Changes (14 page)

‘Does that mean you will marry me?'

‘Must I?'

‘Yes Esi, I want to marry you.'

Esi suffered a jolt. Right from the beginning of their affair, Ali had been dropping these hints which she had simply refused to take seriously. Now put so bluntly, there was no way she could pretend she had not heard him. However, she knew that by marriage he also meant her becoming his second wife. Although the idea fascinated her no end, she could sense that it meant complications.

‘And your wife?' It was Ali's turn to be startled. It had not occurred to him that asking such a question was what her first reaction to his proposal would be. ‘Where does she come in?' Esi could only laugh like an indulgent parent. ‘Everywhere … What does she feel about it? Or you have not discussed your plans for me with her?'

‘I have,' said Ali, too quickly, too loudly.

He was clearly nervous, since he knew that he was not speaking the truth. He tried to convince Esi not to worry about the feelings of Fusena. He had discussed everything with her, he insisted, and that Fusena had even expressed gratitude for having been warned, since it would save her the shame of being the public's laughing stock. That is, if everyone knew what was going on and she didn't, and on and on and on. But Esi was not at all fooled. Ali was a man who exuded assurance every minute of the day. And therefore to see him betray the slightest bit of nervousness was somewhat pathetic. The result was that for some time that Sunday afternoon, there were too many uncomfortable gaps in their conversation.

After a while Ali managed to switch the discussion to whether Esi had managed to talk to her mother about them. It was now her turn to be nervous.

‘Yes,' she said too quietly, too slowly.

‘And what was her reaction? … What did she she say?'

According to Esi, her mother had said a lot. A whole lot, in fact. What she did not tell Ali was that her grandmother had said even more.

‘She doesn't like me?' Ali wondered.

‘Oh, she likes you all right,' she said light-heartedly. ‘Which daughter's mother wouldn't? All those presents you unload on her doorstep?'

‘But Esi, presents or no presents, your mother may not want to see my face!' he exclaimed.

Esi couldn't believe her ears. How had he come by such insight? She was too honest to argue with him over that particular fact. Therefore she made the issue somewhat general. She said that she was not sure her mother did not like him. It was not him. It was the question of her being a second wife. Her mother did not like that. Her mother thought it was a sort of come down for her. Ali listened carefully to her and then asked her a rather strange question.

‘Esi, did your mother like your ex-husband?'

By now she was thinking that the afternoon or Ali was bringing
out too many surprises.

‘Frankly, yes. Very much.' She told the truth. Her mother liked Oko. In fact her mother had sometimes behaved as if Oko was her son and she the daughter-in-law, when it came to matters to do with their marriage. She couldn't have made Ali angrier if she had calculated.

‘I'm very sure she is not going to like me at all... It is obvious, it is impossible.'

‘But Oko is that kind of a man.'

‘What kind of a man?' Ali was feeling jealous and not even trying to hide it.

‘You know, the kind of man who brings out all of a woman's mothering instincts up front.' In her anxiety to soothe, she tried to say more. But it turned out that everything she said was also the worst thing to say. It was that kind of occasion. ‘Even Opokuya liked him,' she said.

‘Is that your friend? The one I met at the Hotel Twentieth Century?'

‘Yes.'

‘You appeared to be quite intimate … and so she likes your ex-husband very much. Do you also like her husband?' He was feeling quite grouchy.

‘Don't be nasty, Ali,' said Esi. She was feeling rather sad about the way things had gone. ‘We've been friends for a very long time … since we were in school. In fact, we are really like sisters.' ‘Does that mean she should like your husband?'

‘Well… yes. She ... I mean, she sort of approved of him.' But she had regretted introducing the whole idea into the discussion. Except that there was nothing she could do about it at that stage. As for Ali, he was feeling very frustrated.

‘I see ... I can see what I'm up against,' he said, ‘because I don't think I arouse any woman's mothering instincts.'

Esi jumped at the opportunity.

Oh, my dear,' she began, full of sweet comfort. ‘Don't you see that's why I like you so much? After all, if I'd wanted to mother someone's grown-up son, I would have stayed with Oko.'

Ali was only mildly pacified. ‘So what am I supposed to do?'

There was another of those disturbing pauses. Then he said, with some vehemence, ‘Esi, I just want you to be my wife. Very much. That's all.'

All Esi could do was to assure him that perhaps the situation with her mother wasn't completely hopeless. She suspected that although her mother may not approve of her being someone's second wife, she may prefer that to nothing... of Esi just having an affair with him and staying forever as his mistress. Since Ali was quite anxious about the whole situation, he then proposed that they go to see her fathers. Esi thought that was fine. Ali wanted to go and see them the next day. Esi thought that would be ridiculously early. She thought she needed to do some basic organisation first. Besides, her people didn't consider Saturdays as good days for betrothals and such. Ali of course wanted to know why not.

‘Something to do with Saturday being a masculine day. You see, to our people, the days of the week are divided into those that are feminine and the rest which are masculine. Sundays, Tuesdays, Thurs—'

But Ali was impatient. Eventually they agreed on a Sunday about a month ahead, depending of course on whether or not Esi's fathers wanted to see Ali at all. When he started rummaging through the pockets of his rather voluminous
agbada
, Esi wondered what he was looking for. He soon pulled out a small box, flipped it open and revealed a gold ring worked over with fine filigree for which that area was so well known.

Esi couldn't believe her eyes, and she soon couldn't believe her ears either.

‘Bring your finger,' Ali commanded.

‘Ali!' she could only exclaim.

‘Come on, come on, bring it.'

Esi brought out her finger rather gingerly. It was almost as if she was afraid of the ring. But Ali seized it and slipped the ring on it. Oh Ali, it is beautiful,' she said in a breathless whisper.

‘Do you really think so?'

‘Of course.'

‘Wear it for me then.'

‘But why?'

‘What do you mean by “but why?” I thought you had agreed to be my wife.'

‘Are you saying that this is some kind of an engagement ring?'

‘Definitely.'

‘But Ali -'

‘What?'

‘I thought I was only going to be your second wife.'

‘What difference should that make? And what is this about “only a second wife”? Isn't a wife a wife?'

‘Okay. Okay. What I mean is that you have already got Fusena who was your first wife. She wears your ring, and I'm almost certain that here in this city she is the only one known as Mrs Kondey.'

‘Yes, but only officially or formally. Most people, our friends and neighbours call her Adam-Maami, after our older son ‘Ali, you know what I'm trying to say

‘Maybe. But Esi, what has all that got to do with you wearing my ring?'

‘Ali, Fusena already wears your ring.'

‘What you mean is that she wears one of my rings.'

Esi just sat: stunned with the wonder and the puzzle of it all.

In a short while, she recovered enough to ask Ali whether what they were doing was not bigamy. Ali exploded.

‘When put like that, yes, we are committing a crime. Polygamy, bigamy. To the people who created the concepts, these are all crimes. Like homicide, rape and arson. Why have we got so used to describing our cultural dynamics with the condemnatory tone of our masters' voices? We have got marriage in Africa, Esi. In Muslim Africa. In non-Muslim Africa. And in our marriages a man has a choice — to have one or more wives.' He paused dramatically, and then ended with a flourish: ‘As long as he can look after them properly.'

Esi had never seen the whole Islamic thing about marriage in such terms. Ever. And she knew that what he was saying was absolutely right. She couldn't help feeling somewhat ashamed. At the same time, what she couldn't sort out was the very loyally indigenous viewpoint and the fact that his ring was shining on her finger at that material time.

‘Ali, I'm sorry. But the ring, this ring, it's not exactly a part of our way of doing the two or more wives business, is it?'

‘No, I mean not according to recent traditions. But let's look at it carefully. Besides, as usual, it probably started with our ancient Egyptian ancestors. In fact, we hear they did. Lovers exchanging rings and all that. In any case, the business of asking a betrothed to begin wearing a ring is a damned useful custom, whoever started it. And a betrothed is a betrothed whether she is the first betrothed or fourth betrothed. You've agreed to be my wife, Esi, you start wearing my ring.'

‘But why should it be so necessary?' Esi was not getting any clearer
about the ring, and she decided it would be better if she didn't pretend to be.

‘Why Esi, for the same reason that any betrothed or married woman would wear any man's ring. To let the rest of the male world know that she is bespoke.'

‘That she has become occupied territory?'

‘Yes, that she has become occupied territory.'

Esi was thinking that the whole thing sounded so absolutely lunatic and so ‘contemporary African' that she would save her sanity probably by not trying to understand it. The only choice left to her was to try and enter into the spirit of it. So she suggested to Ali that if that was the case, then he should take the ring back, and give it to her with her people looking on, after they had gone to them and all the negotiations were completed.

‘No,' Ali was short and clear, ‘this you wear from today. What I give you before your people will be a marriage ring.'

At that, Esi just threw back her head and laughed and laughed — at the insolence of the modern African male. Tears were streaming down her face.

‘Why, what's so funny?' Ali seemed genuinely mystified.

‘Oh … Ali... Oh .. . Ali… Ali…' Esi tried several times to explain what she found so highly amusing. She failed each time; she was stammering, stuttering and positively gasping for air.

After some time, she grew calm and Ali said he wanted a beer and went to fetch himself one. When he asked Esi if she wanted a drink, she just said not really, maybe she would take a sip from his glass. But Ali brought her a separate glass anyway. And it was soon clear why. When he put his glass to his lips, he gulped its contents down in huge mouthfuls. When he finished, he groaned appreciatively, ‘Eh God ... I needed that.'

‘You sound as if you've just come through a battle.'

‘Wasn't there one?' he asked, pretending genuine curiosity. He took another swig of beer.

They spent the rest of the afternoon planning the trip to go see her people. They went over and over the required items. They also agreed that since custom did not permit them to drive down in the same vehicle, they would have to travel separately and if possible, she a day earlier. He would have to go with somebody, a man, a close friend or relative, since no man was expected to enter into such negotiations alone.

As the red of sunset broke through the
nim
trees, Ali pronounced that he would have to go home. Esi didn't think it was necessary to protest. It had been a full day, to say the least.

       
11

From the day he put his ring on her finger, Ali became a more frequent visitor at Esi's. It was not strange then that one day, just as his car was going out of her gate, Opokuya's was about to pull into the drive from the main road, wanting to get in. He stopped, backed and pulled aside. Esi opened the gate again and Opokuya drove in. Ali jumped out of his car, waved to stop a bemused Opokuya, greeted her, jumped back into his car and was gone.

Opokuya could hardly contain herself long enough to park her car properly. She removed her foot so hastily from the accelerator that the poor engine spluttered to a stop, jerking the car so much that she herself was thrown against the steering wheel. When she got out of her car, she immediately launched into her apologies and explanations of why she had not been able to see Esi in such a long time.

On her part, Esi was just happy to see her and was therefore forgiving. In any case, she was not in a position to complain, she offered. Since she had broken up with Oko she had become so nervous at the prospect of a meeting and a possible confrontation between her and Kubi that she had virtually stopped going to Sweet Breezes Hill. Opokuya understood. But then it also meant that they met only when Opokuya drove over — which could not be very often, considering her packed life, and the everlasting
wahala
with Kubi over the car.