Like Joshua Said

  ‘No, he just casts the spirits out and sometimes the spirits would begin to fight the people they come out of. You see it happening as the people start jumping about and even sometimes our fada joins in the fight too.’

  ‘Oh abeg,’ I said getting quite impatient. He wasn’t Ireneh so there was not as much reason to take him very seriously. ‘Our fada also does healing mass but he does not fight with spirits. He just blesses holy water and sprinkles it,’ I said to explain my disbelief.

  ‘Is your fada Oyibo – white man?’ he asked unmoved.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oyibo fadas are not like black fadas at all. Black fadas know how to pursue demons more than Oyibo. That is why you have not seen anything like I have.’

  ‘Okay. I hear,’ trying to end the argument. ‘Let us ask Ireneh first and we will know what happened to him – whether it was the spirits who beat him or not.’

  As we trooped into the classroom after break, I came up behind Ireneh and for the first time that day, noticed a welt that must have come from a cane, right on the back of his arm just above the elbow. The mark was fresh and could not have been formed earlier than the morning of that day. That must have been the reason for his crying – he must have been beaten that morning. Stupid Eze, I thought in self vindication.

  It wasn’t exactly a big matter for me that Ireneh had been caned; we all got caned at home and at school. Corporal punishment was a big part of the discipline that was employed in the raising of children in my time. We faced the possibility of that scourge every single day and I had no particular reason to pity my friend. I was more concerned, however, about why he might have been punished; if it was anything to with those evil spirits, how bad was his relapse? Would he need his pastor again? Wouldn’t that mean our holy water hadn’t worked and why hadn’t it?

  ****

  It was the middle of the afternoon. No one had raised an alarm; no one even seemed to have heard all the chaos of the robbery. That wasn’t real, I knew. We all knew that everyone in the locality would have been aware; they’d lived their whole lives in readiness to survive moments like that and that was what they’d been doing – surviving.

  I could already imagine, as we picked ourselves up, window blinds being pulled back slightly first and then in full. Heads would poke out of doorways, people would whisper across long distances to one another, all confirming what they most wanted to hear – that the robbers had gone. This was safety: keeping your head down. What other option was there? Call the police? That was as practicable as cutting down a banana plant with an axe; it could work but who wanted to go to such messy trouble.

  No, we hadn’t expected anyone would have come to our aid and we didn’t hold a grudge. We got up and surveyed the damage. I got up and looked around for Tolu. He still lay quite underneath the Jetta stunned; the left side of his crown wore an extension where he’d been hit with a stick.

  I walked over to him displaying a very proud swollen cheekbone. ‘Tolu, get up. They’ve gone.’

  ‘Are you sure Rez?’ he asked with fear still in his eyes. ‘Lie down Rez. They might still be outside.’

  ‘Which outside? They’ve gone. I saw them drive away myself. Come, let’s go home.’

  He got up with a little difficulty and I noticed a small pool of blood as he lifted his head from the ground and tried to get to his knees. I walked over with concern and inspected his head; it had a gash that still oozed blood. I knew we had to get him to hospital as soon as possible. In that instant, I remembered the money underneath the TV and was glad. We’d need all the money we could get in a hurry if he was to receive any attention in any good hospital.

  I gave him a hand. Together, we slowly hobbled towards the exit. The garage was now filling with sympathisers and angry looking people who’d come armed to help fight off the assailants. I had more respect for the former; this was no soap opera. In real life, people were more likely to be grateful for help actually given at the time it was needed. There were about three benches lined up just in front of the workshop and they were all occupied by wounded and howling men - workers of Ibrahim.

  We went out the gate and cut through a crowd of staring eyes. Some said ‘sorry’, others attempted to question us a little. We said nothing; I couldn’t even wish this didn’t happen to anyone else. Maybe if we all went through it, we might be more willing to find a solution together. I was angry and I was in a vengeful mood; if the robbers were apprehended, I’d gladly go to their execution. I hailed a bike, got Tolu and myself on board and we roared out of Sabon Gari.

  ****

  We had just settled into class the following day and Mrs Deji was about to start on the first lesson, Maths when a middle aged buxom woman, well familiar to me, stormed into the classroom shocking all of us beyond measure. Mrs Deji stood aghast as the lady, her wrapper falling loose at her waist, walked past her and straight to Ireneh. She wore a murderous expression on her face, tight-lipped and breasts heaving; with one free hand, she kept gathering her falling wrapper and managed to fix it firmly into place by the wrapper folds at her waist just before she reached the boy.

  Ireneh, looking cornered, shrank back as his mother reached for him; in his attempt to avoid her, he knocked Bisi out of the seat as he fell to the ground himself but his mother was quicker. She moved around the desk with lightning speed, her eyes trained on the boy the whole time; it was quite like she’d done such chasing and trapping a number of times before. With her right hand, she bent down and grabbed Ireneh, who was still scrambling backwards, by his lapels. She effortlessly picked him up and with a resounding slap, nearly tore his head off. The daze that she left the boy in was so pronounced, we could actually see it sitting on Ireneh’s face.

  ‘You wicked child! So you think that you can steal from me eh?’ she shouted as she hit him around the body.

  ‘No Mama, abeg. Please, I won’t do it again.’

  ‘You stupid boy, I will beat that devil out of your body today. Do you know how hard it is for me to get money to feed you? Ehn? Answer me.’ As she poured out her angry words, she dragged him forcefully out of his seat, knocking the desk out of the way so that it shifted noisily to one side. The pair didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘Mama abeg,’ Ireneh entreated turning a bright red as he flopped to the ground to make himself heavier to move. ‘Mama abeg. It is the devil. Please I won’t do it again.’

  They scuffled past Mrs Deji who stood still in shock sucked into the drama as much as the rest of us were. She knew better than to get involved. Even if she might not have experienced anything of the kind in all the time she’d been teaching in a public school, it was a well known expectation that in such an environment, anything was possible. If she’d come between an angry mother and her erring child, she’d have found herself sprung at.

  ‘Come here, wicked boy. I will teach you not to steal again. That devil in your body will leave my house today.’ She moved her grip from his shirt to his hands as she was finding it difficult to move the boy who had his feet in front of him pushing them against the concrete floor to generate what friction he could. She knocked his feet out of the way with hers, spun him on his buttocks so that he had his back to her and dragged him by the hand, on his bum, out of the room, the lad pleading all the way.

  The scene took about six minutes in all and in that time, no one had moved. It was too real for us to take it in very quickly, too intrusive for us to react in time. By the time, Mrs Deji came out of her trance by the blackboard, the pair were well out of the classroom and had descended two flights of stairs. She did not say anything at all about it, not that there was much she could say, and carried on with the lesson interspersing it with several long pauses to fully take in what had just happened.

  ****

  I healed pretty quickly. Well, there wasn’t that much wrong with me, nothing that some balm couldn’t fix. It took twenty four hours for the swelling to subside and the pain to drastically wear off. By the beginning of the third day, I wore w
hat remained of any discomfort with ease and just as well since I had bigger fish to fry. We all did.

  It wasn’t as easy for Tolu though; he was still in hospital recovering from all they’d found wrong with him. Apparently, he’d hurt his ribs as well; the robbers had evidently been more severe on him than I recalled.

  The hospital staff had put him to sleep saying he needed plenty of rest. This was after they had attended to the bleeding wound on his head, swaddling him with bandages and fixing the injury with enough stitches to alter his looks.

  But they hadn’t been directly welcoming when we’d walked in; it was just like I’d expected. The lady at the front desk or counter was more concerned about getting Tolu’s blood anywhere in reception.

  ‘Wait there!’ she’d cried eyeing the injured boy who was bent over holding his side with one hand and with the other, leaning against the marbled wall. Already, he was beginning to leave blood prints on the cream coloured design. ‘Don’t move. Have you got ..?’ she changed her mind about the question.

  ‘No we didn’t have a card,’ I answered in my mind as I watched her clear the counter of apparently important documents and zoom off through a door behind. Behind us was a row of plastic chairs attached to a steel bar that ran underneath them all the length of the wall opposite the reception desk. I helped Tolu to one of them; at this point, he could barely hobble. There was a fixed grimace on his face, almost like he was smiling but the thick wrinkles at the sides of his mouth and eyes and the steady empty gaze in his eyes told otherwise. He let out a short sharp grunt as he connected with the seat, leaning forward so that his head was quite close to his knees. His wound seemed to have stopped bleeding behind the blood soaked rag – a piece torn out of his shirt – that wrapped his head but, of course, there was no way for me to tell.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ I asked him for the hundredth time that afternoon. ‘Are you okay?’

  For answer, as he had on every occasion, he simply shook his head. Whether that meant ‘no’ or ‘don’t worry about it’ was not clear. I decided it meant the former.

  Presently, two nurses came half running behind a gurney. They motioned to Tolu who began to get up. I helped him to the bed. As soon as he was comfortable – sort of, one of the nurses turned to me. ‘Go to the desk and give all his details. You also need to submit a deposit of five thousand before we can look at him.’

  None of that threw me. ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘I’ve got the money at home. I live in City. Please do what you can for now. I’ll be back in under one hour. Please.’

  ‘Well, be quick then,’ she replied as Tolu was wheeled away.

  I dashed out of the hospital premises and hailed a bike to take me to the nearest bus stop. My heart pounded furiously as I made the journey; though there was very little reason to believe that the hospital staff would leave an injured patient uncared for while he was in their custody, I couldn’t forget that they had a business to run. Countless times, they’d have had to imply that threat; if they were happily in operation now running a successful enterprise and/or hoped to remain that way, then, it only made sense to expect that they would have had to come good in promises and threats alike more than once.

  In any case, I wasn’t about to test their resolve with Tolu. It may be all well and good protesting with banners afterwards and making public fired-up speeches in fierce denunciation but if someone was already dead or irredeemably marred, then there’d always be a lingering bitter taste too vile to swallow, too deep rooted to wash out. So I ran, got off the bike and onto a bus, off that and onto the street that led to our quarters.

  The money was where I’d left it – as it should be, but I felt very grateful as my fingers closed round the creased bundle. I didn’t stop to dwell on what I was thankful for as I gathered up a few other things Tolu might need if he had to stay on beyond that day. Was I grateful that we had kept some money aside for a day like this that now threatened to wipe out everything we’d struggled to earn in the last month? Insurance, after all, was supposed to keep us relaxed in the face of possible and unexpected adversity, something that couldn’t be helped. But could we say the same about a robbery attack? Was it totally unexpected? Indefensible? Or was there a defensive strategy we hadn’t looked at even if that meant abandoning the business?

  These thoughts ran through my mind as I ransacked our room, clearing it of various items and hidden treasures and made for the hospital again. The way I figured, there was little the Mallam could do to prevent another attack. The business was not yet a year old and had only begun to boom and given the very nature of it, was bound to attract robbers – that much I knew. If that became a pattern, we’d only be working for money to spend on hospital bills and that wouldn’t encourage anyone. Of course, I couldn’t be certain if it would become a pattern but could I afford to find out – to risk another swollen head or worse and for Tolu to go through the same ordeal again or worse?

  I got back to the hospital about three quarters of an hour after I’d left; the lady at reception looked up at me like she’d be waiting all that time for my arrival. I handed over the money they required and asked to see Tolu.

  He was still lying on the gurney which was now parked at the very end of one of the public wards, very much the outcast. His wound had a cleaner bandage around it but even my untrained eye could tell it was simply a first aid measure.

  ‘How now?’ I asked him smiling, hoping that might ease him a little.

  Again, he shook his head going more slowly as he rolled it on the pillow. He was in no mood to talk so I let him be. At that moment, two nurses appeared and started to wheel him away. Apparently, they had been notified of my payment and were now in business.

  They had been thorough on the lad, patching him up within and without and keeping him in bed for two weeks. By the time, Tolu was discharged and we’d paid the bill, we were practically out of pocket.

  ****

  Ireneh reappeared two days later; this was a surprise for everyone but the teacher was not glad to see him. She sent him out of the class. ‘Get out of my class!’ She roared. It seemed fair enough. This was her chance to stamp her authority and she had the lesser of the two culprits to deal with. ‘Do you and your mother think you can just do whatever you want in my class? Is this a marketplace? Kneel down there on the corridor.’

  This wasn’t a problem for the lad who stayed kneeling outside the class and followed lessons from there for the rest of the morning. At break-time, the teacher let him go off with other members of the class but he simply disappeared and reappeared after the break. He returned to his kneeling position and it was not until one in the afternoon that the teacher relented.

  ‘Come here,’ she called to him. The boy approached with chafed and white knees.

  ‘Tell your mother that if she ever does that nonsense again in my class, then, she will be teaching you herself at home because I will send you out of my class, do you hear?’

  ‘Yes ma.’

  ‘This is not a beer parlour. This is a classroom; you and your mother cannot act like ruffians here, you understand?’ it didn’t seem like she was going to let the matter rest.

  ‘Yes ma,’ the boy assented again, nodding at same time.

  ‘Go to your seat and be quiet.’

  ‘Thank you ma.’

  That marked the beginning of Ireneh’s downward spiral; he unravelled gradually and quickly as the days passed. He became all of what he was in the early days, picking fights with various kids in the class, terrorising Mabel and Bisi and was sent to the headmaster on one occasion by Mrs Deji, threatened with expulsion if he didn’t go. He had come back crying, limping slightly as he wove his way to his seat under the watchful eye of the teacher.

  ‘Ireneh sorry,’ I sympathised, whispering. ‘How many strokes did the headmaster flog you?’

  ‘Six. I will kill that woman,’ he whispered back angrily through his tears.

  ‘Arinze! Stand on your desk,’ the teacher’s voice boomed
. It was my turn to be caught out. The rest of that morning passed without me breathing a word to Ireneh.

  ‘What did the headmaster say to you?’ I asked curiously as Ireneh and I hit the playground at break-time.

  ‘Nothing. He just said that he would make me smell my buttocks the next time my teacher send me to his office and then he flogged me six strokes.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I sympathised again. There was not much else I could say. ‘Why did your mama come to school like that? What did you do?’

  A look of anger flashed across his face as he looked at me wondering if I deserved to be told anything. Then, he seemed to relax a little but in a grumpy voice bawled out, ‘What? It was just one naira that I took from the shop. I want to sew my sandals and to buy food during break. I had asked her before but she said she didn’t have any money.’

  ‘Why didn’t you ask your papa?’

  ‘Which papa?’ he replied with disdain. ‘They just come and go; I don’t know who my papa is. There is Uncle Tobe, Uncle Seun and Uncle John. They don’t live with us and I don’t see them very often.’

  This was shocking and incredible. The other day, he’d told me his father was taking him away. I wondered what he was playing at and tried a subtler line.

  ‘Your mama didn’t tell you who your papa is?’

  ‘She said any of the three is my papa.’

  I might get used to this, I thought to myself; it wasn’t the first time Ireneh had blatantly denied something he’d told me earlier, afterwards but I didn’t want to question him further seeing that the boy might not wish to tell me anything else.