Tale of an African Woman

Chapter Thirty Eight

236 38 he year came to an end. My relationship with Forche was going from strength to strength, even in the midst of all the gossip. To make matters even worse for our detractors, the two of us came first in our class, having scored equal points. We were now heading to a more advanced and difficult class where we would begin to prepare for secondary school. That same year both of us had our confirmation when Bishop Paul of the Abakwa Diocese came to Yakiri. When school broke up for the long holidays, I had plans to visit my uncle Forsuh who had moved to Abakwa to cash in on the kolanut trade which was becoming increasingly important. Fr Sean, who now had a car and went from time to time to the town, had promised to take me there, but since my grandmother had nobody to assist her at home, I had decided to cancel the trip. It was a very hard decision to make but I had always had a very special and loving relationship with my grandparents and did not quite mind the sacrifice. I spent my holidays usefully, helping out in the field or reading at the library which had been moved to a bigger location and had more books. A convent to house some nuns who were to come from Ireland was under construction and whenever I felt bored at the library, I would go there to see how the work was progressing. I occasionally came across Fr Sean who recommended me some books to read and reminded me that I had to nourish my mind with knowledge. Of the books he recommended, one written by an author called Charles Dickens, stood out in my mind. The book was Oliver Twist. The book kept reminding me of my own plight as a child and I often believed that I might have gone through the same trials and tribulations as Oliver Twist, the main character of the book, if my grandparents and Fr Sean were not there for me. T 237 It was when I returned from one of my trips to the library one day that I came upon a terrible outburst of noise emanating from the neighboring compound. Such scenes often attracted people, more out of concern than curiosity. When I went to the compound to see what was happening, l found Bishu, Bonsisi’s older sister, in tears and her dress in tatters. “What happened?” I asked Bonsisi who approached me when I arrived. “It’s a long story,” she declared, her eyes almost wet. “She has been betrothed to a man she doesn’t like, so when he came for her there was a big fight here.” As soon as my friend recounted what had happened, I held down my head and tears came to my eyes. I could instantly see a replay of the drama which brought me into the world. I did not understand why society never took time to weigh the consequences of some of its actions. Traditions and customs should be meant to help uplift people, not destroy them. It was needless for society to keep hanging onto certain aspects of its culture which did not serve it anymore or which did so negatively. I felt that a culture which did not help people hold their own in the face of difficulties was not worth maintaining and I saw no harm for any group to borrow from other cultures to meet its own deficiencies. In that sense, I see cross-cultural fertilization as the way to the future. Once adopted, a new culture would provide a fresh source of inspiration and stimulus as society battles with ways to overcome its daily challenges in order to move forward. At home that evening, I discussed what had happened with my grandmother who simply shook her head and said nothing. Events like that kept reminding her of my mother, Mayemfon, and only helped to make her feel even more remorseful. But as a woman what could she do then? It was not obvious that if she had raised the issue and decided to fight against it, other women would have backed her. She would not even have been surprised if her greatest opponents turned out to be women. She brushed off the matter as she went to bed that evening. The next day, at the library, l met Bonsisi who informed me that Bishu had vanished and nobody knew where...