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This writing was accepted for publication in the 84 page perfect-bound issue... Down in the Dirt magazine (v081) (the April 2010 Issue) This is also available from our printer as a a $7.47 paperback book (5.5" x 8.5") perfect-bound w/ b&w pages

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The little things in life

Okechukwu otukwu

    He had been waiting for some hours, still his muscles tensed as the pastor’s car turned into the compound. From across the church where he sat under a mango tree, Ikem craned his neck and watched the pastor pull up, come out of the car and go into the church.
    His blood quickened as it had done for the past week since he came up with the plan. But he also noticed that underneath his excitement lay fear. He had no reason to be afraid, though; everything was working to plan. The thought that he might actually be afraid of the pastor inflamed his anger and he clutched the little container in his pocket with a particular viciousness. He would give the pastor five minutes to be sure he was seated, then he would surprise him.
    When he had come here about three hours ago he had little thought how God would lead the pastor into his hands. What did you expect, anyway? You did not think that God would stand by any of his servants—granted that they were His servants at all—going after other people’s girlfriends and casting a spell on them?
    Only two weeks ago he had called her again as he had been doing for the past month and, as a custom, Nkiru had left her breakfast and gone outside to answer the call. What a pastor had to discuss with a girl which he would not want others to hear Ikem could not understand. And it had been going on like this for some time now—these disruptive calls from the pastor which would make Nkiru leave whatever she was doing and go outside to talk to the pastor in privacy. Suddenly he decided that it had to stop.
    When Nkiru returned to the room a few minutes after, he was standing with a heavy expression at the window, watching the lazy traffic passing along Zik Avenue. Even Enugu on a Saturday morning could take a break from the weeklong hustle and bustle of city life. Only a pastor did not take a rest on a day like this.
    ‘You are not eating your breakfast anymore?’ she said to him as she came into the room. Her tone was jaunty like the rest of her character. Even if she had come in and found his body hanging from the roof her tone would still be jaunty, he thought bitterly.
    ‘No,’ he said in answer to her question. ‘Somehow I have lost my appetite. Who was that on the phone, Nkiru?’
    ‘You mean just now?’
    She is only prevaricating, he thought. She knows what I am asking her but she only wants to buy time to lie. If only I would not look into those eyes of hers, I might be able to enforce my will on her and maybe bring all this nonsense to a stop.
    But even as he thought this, he still looked into her eyes, and was lost. Those eyes, like every part of Nkiru actually, held a spell over him that was stronger than the most powerful charm.
She was not beautiful in a way that could have fetched her laurels but there was an air of heightened sexuality about her which seemed to envelop every man that came in contact with her and drive him mad with wild fantasies of unending pleasures. She had that effect on every boy in their class. The first time that Ikem met her in class, he had fallen intensely under her spell. But being more shy than most of the boys in the class, he had not summoned enough courage to talk to her then. While every boy in the class fell over each other to steal Nkiru’s affection, Ikem alone kept his cool and it was reckoned to him as a virtue.
But there was nothing virtuous in his inaction. He had no illusions about his abilities. He knew next to nothing about women; they scared him.
And a girl like Nkiru...well, you might as well ask him to commit suicide.
    So throughout their first year, he did not exchange a word with Nkiru even though his heart melted each time they met. Then during a picnic organized by their class, Ikem had suddenly found Nkiru seated beside him. She struck up a conversation with him and after that day they had become friends—a friendship in which he found himself writing most of Nkiru’s assignments and helping her in exams. By his efforts, Nkiru’s grades improved.
    Their relationship had gone on quite well until one day, after a visit home, Nkiru told him that her father, who held an important position in government, had fallen sick. Her entire family attributed his illness to witchcraft (it was revealed that his half-brother had threatened him over a piece of disputed family land). The family called for fasting and prayers and even invited some men of God to lay hands on him. But Nkiru’s father, who was a knight of the Catholic church, resisted them. He stubbornly refused to see any man of God that was not of the Catholic faith.
    His wife and children were in dismay. Nkiru told Ikem how they had to sneak to prayer houses with an item belonging to her father to offer prayers in his behalf. Ikem did not know the advice to give in the circumstances. He had his own view—a very private view—about religion and faith but it would shock Nkiru to hear it. So he simply made some sympathetic noises and kept silent.
    Then a few days later, he was alarmed to hear her say that she had discovered a powerful man of God who would deliver her father from the powers of witchcraft.
    ‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
    ‘Pastor Andy of Everlasting Hope Ministries,’ she said, perhaps not understanding his question or choosing not to understand it. ‘You may have heard of him. He told me to bring an item that belongs to my father so that he could use it as point of contact to reach him since he will not agree to come to his church.’
    ‘Are you sure you know what you are doing, Nkiru? Some of these so-called pastors and miracle workers are impostors that prey on people’s ignorance and gullibility.’
    ‘That was what my father said. He is old and sick and can be forgiven.
But I don’t expect you who are young to say the same thing.’
    He saw that she was getting angry and decided not to pursue the matter any longer; she would not listen to him, anyway. She would see his protest as an example of what she called ‘his unreasonableness.’ How was he to explain to her that he once had a brother who had died because his mother had taken him without his father’s knowledge to a prayer house when he fell ill? She would not understand—or pretend not to understand—and the saying of it might reduce him in her opinion.
    So he did not interfere with her newfound faith, but then the thing started to take a turn that he found unbearable. The pastor would call her at odd hours and, each time, she went away to talk where Ikem could not hear what they discussed. He had kept silent until that Saturday morning when the pastor’s call had disrupted their breakfast.
    He left the window and, coming to the middle of the room, he repeated the question, ‘Who was that on the phone?’
    ‘That was Pastor Andy,’ she replied and resumed her interrupted breakfast. ‘Why are you interested?’
    ‘I am just curious. He has been calling you for some time now in privacy. What is it you discuss that you don’t want others to hear?’
    ‘I don’t like your tone to start with. If you are trying to pick a quarrel this morning, Ik, I will not oblige you.’
    ‘Don’t run away from the point, Nkiru. You know if it were me behaving like this, you would want to know what was going on.’
    ‘For Goodness’ sake, what do you mean by what is going on? I have told you everything about the prayers and counselling sessions I have with the pastor. What are you trying to insinuate by that comment?’
    ‘Tell me,’ he said, not looking at her, ‘are you dating this man?’
    Nkiru laughed—pure, simple laughter.
    ‘You tell me,’ she said after her laughter, ‘why are you so incurably jealous?’
    I knew that was how she would view it, he thought. Say anything about a man with whom your woman is friendly and it will be your foolish jealousy talking.
    ‘You are not answering my question,’ he said.
    ‘Your question is stupid to say the least. Tell me, if I were dating the pastor, would I be here with you? I don’t know what is wrong with you. Ever since I started going to this new church, you have been acting kind of strangely.’
    ‘Yes,’ he said, looking outside to see an okada stop in front of the house and one of his neighbours come down. ‘I told you before that I did not like this your newfound faith—I still don’t like it. Some of these churches and prayer houses are death to people. They are pits waiting to swallow the unwary and ignorant.’
    ‘Spare me all that,’ she snapped and pushed away the breakfast tray. ‘That was what you said before; I don’t want to hear it all over again. Religion is a personal thing.
I have chosen the way I want to worship God; you can choose yours—I have no objection. But I will not have you condemn mine.’
    ‘You will not listen to me,’ he said bitterly. ‘If only you had an idea! But I think the spell they cast on you has taken too strong a hold on you.’
    ‘That does it then,’ she said and rose. She went to the wardrobe and started to bring out her clothes. ‘I came here to spend the weekend with you but I don’t think I have the strength to argue with you over the most little things of life for the rest of the weekend.’
    ‘Where are you going?’ he asked in alarm as she folded her clothes and put them in a small bag with which she had come yesterday evening.
    ‘To the hostel, of course.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘You know why. Since you will not allow me to be in peace, I cannot stay here and endure two more days of incessant complaints and nagging. I am going back to the hostel. I will see you in class on Monday.’
    With those words she went out of the room, leaving Ikem in an emotional agony.
    Nkiru did not come to his room again after that incident. Whenever they met in class, she treated him with a coldness that he found strange and perplexing. Could it be that he had lost her?
    No, that could not be—it was too painful to be. Not after everything he had done for her. It was not possible that a little spat like that could destroy a relationship that had lasted for more than a year now.
    Ikem blamed the pastor for everything. He suspected that the pastor had cast a spell on Nkiru, and he resolved to break it at all costs. How he could do this he had no idea.
    He thought about it for a very long time, then suddenly he came up with a bright idea. Where the idea came from he could not tell. It came right out of nowhere and took shape in his mind as though God Himself had implanted it there. He reflected on it for long, lived with it for a week, then he knew he was going to carry it out. He knew it was dangerous—he could get beaten up by the pastor’s congregation or the police might arrest him for assault. But one thing that was certain to come out of it was that the pastor would stay clear of his girlfriend after that. That outcome alone was worth any risk.
    He wasted no time to put his plan into execution. A few days after, he went to Ogbete Market, bought red oil paint and a small plastic container with a sprayer, the type that reverend fathers used to spray holy water in church. Getting home, he turned the paint into the container, tried it and nodded with satisfaction.
    When the time stood at a quarter to twelve, Ikem stood before the mirror and looked at himself with amazement. He wore a wig of dreadlocks which he had borrowed from his friend who was studying theatre arts. He covered the wig with a large woolen cap in the manner he had seen Rastafarians do. He also pasted some hair to his bare chin so that he looked like something that had emerged from a comic strip. The overall effect of the disguise was startling; but for the two nervous eyes that stared back at him from the mirror, he would not have recognized himself. The disguise was part of his careful planning for a week. You never could tell; it might stand him in good stead. It would not help if Nkiru or any other person that knew him saw him in the church premises and disrupted his plan.
    Pleased with himself, he took the container of paint and left the house by a back exit so that none of his neighbours could see him.
    It took him fifteen minutes to get to the church by taxi. The church was a medium-sized bungalow set on well-kept compound surrounded by a hedgerow. In front of the church was a signboard which bore the name of the church with this injunction: Come and receive your miracle.
    Ikem gritted his teeth. The sight of the church with its beautiful exterior and pretentious signboard filled him with sudden anger.
    Apart from a man who was working at the hedge with a pair of shears, Ikem saw no one in the church compound. He looked at his watch and stood wondering for a moment. From his findings, the pastor was supposed to keep office for counselling from twelve to three today but he could not see the pastor’s car. Thinking that he had probably missed him, he went to the woman selling fruit across the road and asked her about the pastor.
    The woman looked strangely at him as though he had fallen from the sky and asked, ‘Pastor Andrew? He will soon be here. He does not come early today because today is not a day of service.’
    ‘But it is a day of counselling?’
    ‘Counselling? I don’t know about counselling, but I know that he usually comes around twelve to see people and pray for them.’ She gave him that strange look again. ‘Do you want to see the pastor?’ she asked in a tone of disbelief.
    ‘Yes.’ Surely she cannot see through me?
    The woman muttered something then said aloud, ‘You really mean you want to see the pastor? Mh! Things have changed indeed. I thought that Rastas had nothing to do with church. I had a cousin who was a Rasta. He said that Rastas did not worship the same God that we Christians worship. So I am surprised to see a Rasta looking for a pastor,’ and she laughed facetiously. ‘The world indeed is changing.’
    Ikem said nothing. After looking at him again like an apparition, the woman offered him a stool which he took under the mango tree behind the woman’s fruit table and sat down to wait for the pastor.
    The weather was intolerably hot. In mid April, one might have expected the hot weather to cease and usher in the rains, but the sun still baked the earth with a savagery that was unequalled by anything in nature. Those of his classmates who sat in the back seats and made noise during class said that a part of hell had caved in and its heat now escaped and held the whole earth in judgment. It was a crude metaphor and Ikem had given them a hard look when they had said it, but sitting under the mango tree this hot afternoon, he wondered if there might not be some truth in it after all. Sweat ran like little wet insects inside his clothes which stuck to his body, stifling him. Worse of all, flies which had been attracted by the fruits troubled him from time to time as though they mocked him.
    By the time the pastor’s car drove into the church compound after about three hours of his waiting, Ikem was in quite a mood. His nerves were raw and he could hardly hold himself back from jumping in at once and get the job over with.
But it was to his credit that he was able to wait five minutes as he instructed himself, then clutching the little container, he rose and went into the church.
    He found the way to the pastor’s office, opened the door and entered. The pastor was standing at his desk, looking at a document in his hand. He was a man of small build; Ikem reflected that he could overpower him if it came to a physical scuffle. He closed the door and leaned against it. The pastor stared at him with wide eyes.
    ‘Who are you?’ he demanded.
    ‘You are Pastor Andy or Andrew?’
    ‘Yes. Who are you?’ he repeated.
    ‘Who I am is not important, pastor. You took something that belongs to me. You must give it back.’
    ‘What are you talking about?’ the pastor asked in an angry tone but Ikem noticed that he was edging slowly backwards. He left the door and advanced towards him.
    ‘Nkiru Onu, that’s what I am talking about. She is my girlfriend and you turned her head with charm. You must undo what you did to her.’
    Ikem was watching him closely and he noticed a flicker pass like a shadow over his eyes.
    ‘Are you out of your mind?’ the pastor said in the same angry tone that suddenly began to dampen Ikem’s courage. ‘I have no business with you. Now get out of my office before I do you something you will regret.’
    ‘You still have the mouth to threaten me? Okay, take this!’
    Jerking out the container, Ikem raised it in front of the pastor and depressed the sprayer. To his shock, nothing happened. He flung himself within a foot of the pastor and viciously depressed the sprayer again. A short squirt of red paint came out and splattered the pastor’s clothes. He screamed. Ikem depressed the sprayer again, producing a sticky jet of paint that covered the front of the pastor’s suit. Then he felt a pair of hands drag him back. He tried to struggle and received a kick in his back. He crashed to the ground; two men held him down. Suddenly the room was full of people. Some of the women that had run in went to the pastor and helped him to remove his jacket and wipe the paint off his face.
    ‘Don’t beat him,’ the pastor said to the two men that held Ikem down. ‘Can’t you see he is a madman? Don’t treat people of weak mind harshly.’
    Ikem laughed at this.
    ‘Madman? Is that your new trick—to brand me mad when you know exactly what I am talking about?’
    The pastor gave him a sympathetic smile.
    ‘We will send you to a place where they will take good care of you. I don’t support madmen roaming the streets.’
    The police arrived a while after and took him away. All his protestations of sanity fell on deaf ears. And had Nkiru not arrived then with some of his classmates and friends, he would have ended up in the State Psychiatric Hospital. But even after that, some people were inclined to say that he had actually had a temporary attack of madness—that his breakup with Nkiru had somehow tipped him off the edge of sanity.

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