I Do Not Come to You by Chance (22 page)

‘Amen.’

‘Wherever this money came from, more will continue to come.’

‘Amen.’

 

My mother’s prayers worked. A few weeks later, I made a $27,000 hit and moved from Cash Daddy’s mansion into a rented four-bedroom duplex in Aba.

Shortly after, I travelled to Umuahia.

My family rushed out when I arrived. Eugene and Charity hovered around my brand new Lexus. They stroked the body, sat inside, took turns at pretending to steer the wheel. My mother admired the car briefly and stood by the front door watching them. Odinkemmelu and Chikaodinaka peeped from behind the living room curtains. When my cellular phone rang, the excitement was just too much for my siblings to contain. They squealed like toddlers being tickled in their armpits and navel.

It was my Lufthansa airline pilot mugu whose $27,000 had rented my new house and contributed towards my Lexus. I asked my family’s patron saint to please ring back later. Under the best of conditions, I required superhuman faculties to unravel his guttural accent; with my mother standing beside me, I was certain not to extricate a word. My mother was staring at the cellular phone and then at the car. She looked slightly disturbed. There was no need for me to worry too much about her mood. Wait until she saw the surprise I had in store for her.

‘Are you people ready?’ I asked.

My mother and siblings threw their bags into the car boot. They were spending the weekend with me.

‘Mummy, sit in the owner’s corner,’ I said.

‘Yes, sit in the owner’s corner,’ Eugene and Charity chanted.

With a modest smile, my mother went round to the back right of the car where people who could afford chauffeurs usually sat. Eugene held the door open for her.

‘Mummy,’ I said, looking up at her image in the rearview mirror as we sped off, ‘I forgot to tell you. Please can you arrange for some relatives - at least two - to come and live with me? It’s a big house and I’ll need help.’

‘OK. I’ll ask Chikaodinaka’s mother. I think she has some younger ones.’

‘No, no, no. I don’t want people that are too young. I’ll prefer people who’re older. Or people who’ve already lived with someone before. I don’t have the time to start teaching anybody how to flush the toilet and turn on the gas.’

Everybody laughed. Once, we had a help from the village who mistook the china teapot as an exotic drinking cup. And another one who blocked the toilet with sheets of my father’s Statesman newspaper which she had ripped out to clean up herself. These helps were as useful as oxen, but they came with their own variety of headaches.

‘How big is the house?’ Charity asked.

‘You mean the one we’re going to or the one I’m planning to build?’

‘The one we’re going to.’

‘Don’t worry. You’ll soon see it.’

She bounced about on her seat and beamed. Charity was such a big baby. She leaned forward on the back of my headrest and played with my ears. I felt like a real elder brother.

‘OK, how about the one you’re going to build?’ Eugene asked. ‘How big is it?’

‘It’s double the size of the one you’re going to see now.’

‘Wow! I’m so glad my school hasn’t yet resumed,’ Eugene said. ‘I wrote to Godfrey to tell him that we were going to your house this weekend. Once he gets the letter, I’m sure he’ll go straight to Aba.’

Eugene was in his first semester at the University of Ibadan. My mother had tried persuading him to choose a university that was closer to home, but he remained adamant that the medical department in Ibadan was the best. Nobody had any argument with that; it was the distance that troubled us. Plus, Ibadan was a favourite hotspot for trouble. As soon as the elections gained momentum, the place would be boiling with bloody riots. My father would never have allowed Eugene to go, but then, there were so many other things my father would never have allowed if he were alive.

My mother reminded me to drive carefully about five hundred times before we finally arrived. When I honked, my gateman opened. I parked in the middle of the compound, some distance from the closed garage door.

‘
Aboki
, come and take these bags into the house.’

The man rushed to the boot and started manoeuvring the bags. I went ahead and unlocked the front door. After taking my mother and siblings on a tour of the exquisitely furnished living room, the ultramodern kitchen and the four en suite bedrooms, I led them back outside.

‘I have a surprise for you,’ I announced.

I unlocked the garage. Inside was a brand new Mercedes-Benz V-Boot.

‘Mummy, this is for you.’

Charity burst into tears. Eugene’s eyeballs popped out of their sockets and bounced off the shiny, grey body of the car. My mother used her two hands to cover her face. Gradually, she dragged the hands down towards her mouth. I tucked the keys between her fingers and hugged her.

‘Mummy, whatever it is you want, just let me know. I’ll buy it for you.’

Charity and Eugene were jumping all over the garage, but my mother just studied the car in silence. Eventually, she hugged me back.

 

The rest of the day was almost like the good old days. My mother cooked, we ate together on the dining table, we sat in the living room and watched television. Back in Umuahia, the only channels we received were NTA Aba and IBC Owerri. Both commenced daily broadcasting at 4 p.m. and usually ended at about 10 p.m.. Their primetime serving largely consisted of government-sponsored documentaries and repeats of locally produced sitcoms. But now that I could afford the pricey satellite TV subscription, I and my family laughed loudly to Fresh Prince of Bel Air.

‘I’m going to bed,’ my mother announced during the commercial break.

We tried persuading her to stay. But since my father passed away, she hardly stayed up to watch television once the seven o’clock news was over. Not long after she left, I heard her voice from the top of the stairs.

‘Kingsley!’

‘Yes, Mummy!’

‘Please come.’

I ran upstairs with the television remote control still in my hand. I did not want to miss what would happen to Will Smith when his uncle found him performing in the strip club.

‘Yes, Mummy?’

‘Come and sit down,’ she said softly.

I was tempted to tell her that I would come back later. Instead, I sat beside her on the wide, sleigh bed. First class design, imported from Italy.

‘Dimma has been complaining that Ogechi doesn’t read her books,’ my mother began. ‘She hasn’t been doing well in school.’

‘Really?’ I said with false shock.

‘Please try and call her from time to time to encourage her to read.’

That could never be the reason why my mother summoned me to this closed-door session. I continued playing along.

‘Tell Aunty Dimma not to worry. I’ll talk to Ogechi.’

We chatted more about Aunty Dimma, but soon, that bogus topic had certainly come to the end of its lifespan. My mother adjusted her feet in her bathroom slippers and scratched the back of her head.

‘By the way, Kingsley,’ she said as if it had just popped into her mind for the first time when her fingers jogged around her scalp, ‘what type of work is it you say you’re doing for Boniface?’

‘I told you I help him run his office.’

‘What type of business exactly is it that . . . that you help him out with?’

‘With contracts and investments.’

‘Contracts and investments? What type of contracts and with whom?’

I fiddled with the remote control and laughed without looking at her.

‘Mummy, why are you asking all these funny questions?’

‘Kingsley, they’re not funny questions. I want to know exactly what it is you do for a living . . . how you get all this money.’

‘Mummy, I’ve told you what I do. And you know Uncle Boniface is very generous. He gives me money from time to time. Just relax and enjoy yourself. Let me spoil you.’

‘Kingsley, that’s another thing,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t want the car.’

I felt as if I had noticed a trickling of blood running down my leg right after giving her a hug. My mother saw my face and withdrew her knife.

‘I don’t really think I need a car right now,’ she said. ‘You know that at my age, I need exercise and the only exercise I get is by walking about.’

‘Mummy, what does that mean?’

She took a deep breath.

‘Kings, I don’t want the car.’

‘But—’

‘Whatever work it is you say you’re doing for Boniface, I think you should just get a proper job and leave that place. Don’t forget you’re from a good home. Don’t forget where you’re coming from. And you promised your daddy before he died that any other job was just temporary. You promised him you would get a Chemical Engineering job.’

That conversation with my father could certainly not count for a deathbed promise.

‘All right, I’ve heard you,’ I finally said. ‘Come, let’s go downstairs and watch TV.’

‘No it’s OK. I’m a bit tired. I want to rest.’

The sound of my siblings’ merry laughter rose from downstairs. At least, some of my efforts were not in vain.

It was not stem cell research or landing a man on the moon, but packaging a mugu was a science of its own. Whenever I did not handle things properly, my mugus became sceptical and vanished into thin air.

I had to explain the transaction in terms Edgar Hooverson could easily understand. I had to convince him that it was risk free and transparent at the same time. I had to make him feel that I was someone he could trust. I had to make him think that he was special, that Fate had recognised his significance in the universe and had decided to reward him at last. I had to make him see how vulnerable I was. I had to make him know how desperately we needed his help, how grateful we would be for any action he took on our behalf. I had to finetune him into believing that every word of my story was true. And then, of course, I had to emphasise my access to a lot of funds which I would gladly share with him as soon as our temporary predicament was resolved.