THIS IS LAGOS AND OTHER STORIES
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Flora Nwapa is known as the Mother of modern African literature; she was the first internationally published African woman writer in English and the first African female publisher. Her highly praised novels Efuru (1966) and Idu (1970) were published in the Heinemann African Writers Series, while her later novels Women are Different (1986) and One is Enough (1986) were initially published in Nigeria, later republished through Africa World Press, Inc in the United States. Through Never Again (1975), Flora Nwapa became the first female African writer of war novels, insightful stories of the horrors of civil war. Her last novel The Lake Goddess (2017), posthumously published by Tana Press, is acclaimed as one of Flora Nwapa’s literary masterpieces, bound to become a classic. Talented in many genres, Flora Nwapa also wrote short stories This is Lagos and other Stories (1971), Wives at War and Other Stories (1980), poems Cassava Song and Rice Song (1986) as well as plays Conversations (1993) and The First Lady (1993). Through children’s books, such as Emeka - Driver’s Guard (1972), Mammywater (1979), and Journey to Space and Other Stories (1980), Flora Nwapa also told stories for future generations.
Flora Nwapa was born in 1931 in Oguta, Nigeria. After graduating from University College Ibadan and University of Edinburgh, she taught at Queen’s School Enugu and then University of Lagos, where she was also appointed Assistant Registrar. At the end of the Nigerian Civil War, she served in the Executive Council of Eastern Nigeria until 1975. In 1977 she established a printing and publishing company, Tana Press Ltd. In addition to writing and publishing, she was a visiting professor in creative writing at the University of Maiduguri, and she also spoke at numerous conferences in Africa, Europe and the United States. In 1983, she received the Nigerian national honor of Officer of the Order of the Niger (O.O.N) for literature and in 1992 she received a Medal of Honor from Imo State. Flora Nwapa passed away in 1993 in Enugu and is buried in Oguta. She was survived by her husband and three children.
Tana Press Ltd.
48 Philip Udom Street Oguta, Imo State
First published in 1971
This edition published in 2020 by Tana Press Ltd.
First published as an e-book in 2019 by Tana Press with the support of Digitalback Books and Worldreader.
Tana Press
www.tanapressltd.com
Digitalback Books
www.digitalbackbooks.com
Worldreader
www.worldreader.org
Copyright © 1971 Flora Nwapa. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher.
Cover design Copyright © 2019 Victor Ehikhamenor
(www.victorehi.com). All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-0983238-3-7
For Clara & A. Y.
All the characters in this collection are imaginary and bear no resemblance to anyone dead or alive.
Contents
The Traveller
This is Lagos
Jide’s Story
The Road to Benin
The Child Thief
The Delinquent Adults
The Loss of Eze
A Soldier Returns Home
My Soldier Brother
The Traveller
There was a knock at the door and Bisi went to open it.
‘Good afternoon, please come right in.’
‘You remember me, don’t you?’ the stranger asked.
‘I remember the face, but not the name,’ Bisi lied.
‘We were together at College.’
‘Of course it was at College. Please sit down, and where are you now?’ Bisi asked. It was obvious that she still could not place the man.
‘I am in Lagos and have come to do some business here. I thought I should come and say hello to you. You were in Edinburgh last year, weren’t you? I saw you for a brief time while in the company of Obi and his sisters.’
‘You are right,’ Bisi said remembering her holidays in Edinburgh, but she still could not place the man.
‘How are you enjoying teaching?’
‘I love it. I did not know I would enjoy it so much.’
‘I am glad to hear this. Many people get bored with it in no time, and look around for something more exciting.’
‘You are right. It all depends on the individual. Where do you work in Lagos?’ Bisi asked.
‘I work with a firm of experts. We give our expert advice to the public on buildings and so on.’
‘And you are enjoying it, aren’t you?’
‘It is exciting. I do a lot of touring. In December, I was in the Cameroons. After this trip, I shall come more frequently to the East.’
‘And how long are you staying here?’ she asked.
‘I leave for Ogoja tomorrow, Onitsha next tomorrow, and on Saturday, I go to Port Harcourt.’
‘That’s grand. I like touring,’ Bisi said, getting up. ‘I am sorry Mr…’
‘Mr. Musa,’ the stranger said promptly.
‘Mr. Musa, I must go to my lesson now. The children are waiting for me.’
‘And I must be going too. Thank you very much. Are you free this evening?’
‘Sorry, I am not free.’
‘You are free tomorrow afternoon then?’
‘Yes, tomorrow afternoon, I am free, but you are going to Ogoja.’
‘I shall be back before lunch time. Can you come to lunch with me at the hotel?’
‘That is very kind of you. But it is a shame that you should come all the way from Lagos and invite me to lunch. I should invite you to a meal in my house.’
‘Oh, that does not matter at all. Anywhere I go, I could ask as many people to meals as I want. It costs me nothing. The pleasure is mine. When do I come for you?’
‘One thirty.’
‘I shall be here at one thirty, then. See you.’
‘Bye bye.’
‘My God, isn’t he talkative?’ Bisi said as soon as Mr. Musa’s driver drove away. She wondered whether he was actually at College with her, and blamed herself for accepting the lunch appointment.
However, at one thirty the next day, Mr. Musa was in Bisi’s house, Bisi came out and they drove to the hotel.
‘How was your trip to Ogoja?’
‘Fine. I am making headway, and I am very happy.’
A taxi, hooted and overtook Mr. Musa at a very dangerous corner, and stopped not quite thirty yards in front.
‘These taxi drivers should not be given licences,’ Mr. Musa said.
‘They know what to do. It is just sheer irresponsibility and lack of patience. What makes me mad is when they abuse you when they are wrong.’ Bisi said.
‘I guess you just go your way when they abuse you,’ Mr. Musa said laughing.
‘Of course I don’t. I abuse them and talk to them in the language they understand. I am not a lady when it comes to that.’
Mr. Musa laughed. ‘That’s what I do too.’
‘Shall we have some drinks?’ Musa asked as they arrived at the hotel. ‘What would you like to drink?’
‘Babycham,’ she replied.
‘That’s good. I like Babycham myself, but I will have a small Star.’
‘Good afternoon, doc,’ Bisi greeted a man who came in.
‘Hello Bisi, how are you?’
‘Very well, thank you. How is the battle?’
‘Still raging. Do you know the latest?’
‘No, what are you up to now?’
‘Well, we were there as usual. We sat down at our seats. Patients came, we took a full report, wrote everything down in long hand, took the patient in and examined him fully, and called in the next patient. In this way, by twelve o’clock no doctor saw more than three patients.’
‘Hello, doc.’
‘How are you, Musa, when did you come?’
‘A couple of days ago.’
‘Nice to see you.’
‘Yes doc, you have a case,’ Bisi said.
‘You mean private practice for doctors?’ Mr. Musa asked.
‘Yes, P.P. for doctors. They have a case, haven’t they?’ Bisi said.
‘Yes, but unscrupulous doctors could easily abuse it.’
‘Excuse me,’ the doctor said and left.
They selected a table for two.
‘Are you going to have pounded yarn?’
‘No, when I come here, I want to eat something different. And besides I am slimming.’
‘Women are always slimming. Oh that’s a good high life music. Do you like it?’
‘I like it, but I don’t like listening to high life music,’ she replied.
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘I like to dance to high life music.’
‘That’s a good one,’ he said.
When they finished eating, they went to his room. He tuned his radio, and waltz music was playing, very softly.
‘Let’s dance, shall we?’
‘Dance?’ she asked in surprise. ‘I have just eaten. I can’t do any dancing now.’ He laughed and did not insist.
‘By the way, I hear Dora Okeke is here. Can we see her tonight?’
‘Oh yes, what time?’
‘About nine o’clock.’
‘That’s late, make it eight.’
‘You see, someone is taking me out at seven, and I guess I will be free at nine.’
‘All right, nine then. I must go now. I haven’t had siesta.’
‘There are two beds.’
‘No, thank you,’ she said.
He came near her and put his hands round her neck. There was no response. He took her hands in his and squeezed them. The effect was the same.
‘What is the matter?’ he asked
‘With what?’ she replied. He left her.
‘I shall take you back now.’
‘That is thoughtful of you.’
He drove her home.
Mr. Musa arrived at nine thirty full of apologies.
‘Let’s go now,’ Bisi said and called her maid who locked the door. ‘Helen,’ Bisi called, ‘please bring my wallet. I have no money on me and I may buy some petrol.’
‘Oh don’t bother. It is all right,’ Mr. Musa said.
‘No. Helen, please bring my wallet quickly. It is in the cupboard.’
‘I said don’t bother.’
‘I can’t find it,’ Helen said.
‘I said let’s go.’
They arrived at a petrol station and Mr. Musa filled the tank for her, and got a receipt. When they arrived at Dora’s school, she was not in.
‘What do we do now? It is too early to go to bed,’ Musa said.
‘It is ten fifteen, you know I can’t go to bed before midnight.’
‘All right. Let’s visit a friend of mine.’
‘Who is he?’
‘It is a she. You know Nwakama at College?’
‘Okechukwu Nwakama?’
‘Yes, Okechukwu. He is my friend’s fiancée.’
In five minutes they were in Sophia’s house. They were introduced.
‘And when is the lucky man coming home?’
‘Next year,’ Sophia replied. ‘Can I offer you beer?’
‘Yes, provided you share it with me.’
‘We don’t drink beer here. We are bush.’
‘I know you are not bush. You will share it with me.’
‘All right. We will share it,’ Bisi said.
Beer was brought and the two girls had half a glass each which they did not enjoy. When they finished, they got up to go. Bisi drove to her house, and as she said good night to Musa, he drew her to him.
‘Don’t be in a hurry. Kiss me good night.’
Bisi pushed him away. He wanted to come near again, but thought better of it and said, ‘I shall see you tomorrow at eight. We shall collect Sophia and have supper or drinks somewhere. Good night.’
‘Good night,’ Bisi said and shut the door.
The next evening at eight, Bisi collected Sophia. Mr. Musa was picked from his hotel and they went out to have drinks. All the places they went to were interesting, and at about eleven o’clock they decided to go home.
‘Take Sophia home first,’ Musa suggested.
‘Yes take me home first,’ Sophia echoed.
Bisi laughed and reversed the car. Sophia was seen safely home. She then drove Mr. Musa to his hotel.
‘Good night,’ she said not turning off the engine.
‘No, you must come in.’
‘No, it is late, and I must rise early tomorrow morning.’
‘I know. Come in for a few minutes.’
‘No,’ she said and shook her head vigorously.
‘This is most unfair, Bisi. Please come in. You can go any time you want to go. I won’t stop you.’
‘No.’
He locked his side of the car, came to her side and took her by the hand. She allowed her hand to be taken, but she remained doggedly on her seat.
‘All right. If you don’t want to go in, let’s go for a walk.’
‘For a walk, at this time of the night, not me.’
‘What do you want me to do now?’ Musa asked in despair.
‘Go to bed and let me go home.’
‘You have refused to come in?’
‘Yes, I have refused to come in.’
‘What is your reason?’
‘Reason, you don’t do things always with reason,’ Musa went into the room and came back.
‘What about this cocktail party tomorrow night?’ he asked.
‘I am not invited.’
‘Oh, don’t be impossible. You said yesterday you will go with me.’
‘So I said. Can’t I change my mind?’
‘This is hopeless. We shall go, Bisi.’
‘I don’t want to gate-crash,’ Bisi said laughing.
‘The guest of honour and I were classmates. I saw him only yesterday and I assured him I would be there. Please Bisi, be reasonable.’ He opened the door of the car and went in. ‘Drive me to anywhere,’ he said. Bisi laughed and said nothing.
‘Please, Bisi please.’
‘All right, I shall go with you. When is the party?’
‘Come at four or five.’
‘For the cocktail party?’ she asked in surprise.
‘Can’t you come at that time?’ he asked.
‘I shall come at seven o’clock. Good night.’
‘Look, Bisi, this is most unfair. Please just go into that room, then come out. I shall be here, I promise.’
She shook her head vigorously. He took a deep breath, and sighed. ‘Good night then. I shall see you tomorrow.’ At seven o’clock, Bisi was in Mr. Musa’s hotel.
‘Can I drive you tonight?’
‘Oh, never mind. When you go back to Lagos, tell your friends you had a woman chauffeur in Enugu.’
‘You are going to eat goat meat,’ Bisi said to Mr. Musa.
‘Goat meat at a cocktail party?’
‘Of course, when there is no goat meat, the guests demand it by right. It must be brought.’
It was not a bad cocktail. But it was the same pattern. One heard the usual questions asked at parties. ‘How is the car behaving?’ Conversations on promotions. Nothing on the international or national level whatever. They called on one or two people, filled Bisi’s tank again and drove to the hotel. When they arrived there, Mr. Musa came out and banged his side of the door. Bisi remained as yesterday, in her seat.
‘Oh please, let’s not do this all over again tonight.’
She said nothing. She remained doggedly again on her seat and did not even switch off the engine.
‘Come, Bisi, let’s go in. It is only eleven thirty. When you want to go home, I shall not keep you.’
‘I am not coming out. What am I coming out for?’
‘When you come out, you will know.’
She laughed.
‘After all, we are adults and responsible. Why are you behaving so childishly? Why are you doing this to me?’ He opened the car, took her handbag and placed it on the bonnet of the car.
‘When you want to go, go and take your handbag,’ he said laughing.
‘You are clever, aren’t you?’ Bisi said.
Mr. Musa forced his way into the driver’s seat. ‘Oh no, don’t do that. You are hurting me. You know this seat is only meant for one person.’
‘The way you talk, Bisi, well, I must confess one thing.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘I am not in love, but I feel as if I am.’
‘And how many times do you feel like that in a week?’ she asked laughing. She was not disappointed.
He did not say a word. That was not what he expected. For some time, they did not talk.
‘Come on, let’s go in, Bisi,’ Bisi shook her head.
‘Why do you stay there shaking your head at everything I say?’
She did not of course say a word.
‘Look, as I said before,’ Mr. Musa began again, ‘I am not in love, but…’
‘I am not in love either, or do you think I should be?’ Bisi said firmly. The cheek of him to repeat it.
There was a long silence.
‘Will I see you tomorrow?’ Mr. Musa asked.
‘When does your plane leave?’ Bisi asked.
‘About twelve twenty.’
‘I shall come at eleven to drive you to the airport.’
‘Can’t you come earlier than that?’
‘No, I can’t.’
He came closer and kissed her. But she did not return the kiss. She switched on the engine, was about to drive off when he said urgently, ‘Wait.’ He opened the car and went in. Bisi looked at him in surprise. ‘Won’t you let me go. It is one a.m.’
‘You don’t seem to believe me. What I have been doing has been the accumulation of my feelings for you for a long time, even at College.’
‘Really?’
‘You don’t seem to believe me, Bisi.’
‘Does it really matter whether I believe you or not. I thought that what mattered was whether you yourself believe what you have just said.’
She started the car again. Mr. Musa came out willingly and she drove off.
Bisi told her friend Sophia everything the next morning. Both girls went to see Mr. Musa. He was ready to go to the airport.
‘You are lucky to have two beautiful women to see you off,’ Sophia said.
‘Well, maybe I may not even have one after all. Your friend is unkind,’ he said.
They did not wait long before the plane took off. And as Bisi and Sophia were driving back home, Bisi began to laugh.
‘Why are you laughing?’
‘Musa, what kind of man is he? And what kind of woman does he think I am?’
This is Lagos
‘They say Lagos men do not just chase women, they snatch them.’ Soha’s mother told her on the eve of her departure to Lagos. ‘So my daughter be careful. My sister will take care of you. You should help her with her housework and her children, just as you have been doing here.’
Soha was fond of her aunt. She called her Mama Eze. Eze was her aunt’s first son. And Mama Eze called Soha my sister’s daughter. She too was fond of Soha whom she looked after when she was a little girl.
Soha was a sweet girl. She was just twenty when she came to Lagos. She was not beautiful in the real sense of the word. But she was very pretty and charming. She was full of life. She pretended that she knew her mind, and showed a confidence rare in a girl who had all her education in a village.
Her aunt and her family lived in Shomolu in the outskirts of Lagos. There was a primary school nearby, and it was in the school that her uncle by marriage got her a teaching job. Soha did not like teaching, but there was no other job, and so, like so many teachers, the job was just a stepping stone.
In the morning before she went to school, Soha saw that her aunt’s children, five in all, were well prepared for school. She would see that they had their baths, wore their uniforms, and looked neat and tidy. Then she prepared their breakfast, and before seven each morning, the children were ready to go to school.
Everybody in the “yard” thought how dutiful Soha was. Her aunt’s husband who was a quiet man praised Soha, and told his wife that she was a good girl. Her aunt was proud of her. Since she came to stay with them, her aunt had had time for relaxation, she did less housework, and paid more attention to her trade, which was selling bread.
For some time, everything went well with them. But Mama Eze did not like the way Soha refused to go on holiday when the school closed at the end of the first term. She was surprised when Soha told her that she did not want to go home to see her mother, despite the fact that her mother had been ill, and was recovering.
‘Why don’t you want to go home, my sister’s daughter?’
‘Who will look after the children if I go home?’ she asked. Mama Eze did not like the tone of Soha’s voice. ‘Who had been looking after the children before you came, my sister’s daughter? Your mother wants you to come home. You know how fond she is of you. I don’t want her to think that I prevented you from coming home.’
‘She won’t think so. I shall go during the Christmas holiday. This is a short holiday, only three weeks. And the roads. Remember what Lagos-Onitsha road is like.’ But she did not go home during the Christmas holiday either.
It was that argument that sort of did the trick. Mama Eze remembered the accident she witnessed not long ago. She was returning from the market, a huge load on her head, when, just in a flash it happened. It was a huge tipper-lorry and a Volkswagen car. She saw blood, and bodies, and the wreck of the Volkswagen. She covered her face with her hands. When she opened them, she looked the other way, and what did she see, a human tongue on the ground.
When she returned home, she told her husband. She swore that from thenceforth she would travel home by train.
She did not suggest going home by train to her niece. Soha had long rejected that idea. She did not see the sanity of it all. Why should a man in Lagos, wishing to go to Port Harcourt decide to go up to Kaduna in the North first, then down south to Port Harcourt, and to take three days and three nights doing the journey he would do in a few hours if he was travelling by road.
One Saturday, during the holiday a brand new car stopped in front of the big “yard”. The children in the “yard” including Mama Eze’s children trooped out to have a closer look. A young man stepped out of the car and asked one of the children whether Soha lived there. ‘Yes, sister Soha lives here. Let me go and call her for you,’ Eze said, and ran into the house.
Soha was powdering her face when Eze pushed open the door and announced, ‘Sister Soha, a man is asking for you. He came in a car, a brand new car. I have not seen that car before. Come and see him. He wants you.’ Eze held her hand and began dragging her to the sitting room. ‘No Eze, ask him to sit down in the sitting room and wait for me,’ Soha said quietly to Eze. Eze dropped her hand and ran outside again. ‘She is coming. She says I should ask you to sit down in the sitting room and wait for her,’ he said to the man. The man followed him to the sitting room.
The children stood admiring the car. ‘It is a Volkswagen,’ one said. ‘How can that be a Volkswagen? It is a Peugeot,’ another said. ‘Can’t you people see? It is a Rekord,’ yet another child said. They were coming close now. Some were touching the body of the car and leaving their dirty fingerprints on it when Eze came out again and drove them out. ‘Let me see who says he is strong, dare come near this car.’ He planted himself in front of the car, looking bigger than he really was.
‘Does the car belong to Eze’s father?’ a child asked.
‘No. It belongs to sister Soha’s friend,’ one of Eze’s brothers replied without hesitation.
‘I thought it belonged to your father,’ the same child said again.
‘Keep quiet. Can’t my father buy a car?’ Eze shouted standing menacingly in front of the child.
Soha was still in front of the mirror admiring herself. She was not in a hurry at all. Her mother had told her that she should never show a man that she was anxious about him. She should rather keep him waiting as long as she wished. She was wearing one of the dresses she sewed for herself when she was at home. She suddenly thought of changing it. But she changed her mind, and instead came out. She was looking very shy as she took the outstretched hand of the man who had come to visit her. ‘Are you ready?’
‘For…’
‘We are going to Kingsway Stores.’
‘Kingsway Stores?’
‘Of course. But we discussed it last night, and you asked me to come at nine thirty,’ the man said looking at his watch.
‘I am sorry. But I can’t go again.’
‘You can’t go?’
‘No.’
‘Can’t I change my mind?’
‘Of course you can,’ the man said quietly a little surprised.
‘I am going then.’
‘Already?’
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t you work on Saturdays?’
‘No.’
‘Go well then,’ Soha said
‘When am I seeing you again?’
‘I don’t know. I have no car.’
‘Let’s go to the cinema tonight.’
‘No, my mother will kill me.’
‘Your aunt.’
‘Yes. She is my mother. You said you will buy something for me today.’
‘Let’s go to the Kingsway Stores then. I don’t know how to buy things for women.’
‘Don’t you buy things for your wife?’
‘I told you, I have no wife,’ Soha laughed long and loud. The man watched her.
‘Who are you deceiving? Please go to your wife and don’t bother me. Lagos men, I know Lagos men.’
‘How many of them do you know?’ She did not answer. She rather rolled her eyes and shifted in the chair in which she sat.
‘I am going,’ he said standing up.
‘Don’t go now,’ she said. They heard the horn of a car. ‘That’s my car,’ he said.
‘The children are playing with the horn.’
‘You are exasperating! I like you all the same. Let’s go to this shopping, Soha. What is wrong with you? You are so stubborn.’
‘No, I won’t go. I shall go next Saturday. I did not tell Mama Eze.’
‘You said you would.’
‘So I said.’
He got up. It did not seem to him that there would be an end to this conversation.
‘You are going?’
‘I am going.’
‘Wait, I’ll come with you.’ He breathed in and breathed out again.
‘Go and change then.’
‘Change. Don’t you like my dress?’
‘I like it, but change into a better dress.’
‘I have no other dress. I might as well stay. You are ashamed of me.’
‘You have started again.’
