A Dirty Game

Chapter Eighteen

141 Eighteen oti, his wife and aunt recovered. Just two weeks after hospital, Abiga left for the States to meet her daughters. At this time, Foti was drinking just a bottle of beer, or a glass of spirit, than the many bottles he used to empty. Perhaps, this was because of his loneliness. It was a numbing period for the mayor. He would put on a good face on the streets and on occasions but back at home, Foti was sad. At 4 pm on Monday, Lucy keyed Foti’s office and walked behind him to the road. She entered the car and they drove off to his home. That evening, Lucy assisted Foti. She prepared his dresses for next day and cooked for him. They ate together, drank beer and watched television. It was the first day Lucy ever felt relaxed beside the financial wizard. She wished such days were more and longer. She sipped from a beer glass as if she was sipping hot tea. Then she looked at Foti. He carried his hand to her verdant front side. ‘You are just such a sweet lady,’ he said. She breathed comfortably and smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she replied carrying her leg to his. ‘Such moments do not last long,’ she added. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Your wife will be back soon and my time will be off.’ ‘She will be long there. We have all the time.’ Foti leaned backwards on the chair and she was there on his heavy tummy soothing it but he was soon snoring heavily. She woke him and they walked to the bedroom. Later on in the night, she carried on the duties of Abiga with much courtesy. To her, it was a night to remember. * * * * F 142 At 5 am the followin1g day, Lucy woke him from a deep sleep. She gave him the best that early morning before preparing him for the journey. Foti had four files to take to the capital city, including that of Wilson Tah. For two weeks, Wilson had been praying for Foti’s quick recovery. It wasn’t for any compassion but for the wish to be a state registered nurse. It was obvious that the number of places were distributed evenly according the ten regions of the country. In the afternoon, Foti arrived. Outside the ministry of public health, he met other public figures with files. He was almost late. He ascended to the second floor of the building and entered a room. A man sat there seriously making stamps on files and a lady checking them one after the other. As Foti entered, from the door, the man could recognise him. ‘Lord Mayor,’ said the man warmly. ‘Yes, Chief.’ ‘Look at your watch,’ he said so pointing to his wrist and shaking his head, though with a smile. ‘Africans are Africans,’ he added. ‘Accept my apology. You can imagine the bad roads and the many traffic jambs.’ ‘Mr. Foti, I could not keep waiting. I have only two places reserved for you, instead of five.’ Foti was astonished. He opened his eyes and his mouth was ajar. ‘I am finished,’ he cried out. ‘Please don’t do this to me. I have assured the people.’ Foti took two glasses of water as if he had been thirsty for days. He sat and opened a file, licking his index finger and crosschecking them. The Chief looked at them and said, ‘You have to understand, Mr. Foti. Those who have sent in their documents are qualified. If I have to replace some of them with your candidates, it should not be a matter of many. It is your fault, you have come late.’ 143 ‘Chief,’ he pleaded further, ‘this is business. These candidates have been participating in our party activities. In addition, I have something to encourage your efforts. You have your cola nut, Chief.’ Foti was frantic on his face. As the man explained, he was rushing over about five thousand files. After the long argument, Foti Was left with no option than to submit the files of two of his candidates. They began dragging the amount. ‘So, how much do I give for a file?’ asked Foti. The Chief raised his head adjusting his glasses with his left index finger from the bridge. ‘I have noticed you for one thing, Mr. Foti.’ ‘What is that?’ ‘Are you new? You know how much you...