No Love Lost

Chapter 3



 3 he next day he decided to go meet his uncle Bunkwe to seek his advice on what to do to get a job. His reasoning was that because his uncle had spent several years in the white man’s land and had worked in all kinds of offices there, he would surely have some words of wisdom for him. Small papa, as he usually called him, lived and worked in Garinsabo, a farflung village on the border between Nigeria and the Republic of Ongola. Soon after his return from overseas with a doctorate degree in veterinary medicine, he had been invited to Yaoundé by the Minister of Fisheries and Animal Husbandry and employed to work as a government delegate for animal husbandry for the Extreme North-West Province. That was during the good old days under the regime of President Baba Toura when a university degree was considered a degree. “Papa, I’d like to go and see small papa in Garinsabo,” Tewuh said, sitting down on a wooden stool in front of his father’s fireside. “Is that so, my son?” his father asked. “Yes papa,” he said. “Did you sleep well, my son? You look tired.” “My night was peaceful.” “Was yours calm too?” “Very calm; I slept well. The only thing that bothers me is your inability to find a job,” the old man said and sighed. “Don’t worry papa, God is in control. He has plans for me,” Tewuh said. “I can’t stop worrying, son. We sent you to university to learn the white man’s book, get a good job and help us.” The man said, filling his pipe with tobacco. “I understand papa. I know how you and mami51 struggled to pay my fees in school, yet I can’t find a job with a degree in my pocket,” Tewuh said, crestfallen. “Cry not my son. A banana that will ripen, will do so even if you put it inside cold water,” Pa Kunta said, taking out a bottle of snuff from the chest pocket of his threadbare jumpa.52 T 

 “Papa, I am worried about you. At this age I should be earning a salary and taking care of you and my mother,” Tewuh said. “That’s true, but if the gods don’t give you something, you can’t take it by force. There’s nothing a man can do against the wish of Nyi,” the old man said, putting some snuff into his nostrils. He sneezed noisily and called the name of his father. Taking out an old piece of cloth from his chest pocket he cleaned the wet snuff that had come out of his nose and dropped on his jumpa. “Papa I don’t believe it’s Nyi who is refusing to give me a job,” Tewuh said. “I hear you, child. Those people who live on the other side of the Mungo River don’t like us. That’s why they wouldn’t give our children jobs,”he said. “They want us dead, papa. They tried to kill me in Yaoundé lately,” Tewuh said, shedding a tear at the thought of the mishap that had befallen him in the nations’s capital. “Quifon ne tuh! Fon ngombu 53 will not allow that to happen!”his father exclaimed. “God cares papa; but human beings don’t,” Tewuh said in frustration. “I will let you go to Garinsabo. But let me say this to you: my brother has forgotten our customs. Listen to what he has to say. Take his advice and turn it in your head several times before taking a decision,” his father said. “I hear you papa. Thank you,” Tewuh said, rising to go. “Take this. Keep it on your body at all times. It will protect you from people with four eyes54,” Pa Kunta said, giving his son a gris-gris55 sewn in the skin of a leopard. “Papa, I don’t think I really need this. God will protect me,” Tewuh protested. “Take it, this was given to me by my father, peace be upon him. I am giving it to you because I love you. Keep it in your pocket wherever you go,” Pa Kunta said, putting the talisman in the boy’s right palm. As soon as Tewuh left his father, he went straight to his mother’s hut to wish her goodbye. “Travel well, son. Has your father given you money to pay your fare?”she asked. “Yes, mami...