CHAPTER FOUR

Eben didn’t show up in the evening as he promised. So, I went to bed not long after supper. It was unusual of me to go to bed early but that day, like a habitual early bird, I went to bed before nocturnal creatures started their day. It was not because I felt overly sleepy. I needed solitude to free myself from the day’s shackles. Grandma’s superstitious predictions about Esther and me was the most stubborn stain on my mind that I needed to clean. I didn’t want, and could not afford, to allow grandma’s predictions to come to pass. It was against my will. A young man’s choice of a girl is one that is complete in every aspect, and so, Esther, though quite appreciable on that score, didn’t measure up to my satisfaction.

Many men, like myself, desire to  have a complete girl, a girl of their choice  but  quite often, that does not happen. They play games on fields where they do not intend to settle, and when they become stuck, they go round to play on other fields which does not only stain their dignity but also causes pain to the innocent hearts that they toy with. I didn’t want that to happen to me. 

Throughout the night, my mind was busy with thoughts about love, choices, and how our destinies, if there was anything like that, shapes how we love. It was the first time I paid such serious attention to the pros and cons of love and love life. And in it all, I kept coming back to what was most important to me – my choice, a completely beautiful girl or woman. 

There were many girls and young women in the community who quite measured up to my standards, beauty wise; but not once had I approached anyone.  That was not because I didn’t have the courage to do so. It was simply because it was not time for me to embark on the adventure of love. Though thought to be a paradisiac experience, many, I heard, were  the pinches of love, and those who go in unprepared always grin and bear the pinches or come out with scars. One other thing, the most important maybe, that delayed my love life was education. The few guys in the community who tried to make it in life through education could not become what they aimed to become because, they allowed their fantasies about love to lead them on a path of failure. Many became fathers and husbands unprepared, and took on responsibilities that they were not prepared to shoulder. Religion and its associated moral principles also played a key role in my thoughts and decisions about love, and that was what probably worried grandma the most.

Grandma often disagreed with the dictates of mainstream religions as far as their teachings about romance was concerned. “They are hypocrites,” she always said. “It is not right to suppress sexual desires of a person just because you want him or her to be holy. Why didn’t the wise creator programme that into us just us he perfectly designed us to be?”

To grandma, religion’s dictatorial restrictions on sex and romance are nothing but unholy man-made laws made in the name of God to appear holy, to force humans to submit to those in whose hands there’s power. If not, she always argued, why would a person deny himself or herself of something that the human body craves for, just because he or she is serving God? “Do they also seal their anuses when they feel like farting? What is more unholy than farting on the alter where they worship?” she often asked. 

Though uneducated and quite superstitious, grandma had her own principles, both rigid and flexible that she clung to, and that always reflected in everything she did. Regarding romance, she used her moulding tools instead of applying restrictions. 

The following morning, I woke up healthy though I had few hours of sleep. And like the previous day, the thought about my choice of girl and grandma's predictions occupied my thoughts. The day however, unlike the previous day, was fruitful. I worked while still soaked in my contemplations. 

Three days later, late afternoon, while sitting on a bench under the cocoa trees, I heard footsteps behind me. At first, I thought it was grandma so I didn’t bother to look back to see who it was. It wasn’t grandma. The sound of the footsteps seemed controlled. Then, my instincts communicated to me right away. It seemed the person was someone who  probably had a kind of respect that was not filial for me, and who expected to receive same respect from me.

I looked back. 

It was Esther. She was saucily dressed. And like a sleeping volcano erupting without warning, the men disease in me gave sight to my carnal eyes. I wanted to resist the urge to dart my eyes around the part of her that I cherished most, but I couldn’t.  I looked stealthily at the part of her that the disease directed me to look at. Her slim waist and her large hips first caught my attention. I couldn’t help but to create with my imaginations how things would look like if  her saucy dress were taken off. Then, my eyes slowly travelled up to her face after a short rest at the two small knolls in her bosom. I didn’t cherish them that much, but the teasing teats needed some attention.

My conscience begun to prick me when the disease got to the point where my body began to react to what my brain was being fed with.  It wasn’t my fault. The man in me and his folly was to blame. I kept looking till my eyes met her eyes. 

She greeted and smiled, and the diastema in her white teeth brightened her face. Esther was always generous with her smiles.

I responded to her greeting in a very polite manner, and that perhaps made her feel welcomed. She drew closer and sat beside me on the bench. Her thighs were almost touching mine. I didn’t want it that way but I didn’t react. Perhaps, the sweet scent on her charmed me somewhat.

Frankly, deep down within me, I didn’t welcome her presence, but I needed to be polite in order not to let her feel bad. We sat silent for close to a minute, each one expecting the other to start a conversation. 

“May I give you water?” I asked.

Community norms demanded that, a visitor should always be offered water even if the visitor did not ask for it.  It was an old tradition the people practiced, the genesis of which I didn’t know. 

“I’m ok. Thank you,” she replied, and giggled without turning to look at me. Her face was towards her left side all that while. I was sure her attention was not on anything at that side. She was probably feeling uneasy sitting beside me. 

“I hope you are fine?” I spoke for the second time since she sat down. I just wanted her to feel free to express herself. That way, I could tell her how I felt about her so that we don’t become unevenly yoked.

I was sure her zeal to get closer to me was natured by grandma and her friend, Esther’s mother. She could not just have awoken one day, and decided to get closer to me. And, if it wasn’t her own cravings that moved her to act, then, even if I made up my mind to allow her into my life, our friendship wouldn’t have root to stand firm. 

“I’m fine,” she replied. “How are you too.” She then slowly turned her face towards me. Obviously, she was getting relieved of the uneasiness that bound her. 

“I'm also fine." 

“We thank God." Her narrow voice deepened a bit. “I came to my brother’s village but I met his absence so I decided to come and say a greeting you.”

Her reason for visiting me wouldn’t have been one I considered flimsy, hiding her real intentions, if grandma had not tried talking about love between me and her. But it was true, her brother’s village wasn’t far from ours. 

I was about to speak for the fourth time, when the two birds that myself and grandma saw few days ago came back, and started playing on the same branch of the cocoa tree. Grandma's superstitious utterances then came to mind suddenly. I kept looking at the birds to the extent that I forgot Esther was beside me.

What diverted my attention was the sound of grandma’s footsteps. I looked at her but she didn’t look back at me – her attention was on Esther. She greeted and asked how she was faring. 

After Esther’s response to her, grandma looked at the birds for about a minute, and turning her attention towards us, she smiled. “Esther, the birds are beautiful, right?” she asked. 

“Yes,” Esther replied, and looked up at the birds. I didn’t know her attention was also on the birds. 

“They are beautiful and happy birds. Don’t you think so?” she again directed her question to Esther. 

“Yes,” Esther again replied affirmatively, with her eyes still fixed on the birds. She had no idea about what grandma was trying to put across, but  I knew. I knew what grandma was trying to imply. I didn’t like it. 

I turned to look at grandma. She smiled.

“Two happy birds have visited two people sitting on a bench under a cocoa tree,” she said and walked away.

Esther laughed again.  She still had no idea of what grandma was trying to imply.

“They are called black-cheeked love birds. They like playing a lot,” Esther said and giggled.

I was surprised to hear the name of the birds. I didn’t know. The name of the birds further threw light on grandma's superstitious predictions. I got worried.

“How did you know the name of the birds?” I needed to know. What if Esther and grandma had planned to play mind games on me. 

“My school was originally a school of agriculture. Even till now, irrespective of the course one is studying, fundamental agricultural studies are mandatory. I learnt about bird species in my first semester in my first year,” she replied. Her answer was true. 

I nearly crept back into getting  preoccupied with grandma's superstitious predictions again, but I brushed it off, and wished not to ever revisit it again. Getting overly preoccupied with it could influence my thinking. I needed not to worry about it anymore. If indeed anything of the sort was bound to happen, one could not stop it. 

The birds flew away after sometime. I then gave Esther my full attention. We talked. I asked her questions, and she answered. Sometimes, when she found it hard to answer a question, she just giggled and kept quiet over it. And knowing that it was her way of ignoring such questions, I didn’t repeat them. I had to be a gentleman. 

Unexpectedly, as we continued to talk, my uncle’s wife and Eben’s mother appeared behind us and got closer. It was Esther who first saw them. I didn’t expect them to approach us, but I was not surprised. I knew them so well. They were gossip mates. Their mouths were always busy when they were together. They gossiped about almost everything and everyone. They knew every hidden secret. They knew every problem and the solution to it. They knew every child and their real fathers in the community. They knew every unfaithful wife, and every cheating husband. 

After greeting us, they asked Esther questions – meaningless questions. But Esther had the patience, and answered them. 

Satisfied with what they wanted to know, they got on their way, chatting and giggling. It was obvious, they had gotten a new topic to gossip about, and I was sure it was going to spread like wild fire in the community. 

We talked a bit more afterwards, and escorted Esther to the junction of her brother’s village. 

Superstition becoming a reality or not, I felt that, Esther was warm, someone whose presence shook away the cold of a lonely person. Her smiles, giggles, sweet voice, and how she reacted to issues were charismatic. But despite all that, she was not complete to a young man like myself who cherished plump titties and a beautiful face in addition to what she was already endowed with. She would be a good friend, I presumed, but not one I could share my love with.