Nkiendah's Red Eyes

Author(s): Bole Butake

Source: Callaloo, No. 8/10 (Feb. - Oct., 1980), pp. 79-86
Published by: The Johns Hopkins University Press
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/3043932 .
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 79

NKIENDAH'S RED EYES

by Bole Butake

"Red eyes will bring about your death; you this child. How can it be
that you are never satisfied with what you are given? You eat and
wipe your mouth like the fowl does and still looks as hungry as ever.
You will see what greed will do to you some day," Mama Fijoi used to
tell her son, Nkiendah, way back in his childhood.
Today Nkiendah remembered his mother's words because he was
several hundred kilometres away from his village looking for a man
who might not even exist. If he were alone things might be different.
But he was with his daughter, Yiwsi; and he had come this long dis-
tance to give her hand in marriage to a man who claimed to be a big
government servant in a big office in Kumba. Nkiendah had never
seen or heard of this man; but he had promised wonders. "Even if this
small sum of money is not enough for the transport fare borrow more
and come down as soon as you receive this letter. Money is not the
problem; but I am dying to see Yiwsi and, of course, you." It was only
after Nkiendah and his daughter had been looking for the man called
Thomas Wanti of Divisional Office, Kumba, for two days that for the
first time in his life he began to think about his predicament.
If this man loved his daughter as much as he claimed in that letter,
Nkiendah wondered, why didn't he come and see him in his own com-
pound as was the custom? For the first time he realised that there was
something smelly about that letter. The envelope was in Nkiendah's
name; but the letter itself was in the name of his daughter. In the letter
Thomas Wanti would address himself to Yiwsi at one moment and to
Nkiendah the very next instance. But in that condition of great excite-
ment Nkiendah could not suspect anything. Yiwsi was ready to go
with any plan so long as she would be released from the forced deten-
tion under which her father had placed her. In fact she was planning to
escape from this Thomas Wanti and join Sama Ndifon wherever he
might be. She couldn't bear to stay away from her son.
Yes, late Mama Fijoi was right when she said Nkiendah would see
what his greed would lead him to. Those red eyes of his were even the
cause of her death. And now, here they were stranded in Kumba be-
cause of his red eyes. For the first time in his life Nkiendah agreed with
the rest of the world that one can only void in the same measure as one
eats. He had to. So many hundred kilometres away from his village

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80

and a daughter on his back and no transport money to go back home!

They had been looking for this Thomas Wanti for two days now, and
there was no longer any doubt that no such person existed in Kumba.
Nobody by that name had ever worked in the Kumba Divisional Of-
fice, and no Oku man had ever heard of him. He had claimed in his
letter that he was a true born of Oku, the third son of Pa Wanti of
Njikijem. All the Oku elements in Kumba knew each other, and many
of them knew Pa Wanti. But they all said he didn't have a son working
anywhere in the government service. All of his sons were back in the
village cutting down a whole forest and planting coffee. None of them
had ever seen the four walls of a school and they were all married. In
fact the youngest of them was Nkiendah's age-mate and he too had re-
cently married off his daughter to some big teacher in the village.
Nkiendah now saw his plight very clearly. His mother was right
when she often said that he would one day live the reward of his
greed. It was also very true what the elders said: A dog that chases too
much will one day catch a viper. If he had not been such a red-eyed
glutton he would never have demanded so much from Yiwsi's hus-
band; she would never have returned to the compound with their son;
the letter would never have been received; and they would never have
left the village for Kumba to look for Thomas Wanti who did not
exist. Yes, a dog that chases too much will one day catch a viper. He
had, at last, caught a viper. And here they were marooned in Kumba:
no money to pay the fare back to the village. It meant ten thousand
francs for both of them, and they would barely arrive. They would
have to live on charity. If they hadn't found their country man, Pa
Toma, they would probably be sleeping on the road. Nkiendah did
not want to think of the five thousand francs he had borrowed from
his neighbor, Pa Lanyam. If only he could get back home he would of-
fer a suitable holocaust to the ancestors. He had neglected them all
these years just because of his greed. He now believed that his mother,
Mama Fijoi, must be behind this misfortune which had befallen him.
Hadn't he been responsible for her death? Just because he knew that
the woman could not be taken away from him after that last cere-
mony?
Nkiendah had, indeed, done a terrible thing to his in-laws. Such
baseness had never been heard of in the whole clan and Mama Fijoi
had died of the shock. It was the last oil known as the oil for the home-
coming in respect of Yiwsi's mother. All of the bride-wealth had al-
ready been paid and all that remained was two tins of palm-oil for the
home-coming. Nkiendah's uncle, Pa Gayi, had bought the two tins of
oil and instructed him to take them to his in-laws. On the eve of the
home-coming, Nkiendah looked at the two tins of oil and his eyes

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 81

grew large and red. If he gave away all the oil what would the woman
use in cooking his food? What they had given away to the in-laws was
already too much! After all, the woman was coming home finally and,
no matter what happened, her family would not dare to take her back.
So Nkiendah had procured an empty tin and filled it half way with
water and then topped it with oil. Then he poured some water into the
other tin until the oil showed at the mouth. He sealed both tins up
very carefully with banana fibre and took them to his in-laws early in
the morning. That night he received his bride and forgot about his
dirty trick.
Two weeks later Mama Fijoi was summoned by her in-laws rather
urgently. She found Ntumla's mother and Ma Nkainen sitting by the
fire-side, talking in low tones. As soon as the usual greetings were ex-
changed Ntumla's mother brought down a large pot from the ceiling
and fetched the two tins of oil from a corner of the house. Then Ma
Nkainen spoke:
"We were just saying that you too should come and see what our
own eyes are seeing. Sometimes when you are working in the farm
alone you can confuse the headless snake, giver of children, for an
earthworm and do it some harm. So it is always good to call a neigh-
bour and see whether she has something else to say." Then, turning to
Ntumla's mother she said, "Mbo'oh, pour the oil into the pot."
When Ntumla's mother began to pour the oil into the pot, Mama
Fijoi thought she was dreaming. She pinched her thigh and wiped her
eyes with the hump of her right thumb. After the water came the oil,
and Mama Fijoi could not understand.
"Is this water or oil?" she wondered aloud.
"That is the same question we are asking ourselves," Ma Nkainen
replied.
"But, as you see, only the ancestors know whether this is water or
oil. Is this the way you people celebrate the home-coming of the bride
in your compound?"
"Who brought this oil?" Mama Fijoi heard herself ask.
"Who else? The husband of Ntumla, of course," Ma Nkainen an-
swered.
There was no longer any doubt as to what had happened. Mama
Fijoi cried from there until she got back to her compound. This is what
her son's greed had come to. She didn't understand how a man could
still be greedy, even when it came to his own wife. As soon as she got
to the compound she went into Nkiendah's house and began to search.
She soon found the tin of oil under his bed, hidden away in the darkest
corner.
From that day Mama Fijoi was no longer herself. The shame, the

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82

disgrace, was too much to bear. She lost the drive to live and withered
away like a weed in the sun. Three months later she died.
Nkiendah's greed was the death of his mother, which he didn't even
bother to honour with befitting sacrifices and ceremonies. He instead
saw this death as the removal of that other voice which was always re-
minding him about his red eyes, his greed. Now that she was no more
he would be free to go about his business unperturbed.
Yiwsi was his first child, and he became very attached to her. After
her came five other children, all of them boys, who were now pester-
ing him about clothes, books and school-fees.
Then Sama Ndifon came along saying he wanted to marry Yiwsi.
He was a very intelligent man but had not gone beyond Standard Six
in his education. He also travelled a lot and had gone all over Nigeria
and most of Cameroon. He had worked in all sorts of places but never
managed to keep steady at any one job. Either he challenged the au-
thority of his boss or defrauded the service of something and got
sacked. But he never went to prison. Nobody was ever clever enough
to pin a charge on him that would lead to his being convicted. He was
a smart fellow, Sam Ndifon.
So he once came back home and saw Yiwsi and loved her. Everyone
in the clan knew what red eyes Nkiendah had and advised Sama
Ndifon to look elsewhere. A fly can never carry a lump of shit, they
said. It can only strut about on it and fly off with dirty feet. But Sama
Ndifon would have Yiwsi or no other girl in the village. He loaded
Nkiendah with gifts and money until he thought he had given more
than enough. Then he went to his in-law and asked to fix a day on
which both families should discuss the matter and come to some con-
clusion concerning the home-coming oil.
"Eh? Home-coming oil already?" Nkiendah ejaculated. "What
makes you think it is time for the home-coming oil? You think my
daughter is an orphan to be given away like that?"
"Ba'a, do you mean that you have not had enough yet?" Ndifon was
completely confounded. He now understood why his family had
warned him against Nkiendah. He had been to see him on three occa-
sions, each time with two or three members of his family. There was
always the traditional wine and presents for the bride's family. But on
none of these occasions had they found Nkiendah with any other
member of his own family. He always said that he was the head of the
family and so did not need a crowd to settle a little problem of giving
out a daughter in marriage. Now, it was clear to Ndifon that Nkien-
dah was determined to make the greatest profit out of the deal. But he
was not the type to be cheated by a greedy village tortoise in the shape
of Nkiendah.

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 83

"You know that according to our custom I have already gone way
beyond the stipulated bride-wealth just because I thought that marry-
ing a woman is not like buying a cow off a Fulani man. You know also
that our people say you never finish paying the price for a bride. So
just fix the date for the home-coming oil so that I can claim my bride."
"Yes, I will tell you when the time comes," Nkiendah said calmly.
"Where have you ever heard that a man who lives by the river washed
his hands with spittle? I will tell you when the time comes."
There was nothing more to say. So Sama Ndifon left with a promise
to come back any time he had something. That promise came from the
mouth only. For, in his heart, he was at that moment taking a solemn
oath never to give anything more to Nkiendah or any of his kinsmen
on Yiwsi's head.
He was a travelling man and had hoped to go away this time with a
wife honourably given to him by her family. But as things now stood
he would have to use his brains to be able to go away with Yiwsi. On
the following day of rest when she brought him food, he told her that
her father had refused to fix the day for the home-coming oil.
"Buthow can he do that? What reason did he give?" Yiwsi inquired.
"He says he can't live on the banks of the Kibanya and wash his
hands with spittle."
"Is that what he says? So he hasn't eaten enough from you yet? He is
my father but he has very big eyes. I will be no party to his greed."
"I am leaving for Nkongsamba next market day, in five days. I have
been putting off the journey because I thought we might leave to-
gether. But now your father wants to marry you himself."
"And what becomes of me? You think I will stay behind and be
laughed at by friends? The whole village will be saying that I am in
support of his behavior."
"We will leave together then. But don't whisper it even to the grass.
If he knows that I am about to leave he will lock you up in the house
until several weeks after my departure."
Five days later Sama Ndifon and Yiwsi had eloped, and Nkiendah
was so angry that he could have cut someone down with his matchet.
He kept swearing that the day Yiwsi came back she would not spend a
single night in Ndifon's compound.
Sama Ndifon had always held that a true born of the clan must al-
ways return to his people at least once every year. He had rigorously
observed this rule until his elopement with Yiwsi. Then he found him-
self staying away from the village for four years! He and his wife had
had a son who was now three years old, and she was even more anx-
ious than he was to see her mother and show her the son who was al-
ready growing into a man. Both of them believed that the sight of a

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84

three-year old son would so please Nkiendah that he would forget the
past and bless the marriage. But no. As soon as they got to the village,
Nkiendah descended upon them like a kite and made off with his
daughter and grandson.
For four consecutive weeks, Sama Ndif on, to no avail, tried by him-
self and through emissaries to make Nkiendah see reason and recog-
nise the marriage. Yiwsi's father only insisted on the fact that his
daughter had been stolen from him and that whatever he had received
before was not enough compensation for the crime. He kept his
daughter under firm guard and made it known that if he as much as
heard that she ever left the compound for no good reason he would
pull out her eyes with his tapping-knife. In short, as far as he was con-
cerned, there could never be talk again of her being Sama Ndifon's
wife.
After two months Sama Ndifon came to live with the fact that Yiwsi
could never become his truly married wife. So he again opened up
contacts to reclaim his son, Ntumfon, whom he loved dearly. But Nki-
endah would not hear of it. And Ndifon would not accept to lose both
mother and son.
He spent sleepless nights trying to figure out how to recover his only
offspring. He believed very firmly that the hawk can never catch an
only chick. He knew that Nkiendah's greatest weakness was the lust
for money. He also knew that nobody in the whole clan would dare to
ask Yiwsi's hand in marriage again after what had happened to him.
He had been the only one foolish enough to put his hand into the fire
in spite of the warnings. But everyone else in the clan knew Nkiendah
for his red eyes. Six months passed and no one came near Nkiendah's
compound to ask after his daughter Yiwsi, who had returned from the
world of civilisation looking even younger and more beautiful than
when she had left the village a few years back.
Meanwhile, Sama Ndif on had, at last, settled on a line of action
which he hoped would succeed. One day he suddenly disappeared
from the village. Nobody knew where he had gone; but when he re-
turned a week later he said he had gone to Maiduguri in Nigeria to see
an old friend of his. Two days later when the mailvan arrived Nkien-
dah received the letter from Thomas Wanti, the Oku man working in
the Divisional Office, Kumba. There was ten thousand francs en-
closed. In it this Thomas Wanti claimed that a few years back while he
was on tour of the Noni clan in the entourage of the Provincial Ad-
ministrator he had noticed and immediately admired young Yiwsi. He
had made inquiries very quietly and had been told that she was the
daughter of Nkiendah. If she was not yet married, as he sincerely
hoped was the case, he would make her his wife without any delay.

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 85

There was also a photograph of himself enclosed. It was a full length

picture and he was wearing a beautifully cut dark suit and dark
glasses. Thomas Wanti said he had heard about the exceptional char-
acter and behaviour of Yiwsi. That was why he was determined to
make her his first and only wife.
When he had heard the contents of the letter Nkiendah had immedi-
ately realised that a child would constitute a hindrance to this very
promising match. He remembered that five years back the Provincial
Administrator had indeed visited the Noni clan with a large group of
people. So many vehicles had never been seen in any of the Noni vil-
lages on any one occasion. This Thomas Wanti was in that group,
then?
Nkiendah removed the picture from his danshiki pocket and handed
it over to Pa Toma.
"That is the man. When I showed that photo at the big office up
there, they said they had never seen such a man in the place," he said
with a shaky voice.
"Did you show it to the Oku people?" Pa Toma asked, examining it
closely.
"I did. But in the whole of that meeting nobody recognised the per-
son.
"And you say he sent money, too?"
"Yes, there was ten thousand francs in the letter. He said if the
money was not enough I shouldn't fear to borrow more."
Pa Toma could not understand how a man could simply receive a
letter with money and a photo in it and immediately pack up his
daughter and things and set out on a journey of nearly four hundred
kilometres without enough money in his pocket. He knew, of course,
that back in the villages the practice of marriage proposals by photos
was a very common phenomenon. But the family of the man was al-
ways well-known to everyone in the village. How Nkiendah could
have set out for Kumba without even bothering to investigate in
Njikijem, which was at most two days journey away from his own vil-
lage, was incomprehensible. But Pa Toma did not know about Nkien-
dah's red eyes. He did not know about his lust for money. He did not
know that Nkiendah had eaten Sama Ndifon's money and refused to
give him the bride. He did not know that Nkiendah had even im-
pounded Ndifon's only son, Ntumfon, until he realised that the off-
spring was standing in the way of his making more money. That is
why he had hurriedly called Sama Ndifon that same night of the fate-
ful letter and asked him to take away his son.
"I can't sleep at night," he had said. "Nobody sleeps in this com-
pound. I know you are bewitching us because of your son. Take him
away and give us peace and sleep."

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86

And Ndifon had quietly taken away his son and disappeared from
the village the very next day.
Pa Toma did not know any of these things. He didn't want to ask
the several questions that were worrying him. What was the use mak-
ing Nkiendah's grief even more bitter? So he left the several questions
unasked and instead said: "I have called an emergency meeting of the
Noni people tomorrow. We must find a way out and send you and
your daughter back to the village. The meeting is there to help in cases
such as yours. That is why we have always said that it is good to live
together and to have a good word for everyone. We insist on that. If
you people have your family and village quarrels back at home, those
of us who are out here are all brothers and sisters. Because we know
that no man can live by himself no matter how wealthy or intelligent
he is. Rest your mind. I know our people will give you money to go
back home. The elders say that one hand washes the other. It is the
principle on which we live here in Kumba. I don't know how you peo-
ple live at home, but I am sure that this thing that has happened to you
is not for nothing. It is pregnant. When you go back home call the
man with whom you have a quarrel and settle the matter. Our people
say that you void your bowels in the same measure as you eat. Go
back to the village and have this affair solved before the thing deliv-
ers. My own is finished."

Copyright?1979by BoleButake
All rightsreserved.
Reprintedwith permissionfrom TheMould, No. 3, 1979.
Universityof Yaounde.

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