretary’s office. She darted out again, beckoned to the sad-looking woman to come over. A
languorous smile swept over the latter’s face, slightly erasing the self-pitying expression that had held
her face since her arrival. She rose and went into the office.
The receptionist took her position behind her desk. With assumed nonchalance, I walked over to her to
protest her neglect of my presence. She should’ve have known I came before the woman.
“I came before that woman you just sent in. I believe it’s fair I see the secretary before her.”
“Yes I know you came here first,” she said in a gruffy tone, “but I’m acting on instructions. Madam says
you have to wait.”
I went back to my seat lost in thought. It was all part of office protocol, a voice said within me. Most
office-holders these days cherish the idea of keeping others waiting. Ogana once said it was the only
way visitors appreciated their relevance in the society.
The gloomy woman emerged from the office. Her gloom had vanished and in its place was a winsome
smile. She walked briskly to the receptionist and bid her farewell and left. Quickly I rose and rushed to
the secretary’s door. The receptionist was saying something as she came behind me but I was not ready
to listen. I knocked and, without waiting for a reply, pushed the door open. I entered and quietly closed
it.
She was busy with a file when I came in. She must have thought I was the receptionist. Without raising
her head, she said, “Do I still have to attend to those wretched and…” She looked at that moment and
the words hung on her lips. The pen dropped from her fingers. She rose slowly. The fury in her eyes was
unbeatable. Her lips pursed to a thin dreadful line. I didn’t let her speak first. (Couldn’t have let her for I
needed a pre-emptive strike to bolster my courage.)
“Madam, I have been waiting for more than an hour now and…”
“You get out of my office!” she bowled in a towering rage. “Get out, now!”
I didn’t budge.
“Listen, madam,” I began. “I came here before that woman you just attended to. I have the right to
come to this office and…”
Her face tuned into a horrible grimace.
“You’re talking about rights, aren’t you?” she sneered. “This is my office. I ask you to live my office now.
Leave my office!” She was almost screaming.
“Look, madam, I have all the documents here to come and claim the entitlements of my triplets. The
director has endorsed them. It is your duty to sign the monthly cheque…. ”
“You’re trying to teach me my job, ehn? You wretched fool! Anu ofia! Dirty stinking opportunist!
Lecherous bastard! Onye uwa ojio!” She shivered with rage. I wasn’t the least perturbed. Her insults
were just like missiles that fell short of their aim. She continued:
“Ten bastards like you and the government goes bankrupt! Shameless liabilities! I don’t care two hoots
about wretched people like you. I’ve had enough seeing ugly stinking touts. You make me sick.”
Then all of a sudden, a strange feeling rose within me. I recognized it as that feeling that sometimes
took hold of me whenever I felt slighted. I told myself that I wouldn’t take all her insults lying down.
“Ok, madam,” I began still grateful that my voice didn’t betray the spleen that has started darkening my
heart like a hasty nimbus. “Okay, madam, go ahead and insult me but I shall not leave this office until
you’ve performed your duty as a dutiful civil servant.”
She went apoplectic with rage. “What! You came to my office to insult me? Alright. Let’s bet; you won’t
get a dime until I say so. Do you hear me? That will kill a bit of sense in you.”
I was adamant. “Madam, you better be wise and sign that cheque before you regrettably lead yourself
into trouble. I have condoned your excesses for quite some time now and I am ready to take up this
matter to the law courts.”
She went berserk. Then a sneer played on her lips.
“Your law courts, what can your law courts do, foolish man? You forgot the society we live in. It is
money that does the talking. Even in the law courts, it happens too; they do take a little from behind.
Justice only belongs to the rich. You should have gotten that into your head a long time ago.”
A frivolous cackle escaped her lips. “Go ahead, sue me. A wretched dog like you don’t even have the
money to follow the case up.”
The laughter that followed was horrible and scary. I looked into her eyes and said, “I wouldn’t be
surprised to hear that the law courts have become a donkey if there are people like you in that
institution. All what the country needs is to be got rid of wastrels like you!”
The smile vanished from her face. Her eyes burst into flames.
“You came to my office to threaten me, ehn?” There was fire in her eyes. “I shall call the security to
bundle you out of this office. I’m going to teach this monkey a lesson he won’t forget.”
She made for the door but I was quick to get there before her.
“What!” she was startled. “If you don’t get out of my way I’ll shall scream.”
“You better be sensible, madam.” I tilted my head slightly backward and narrowed my eyes to a mean
gaze. She caught it and retreated a little awkwardly.
“This is not your money after all,” I said. “It’s government money meant for babies. Do you hear me? I
said for babies. Triplets are babies.”
I was advancing towards her menacingly. She stepped back. “Don’t you dare touch me, you devil!” she
yelled.
“Of course I have no intention of doing that, you wicked woman, but I shall tell you something and you
will listen. You’ve become the proverbial foolish elder that eats up food meant for little kids. No. The
witch that drinks the forming blood of little babies!”
She was horrified.
“Yes,” I continued. “Instead of keeping watch over their meals, you pilfer their ration.”
She was close to her desk now. I closed in.
“How I would have loved to strangle you at this very moment. But I will leave that to the gods. Yes.
When next you deny the little ones their meals, I shall invoke the gods of triplets to strangle you in your
sleep.”
She went pale. Without warning, I banged the table with all my strength. This unexpected act and the
deafening sound almost killed her with fright. “Sign the cheque now!” I yelled at her.
She hurried to her seat and fumbled for the cheque book. Fear had suffused all over her body. With a
shaky hand, she wrote the cheque and handed it over to me. I picked it. I turned to go but stopped. I
looked her straight in the face and said, “Next time I come here and you keep me waiting, you will regret
working in this office.”
I turned and walked out of the office.
© IKE ARO 2024
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