The Crabs of Bangui

Chapter Thirteen

97 Chapter Thirteen H e went to CLUB 49 fairly regularly to play either draughts or snooker. He was not a competitive player in either game, but he was very dedicated to both. He had not been there for a month or so since the Bangui project became a reality. That Monday afternoon he decided to take the good news to those who mattered for CLUB 49 was essentially an old people’s corner for relaxation. A majority of members were retired senior civil servants and businessmen, many of whom were not only very rich, but would certainly be interested in putting their money in any enterprise that would give them substantial dividends without any apparent strain. He had a seat in the corner near the TV where he sat regularly when he was not playing. He did not drink alcohol in any form, as a matter of habit, though he offered a drink or two on the very rare occasions when he had some money. But he had the reputation among club members as a man who had planted himself permanently on the receiving end of favours and drinks, while giving nothing in return. He alone knew his problem. It was because of the lack of money, not the absence of the will to give. Since leaving the bank, and with his dwindling financial resources, the circle of his acquaintances was narrowing by the day as he became more and more incapable of raising money to meet the various engagements that bound social groups together. And it was not in his nature to thrust his friendship on others who did not know him well. He was not the kind of man to be given any lessons on companionship. He knew that if there was any positive factor not only in the formation of character 98 Linus T. Asong but in the estimation of man’s true worth, that factor was companionship. He knew that companionship is at once an influence on character and a measure of one’s real worth. That explained why in spite of all the problems confronting him year in year out, he always made sure that he kept a clean record with the CLUB. But he also knew that companionship meant spending, reciprocating generosities. He had come in a cream suit: a double-breasted jacket over a sparkling white shirt with tiny grey lines. He was anxious to behave like somebody who had actually been to Bangui on a mission that involved a lot of cash, much of which he had to spend. Being the shy person that he was, he went up to the President of the Club and they spoke for some time. “When I went home, Pa, for my father’s funeral my people spoiled me with a traditional title,” he was talking and pointing to a black raffia cap on his head with a red feather, probably of some fowl, and two spikes of a porcupine stuck to it. “I was forced to become my late father’s successor. My late father was a Ta’ata, and I am that now.” “So from today you are no longer Mr. Hans but Ta…” Mr. Limen Isidore hesitated for a second, “what’s the equivalent in English?” “Prince, or something of the sort.” Hansel said with all pomp. “My people value titles very much and so it will be good for them to hear that the title is being widely used.” Hansel had actually chosen the best moment to introduce his new title. The papers would start blowing it up the very next morning. “So from now henceforth you will be called PRINCE!” “That’s right,” Hansel admitted. “And then I would like to give everybody a drink for the car and the title, everybody.” The President was so taken aback that he inadvertently asked: “Why?” before correcting himself to ask: “Is that so?” 99 The Crabs of Bangui “Sure. People emptied their pockets to give me a drink here when I hadn’t. How can I forget them now that things look different?” “So we can say that the bad days are gone, Prince?” “You can say that again,” Hansel said with a touch of pride. The President took to the centre of the floor between the bar section and the snooker compartment and announced: “Ladies and gentlemen, Prince Hansel, the man we are used to calling MR HANSEL has...