Changes (23 page)

‘I must be running home …'

‘I have to go home …'

‘I'll phone from the office before I go home …'

Til pass by on my way home …'

And they had both known that he had always meant where he and his wife, Fusena, and their children lived.

       
21

Once she was back outside her gate Esi realised that in fact she was not at all keen to enter the house. She turned back towards town. The city was quiet now. The merrymakers of the early hours of the New Year must have dragged their exhausted bodies one by one home to bed. It felt quite strange driving through an Accra that was quiet at mid-morning, and with hardly any traffic. She and her car were cruising as central an area of the city as Makola. Yet even from that far, she could hear the Gulf of Guinea rumbling: like a deep voiced complaint, computerised and programmed to go on forever.

Soon she began to get that special feeling of power that a solid car always gives its driver. She could feel her body and her mind losing the little tension they had managed to accumulate from the last couple of hours with Ali, in spite of the drug and the night's rest. Now she smiled to herself as she thought of what a driving experience this was compared with the struggle her old car had been. She slowed down and began to think. Should she go and show the car to her daughter? She cancelled the idea immediately. Although she was not superstitious, she still couldn't bear the thought of Oko's family looking at her lovely car with their customary malevolence. Should she leave the city centre and take one of the major arteries out? Where would she go? For a moment, she thought of driving home to the village. But knowing how it always was at home, she thought that would be a stupid risk. No one dashed in there and dashed out again. If you arrived there and left six hours later, that would be considered no visit at all. As they saw you off to your car, everyone would be complaining and no one would mind if you heard them. Meanwhile, it was already close to noon. Even if she made up her mind not to go back home to pick up anything but to drive straight on, the trip in would take an hour and a half, at least. If it was still daylight when she left the village, that would be another hour and a half. So that with the unlikely chance of everything working out perfectly one was still looking at about nine hours from then. And it would already be dark anyway when she set out from the village. And she knew the state the roads were in ... On the other hand, if she was not going to make it a day trip, then she had to go home and pack a few things.

In the meantime, here she was making her way towards Sweet Breezes Hill. Maybe she wanted to go to Opokuya's anyway, to see her and wish her and her family a happy New Year? But, of course, also to show her the car? They hadn't met in a long time, and definitely not once during the holidays. And in any case, it had been like that for some time. Of course, people always made a fuss about leaving newly married people to themselves whenever the circumstances allowed it. Very modern, very educated. Quite untraditional. But apart from that, Esi had suspected for some time that Opokuya was reluctant to come visit her at the bungalow because she really had not managed to deal with ‘this second wife business' …

Esi nearly turned back when it occurred to her that Opokuya might not be in after all. She always worked on New Year's Eve and other times like that, she remembered. And one thing Esi was quite clear of was that she did not feel like meeting Kubi when Opokuya was away. He had always given her an uncomfortable feeling which she had not tried too hard to analyse. Could it be love/hate? But then why? She had noticed that since she had become All's second wife he had been even chillier with her. And that whole trouble the previous year had not helped matters at all. On the other hand Esi felt that if Kubi was just keeping a candle burning for Oko, then it was a bit silly. After all he, Kubi, should know that Oko was a full-grown man who should be capable of taking care of his own problems.

But she continued driving towards the Dakwas'. In a short while she was turning into their drive, and one of the kids had seen her. So by the time she had parked, the whole clan was out there exclaiming. And Opokuya was there after all. Esi got out of the car and the two of them went through their usual exuberant greetings, their questions and answers sliding over one another like eels in a water tank. Then Opokuya was virtually hustling Esi towards the kitchen. Esi caught sight of Kubi as they entered the courtyard, and they waved genially at one another. Of course the friends had lots to talk about, but first the recriminations. Why hadn't this one looked that one up and all that … ? Explanations. Excuses. Confessions. As usual, they quickly forgave one another and exchanged New Year greetings. Esi wanted to know how come Opokuya was off duty. What new miracles had occurred? But Opokuya hardly heard her. She was just waiting to hear about the car.

‘Esi, and this car … Oh it is beautiful ... It looks completely new. It is, isn't it? Is it yours? When did you get it? ...'

‘One at a time, my sister.' Esi admonished.

‘But tell me something quickly,' Opokuya pleaded, as if her very life depended on what Esi told her about the new car.

‘It is a New Year's present from Ali.'

‘W-h-a-a-a-t?'

‘Yes.'

Opokuya opened her mouth. No sound came out. She shut it again. For some time she kept doing that: opening and shutting her mouth. Then it was Esi's turn to be surprised. In all the years of their friendship, she had never ever seen any piece of information or indeed anything at all kick and crush her friend in that way … And did she think of ‘kick'? And ‘crush'? In any case, why should her getting a new car from Ali have that effect on Opokuya, who now stood, a little pathetic, as she opened and shut her mouth like fish out of a drag-net, desperately hopping around for water on a hot beach? It looked a bit funny too.

But how could Esi laugh? Plainly, Opokuya didn't know how to handle the information or all the unexpected and conflicting emotions it had aroused in her. On one hand, she was really happy for Esi. But she was also feeling envious: very envious. And that was quite new to her nature. She was wondering how any one person could be so lucky. And in any case, where was her luck? What was it she had got out of life and out of marriage? Answer: a very faithful husband. Four fine children. Endless drudgery at work. And the state, who was her employer, paying salaries so low you were convinced the aim was to get people like her to resign and go to work for doctors in private practice. Now look at her, and look at Esi …

Eventually, Opokuya asked Esi what she planned to do with her old car. Esi told her the truth: that she had not thought about it. ‘Sell it to me,' said Opokuya. It was a plea that seemed to have come from so deep in her being, it had almost sounded like a prayer.

Esi was completely taken aback. Sell that useless thing to Opokuya of all people?

‘Opoku, it is scrap!'

‘Well, sell it to me as scrap.'

Esi looked at her friend as if Opokuya was someone she was meeting for the first time ever.

‘Opoku, if you really want that car, you can have it for free,' she surrendered. But Opokuya was not having any of that. Before Esi left Sweet Breezes Hill, they had agreed on a price that was reasonable
enough for Opokuya to have the car for next to nothing and still maintain her dignity.

It was late afternoon when Esi finally drove down the hill to return to her place on the other side of town. Clearly, she had not lost any of the dread which had haunted her earlier at the thought of entering her bungalow. Although she had not consciously set out to go and talk to Opokuya, now she was thinking that she should have tried to. How could she have wasted all that opportunity? She felt like whipping herself. Yet she could recall quite clearly how at the time it had seemed as if it was Opokuya who was in need of friendly attention. Besides, how could she have communicated her doubts about the man who had given such a tremendous gift to a friend who had so nakedly envied the gift? Esi was convinced that at some point she had even heard Opokuya murmur that if this was the stuff of which being second wives was made, then her whole life, not just her ideas, needed reviewing! Of course, in her own great way, Opokuya had made it all sound like a joke. Except that over the years it had become quite apparent that it was not only Opokuya who had got to know Esi; Esi too had come to know Opokuya. And one thing she had come to know about her friend was that all that cheerfulness sometimes carried great anxieties; personal and not so personal. Now Esi was quite certain that some of the personal anxieties had almost surfaced that afternoon. There had been a desperation in Opokuya's voice when they were discussing Esi's old car, which was overwhelming and which Esi would not have believed Opokuya capable of, if she had not heard it herself. But she had heard it: at exactly the point where Opokuya had feared that Esi would not sell her the car precisely because it was old, full of troubles and the sort of thing you did not sell to your worst enemy or a good friend — because an enemy would take it that you knowingly cheated, and a good friend would feel deliberately betrayed. No, you sold cars like that either to total strangers you were never likely to meet again, ever, in your life, or to Kokompe engineers for cannibalisation. To think Opokuya was the one who would drive the car made Esi feel very, very uncomfortable …

Well, the least she could do would be to hand the car over to her favourite ‘engineers' even before she had taken a
pesewa
from Opoku. They would work thoroughly on it; reorganising it completely with spare parts manufactured by themselves. It might take about six months, but that would cut the total cost by about two thirds. And
she knew that when they said they had finished, it would have the possibility of at least another year's trouble-free driving to it. These were proposals the mechanics had made to her a long time ago. But she had not been able to take advantage of it because she could not see how she could have done without the car for that long …

Esi continued sitting in the new car outside her own gate while the night built itself up around her. She was having arguments with Ali, with Opokuya and her own self — about Ali, about the two cars and above all about All's new secretary.

So what of it if Ali occasionally dropped his secretary home?

But it was not ‘occasional'. It sounded like every day.

So what of that?

But I don't want him to!

Why not?

It hurts.

Does it?

Terribly!

Well, just remember that if a man can have two wives … Then he can have three wives … four wives…

And on and on and on … Plus, remember …

Esi did not want to remember anything. She got out of the car, opened the gate, entered the compound and parked it for the night. Soon she was getting ready for bed, composing her thoughts for another working week and for a brand new year.

       
22

Things did not improve. In the first few weeks of the new year, it could be seen that Ali was trying. He made his visits to Esi's more regular, and stayed as long as he could, whenever he was around. It was almost like before they got married. But he really could not keep it up. Too soon, things returned to the pattern of the very recent past.

Ali phoned regularly to announce his imminent departures. He phoned from the different cities and towns inside and outside the country to which he travelled. He phoned to report his arrivals. In between his travels, he phoned regularly when the telephone lines permitted. He and Esi always had good telephone conversations.

He also sent gifts. And what gifts! He brought her gold bangles from the Gulf States and succulent dates from Algeria (or was it Tunisia?). He brought her huge slabs of chocolates from Switzerland, and gleaming copper things from Zambia and Zimbabwe. He brought her shimmering silk from the People's Republic of China, the Koreas and Thailand. Indeed, he virtually made a collector of the world's textiles out of Esi as her wardrobe literally overflowed with different types and colours. From West Africa itself she got gorgeous
adires
from Nigeria, as well as other fabrics from Mali, Sierra Leone and the Gambia. These were all various shades of blue extracted from the wild indigo plant and either put on comfortably coarse traditional weave, or on imported fabrics of programmed softness and perfected sheen. From the Soviet Union, Ali brought Esi some very special amber-inlaid wrought iron jewellery as well as the cutest
matroshkas
for Ogyaanowa. Then, since he seemed to have made it a policy to bother with only Japanese electronics, he brought her from other technologically advanced environments, their ethnic goods and local crafts. Or if they were manufactured goods, then they would be peculiar to the place and unrivalled anywhere else in the world: household linen and native American jewellery from the United States, beer mugs from Bavaria. Through the gifts, Esi saw the entire world from her little bungalow. What she did not seem to see much of was the skin of the man behind the phone calls and the gifts.
The explosion occurred somewhere towards the end of their third year of marriage. Esi decided she was just fed up. For weeks she had not seen Ali. So one day when the gate had been open and she had heard a car drive up, she peeped at it through the curtains. It was early afternoon of a weekday and she had just come in from work herself. She was only dressed in a single piece of wrapper. When she realised it was Ali, she didn't bother to go and change. She just met him at the front door with, ‘Ali, I can't go on like this.'