Nameless

  If Mrs Bosede considered it wise to buy a health insurance package from Green River Insurance, then there was no reason for her not to get insurance too. Anything could happen in the market, whether theft, fire or loss of goods.

  “Iya Bola,” Tawa sighed. ‘that useless man Jegede has refused to give Iya Adijat her insurance o.” she clicked her tongue. “Despite the money we have been paying him every month, he spoke his big English and said he has no money to give Iya Adijat.”

  Nkechi shifted in the plastic chair. ‘Tawa let us not jump into conclusions. There must be areason why Jegede did not pay out the insurance.” She racked her mind for an explanation and hit a brick wall.

  Tawa sighed again. ‘there is talk in the market Iya Bola, that Jegede is living a baby boy life. He is enjoying the fruits of our labour.”

  “What is the meaning of baby boy life o,” Nkechi laughed. ‘Tawa, there must be a reason behind Jegede not paying Iya Adijat‘s money. I will look into it.”

  Nkechi again imagined a situation where the market women‘s  cooperative union, would buy the insurance for their members rather than the individuals in the market buying it themselves. its was clear Jegede didn‘t feel threathened by one market woman, but I wonder if he can ignore all the market women. Whist she agreed with the idea of insurance for the market women, it was clear Green River Insurance was not the best vehicle for them.

  ***

  Reaching home after a long day at the market was something Nkechi always looked forward to. She was pleased to see her children seated on a mat outside in the quadrangle with their school books open in front of them. Lenny their lesson teacher, and another staff member of the school they attended, Lily of the Valley, sat on a chair in front of them. They were so engrossed in their lessons that they did not notice their mother observing them. It warmed her heart to see the fruits of her womb being so studious, as judging by the fast approaching dusk, Nkechi had not even expected to see Lenny at the house.

  “Mummy!” it was Taiwo that caught sight of her first, soon all four of them were rushing forward to hug her.

  Nkechi made sure to smother kisses and hugs on each of her children. She gave Bola the nylon bag, hot with the puff-puff inside it, to share with her younger siblings, and sent them inside. It was only when the children left that she noticed the tired look on Lenny‘s face. Lenny was a tall woman who stood with her back arched, she did not try to make herself smaller the way some tall women do. Usually Lenny had a smile that brought out the deep dimples on each side of her face, her eyes always twinkled so much that sometimes Nkechi considered her too cheerful. But that day, Lenny sagged as though a heavy weight pulled her frame down. There were dark bags below her eyes, and her cheery smile was absent from her face. So worried by this new Lenny, Nkechi reached to hug the younger woman.

  “Lenny, I hope there’s nothing wrong?” she wrapped an arm around Lenny’s shoulder.

  “Good afternoon ma.” Lenny dragged a tired hand down her face. “Iya Bola I...” Nkechi was shocked to see Lenny’s bottom lip quiver as the woman struggled for words. “It is...Adigun may...” Lenny’s eyes were red as she inhaled deeply.

  “Ah! Bola.” Nkechi screamed for her eldest child. Bola appeared almost immediately, her lips oily from the puff-puff. “Get a glass of water and bring it to my room.“

  Lenny covered her eyes with a hand as Nkechi steered her into her room, the only place in the polygamous household they could have a bit of privacy. Her heart wrenched to think of the way Lenny must have struggled trying to teach the children while bearing such a heavy burden. Experience with her fellow traders at the marketplace had taught her that in such times it was good to let it out. In the darkened room, Lenny broke down while Nkechi consoled her.

  ‘take it easy my dear.” Nkechi rubbed Lenny’s back. Then she asked cautiously. “I hope no one died.”

  Lenny shook her head but her sobs grew deeper, her shoulders heaved as the cries were wrenched from her. “Adigun...he is not dead.” she gasped in between her tears. “But he... he is in the hospital.”

  At that point, Nkechi decided she would not ask any more questions. She sat beside Lenny, constantly whispering “sorry” and ‘take it easy”. When Lenny’s sobs finally died down, Nkechi listened in horror as the young woman explained what had lead her to break down in such a manner.

   Adigun, a fellow teacher at Lily of the Valley school, a hardworking fellow despite the low salary, had fallen seriously ill. From the first time he had been sick, it had been one issue after the other. Under the school’s proprietor Mrs Bosede, all teachers had signed up for a health insurance scheme at Springfield Clinics, a privately-owned institution that boasted advanced healthcare. Adigun’s wife had taken him to Springfield when he showed the first signs of being ill, and had been turned back after the hospital informed her that they would not be taking in Adigun because they had yet to receive his details from the insurance company. Adigun’s wife had to borrow money from relatives to install her husband in a hospital that they could not afford.

  While looking after her sick husband, she had had to jump from Green River Insurance offices to the school and back. Each time she visited Green River Insurance, Jegede had insisted that he had sent her husband’s details to the hospital, and that if anything was wrong, it must be Springfield’s responsibility. As she was passed back and forth like a basketball on the court, it was finally revealed that Adigun had leukaemia.

  “Nkechi.” Lenny hiccuped. “I saw Adigun in the hospital today, and he looked like a skeleton wearing human skin. The doctors say he doesn’t have much time to live.”

  “God forbid it.” Nkechi snapped her fingers. “Don’t say that, Adigun will be healed.”

  ‘The way Adigun’s poor wife has been running around.” Lenny sighed. ‘they just got married last year, and she is pregnant. Mrs Bosede is suspecting that Jegede has swindled all of us. It is horrible that Adigun is in this kind of condition and that wicked man does not seem to care.”

  ***

  The next day as Nkechi walked to her stall in Afele market, she thought of the last time someone had mentioned Jegede to her, it was always a complaint. Tawa had been the first to warn her about Jegede’s possible evil schemes, and to think that she had defended the man there. Nkechi kissed  her teeth in frustration: the whole situation seemed hopeless. And for Jegede to be accused in such a manner not once but twice was alarming.

  Thoughts on Jegede consumed her as she rounded the corner where the yam sellers displayed their wares. Iya Bola was dragged out of her musing by the boys that carried the yams for customers on wheel barrows. What alarmed Iya Bola was the careless manner in which they tossed the empty plastic bags of water they had used to wash their yams into the open gutters.

  "Hey Mallam" Iya Bola yelled. "Mallam" she called again, the boys looked at themselves clearly unsure whether to answer her.

  There were few things that irritated Nkechi more than littering, and one of them was people not listening to her when she spoke to them. Iya Bola seized the opportunity to put the Jegede problem on the backburner. She made a sudden detour and headed straight for the yam sellers, "Didn't you hear me calling you?" she asked, arms akimbo.

  "Iya, you I hear me but name is not Mallam, na Hussian." said the yam seller in broken English.

  "Why are you people throwing waste into the gutter? Can‘t you see it will block it when the next rains come?" Iya Bola asked.

  "Iya me I no know am for waste, na nylon we dey throway for gutter" Hussian shrugged.

  "Hussian, dont you know it‘s your action of blocking the gutter that is causing our market to flood?" she pointed an accusing finger at the clogged up gutter. "Abi you don‘t know? Is this gutter your rubbish dump?"

  Iya Bola regarded these seasonal traders with suspicion. Depending on the season they would always came, sell their yams, and then leave. These traders were not members of any market union and so were not as invested in the market as the other traders, they slept i
n the market, and more often than not left the market worse than they had met it, with their profit of course.

  A small crowd had grown to watch the confrontation between Iya Bola and the yam sellers.

  "Joor Iya Bola, leave these almajiri boys alone." a woman from the crowd announced.

  "Ha so you don‘t know that what these boys are doing is blocking these drains?" Nkechi now spoke to the gathering. "When next it rains don‘t you know more shops will get flooded? Why do you think Hajia Ruka store got destroyed? If small rain water is not allowed to flow out of the market, if we keep blocking the drains with waste, then there will only be more flood." she explained.

  "Iya you no block am for gutter ooh....." interrupted Hussain.

  "Eeeh Hussain abeg," Iya Bola flicked her hand in dismissal. "I don‘t have time for your stories, oya tell your boys to start clearing this gutter now now!"

  Iya Bola's tone offered no room for argument. Her earlier explanation had linked the drains blocked with refuse to the floods and most importantly to the yam seller. The crowd grew restless, pointing and gesticulating.

  "Iya make I no vex, you go clear the gutter for Iya." Hussain could tell he was outnumbered in this one, he hurried off to shout his mates into action to clear the blocked gutters.

  As the youths picked the empty plastic bags from the gutters, the market commentator Bonaventure siezed the opportunity to break out of the crowd and address them.

  "Spick and span, spick and span, progenitors, ingrain in your offspring, the necessity that is spick and span” Bonaventure screamed at the top of his lungs, hoping that perhaps one of those dirty market traders would clean their surroundings, stop dumping refuse everywhere but at the agreed dumpsite, and make it an easier environment for him to purchase his food and wares. Taking a break from his declarations, he made a left towards the mama put shack when he sighted Yona blowing her nose and wiping her hand on her skirt. He spun and headed off accross the street to drop his pure water sachet in the trash. Mysteriously, the need to eat at her shack had been suddenly expunged

  Iya Bola watched Bonaventure move back and forth. She was satisfied to see the boys working to clean the gutters and saw the approval on the faces of the market women. Her heart expanded with pride, at the same time a sense of urgency settled on her. Under her breath, Iya Bola whispered to herself "I have to organise these women, I just have to."

  Nkechi raised her head from the tray of beans she was picking and smiled up at her husband. “Yes, I want to be Iyaloja.”

  ‘this is nothing short of madness.” Alhaji Azeez’s eyes protruded from his round face.

  “I know. But so is the sorry state of things in that market.” Nkechi pointed out, then she wisely changed her tone. It paid to be pleading, “Will you not support me?”

  Azeez who had been standing till that point, settled on the bench beside Nkechi. He put his arm around her.

  “You know I am up for re-election.” his voice was low in her ear. “Iya Kazeem was here the other day, I have been meaning to talk to you.”

  “Hmmm.” was all Nkechi could say.

  “You see how hard it is to keep a hold of you.” There was reproach in her husband’s voice. “Because of all this your running up and down in the market, even your husband has diffiulties in finding you.”

  Nkechi pursed her lips, she could point out that it was him, her dear husband, that never seemed to be at home. Trust him to try to shift the blame on her and accuse her of neglecting her wifely duties.

  ‘the warning was clear.” Azeez continued, his grip on her slim shoulder tightened. “I have decided. It will stay in the family. Iya Yetunde your senior wife can run for the position.”

  At his words, Nkechi’s eyebrows drew to the bridge of her nose, she shrugged his hand off her shoulder and stood suddenly, upending the tray. Black eyed peas spilled to the concrete ground, the tray crashed loudly.

  “Have I not always obeyed you in all things?” Nkechi saw red. “Did I not marry you despite my family’s strong opposition? Did I not have four children when I only wanted two? Did I not become a Muslim?” she was pleased to note her husband’s shocked face.

  “My husband, in this I am sorry, I cannot agree with you. I cannot  not   do this. Look around you. Women are suffering, the market structure is in tatters. Your so-called godmother makes a living by taking money from vulnerable women. Did you see what happened after the last floods? Iya Yetunde indeed. They want someone they can control. What does she know?”

  Nkechi kissed her teeth, spun dramatically and strode away. She walked with long angry strides until she came to the open space at the back of the house, the quadrangle where her children gathered. Bola, the oldest, a girl of eleven was braiding Kehinde’s hair and Yemi squatted beside the low wall close by regaling them with tales from school.

  Bola took the role of oldest sister very seriously. As she braided Kehinde’s hair, she swatted her head from time to time when the child nodded off. Yemi was her second child and looked most like her mother, both in looks and temperament. Her second daughter was bold and daring and her antics at school were always cause for concern but made for good stories. The twins, Kehinde and Taiwo were still young, they loved mimicking their older sisters. At the moment, Taiwo was running around chasing after a lizard.

  ‘taiwo,” Nkechi yelled when he rushed past her. “What are you doing?”

  “Catching lizards!” he called back.

  “Have you washed the plates I asked you to wash?”

  “Mummy, that’s woman’s work. I told you, I will rather…”

  Nkechi narrowed her eyes at him. He was so young yet he had already imbibed these ideas on what was women’s work. At his mother’s sharp gaze, Taiwo grunted and stalked off indoors.

  “Woman’s work indeed,” Nkechi murmured under her breath as her phone vibrated in the pocket of the house gown she wore.

  As she accepted the call, Nkechi was distracted by Bola’s gaze. Recently Bola had taken to staring at her like she was a stranger. At first she thought she had upset her daughter, then she suspected an early onset of puberty. The call was from her friend Bisi. Still upset from her husband’s words, Nkechi unloaded her current source of distress onto her friend. Yet talking about it made her even more upset.

  “Whether anyone likes it or not, I will be Iyaloja” Nkechi caught Bola studying her, as soon as Bola noticed, she turned and stared at the ceiling. Conversation over, Nkechi made her way to her daughter.

  “Bola dear, is everything all right?” she asked.

  Bola swallowed. “Mummy are you going into politics?”

  The question made Nkechi almost stumble. With the way she was talking to Bisi on the phone, it should be no surprise that her daughter had overheard the entire conversation.

  “Yes darling.” as she gained control of her composure.

  “Is that democracy?”

  “Yes it is democracy.” she frowned. “Why. Are you learning about democracy in school?”

  “We did it in social studies last year.”

  Despite the conversation, Nkechi’s heart swelled at her daughter’s great memory. “I am glad you remember what you did last year.”

  “I am confused mummy.” Bola pouted.

  “About what darling?”

  “You said it is democracy? And in democracy, the will of the people is supreme.”

  “Yes.”

  “But on the phone you said that whether people like it or not you will be Iyaloja. Is that not a dictatorship? Shouldn’t you let the people choose?”

  Nkechi felt a like she was standing against gale winds. She felt light headed from the shock of what she had just heard.

  “Firstly Bola, you should never eavesdrop on people’s conversation.” she reproached. ‘that is very rude!”

  “I am sorry mum.”

  “Secondly my dear,” Nkechi softened her tone. ‘that was just an expression. Because I want to go into politics there are all sorts of situations that I have to dea
l with that frustrate me. Do you understand?”

  Her daughter nodded, even though her eyes showed that she did not understand. It seemed Nkechi had successfully wriggled her way out of the most intense humiliation she had ever experienced. In some ways she felt like a fraud. But then, her daughter’s questions helped put things in perspective.

  Nkechi could not stop her ambitions, not with so many situations on ground. On a Wednesday, Iya Bola visited her market stall to find a dozen women crowded in front of it. They were all women she recognised, and they were all in states of distress. Some sat on the ground, hands on their heads and others stood with their arms crossed over their breasts, shaking their heads. Her heart pounded as it tried to leap through her mouth, a sense of trepidation settled on Iya Bola. What had happened now.

  “Jegede wants to ruin us!” Mummy Camsi wailed.

  “Iya Bola something must be done.” Hajia Ruka sat from her seated position.

  At that moment Iya Bola decided. “We must go and confront him. What kind of wickedness is this?”

  It was as the women headed towards the rundown building that housed Green Life Insurances that Iya Bola got the full story. Hajia Ruka’s stall had been flooded and Jegede had again refused to compensate her. Enough was enough, Jegede was going to have to answer for his crimes. Together with her fellow traders, he would have to explain why he was not paying his clients, why he was not doing what he promised when he advertised his insurance business to them. Iya Bola felt some sort of responsibility, it was she who had encouraged the women here to insure their goods with Jegede. The corrupt man with his arrogant airs would pay for trying to cheat market women under her watch.

  _______________________________

  Favour Under Law

  "A blogger's life is lonely but that of the unemployed youth is lonelier." Doyin said the words out loud before typing them out. He looked at the words on his old laptop's cracked screen; a gift from an expatriate oil driller, and considered them carefully. What he had just typed made sense to him, he decided. He glanced at his wristwatch, there was still some time, he would write some more before heading out for the Nameless Youth Council that evening. It would be nice to be able to inform the rest of the guys that he had finished writing his latest blog post. They always looked forward to his writing and Doyin knew that they would be eager to hear him describe how he had captured their agitation for employment and youth empowerment. His fingers flexed over the keyboard in anticipation.