Blessing

Chapter 19

193 19 lessing followed Joseph from a winding stony track to a dusty footpath. They crossed over green puddles and stepped on animal waste as they delved deeper and deeper into the slumps of Yaoundé. They passed by men disgorging foamy toothpaste while arguing over a football game and women making a spectacle of beautifying themselves. With fragmented mirrors, the women carried out the rituals of concealing facial spots, adding colour, tracing indiscernible or uneven lines, covering hairlessness and unkemptness, camouflaging body odour and other beauty tricks. The children. One was defecating on a leaf right at the entrance to the house and another running around in shoes so tattered his toes were clearly visible through the holes. Blessing stared about her repulsively. ‘Hm, Joe, where are we? Are we still in Yaoundé? You know I have hardly gone out of my aunt’s house during all my years in this town.’ She again looked about her. ‘This place looks very different from what I know.’ ‘I am sure your aunt and her husband lived in this kind of place before saving enough to move out. Don’t worry; we will move to a better place as soon as we can afford one. You know I spent a lot for the knock door and the traditional wedding.’ ‘I am not complaining. I just want to know more about this... place.’ ‘This is Elig-Edzoa. Look up there.’ He pointed northwards ‘Do you see the football field? I will take you there to watch a football match. Will that make you happy?’ ‘I have never watched a football game. Some Saturday afternoons, Uncle Polyandrew listens to commentaries of football games on the radio. So you will really take me to a football game?’ ‘Of course.’ ‘Thank you, Joe! I wait eagerly for that day.’ ‘There is a small market not far away. That is where you will go for shopping.’ ‘The market,’ Blessing repeated. B 194 Her maiden visit to a Yaoundé market fell under the category of experiences which aroused daunting memories. That morning, four years ago, Aunty Angela gave her simple instructions which made shopping sound quite easy: ‘Just stroll down the road and you will find yourself in the market. All you need to do is point to the item you want to buy. You don’t need to know the French appellation. Just point to the item, ask for the price and pay. Yes, I know you are wondering how to ask for the price. “Ça là coût combien?” Can you repeat that?’ With vivid images of the scanty village-style market and with Aunty Angela’s advice replaying in her head, she set out, confident and excited. However, just the sheer number of shoppers and traders going about their businesses of buying and selling, bargaining and quarrelling, had been enough to cause an uncomfortable stir within her. As she watched two women fighting over 100 Francs, it occurred to her that she could either be overcharged or short-changed. Furthermore, no one had told her to expect a long queue in front of the beef stand, with a butcher who barked at customers and divided his attention between weighing the beef and swatting flies. The various varieties of plantains, which excluded the one she knew and classified as real, was the final straw that had eventually sent her scuttling back the way she had come, her shopping basket filled with nothing but air. As she sped away, her foot accidentally collided with one cocoyam; yet it was a triangular heap that came tumbling down. The sunrays scorching her back, the gravel digging into her kneecap, the market-woman stinging her with insults, she picked the cocoyams one after the other and mounted them into a shapeless pile. Since then she had become an expert shopper. ‘I now bark back at those traders who think I must buy every item I price,’ she once told Peace. ‘Now that I have a policeman for husband, those women better watch out,’ she reiterated some weeks ago. ‘We are almost there, Ble.’ Joseph said. ‘I will have to transfer my furniture from the one room I occupied at Ngoakelle. A married man like me should not live in the student residential area. That is why we are moving into this bigger and more comfortable house.’ Joseph ransacked the pockets of his cotton trousers and brought 195 out...