Prologue
At the psychiatrist’s: the specialist is doing his level best to control and calm down DR DAVID who is very upset and agitated, pacing up and down like a wounded animal.
DAVID: Nothing makes sense anymore. Darkness is all I see. I’m choking, man, choking ―
SPECIALIST: Relax, Dr David, relax. Listen, you must control yourself. Be a man.
DAVID: A man! What man? You mean a hollowed-out shell of a man? A once-upon-a-man? See, look around this pigsty I’ve been brought to, to do what? For what? Why not? Look at everywhere, what do I see: DARKNESS! (Begins to bellow, and a lone flute begins to play a doleful tune in the background, rising and falling throughout the scene.)
SPECIALIST: Please calm down, Dr David. Do you wish to be seen like this by your family? Ehn? You wife and kids are waiting for you in the reception room. They too are frantic, very worried over your … over you; and I’m the psychiatrist here, it’s my job to see you’re okay. Twenty-five years in practice is not a joke, if I may say so myself. Leave everything to me, I say calm down. You’ll be fine. Just talk to me. Answer my questions.
DAVID: Just like that!
SPECIALIST: Just like that.
DAVID: How about this thick darkness I see all around me?
SPECIALIST: It shall disappear. Trust me.
DAVID: The voices, the mocking voices I hear?
SPECIALIST: They shall cease. I will silence them. I know how.
DAVID: But … Doctor (Hesitates.)
SPECIALIST: No buts, my friend, no buts. Just let it all out. SPEAK.
DAVID: I am speaking, Doctor.
SPECIALIST: Now sit down … go on … sit. Very Good. As you were saying …
DAVID: Doctor, I have forgotten what I was … wait a minute. What am I doing here? Who are you? Who are you? One of my enemies! (Calling.) Kate! Kate! My God, where are my children? Where are my children? If anybody touches my kids, I will kill him!
SPECIALIST: (Mollifies him.) Dr David, everything’s fine. Your wife is fine. So also are your kids. You have a beautiful family. They will be here in a moment. Just do one thing for me and I shall invite them in. okay?
DAVID: Okay
SPECIALIST: Very well, then. You were telling me a very captivating story ―
DAVID: About what?
SPECIALIST: About yourself ― wife kids, work, play… you know, something like that … those you love, those you hate; your likes and your dislikes. We were just having fun. So let’s have fun. Now, tell me: how’s Kate ―
DAVID: Kate is alright.
SPECIALIST: Great! And your children?
DAVID: I love my children. They mean the world to me.
SPECIALIST: Fantastic. Now, let’s just leave the home environment and take a stroll to the office.
DAVID: Office? Which office?
SPECIALIST: The campus. Aren’t you a lecturer?
DAVID: Nooo― ! I don’t want to go there. The place stinks! My God! See …!
(Quick fadeout.)
PART ONE
PROFESSOR SOGO’s Office. As lights come on, we see PROFESSOR SOGO, sitting, haranguing DR DAVID, who is standing.
SOGO: Look here, youngman. You cannot ruin what I’ve spent the best part of my life building. I, Professor Olorunsogo Awalolaiye, personal built this University, well, this Department from scratch. Where were you then? In your mother’s womb.
DAVID: You are right, Sir.
SOGO: Shut up! You speak when or if I permit you.
DAVID: Sorry Sir.
SOGO: Hear the fool. You can’t mess up everything we labored for, just because my retirement is around the corner. Even after retirement, I shall still stick around to police dilettantes and kid-gloved upstairs like you.
DAVID: Ah, Prof you’re not going anywhere. You’re the department. You leave, the department collapses.
SOGO: You should know that, shouldn’t you?
DAVID: Yes sir. We all do, sir.
SOGO: If you do, then why are you changing things around here? Why do you want to change the curriculum?
DAVID: My dear Prof, I believe change is necessary when custom ― or call it tradition ― has exhausted its transformational possibilities. The world is changing, Sir, and we must keep pace with else we are left behind.
SOGO: So curriculum change is your own way of changing the world, of keeping pace with the world? Ehn, tell me, David.
DAVID: I believe sir, that’s where we should start from. Our
diet. Our reading lists are like the food we feed our kids on. Feed them well, they grow and flourish. Starve them or feed them the wrong diet, they emaciate and die.
SOGO: Our children will not die before our eyes.
DAVID: I say amen to that, sir.
SOGO: Let me tell you, my dear I-want-to-change-the-world scholar. When I joined this profession in the 60’s after my PhD at Leeds, I was seized by such blithe idealism as the one under which you now labour. I wanted to change the world. To do so, I thought I needed to overhaul the system, throw out the texts on the menu and replace them with newer authors, contemporary stuff.
DAVID: That’s the way it should be.
SOGO: So I thought, until my old professor ― God rest his erudite soul ― he cautioned me. He said to me ― how can I forget his immortal words: “Old wine is the vintage brew, new is mere whey”. Do you know what that meant?
DAVID: (Tickled.) Hmm. I think I know what he was talking about. But forgive me, Sir, can I ask you a question?
SOGO: By all means, why not? Go on, ask.
DAVID: Are you familiar with the Holy Bible?
SOGO: Any scholar who is worth his salt should be knowledgeable about the Holy Bible. Practicing it is a different kettle of fish, though.
DAVID: Sir, talking about old wine versus new wine. Or fresh wine. Have you read John Chapter 2 versus 1-10?
SOGO: What does it say about wine, old and fresh?
DAVID: Sir, the scriptures tells us in that passage that fresh wine is far more desirable than old wine. In our present circumstances, modern techniques, theories and practices are far more relevant to us than old ancient cant.
SOGO: (Furious, goes on the attack.) Old ancient cant, you say, ehn? Cultural theories that have stood the test of time, you say are “old ancient can’t” does your generation have better concepts to offer? Can you beat rock-solid ideas woven around, say, Russian Formalism, Structuralism, Post-structuralism, Marxism and the like? Now tell me, what do you now teach your students? The politics of French kissing instead of French Philosophy; the politics of masturbation in place of that of Mother Africa; Sado- masochism has now toppled socialism; and in the realm of culture, what do we do now have? The philosophy of the Body! Not the famished, laboring body- for where? Succulent erotic bodies are an immensely popular topic for our scholars-on-the-go and their captive audience of students. What a shame!
DAVID: I find nothing wrong with all that, Sir.
SOGO: Why should you?
DAVID: The world is changing and research should reflect this change, Sir.
SOGO: Have you lost your mind, David? Have you? How can you stand there and mouth such inanities?
DAVID: I’m sorry, Sir But ―
SOGO: Be quiet! What sense does it make ―; does it stand to logic ―; in fact, how can ― damn it! My goodness! You disappoint me, young man. You let me down. Ah! Indeed, Terry Eagleton is right about our ivory towers of rot!
DAVID: I am sor ―
SOGO: Quiet!
(Silence.)
SOGO: (Almost to himself.) Decent, God-fearing, hardworking students are now seen poring over their textbooks in the library. You go closer to see what they
are reading; what, indeed, they are studying as though life, all our lives depend on it. What do you find? PORNOGRAPHY!
DAVID: It’s popular culture, Sir ― (SOGO throws him a withering look and DAVID wilts guiltily.)
SOGO: Now in this emerging Brave New World order presided over by the likes of this man here, we now have students seriously at work on passions and appetites of the basest sort. Sensationalist subjects such as vampirism, the gothic, bone-chilling mumbo- jumbo and allied rococo stuff.
DAVID: Pardon me, Sir, but you yourself taught us that “learning ought to be fun”.
SOGO: So therefore? I ask you: so therefore?
DAVID: Whatever is not fun is not worth it.
SOGO: So you take the fun and leave the learning? Or, put differently: you make the fun the learning? How do you move culture and society forward with your thematisation of fun?
DAVID: We build on the labours of our heroes past, Sir.
SOGO: Are you trying to make fun of me, David?
DAVID: Aah! No sir! I was just trying to ―
SOGO: Changing the subject ever so slightly.
DAVID: Yes sir.
SOGO: What do you have to say about the news making the rounds in the department?
DAVID: What news sir? Yu know as well as I do that our department is always agog with rumours and hearsay. But I don’t let all that distract me. I’m a scholar, not a rumour- monger.
SOGO: Very well, then. Do you or do you not teach in our Department the literature of latex – condom, if you prefer? And it’s also alleged you teach our students what they say you call “the political ramifications of tattooing and navel-piercing”.
(DAVID burst out laughing; his uncontrollable laughter verges on the maniacal: SOGO is nonplussed; incensed.)
SOGO: Quiet! Quiet!!! Or I shall call security!
DAVID: (Subsiding, chortling.) How funny! How can people be snooping around sinking their teeth into tit-bits of salacious fancy?
SOGO: Did you ever mention condom and tattoo in your lectures?
DAVID: Maybe, maybe not. Lectures are delivered as an improvisatory continuum. On the spot inspiration is the key, for me.
SOGO: Does your Bible not say the spirit of the prophet is subject to the prophet?
DAVID: Sir, the prophet is merely a mouthpiece.
SOGO: And you are not afraid to suffer what some of them – the flippant ones – suffered?
DAVID: I don’t understand you Sir. I go to class to teach. And I mean well. I love my job and so do I my students. I do not know how suffering comes into the equation.
SOGO: Well … maybe we are jumping the gun, here. Now, is it also true that you now encourage our students to listen to popular music.
DAVID: Sir, with all due respect, I have no control over what anybody listens to and, in this instance, popular or classical music, Sir.
SOGO: Don’t you know that popular music is anti-intellectual? Ehn, don’t you? I also hear you encourage your students to read and research such stuff as shopping malls, bedrooms and brothels and social media. David, do you want to destroy the University?
DAVID: Sir, nobody and no one can destroy the University. I believe, Sir, that everyday life is a subject of serious research. And under that broad rubric we may include gender, sexuality, fantasy and desire. For me reality includes the non-realist such as virtual reality and fantasy. Academic specialisms of the past must give way to new ways of looking at reality. The world is changing, Sir, and we must change with it.
SOGO: Is that why you are now teaching living authors? Young, wet-behind-the-ears scribblers like yourself? Whatever has happened to the classics?
DAVID: Sir, we teach the classics and the new kids on the block. Just like that US president famously declared: ‘If you want to make beautiful music, you must play the black and white notes together’.
SOGO: Look here, Young man. There’s no place in my department for your airy – fairy baroque rubbish.
DAVID: Sir, it is not –
SOGO: I say it’s tinsel bullshit! You can take your kitchen-sink drama and prurient garbage elsewhere. You cannot practice your schizoid art here. Okay? And one final thing: I know you are aware the NUC delegation will be visiting us for the accreditation exercise.
DAVID: I am aware, Sir.
SOGO: I have discussed the matter with the HOD and, therefore, I want you to prepare our own accreditation documents. You know what that entails – our history, staff profiles, student populations, course allocations, course descriptions, course units, laboratories and what have you.
DAVID: Sir, why me? Why don’t you, I mean the Department ask, say Dr Frank or Dr (Mrs) Mary Ajayi to do it? They are more competent and experienced than me. And moreover, you do not seem to take too kindly to my style of teaching or my course contents.
SOGO: All the more reason, my boy, all the more reason. And mind you, this is the “Bible” of the department, so to speak. So no hanky-panky. (Dismissing him.) Good day.
(As DAVID leaves the office, lights fade on it and comes on in DAVID’s residential apartment: he and his wife are having a conversation.)
KATE: Honey, my heart was in my mouth, I tell you. Everything seemed unreal: the quiet night, the chirpings of night birds, even the hum of the deep freezer.
DAVID: And strangely enough, the neighbourhood dog in the house nearby did not bark. Not even once.
KATE: A dog which always barks at any and every moving object, it did not bark. It fell silent. Strange.
DAVID: People say armed robbers usually carry charms, juju of various sorts. I think there is some truth in that belief, afterall.
KATE: See a whole you, scholar, believing in superstition (Laughs.) I can’t believe this, Honey, you!
DAVID: My dear, some events force us to rethink our views at times. How could armed robbers storm the neighbourhood and a dog notorious for disturbing the peace with its baking all dead silent? I don’t get it. Do you?
KATE: Hmmm, my God! We read it in newspapers, hear about it on radio, sometimes see them paraded on TV, but to experience it live as they say … my God! My skin is still crawling with goose bumps. I can still overhear their leader’s voice heavy with alcohol and hemp,
Asking: “where is the money? Where is the money … bring it out quick or I shoot you!”
DAVID: And to think that for nearly two hours they operated house to house, room to room. And the police never heeded our SOS phone calls. Time stood still while the criminals pillaged and raped/ and we all lay flat on our bellies on the bare floor, our children and us, frozen with fear as we prayed, maybe our last prayers.
KATE: But thank God as it turned out it was not our last prayer. And most of all, let’s be thankful they skipped our flat.
DAVID: God is faithful.
KATE: Indeed. We must organize a thanksgiving service. Maybe next Sunday. Our pastors must come over.
DAVID: Absolutely. Kate, you’re right. Imagine what could have happened; think of what people would have been saying on our account. You know bad news sometimes galvanize true friends and foes.
KATE: It’s true, Honey. I’m afraid I’m beginning to have this sinking feeling of guilt.
DAVID: Guilt? Why guilt?
KATE: Have you forgotten so soon? You and I had a heated argument over this apartment. The agent had shown us several flats. You chose this flat the other part of town. But I refused. I said my spirit didn’t like that flat, even though I couldn’t put my finger on the problem. I persuaded you to pay for this flat. Maybe I was charmed by the surroundings. Clean quiet neighbourhood. But see now. I’m so sorry, Honey.
DAVID: It’s okay. It’s really not your fault. Instead of being sorrowful and wearing long faces and being all moody, we should be celebrating. Please cook us something nice today. Thank God, It’s Saturday. We are going nowhere.
KATE: Honey, not that I don’t share your opinion, that we should celebrate and all. But the robbery incident last night is the straw for me.
DAVID: Why do you say so?
KATE: Look at this way: the location of our apartment for a start. Hotel nearby with all the obscenities we all witness daily. Consider the effects on the kids. Then, the gutters. Is it the smell? The armies of mosquitoes? Or are you talking about the storm drain there? Whenever it rains, everywhere is flooded, including our flats! Or do you want to consider the hostility of our neighbours who begrudge you for everything – your cars, your kids, your dresses, even your laughter. It’s as though you are living in enemy territory. Look, I’m just fed up. Fed up of everything. Lord, why us? Why did you lead us to this place, ehn, why?
DAVID: Kate, I too have been thinking about these issues. They are bothering me more than you can imagine. I’m about losing my mind, even though I manage to keep a “no problem,” demeanour. We can’t pack out now. Where’s the money? We’ve put on hold the building project at home. School fees are around the corner. And very soon, the caretaker will come for his rent. Our cars are down, mechanics are feeding fat off us. We can’t even change our old television set or even change our children’s wardrobe. Every night we must buy petrol for our generator otherwise we will sleep in darkness.
KATE: And you that cannot do without your CNN or sports and documentaries on TV.
DAVID: I cannot stand information black-out. We can as well go back to the Stone Age.
KATE: Like the one that old man, baba Okukun or whatever he calls himself … like the one he is living in.
DAVID: He’s a small-minded midget aspiring towards a tingod status.
KATE: The old wizard wants everybody in the neighbourhood to bow down and worship him like Nebuchadnezzar. It’s not enough for him that he routinely bathes his hapless tenants with his kelebe, his coughs and catarrh. He wants us who are not tenants to also grovel at his feet. He will wait a long time.
DAVID: You know how I feel about that old fool. I won’t even humour him with early-morning greetings.
KATE: Remember what the pastor told us?
DAVID: Yes, I do. Baba Okukun is free to prowl while we sleep. Let him continue to deposit little clay pots of charms in our frontage. It does not matter. Our God will fight for us. Has darkness ever defeated light?
KATE: What bothers me is that we find these tangled tufts of feathers tied with red cloth and covered in soot here in front of our flat and in your work-place as well. Who is behind it all? Why us? Who wants us dead and for what?
(Enter TEACHER. He is a young man in his thirties.)
TECAHER: Good morning sir and good morning Ma.
BOTH: Good Morning, Mr Paul. You are welcome.
TEACHER: (Sits.) Thank you, Sir. Where are my children?
(Raises his voice.)
Children. It’s lesson time.
KATE: (Calling.) Ihienrimarikanma! Nwanyemogho!
(From within, the kids respond.)
Your Lesson Teacher is here.
DAVID: (Stands up.) I’m afraid I need to take my leave of you guys. I need to take my jalopy to the mechanic. Tomorrow is Sunday. We need the car to go to church tomorrow. Alright, Mr Paul.
TEACHER: See you later, Honey. (DAVID departs as his two kids – IHIEN, a boy of ten and NWAN, a girl of seven – enter the living room and sit at the dining-table where Mr PAUL is waiting for them.)
BOTH: Good Morning, Mr Paul
(KATE goes to her room.)
TEACHER: Good Morning, my children. How was your night?
BOTH: Fine. (They fall silent, just looking askance. MR PAUL is puzzled by their unusual attitude.)
TEACHER: Anything the matter? Is there something I need to know? Nwan, my girl. I know you will tell me everything.
IHIEN: Nothing, Mr Paul. We just want to do our homework.
NWAN: It’s true, Mr Paul.
TEACHER: (Giving up.) Well… alright then. Let’s start with Mathematics ….
(Lights fade out on this scene and come on in DR DAVID’s office. He is attending to a group of his final-year supervisees.)
1ST STUDENT: Excuse me Sir, I hate to be seen as a gossip. But truth be told, I don’t know why Professor Sogo is making such a fuss over Popular Culture.
2ND STUDENT: It’s the in-thing, everywhere in the world.
3RD STUDENT: Even my sister who just returned from the UK says schools and universities there are rethinking their models.
DAVID: Serious institutions are rethinking their models.
1ST STUDENT: We cannot afford to be left behind.
2ND STUDENT: Tell you what, our country is like this UK sef. In those days –
3RD STUDENT: – when civilization kicked us in the face …
1ST STUDENT: Get serious, Shade. We are not joking here.
2ND STUDENT: In the old days, England was always the last nation Europe to embrace new ideas like Romanticism or the Renaissance which started in Continental Europe before it spread across the English Channel.
DAVID: That’s right.
3RD STUDENT: Sir, you were the one who taught us.
2ND STUDENT: Now, the whole world is changing their reading lists, their curriculum but here as usual, no way! All these old professors should go jo. They should retire them because they are holding us back from progress and innovation.
DAVID: Not all of them, truth be told. Some are –
1ST STUDENT: It’s all of them, Sir.
2ND STUDENT: It’s true, Sir. We’re students. We know who’s what. These old people, abeg abeg …
3RD STUDENT: Like seriously …
1ST STUDENT: For sure, girl. (They laugh.)
1ST STUDENT: Me, I love popular Culture. It’s easier to digest.
2ND STUDENT: Because it has lot of uhm-uhm. (Rolling her eyes suggestively.)
DAVID: A lot of what?
3RD STUDENT: Excuse me, Sir, don’t mind these spoilt girls. They have –
ALL GIRLS: (Chorusing.) Prurient minds. Ha ha ha …
1ST STUDENT: Like Professor Sogo said in class the other
day – Nothing is sexy anymore. Except sex.
2ND STUDENT: The Engine of growth. His words, not mine.
3RD STUDENT: I wasn’t in class then. You mean he said that?
2ND STUDENT: Betcha! He did, girl.
3RD STUDENT: That man… that Papa Lolo is a case.
DAVID: We call his type in Literature the Chichidodo Complex.
1ST STUDENT: Chei! Sir, explain that to us.
DAVID: Are you not students of Adrican Literature? Google it. Or better yet, research on term.
2ND STUDENT: Sir, everyday you throw up new concepts and terms. Our heads are full.
3RD STUDENT: Sir, not because you’re here. For us students, you are the best. You’re a genius. (Others nod.)
DAVID: Thanks. But you are all wrong. I’m just an average person struggling to make my mark. Now, consider this visit or proposed visit by the NUC delegation. I have been asked to prepare our document. I am just at sixes and sevens, what with Professor Sogo and I pulling in opposite directions. Some on his side, some, of course, on mine. I shouldn’t be telling you guys this, but we are right now fractured, divided.
3RD STUDENT: Sir, what exactly is the issue?
OTHERS: Ehen! Ah!
DAVID: You see, Prof favours what he loves to call “The Old Wine”; or “The Old Way”… well, the conventional stuff. The curriculum modeled on ancient British model. But you know, the British themselves have moved on. I’ve been to the UK several times and other parts of the world. And I can assure you the rest of the world are light-years ahead of us. Take our discipline for example: people no longer teach only ancient European classics to students. Popular Culture, media studies, you name it… these are all part and parcel of the new menu. It’s a question of relevance and efficiency. Now, I really do not know where the NUC stand in this matter. Maybe they favor tradition over innovation. I can’t tell. Prof does not want us to take any risks, he doesn’t want us to teach Popular Culture, let alone document it as official offerings.
(Enter PROFESSOR SOGO. Students and DR DAVID stand up in deference to him.)
ALL: ― Good day, Prof.
― Good afternoon, Sir.
― You’re welcome, Professor.
― Oh, good to see you, Sir.
SOGO: (Unmoved, suspicious.) Thank you, girls. You may leave us now. Your ehn … your man, I mean your lecturer and I have a little unfinished business to tidy up.
ALL GIRLS: Bye Sir!
SOGO: Bye-bye … bye-bye. (Girls depart. DAVID remains standing. SOGO surveys the office like a sniffer dog looking to sniff out an incriminating item.)
DAVID: Welcome, Sir. Please have your seat, Sir.
SOGO: (Ignoring him.) As usual, ensconce among daughters of Eve. The very best. I like your taste, you know.
DAVID: Sir, those students are my project students. I’ve just had my usual session with them.
SOGO: ‘My students’ as if you alone teach them. So you mean you are still carrying on like before?
DAVID: Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about.
SOGO: Remember I saved your arse last time when you were doing your PhD under my supervision. Rather than do what you were paid to do-teach the students-you were busy dating them!
DAVID: Sir, you know that’s not true but the handiwork and concoction of my sworn detractors. People who didn’t want me to complete my doctorate.
SOGO: How about the girls who confessed?
DAVID: They lied. Some have come to apologise to me.
SOGO: But you know if I hadn’t stepped in you’d have kissed your degree goodbye, concoction or no concoction.
DAVID: I thank you very much, Sir.
SOGO: Leave these girls alone, okay, leave them alone. Face the work the department has given you. By the way, how’s our NUC document coming along?
DAVID: Sir … I …. I …. Frankly I don’t know –
SOGO: You don’t know what? Do you think to be a Professor is a piece of cake? You think it’s moinmoin? You must carry out your responsibilities and duties to the letter. TO THE LETTER, I say! Or else … uhm … uhm, or else … you know your Bible, right? Moses trudged through the wilderness, forty years. He came, he saw but he merely saw it. He could not enter it. Good day. (Exit. DR DAVID sits and begins to sob. Fadeout. Lights return us to DAVID’s home: he and his wife, KATE, are seen having a heated argument.)
DAVID: ( Pacing the living room, disheveled.) I have told you for the umpteenth time, I am not travelling to the US. All-expense-paid or not! Full stop. Process that, Okay!
KATE: (Equally tousled.) Oh God! (Crying.) Is this the wimp I mistook for a man at the altar twelve years ago? This …. This good-for-
DAVID: (Blazing with fury.) Kate! Kate!! Kate!!! How many times did I call you? Don’t push your luck too far; you’d better stop calling me names or else I will deal with you in this house this morning.
KATE: Then go into that bedroom and begin to pack your bags to travel to the US. We-you and me and our children-prayed and prayed and prayed and even fasted in this house. For a day like this. Just bas we’ve waited on the Lord all through your career. You are writing your thesis. We pray. You are going for an interview, we pray. There’s trouble brewing in your department, we pray. They set traps for you in your workplace as they often do, we pray. My kids and I have been turned into prayer warriors because of you. You! You returned one day from work and said to me again”. “Why?” I asked. “Everybody is getting fellowship and travelling overseas. I must win a fellowship as well. All-expense-paid trip, one year abroad”, you said. I was excited. And the children and I swung into action, fasting and praying. And now God has answered our prayer. And you tell me you’re not taking up the fellowship? (Resumes crying. DAVID is confused, consoles her.)
DAVID: Kate, please bring down your voice, it’s still very early in the morning. See, it is not even 5 am yet and our kids are still sleeping. Do you want them to see you like this?
KATE: (Flings his hands off her body.) Let me be. Let the children see me like this. Let them see what wicked and heartless person their father is. Let everbody know what a snail runs our lives in this house, this hell. Oh, my G-o-d …
DAVID: But, Kate, you know you’re overreacting. I am not all those things you called me. In fact, the reason I am changing my mind is because of you and our children. You in particular –
KATE: Me? I am the one stopping you from travelling and pursuing your career?
DAVID: Yes, Kate. You
KATE: Oh, I get it. Fear. You are afraid, abi?
DAVID: Afraid? How do you mean?
KATE: Admit it, Honey, admit it. I can read fear written all over you. You are afraid man will elope with me, abi? Honey why? After all these years –
DAVID: Forget the years. What does it matter? You think I do not notice or sense how that he-goat next door salivate over you? Ehn? Even at your shop, I see how you get all lovey-dovey with customers. The other day when Adamu and his boys supplied us water, I caught you admiring his rippling muscles. Or have you forgotten that incident on the Environmental Sanitation Day, a few months ago? I am going nowhere, okay? You want me to leave you for a year abroad, leave you with these studs, these predators. No way, my dear. Thank you very much.
KATE: Honey, I can’t believe it. You? Suspecting me?
DAVID: Are you God? Are you above weakness?
KATE: I am not God. I am not above weakness, either. But let me tell you one thing: when you and I started, when we first met, that day of full disclosures … that’s what it was for me, I don’t know about you. It was a day full of disclosures. I told you I wasn’t a Saint Teresa or Miss Stainless. I told you about the affairs I had as a young girl growing up like every other normal girl. Boyfriends, yes. Sugar-daddies. A few.
DAVID: (Feeling vindicated.) Ohoo! See?
KATE: That was the. Before I met you. Even before I met you, I had vowed to my God that as soon as I got married, I would never, NEVER cheat on my husband, no matter what.
DAVID: And those men I see around you?
KATE: You mistake appearance for reality.
DAVID: I see. So I am watching a 3-D film, abi? Appearance versus reality. And if the appearance is this galling, imagine what reality is capable of doing to us.
KATE: I’ve often told you, you misjudge me by your own crooked standards.
DAVID: Hey, hey, don’t go there. Don’t you go there. Who are you to judge me either? Always playing the saint in this house. Is that why you always go through my phones, read my text messages and ask me, “who’sWho’s that girl to you?”
KATE: I am protecting my territory, that’s all.
DAVID: Aha! So I have no right to protect mine?
KATE: All I am saying is, Honey, please do not let our praying and fasting be in vain. Don’t worry about me, if that’s really your fear. God is in control. You will meet me the way you left me.
DAVID: As if there is any way of knowing.
KATE: Take my word for it.
DAVID: And the children?
KATE: They will be fine.
DAVID: Like they were fine last time when I travelled to the UK. Like the last time when I was away in Asia. Like the last time –
KATE: Honey –
DAVID: Don’t honey me, Kate. Five days in the UK, calls upon calls. This one is ill, that one is vomiting. Baby is on admission. The generator can’t start. Cooking gas has finished. There were gunshots last night and the children were convulsing as a result.
KATE: So you’ve decided to throw away this window of opportunity because of past challenges? Do you really know what you are doing? Have the families of your colleagues who travel abroad on fellowships fallen apart? Have their marriages crashed? Have they lost their children? Has anyone stolen their wives? Why is your own different, ehn?
DAVID: I have decided to stay put and build my career here, regardless of all the challenges. And, that’s final. (He walks off into the toilet area, leaving KATE in tears. Fadeout. When lights come on, we see DAVID and three of his friends, (businessmen) chatting at a bar, a pretty female bartender attending to them.)
1ST FRIEND: Ol’ Boy, that na match! Chei!
2ND FRIEND: It was as though the world was coming to an end, ah-ah!
2ND FRIEND: But Mourinho dey boast, o.
3RD FRIEND: Arsene Wenger, nko? All of them na the same. Pre-match hype. Before last night game, British media was awash with a crossfire of boasts, taunts, jeers and all whatnot.
1ST FRIEND: Mind game.
DAVID: Exactly.
2ND FRIEND: What did you guys expect? It was a dogfight for top-spot. Arsenal have just been toppled by Liverpool; by a point. Chelsea were number four on the table. On top of that, Wenger had never beaten Jose Mourinho in nine meetings. Christmas was a few days hence, and whoever tops the table at Christmas, most probably wins the league.
3RD FRIEND: The stakes were really high.
DAVID: It couldn’t get higher than that, man.
1ST FRIEND: I understand all the trains in London came to
a standstill because of the match. In fact, London came to a standstill because of the match.
2ND FRIEND: Here nko? It was crazy. Fans were practically losing their heads.
3RD FRIEND: Throw into the mix the betting going on. Someone said a guy staked on the match his car and wife.
3RD FRIEND: I don’t know. I can’t tell.
1ST FRIEND: But what people do for sports.
1ST FRIEND: Not just sports, but football in particular.
2ND FRIEND: For some it’s a matter of life and death.
3RD FRIEND: Much more than that for others.
DAVID: Thank God that game ended in a barren draw. Status quo ante maintained.
1ST FRIEND: Not exactly. Arsenal are technically on top now and are likely to go all the way this time around.
2ND FRIEND: Na IGG! Initial Gra-gra.
DAVID: IGG or no IGG, they play, we watch and await the outcome, regardless of what anybody says. Football like life is very difficult to predict.
1ST FRIEND: True talk, true talk.
2ND FRIEND: I totally agree with you.
3RD FRIEND: Same here. Wey dis girl? Oh, there you are. Be a good girl now. Another round, please. (Girl attends to them, music playing in the background.)
1ST FRIEND: Man, did you guys see the papers yesterday?
2ND FRIEND: What about them?
3RD FRIEND: You mean the roforofo fight going on between the political parties ahead of next elections?
1ST FRIEND: Yes.
DAVID: Guys, guys, let’s leave politics out of our conversation. I mean what’s the point? We in this country are like the billy-goat beaten repeatedly for the same offense until it ends up under the butcher’s knife. So less said about politics the better.
3RD FRIEND: So let’s change the subject. (Catches the provocative rump of the bartender as she bends over to pick up some empty bottles. Whistles suggestively.) Boy! Whata rush! (They all share a leering laugh and briefly shuffle to the music.)
1ST FRIEND: Eh, chairman, what’s cooking in your department? Are you and your professor still at it over that … that “bearded meat”? Ha ha ha (Others join in the raucous laughter.)
1ST FRIEND: What’s her name again?
2ND FRIEND: Halima.
1ST FRIEND: No, not that Northern Angel. She was a brief distraction. David. Abi? She paid her dues, and moved on.
3RD FRIEND: (Trying hard to remember.) Ehn … ehn … ah what’s that name again? Sounds Indian. Yes! Laila!
DAVID: SHANTEL.
1ST FRIEND: Yes! Ajigbijigbi … ajigbijigbi [hitting his head] oh, SHANTEL. Ah, glorious poetry incarnated in human form!
DAVID: You speak as if she was your woman.
ALL: David, leave that thing. She’s our woman. (They all exclaim at the memory.)
1ST FRIEND: Girls or women like her come through once in a generation.
2ND FRIEND: She was flawless, sculpted to such disarming perfection, form, manners, and all.
DAVID: And she loved me. Although she came after others, less endowed. Even Kate. Everything was going on fine between us. It was heaven on earth for me. Living became an intoxicating adventure for us. Everything made sense. There was meaning to everything. I was happy. Fulfilled. Then my supervisor came into the picture … the serpent in the Garden. And took her away.
1ST FRIEND: He did not only betray you, he also informed your wife.
2ND FRIEND: And all hell wet let loose. While students’ tongues wagged, the home front was on fire.
3RD FRIEND: And mysteriously, the girl changed camp.
DAVID: Yes, she said I couldn’t give her what she wanted. Security.
1ST FRIEND: And your supervisor provided her security, right?
DAVID: Yes, whatever that meant. They became lovers. (Pause.) I was able to get over it all, forgive them both and move on. But my professor was not done yet with me. He accused me of not buying him car tyres, or petrol during fuel scarcity. He said I didn’t send him and his family Christmas gifts … hampers.
3RD FRIEND: And you did not pass his girls.
DAVID: Yes, that too. He swore to delay my PhD and he did. How many times has set me up with female students? How many times has he dragged me before disciplinary panels? I have lost count. But you know what? The battle has just begun. (Fadeout, still in the dark we hear voices raised in frenzied orgy of tongue-talking. This goes on awhile before lights come on in DAVID’s residence to reveal him and his family in various postures of supplication, a PASTOR presiding.)
PASTOR: Talk to the lord in tongues. You are speaking mysteries, your enemies cannot understand it. Come on … (He launches into tongues himself.) Power of the Holy Ghost! Power of the Holy Ghost! (DAVID charges round his house as though in search of the enemy, speaking in tongues and snapping his fingers and singing Christian “war” songs. KATE and their kids are not left out. The little kids are kneeling, mumbling prayers.) Enough is enough. Okunkun or whatever he calls himself … he must die if he refuses to repent. The Bible says, “Touch not my anointed and do my prophets no harm”. The bible also declares in Exodus 14:14 “The lord will fight for us and we shall hold our peace”. (Tongues.) Thank you, Jesus. It is written in Numbers 23:23: “There is no enchantment against Jacob, and no divination against Israel”. He who touches you, Brother David and Sister Kate and my little ones here touches the apple of God’s eyes. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. Come on, come on, this is no time to doze off. THIS IS WAR! As we pray the enemies are setting themselves in battle array, primed and poised for an onslaught. The Bible says “The weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty through God in pulling down STRONGHOLDS …” Brother and sisters, we are fighting against strongholds … if the strongman, the devil, comes to your house to bind you, do you sleep? Do you offer him your hands to bind them with fetters? No! You fight … you wrestle your foe to the ground. You send him scampering into the dry places. (Sings: ‘There’s power mighty in the blood… “and then, speaks in tongues.) Now let’s commit that wicked child of the Devil into God’s hands, that man who has refused to allow this family have peace and prosperity … all these years, he will not relent. He deceives himself into thinking he owns this world. Awalolaiye indeed. Brother David, pray! This is your chance to defeat him. Anyone who says you will not go for you. He who digs a pit for you shall fall into the pit himself. He who breaks the hedge the serpent will strike him. Let the serpent strike this man, let him fall into his own pit. He will go for you, my brother … PRAY, pray … (Slow fadeout. Lights soon after reveal DAVID’s kids doing their home lessons with the Lesson Teacher.)
NWAN: (Reading from book.) 2 times 1 = 2, 2 times 2 = 4, 2 times 3 = 6 …
TEACHER: Good. Very good, Nwanyemogho. Now it’s your turn, Ihienrimarikanma.
IHIEN: Okay, Mr Paul. I am ready. I am better than Nwanyemogho. This small rat.
NWAN: It is you that’s a rat. I will tell for you.
IHIEN: Me too, I will tell mummy you pee on your bed.
NWAN: You nko?
IHIEN: You nko, cry-cry baby (Mimicking and they fight.)
TEACHER: (Seperating them.) Stop it. Stop it. No foul language in my class. Okay? And no fighting, okay? Now, apologize to each other. Apologize. Say “I’m sorry”. Ihienrinmarikanma, you first.
IHIEN: No, she is the baby. I’m her senior. And I’m a boy, she is a girl. Let her tell me sorry.
NWAN: You tell me sorry first. I will not say sorry to you. See your head. Power Ranger head.
TEACHER: Now, now, I need you to keep quiet two of you. You tell her sorry. Do it!
IHIEN: (Displeased.) Sorry.
TEACHER: And you –
NWAN: Sorry.
TEACHER: Good. Good children. Now, my boy, recite for me
sStates and capitals.
NWAN: I know it. Let me recite it, Mr Paul, P-l-e-a-s-e!
IHIEN: Are you crazy? Is it your turn?
TEACHER: Hey, don’t talk like that. I say no foul language in my class.
NWAN: Mr Paul, you always say “foul language, foul language”. What is foul language”? Is it the same thing as chicken language? (General laughter.)
TEACHER: Nwanyemogho, that’s a very important question. Now let me answer your question. (DAVID walks in, his daughter goes and hugs him promptly returns to her seat. PAUL and DAVID exchange brief pleasantries. DAVID leaves and lecture resumes.)
TEACHER: Now, where were we?
IHIEN: I am to recite States and Capitals, Mr Paul.
NWAN: No, Mr Paul wanted to explain … ehm foul foul …
IHIEN: It’s four language. Simple thing.
TEACHER: Yes, foul language. Foul language is not the same thing as chicken or bird language. Foul language is bad language. Like dirty hurtful words spoken to insult or offend people.
IHIEN: Like your head is not correct.
TEACHER: Something like that.
NWAN: Like you are mad; you are stupid.
IHIEN: Like God punish you.
NWAN: Like Ogun break your head.
TEACHER: It’s enough, it’s enough. Enough of foul language. Now, you understand what we mean by that term. Soo you must be polite and nice to people. Okay?
BOTH: Okay, Mr Paul.
TEACHER: Now, you. States and Capitals. (IHIEN begins to recite his country’s States and their Capitals. Slow fadeout.)
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