c






þ
e buried Maggie in a quiet ceremony attended by our family and
friends one misty morning. The preacher took note of this in his
sermon and said that even the sky was weeping and mourning for
her. She died in her boots fighting for her life - or to adjust that statement
slightly, defending herself while being brutalized by her Casanova of a
husband, James. That notorious and fatal fight ended the countless,
interminable spousal fights between Maggie and James. That was the last
scene and act in a marriage that could only be charitably described as a
monumental tragedy.

Maggie ended up in a casket, six feet deep in the earth. James ended up in
prison custody with charges of manslaughter, and several other counts.
We, the family, ended up with two motherless babies aged three and one to
take care of in a cold, unfriendly world. Their father looked set to spend a
while in prison. Millie, the three-year-old girl, looked like James. Ito, the
boy, looked like Maggie. Maggie died from injuries sustained in the fight
about twenty-four hours after.

Maggie had a quiet funeral. The old, affable preacher preached that she
was now having the peace she never had on earth. That gladdened my
heart and rolled back my tears. The choir sang ³The Old Rugged Cross.´
My brother, Junior, read the biography. James' family, at least a few of
them, turned up for the burial and whispered words of condolences to us.
Uncle Tom, the only parent we ever had, wept like a baby. He brought us
up after our parents died in an auto accident when Maggie was nine; I was
seven; and Junior was five. One gray old woman with regal looks was in
the hearse and so was one good looking young priest with his beautiful
wife. The priest had wanted to marry Maggie but she preferred James.

That was the end of Margaret James Taylor. On her tombstone over at the
cemetery close to the river we inscribed, "Goodnight Angel" and left it at
that.

After the burial a short, fat, middle-aged lawyer with a boyish face
approached me, "Are you Janet, the sister of the deceased?"
I nodded.

"Accept my condolence."
"Thanks."

"When did you come back from the States?"

"Got in two nights ago."

"She made a will while on her death bed. I was her lawyer," he said. "She
willed everything to her children, you and your brother, and appointed you
the administrator of her estate. If you look into my office I will furnish you
with the details."

³Give me your contact information and an appointment and I will look you
up," I replied, doing my utmost to fight back the tears and maintain my
composure.

He gave me his call card and fixed an appointment for the first day of the
next week. Then he brought out a little exercise book and handed it over to
me. "She said I should give you this and that you should make a copy for
yourself and give it to her daughter on her sixteenth birthday."

Puzzled I collected the exercise book and wondered what it was. "Thank
you."

"Once again accept my condolence. Your sister was an extremely nice

woman. Good bye and see you later."

"Thanks and goodbye."

I hurried away to my room, locked the door behind me and excitedly

opened the book and began to read.

* * *

When James Taylor came, I decided to chat with Uncle Tom about him.
James was dashing and cute - every woman's dream man. But several
times Uncle Tom had warned me about suitors and more often than not he
had been right. Now here came James and stole my heart and, of course,
actually proposed to me, but before saying anything to him I needed to
consult with Uncle Tom.
Uncle Tom listened carefully to me and then he grunted and made a
remark about the weather.

³Uncle, did you hear me at all?" I said, confused by the impertinent remark
about the weather. "What? How does the weather come in here?"

³I will send you to a wise old woman who once saved my life. She watches
human character like a weatherman watches the weather. Her margin of
error is about the same as a weatherman's."

"Uncle, I don¶t want to see her!" I said emphatically. ³I am okay with your
counsel.´

³She lives over by the river. But you are likely to see her at a pub known as
The Tavern by the riverside, sitting all by herself and watching people troop
in and out. She drinks only soda water and nothing else,´ he continued as if
he did not hear me.

''Uncle, please I do not want to see her. Your opinion had always been
sufficient for me;'' I said patiently.

''In that case take a chance with James Taylor - at least he has a poetic
name. I cannot help you further;'' he said and reached for the newspaper
beside him. He was obviously dismissing me.

''How did this old woman save your life?"

He lowered the newspaper, adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses and looked

at me over them. ³It was long ago. She happens to be my grand aunt. l had
a job in this town and went to live with my uncle who had a house in the
town. My uncle had a daughter who had a crush on me and being foolish
and incontinent, I started having an affair with her. Everything went well
until my uncle found out about us.

''He raised hell and l denied flat that l had anything to do with his daughter,
my cousin. But he was insistent that l was lying. My father heard about it,
came and asked me and l lied to him. My mother, elders etc. all queried me
but l still denied. As you know such a liaison between cousins is an
abomination and is considered an incestuous relationship in our African
community. So I lied flat to save my face.
"The more I lied, the more livid my uncle got. He claimed I was making him
out to be a liar and wanted me to swear to a voodoo oath. He contacted a
notorious witchdoctor who had a voodoo reputed to have led to the death of
several persons who swore by it falsely.

³A date was fixed for the oath-taking and fear of what I considered to be my
impending death gripped me. I was actually in the throes of death and I
was willing to swear and die instead of living to see the shame.

"Three days to that date my auntie who was one of those invited for the
oath-taking sent for me. She had packed her bag and was ready to travel.
The journey from her town to this town was about 300 kilometers. I arrived
and met her.

"She asked me about my health and then she asked me to tell her the
truth. Once again I denied. She then asked me to put my hand on her chest
while she put hers on mine. 'My son tell me the truth did you do it?'

Again I denied.

"Then she pulled back and said ' You did it.' I said nothing. She said, 'Do
you know what the good book says? The truth shall set us free. Do you
care to tell me the truth?' 'Promise me you will not tell any one else? I said.
'You have my word of honor that I won¶t¶ she replied. I confessed to her and
began to cry.

"She did not look surprised by my confession. She had food made for me
and encouraged me to eat claiming that it was going to be well. She looked
so relaxed and relieved that for the first time in a long while I ate well. She
kept telling me that everything was going to be well, but blamed me for not
confessing to her on earlier occasions when she had interrogated me on
the matter.

³µAuntie, would I still swear by that oath?' I asked after the meal. 'You are
supposed to, my son,' she replied. 'But what will you do? I hope you do not
intend to go there and tell them that I did it. You promised me that you will
keep the information to yourself,' I said. She laughed and said 'First we
travel there and second we cross every bridge as we come to it. But
remember I never break my promise.' My sadness returned and I began to
prepare for my impending death.

³The trip was uneventful. We arrived at my uncle's house separately

because she said she did not want people to know we came together.
Tension hung over the place like a fog at harmattan. My auntie, who arrived
after me, was her usual bright infectious self, greeting and laughing with
everyone. A lot of people had gathered and my uncle stood up and talked.
He spoke about his kindness, his confidence in me and how I betrayed that
confidence and committed this abomination. My daddy got up and
responded that he had talked with me and believed I did not do it."

³What of the witchdoctor?" I interrupted him.

"Oh yes, he was there with all sorts of fetish, mean-looking objects,
including a human skull. After a lot of talk my uncle insisted I should take
the oath. My auntie kept uncommonly quiet throughout the deliberation and
I was sorely disappointed in her. I tried to meet her eyes but she looked
away and avoided looking at me all the time. Her eyes appeared
permanently fixed on my uncle.

"I was asked to go and wear only pants for the oath-taking. I fought back
tears, went and changed and came back. The witchdoctor stepped forward
to administer the rites before the oath. It was then my aunty exploded.

"She took centre stage and railed at my uncle. µUdoh you are a wicked
man! I have been hearing that you are hard-hearted, a pharaoh, and now I
have to my eternal shame witnessed it. Is this boy not your son? If he had
done it, would he have been prepared to swear to this your wicked oath?
What if he swears and lives would he or his children ever forgive you and
would you ever have the face to go to his father's house? Have you
considered the consequences of your action? If he swears and dies would
you throw a party and rejoice? What kind of heartless man are you? What
do you have inside your heart is it flesh or stone? My God! I wish I had died
earlier and not lived to see this public disgrace of a respected and honored
family name. I never thought you would go this far and still want this little
boy to swear to an oath. Take a knife and kill him and be happy. Mr.
Witchdoctor I will swear along with this boy and please give me a
concoction that would kill me because I cannot live and face my neighbors
and Friends after this disgrace...' I cannot remember all that she said. It
was a compelling act.

"Then she stepped forward and ordered me 'Come on boy let us swear! Let
us swear so that Udo will rejoice in evil. Let the witchdoctor administer the
burial rites on me along with the oath! Kill me for this disgrace is too much.'
The witchdoctor was taken aback with the turn of the events.

Others present nodded silent agreement with my aunty. I looked over at my

mother she sat behind weeping and wailing. The atmosphere was so
charged you could almost touch the tension. My embarrassed uncle was
forced by the turn of events to call off the oath taking and apologized to my
auntie, my parent and myself.

"When we got back I hugged my auntie with all my might but she was
nonplussed. She sat me down and wept, µSon, I did the wrong thing but I
had to save your life. I did what I had to do. Never get into such a mess
again. Zip up and do not open your mouth on this otherwise Udo will never
forgive me and my entire reputation would be ruined.' I wept with her. If it
were not for her I would have died, probably not form the juju but from my
fear of it."

"Very smart woman!" I remarked.

"She pulled it off because she understood my uncle and the audience she
was addressing. She has perfect understanding of folks."

"Where do I see her?"

"I told you."

"Okay I remember, The Travern. What is her name?"

"Madam Iquo," he went back to his newspaper. "Mention me to her."

I bade him farewell and left.

I met Madam Iquo at µThe Tavern¶ sitting precisely where Uncle Tom said
she would, and drinking soda water. The Tavern had scanty customers and
she reclined in her chair and watched me warily as I approached her. She
was old and pretty - age had been fair to her. She had gentle eyes and a
forthright look.

"Good day ma!" I greeted her.

³It has been a good day so far, my daughter,´ she replied.

³My uncle, Tom Amos, sent me to see you,´ I told her.

³Tom! How is the nice young fellow? Fine I hope. I am always glad to meet
new people. My name is Iquo Nathaniel. No one calls me by my first name
anymore because I have outlived my generation. So call me what you like.´

³I know your name, he told me about you,´ I liked her instantly.

³Do sit down. Looking up at you, despite your beauty, might give my old
neck a pain.´

³Thanks,´ I pulled up a chair and sat down.

³I don¶t take alcohol and I do not buy it for people nor sit with those who
take it. So you say what you want to drink but alcohol is not an option.´ She
signaled to the waiter.

³Soda water,´ I said.

The waiter brought the drink and I raised it in a toast to her and drank it.

³Not your regular drink, I can see, but it is good for you. I saw that in your
face,´ she said.

I laughed, admitted she was right and said I would manage. I sat quietly
wondering how to start.

³Well I am not a very busy woman, I have an appointment with the grave
but it has been long in coming and I can afford to wait. On the other hand
you are a very busy young woman so why don¶t you go right ahead and tell
me about him,´ she said gently.

³About who?´ I said taken aback.

³This fellow who wants to marry you. This new prospect or is that not why
you came?´

³How did you know that?´

³Simple,´ she laughed. ³The ring mark is still in the engagement finger but
the ring is missing. So you just walked out of an engagement. But instead
of worry lines your face is aglow which means there is someone else. And
Tom would not have sent you to me for anything else. He has done that
before, the poor man is trying to turn an old woman into a marriage
counselor. Or have I jumped to the wrong conclusion?´

³No you have not´.

³That is the only kind of jump I take this days and thank God I almost
always break the fall safely´.

We laughed at the joke and I began to tell her about James Taylor.
Handsome to a fault - tall, dashing, intelligent, witty and cool. Crazy about
me, he would not stay an entire day without seeing me. I gave her the
whole works and held nothing back. She kept her eyes on me but her face
betrayed no emotion. I must have talked for about an hour but she never
interrupted me nor showed any sign of boredom. When I finished she
reached for her soda and drank it without a word.

³Talk some more on why you believe he loves you and use instances to
justify your belief, also make allowance for my cynicism,´ she said.

I told her and spared no details. Truly James Taylor loved me and was
absolutely crazy about me. When I finished she reached for her bag and
brought out a bible. She handed it over to me and said, ³Open this bible to
the book of µSecond Samuel chapter thirteen¶ and read from verse one to
seventeen.´

³Should I read it our loud,´ I asked.

³No,´ she replied amused. ³I have read it countless times. You read it for
yourself.´
I opened it and read:

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³Why did Amnon¶s love for her turn to hatred?´ she asked in a
conversational tone when I finished.

I thought about it for a long time, then I confessed I did not know.

She threw back her head and laughed, ³Such love comes like a
hurricane and disappears as such. I might call your present affair with all
due respect to you as µHurricane James.¶ It is powerful, forceful and will
be ephemeral. Tamar was still the way she was ± fair and pretty but his
disposition towards her took an about-turn. That was Hurricane Amnon.´

³But don¶t you believe in love? You sound too skeptical!´

³Of cause I believe in true love,´ she replied. ³An example is the one I
refer to as µthe Abraham Breeze.¶ The love Father Abraham had for
mother Sarah. Sarah asked him to father a son by her house help,
Hagar, and he did. Later she asked him to send his own son away and
he did not rebuke her for her mistake in asking him to have liaisons with
Hagar in the first place.

³And two times he had Sarah claim to be his sister and was not jealous
that other men might try to take her because of this. He loved her to the
end and she loved him too. Such love comes gently from gentle and
courageous hearts. Hurricanes are powered by eros and seek only the
physical and lustful gratification of the body. The breeze cherishes more
than the physical. When Sarah died, Abraham was offered a tomb free
of charge but he insisted on paying for it because Sarah was still too
honored by him to let her rest in a place of charity that cost him nothing.
Love must cost us something.

³My dear lady, the breeze blows steadily and gently from the ocean of
love and whistles endlessly in our ears and refreshes our lives. God
speaks in a gentle whisper or a still small voice. True love is gentle,
humble and sweet. True love is like an army general, it does not shout.
The counterfeit µeros¶ is like a non-commissioned officer, it makes the
most noise.´

She paused to sip her soda. My thoughts raced inside me as I grappled

with her words.

³The reason he is staying on is because you have refused to grace his

bed,´ she said.

³How do you know that?´ She was right of course. As a born-again

Christian I had stoutly refused to have pre-marital sex with him in spite
of his insistence.

³Because if you had, he would have been away and gone looking for
another challenge. Or he would not show you this exaggerated attention
anymore, because he would begin to explore other horizons for
conquests.´ She removed her bifocals and cleaned it. ³Tell me of
someone else, will you?´

³Well there is this pastor,´ I said with a shrug.

³What about him?´

³He proposed to me but he comes to me see me sparingly and I don¶t

think he loves me as mush as James does or that he is as serious as
James.´

³Why do you think so?´

 ³Well he says he loves me but«´

³Does he keep appointments? Does he honor his words? Is he a man of

his words?´ She interrupted.

³Yes, he does that scrupulously.´

³Has he been involved in any sex scandal before or has he had a known
sexual liaison with anyone to the best of your knowledge.´

³No.´

³Would you have known if he had? And has he been a pastor for a while?´

³I would have known. He has been a pastor for five years now.´

³That,´ she declared as she put on her glasses, ³is the best husband you
will never marry.´

³How?´

³To the pure all things are pure. A man who keeps his words, believes
his word is his bond. He speaks it like God and expects you to believe
him and does not consider it necessary to follow it up with actions to
you. He keeps his distance from you so that he will not be tempted to
have sex with you. He wants to bless you and not to own you. He has
stretched out his hand for a handshake and believes if you care you
should take it. He wants a life partner not a sex article. He respects
himself and he respects you.´

³But won¶t he be too stiff and rigid in the house?´

³Principled, yes but loving, tender and supportive. And above all he
would not run after other women.´

We sat in silence for a long time. I looked at my watch and shifted back
my chair, ³It has been nice talking to you. Thank you so much.´

³Thanks for nothing, dear one,´ she said then she suddenly burst into
tears. She reached for a handkerchief and wiped her tears. I stood there
 confused. ³Don¶t mind me I am a sentimental old fool. ³You are in love
with James. I call it love for want of a better word. I have not convinced
you at all. Like I would have done when I was your age ± impetuous and
adventurous ± you still want to try him out. I pray I am proved wrong, but
I smell problems. But please do me a favor, will you?´

³Yes,´ I could only mutter that, I was too dazed by this mind reader for
words.

³Write down this discussion and give it to people you love. It might help
someone else.´

She got up and gave me a hug. As I turned to leave, I opened my hand

bag to give her money, but she closed it firmly and said ³Don¶t think of it,
I don¶t take money from friends for discussing with them. And I am not a
charity case. I am on pension.´

I shrugged and left.

Two months later, I married James Taylor.

* * * *

When I finished reading the book, I wept. Then I took a red pen and
added in capital letters ³AND THREE YEARS AND NINE MONTHS
LATER, SHE DIED ± KILLED BY HURRICANE JAMES.´
?