The triumph of the water lily
Three My Own Taste of Lagos
Download 1.22 Mb.
|
| Three
My Own Taste of Lagos. I was awakened by the loud ring of the telephone the next morning. "Your time is up madame," said the impersonal voice of the receptionist. "Thank you," I mumbled, as I stumbled out of bed and went to switch the water heater on. I promptly ran back to the warmth of my bed covers after I had done that. It was a typical wet July morning as it had rained most of the night. I dozed for another five minutes and then managed to force myself to get up. I took a warm shower and tuned in my radio for the BBC world service as I got dressed. I planned to get down to my bank at the Marina before going on to the broadcasting house later that morning. I desperately hoped I would be able to meet my schedule. I was on my way by the time it was seven o'clock. I was also glad to find my car washed and gleaming, when I arrived at the parking lot. I tipped the boy who was responsible. He was busy valeting another vehicle when I arrived. He bid me a good morning and thanked me warmly for the tip. I simply gasped when I got to the Marina and saw the choking streams of cars, trickling onto the Island from the flyover bridge. The traffic was heavy with a capital 'H' and it didn't look like it was going to get any better until the rush hour was over. My drive towards the bank was nonetheless smooth and trouble-free, as I was driving against the flow of the rush hour traffic. Fortunately, I was one of the first customers at the bank that day. Within half an hour, I had withdrawn the money I wanted and joined the solid mass of slow moving vehicles, heading for the federal government secretariat at lkoyi. I had practically forgotten what Lagos Island could be like on a Monday morning. The traffic in Lagos had obviously defied all solutions. The odd-number even-number legislation, which was then the latest in the lines of solutions, had obviously failed, as people in Lagos, had characteristically found a way round the legislation. The original intention of this law was to cut down on the number of vehicles that plied the Island each day. It made it mandatory that only cars with 44 even numerals as the first number on their number plates plied the major roads on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. (Sundays were free for everyone.) Whilst Wednesdays, Fridays and Mondays were designated to odd-numbered vehicles. The legislation, when it was first introduced, was hailed as being ingenious and the ultimate solution to Lagos's perennial traffic problem. However it was not to be; for after the initial euphoria had worn off, most families in Lagos acquired a second car. One for days when only odd-numbered vehicles plied the roads and the other for days when even-number plates plied the roads. Some critics say that it was not sufficient for the government to have simply made the legislation. They argue that she should have gone a step further by applying herself vigorously to the provision of good and adequate transport facilities for the public, with the same zeal as she had applied to the enforcement of the legislation. The 'Park and Ride' service, which was the transportation service made available to commuters who couldn't use their vehicles had been a failure. So, inevitably, had the odd and even-number legislation which had given birth to it. Whatever the arguments were, I, at the moment, understood why people in Lagos had a perpetually harassed look on their faces. I had forgotten what the sheer-thick-pulsating-tension that characterised life in Lagos felt like. You could almost feel it, taste it and grasp it. I had been born and bred in Lagos and there had been a time, when I sincerely believed I was unable to live or settle in any other city outside Lagos. However, at that moment, with the engine of my car threatening to overheat I sincerely thanked God that I was in Lagos for just three months. The broadcasting house, at that moment, was within sight. I heaved a huge sigh of relief, as I showed my identification at the gate. I was allowed entry. I had been to the broadcasting house several times and so I knew my way around. I found a place for my vehicle at the parking lot and then found my way to the block of buildings which housed the FRCN news and training division. The elevator brought me to the office of the controller of News - Chief Toye Pebble. The controller was a genial man, whom I had met on two occasions. The first, was when I had visited the broadcasting house on an assignment for my newspaper and the second, was at Ibadan, in the company of my Editor-in-Chief As soon as I arrived at the office, the chief's secretary who was incidentally a man, reported to him on the intercom, that I had arrived. He promptly pressed his buzzer and asked that I be shown in. 45 There were four other men in the room with Chief Pebble, when I went in. I presumed they were also participants at the proposed seminar. Chief bade me a warm welcome and then introduced me to the others present. "Gentlemen, this is Effua Solueze," he said. "As you very well know, Effua is with the Guardian Newspaper. We have the privileged honour of having her with us; a very rare privilege too, if I might add. For her Editor-in-chief describes her as highly indispensable; those were his exact words and I can understand why." He ended with a good-natured chuckle. "Yes, I thought her face looked familiar," said a man close to me. I later gathered he was Mike Okpalakeze of the Department of Mass Communication at the University of Lagos. "Oh anybody who has anything to do with the media ought to know Effua," Chief said expansively. I simply smiled as I walked up to a seat. I settled in the armchair nearest to me and, as I did so, I surveyed the faces of the remainder of my colleagues. They were also watching me with apparent interest and something akin to appreciation. The atmosphere in the room, in spite of our interest in each other, was relaxed, and cordial. "Yes, I too can now put the face and the name together," said a second fellow, who had his eyes fixed on me with unconcealed interest. His eyes lit up with a slow sensual smile as he added: "She even looks more attractive in real life than she does in the papers or on television" "Trust you to spot that right away Deinde," said the guy, who was sitting next to him. I simply kept smiling without saying anything. "Now you men had better take your eyes off Effua, because she is the
The men jokingly made a mild protest and asked the Chief to give them a break. Toju Ode and Deinde Ojope, who were sitting next to each other and obviously friends, were both young and good looking. They looked more like people in the advertising trade than lecturers at the School of Journalism. Sam Wakobi, who was to take the course on typing and speed writing, was reserved and appeared to be a family man. Mike Okpalakeze was the fourth member of the group and the most boisterous. He was to take the course on society and the media. 46 After the initial jokes and pleasantries, the chief told us he would be introducing us to the class and thereafter, we would be free for the rest of that day, to work out a scheme of work for the various topics each of us were expected to handle. He pressed his buzzer and instructed his secretary to bring in the cyclostyled materials he had asked him to prepare for us. We were each given a copy and as I studied mine, I discovered that the seminar promised to be quite intensive and broad in scope. Chief Pebble explained that the training school had mapped out what specific areas of study they hoped we would be able to cover within the period of the seminar. However, as he pointed out, nothing was rigid about the stated scheme. He said changes or modifications could be made after due deliberations. Under the broad heading 'Interviewing Skills', I was to handle the sub-topics:
It certainly was going to be a tall order, ramming all the given topics into a three month seminar, but I decided I would do my best. I asked the chief whether tape recorders would be provided if we needed them. He assured me that they would be. Further questions were asked by the others and after some thirty minutes, we were ready to accompany Chief Pebble to the main auditorium of the training school where the participants were waiting. Chief led the way and as we came in, the group, which numbered about forty-five persons, according to the figures which Chief gave us, fell silent. The animated talking ceased and the coordinator of the training exercise rose from the rostrum to welcome us. The hall was an impressive one and reminded me of our lecture theatres back at university. The chairs and writing surfaces were fitted to the floor in a terraced fashion and thereby giving everyone a vantage 47 view of whoever was on the rostrum. A black board on a movable stand was provided and there was also a screen on which images could be projected. The entire structure looked well-equipped and sufficiently formal. As I took my seat, I noticed there were telephones on the wall on either side of the room. I silently hoped they functioned. Chief Pebble walked up to the microphone and welcomed everyone to the seminar. He went through the motions of saying how pleased he was to have us all there; especially those of us who had come from outside Lagos. He then expressed the hope that the seminar would be useful to the trainees and that they would go away; at the end of it, with improved journalistic skills. Finally, he expressed the hope that they were all comfortably accommodated and that if they had any problems whatsoever in this regard, his secretary would be available for consultation at the end of the meeting. Thereafter, he introduced each of us in turn to the assembly. Starting with me, 'The only lady on the team', as he put it. The group responded to each introduction with an applause. With the introductions over, Chief then referred the trainees to the training programme leaflets which had just been distributed to them. He pointed out that a scheme of work had been prepared by the school for the duration of the seminar; and that a certificate of merit would be awarded to deserving trainees at the end of it all. Finally he entertained questions from the floor. The question time afforded me an opportunity to assess the group. It was a mixed one. Some of them were mature and quite a number were young. I noticed there were only three females in the entire group. One of them was married and she sat in between the other two women. The questions asked revolved around the nature of the exam that was to come at the end of the exercise. The group wanted to know if the exam would be broken up in parts; or would be; one big final examination. Chief strived to put them at ease about this. He assured them that their overall performance would be judged, not only on their performance in the exam, but also on their contributions to the seminar. In other words, their assessment was going to be continuous and the examination was in itself going to be a mere formality designed to see just how much theoretical knowledge each individual had gained. A number of others wanted to know what transport facilities were available to them from their place of residence to the broadcasting house each day. Some had accommodation problems and Chief again repeated 48 that they were to see his secretary in his office at about two o'clock that afternoon. He assured them that by that time, his office would have received precise information from the personnel division as to what particular arrangements had been put in place for every one of them. After that, the assembly broke up with the advice from Chief, that they were to spend the rest of the day settling down as the seminar promised to be intensive. Once again, the rest of my colleagues and I found our way back to Chief Pebble's office where we were served coffee and cakes by staff of the catering department. I welcomed the refreshment as I had had no breakfast that morning and it was getting to lunch time. I was on my way out with the others when I heard the controller's secretary call out my name. "Miss Solueze please? I have a message for you!" he explained, as I walked back to his desk, rather surprised. "One Mr Norman Obi called; he asked me to tell you to please call him at this number; he says it's urgent." I was not only surprised, but also embarrassed. What urgent message could Norman possibly have to relay to me and besides, why had he gone to the length of getting in touch with me through the Controller of News on my very first day at work? "Thank you very much," I said to the secretary as I took from him the piece of paper on which he had scribbled Norman's phone number. "Can I give you a lift?" Deinde Ojope offered, as we all walked towards the elevator. "Thank you so much, but I've got my vehicle here," I explained. "Serves you right," Toju said laughing. The others joined in the
We finally bade each other good-bye at the parking lot and headed in different directions for our vehicles. It was well past two o'clock when I headed for my parents' house that afternoon; and I arrived just in time to join my mother in a delightful meal of pounded yam and vegetable stew. As we ate, I shared with her my account of the day. "Oh! By the way, I got you some yams and plantains on my way down yesterday, they are in the boot of the car, I had clean forgotten 49 about them." I had actually gone out of my way to buy some of these two commodities for my mother before leaving Ibadan as they were often cheaper and of better quality outside Lagos. Thank you dear, that was thoughtful of you; we've in fact finished the lot I bought last month!" she said. "Who is there?" I called out as I heard movements in the kitchen. "Etsenu?" My mother called. "Maa!" the boy responded, as he came hurrying from the kitchen. "Make you go remove the yam and plantain wey dey for Aunty Effua
"Yes Maa," the boy responded respectfully and came over to collect the keys from me with a slight curtsy. "You go fit open the motor?" I asked. "I no tink." He answered shyly and wringing his hands. "Okay, dey go, I go come open am for you," I promised. I followed
I planned to give Nkem one of the bunches of plantain and five yam tubers. I decided I would drive down to her place as soon as I left my mother. I went back into the house to finish my meal. My mother was on the phone speaking to a friend; she had obviously finished her meal. I remembered that I too had a phone call to make to Norman. I decided I would do so as soon as my mother was through with her friend. I polished off the rest of my meal and reached into my handbag for the number I had been given. My mother's conversation took much longer than expected. Whoever it was she was talking to, must have been amusing, because she kept laughing throughout the entire conversation. I soon started feeling sleepy as the heavy meal began to take its toll on me. Fortunately, my mother's conversation came to an end before I dropped off to sleep completely. She invited me to join her in the sitting room to watch a video-tape recorded film she had borrowed from the friend she had just been speaking to. I promised I would join her as soon as I was through with my phone call. The line to Norman's office came through almost immediately. I then asked to be connected to Norman's private line. 50 "Can I have your name please?" enquired the brisk and studiedly impersonal voice of his female secretary. "Miss Solueze." "Oh!" she exclaimed and promptly connected me to Norman. I didn't
"You certainly took your time phoning." "I knew there was nothing urgent you could possibly want to talk to
"And what makes you so sure?" he countered. "Where are you speaking from by the way?" he enquired with interest, before I could answer his first question. "My parents' house and why are you asking?" "Aren't you supposed to be hard at work?" he asked. "I left early. Do you intend giving me a query?" I responded goadingly. "I would have if I were in a position to do so," he replied evenly. "Listen, why don't you let me pick you up this evening for a quiet drink?" "It's almost evening now Norman," I replied. "And besides, I still have to sit down and put together the introductory material I hope to deliver to my trainee class tomorrow." "By the way I saw you going into a church yesterday," he said with light amusement as he changed the line of conversation. "Really?" I asked slightly taken aback; and then I recalled the car that had blared its horn and flashed its lights at me as I hurried into the church the night before. "I didn't know that sophisticated girls still went to church these days," he teased. "That shows how little you know about this particular sophisticated girl," I retorted. "Well, I intend finding out some more," was his glib response. "And that takes me to my next question," he continued, before I could
"Norman this week is simply out of the question. I've got so much to do in very little time," I explained lamely. 51 "That's a lame excuse Effua and you know it. You are hedging and diving for cover again Effua!" he said very softly, very sensually, but also seriously. "Don't be ridiculous Norman," I answered slightly embarrassed and rather pleased that my mother had gone on to the sitting room. "I didn't know there was a major war on," I added for want of something better to say. "Or is this some sort of petty harassment?" I continued, smiling. I enjoyed matching wits with Norman. He had a rhetorical tongue, which I rather admired. "No, it's no petty harassment; but it's certainly a battle of wits and I'm conceding this round to you Effua. However, you won't find it easy the second time around and that's a promise, sweet-heart. Do take care of yourself." He added before blowing a kiss into the phone and ringing off. I had known Norman Obi for upwards of eight years. I had first met him at the University of Ghana in Legon. Norman was not only good looking, but also self-assured, and intelligent. He was an extremely good student and was great fun to be with. He was generally the kind of man most girls want to be seen or identified with. My first direct encounter with him took place at the university's central cafeteria. On that day, Norman had nearly knocked down my tray, as he waved his arms in an attempt to emphasize a point to a friend he had been talking to. I had been very startled but fortunately, none of the contents of my tray had been spilled. Norman, rather embarrassed, had apologised profusely. I would normally have reacted graciously by making light of the incident and accepting his apologies; however, on this occasion, I gave Norman a cold stare and walked past him, without saying a word. This heightened Norman's embarrassment. It wasn't that I had an axe to grind with Norman. The truth was that I found him disturbingly attractive. You know the kind of man who manages to make your heart miss a beat each time he is in close proximity with you. I thought it rather humiliating that a man should have such a disturbing effect on me; and I wouldn't even admit it to myself at first. I kept looking out sadistically for occasions, when he would be in discomforting situations, but these, to my annoyance, were much too rare and far between. In fairness to Norman, he was neither conceited nor arrogant about 52 his looks or the strong appeal he knew he held for women. Incidentally, this only gave him added strength. I had watched girls look at him with sheer longing in their eyes; much to my detestation. Once again, in fairness to Norman, he never took undue advantage of such girls. Being fully aware of the physical attraction he held for women, he had a ready humour for most of them and dealt with the several cases of female infatuation that came his way with the tact and firmness they deserved. He had the ability to be stern and clinical in his behaviour when the occasion called for it; but he had the sensitivity never to make a girl feel cheapened or humiliated by his rejection of her. I had avoided having anything to do with Norman for two years at university. However, in my penultimate year, I had to work on a particular class project with him. Being a good student, he had been easy to work with and we had scored a good grade for that project. Our paths had crossed again at the Los Angeles campus of the UCLA (University of California Los Angeles) in the United States. I had come over to do my masters degree programme in Media-Studies soon after my graduation from Legon. Norman had been very thrilled to see me and we had soon formed the habit of reading at the same table at the departmental library. However, I bluntly refused to let Norman into my social life, try as he may. I knew he was back on my trail again and something told me that this time around, he was going to knock down every vestige of resistance that I put up. I found it strangely exciting; and as I got up to join my mother in the sitting room, I found myself smiling. 53 Directory: standing standing -> Region III standing regional response team (rrt) meeting williamsburg, Virginia Thursday, January 12, 2012 standing -> Information and Communication Technology (ict) Products and Services available to Victorian schools on a Department preferred supplier basis standing -> Desktop computers standing -> Mobile United Committee Highlights 2014 standing -> The catholic university of america standing -> Episcopal Diocese of Rochester Standing Committee Minutes Download 1.22 Mb. Share with your friends:
|