The economist from Ibadan

It is early morning in early part of October month. The whizzing gash of gentle wind carries purplish petals gently to the green soft manicured grass. A young yellow sun illuminates the leafy suburbs with heatless rays. The birds sing praises to the sun. The ease of a Sunday morning is unmistakable. In the horizon in the east, it is bright yellow as if in a blaze. Tall dark shadows move in exaggerations compared to their casters.

Casting glances all round, three uniformed police sentries are winding up on closure of shift. Three luxury cars lie in the parking lot like monuments that never move. Prado VX stands out with an elegance to bewitch. It is mean and menacing like a blown out curving of a dead desert locust. From a distance, hazy images move on the tinted windows like thieves larking in the dark. Three relatives are polishing the machines spotlessly in turns like professional carpenters applying last varnish.

Varnishing in the kennel, three German shepherds-the hounds that helps keep intruders at bay. The three relatives share and compare notes about this place. They gossip with the contempt of disgruntled employees on a go-slow.

“Slow down. It is all up to the boss to take his pick as per his mood for the day”, one relative say in a murmur. “Yesterday he preferred the Sedan, today it may be the Subaru automatic. Yesterday it was Kaunda suit; today he may prefer western wear.” They are talking about Buda-the economist from Ibadan.

Ibadan was on his mind this morning-this economist. However, he says something different. “This is yet another very good day the lord has made. The sun is awake,” Buda tells his wife, his voice as always booming with cheer and confidence. “Yes honey. I concur. A beautiful sun is up and daylight has overtaken night early just like we used to see in Lagos”. “Still am not happy as I should and you know why.” the wife retorts with a whine in her voice.

Voicing the same concern her husband says, “I will make it up to you my darling, I know I have been coming back home a bit too late. Listen, once we finish this deal on the road projects we shall be off to Paris for holidays. This one has a very nice cut.” he says his eyes searching for traces of reciprocal love.”I shall be waiting for you today- come early I have a surprise”, the wife comments in a giggle.

Giggling three village boys freeze on sounds of approaching steps. The wife of Buda-their aunt is a late riser. Today was an exception. She needed to speak to Buda. The relatives simply call her Madha. Ordinarily it would be nine before she is up.

Up and about are two house servants also busy on duty like bees on a honeycomb. When Madha wakes, she likes to comb the house for any trace of dust or filth. Flies moving or patching anywhere makes her sick. It always provides her with the excuse to growl and boss. Occasionally she loses her cool and makes abuses like idle homemakers like to do for pass time.

Time and tide waits for no man. Buda has no regard for time though. Last night Buda arrived just about midnight, the earliest in weeks. The three relatives had heard him stagger past knocking on chairs and tables. They had then pretended to be fast asleep. That is how he liked to find the house when he arrives home tipsy from deal cutting drinking sprees- dead quiet.

Quite often, he had crawled out of his bed and yelled at the top of his voice. Faint voices of the three relatives in the other room sent him bellowing. “You either shut up or get out”. The relatives Koy, Sheddy and Fippy had learned to shut their mouths. They had learned to talk only when it was necessary.

Necessity is what had brought them here from the village. Here in the house of the economist from Ibadan where there was no want. In this ten bed-roomed luxury mansion, there was no sorrow. Worry of any kind was alien here. Here, Fippy and the others were seeking help on small matters like school fees, or transport to school or food, or clothing or shelter. In other instances just a chance to taste the life of the City. They would not chance loosing this because of unnecessary noise.

Noise was already part of the talk back home where the three came from. In the village, talk was ripe about this house flowing with milk and honey. Such loose talks in the village encouraged them to also come and suck the honey. That Buda had wealth was not news. That opulence was already pulling him away from the commoners was equally no news. What was however surprising was that his wife was playing along to the arrogance. Sophistication tagged her along like a tag boat tossing her aimlessly in the stormy sea. This, the villagers said alienated her from both sides of the in-laws.

Laws, traditional or otherwise had played a good part in forming this house of opportunity. Fippy had been aware of this for far too long. The economist had made his intensions to marry from the village known as soon as he graduated from Ibadan but still worked in Lagos. He had sent feelers for the search party to locate an appropriate partner. The layers of traps and the soothers of egos had listened to the details that the economist had specified with the keenness of a good barrister.

Barristers and arrangers of marriage settled on Madha as the choice that would fit this economist from Ibadan. Then the economist came back to the village to pick his wife with fairy tale fanfare. Madha was the peak of the crop that had excited the economist. Mothers and fathers fell over themselves to have him consider their daughters-but no. Madha was a cut above the rest. She fitted the bill. The economist had said he liked his women young, yappy, yellow and naive.

Naiveties of the go-betweens and the solicitors of dowry took care of other small details. The heads of the cattle that the relatives of Madha had demanded was a pittance to the economist. He gave out far more, some of the extra niceties that melted the villager’s hearts away.

Earlier, it was not that easy to get Madha to fall for the bait. Over the holidays when school closed, the relatives of Madha met in secret to plot. They planned and connived on the enterprise. The entire village was involved on the project of early marriage. Initially when the plotters mentioned faith, she was unmoved. The layers of traps, her relatives talked about the economist mansions and wealth. That too did not register. Then they said he was the most handsome, most loving and smartest economist from Ibadan. Then they spiced it up with his credentials on matters developmental economics especially econometrics. That she did not understand and that is why she paid attention.

Attention to all possibility that would follow afterwards engaged her mind. The economist would employ a private tutor to help her complete her ordinary level education was an interesting prospect. She believed them when they said the economist valued education and was feeding from high level of intellectual mind. That got her thinking

She thought seriously about the flights they would catch globetrotting with the economist attending world economic forums. The sharp offspring’s that would emerge from their union lingered for long in her mind. She was on top of her class in form three and a private tutor could as well make all the grades she needed to get to the university. She would not need to go to school any more. School would come to her.

The relatives naturally had expectations on this symbiotic arrangement. Here in this house they knew there would at least get some crumbs falling off the table of the economist. Many development projects where the cuts flowed ceaselessly would see to this the Keynesian way.

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Time has a way of sneaking. Twenty odd years had crept and passed. Madha was in the back raw in church choir when she noticed Jerusa. They had been together in Lagos. Their husbands had both pursued PHD in development economics. Then both husbands got jobs as senior economist in Nigeria. They had shared hobbies swimming in the heated pools in Lagos. Nature walks on easy Sunday mornings was mandatory. Nature trail munching pop corns in the wild in the evenings was addictive to them both.

Their eyes locked. Memories came flooding back like high tide on a sandy seabed. Hazy memories, nostalgic checked in like it happen the day after following a sweet dream over wealth. It was at this time that they walked out and fell into each other’s warm embrace. The friendship that had gone cold with their separation ignited with a passion of new lovers.

“I cannot believe this. Are my eyes misleading me? Where have you been since Lagos,” Jerusa asked a barrage of questions in surprise.”It is a long story. We need to go home and share. I cannot begin to explain the twist and turns my life has taken since the time my husband came back home,” Madha said his face lighting up in remembrance.

Madha cleared her throat and started telling her story in a whisper of modulated voice of a good storyteller.

“Derrick was head hunted by the government. He landed a very plum job back here. The government took good care of us. We had a mansion for a house. The benefits were unimaginable. House servants, armed security, paid holidays abroad you name it. We had it all. For ten years, we lived a life of our dreams. “. “What changed, how did you land here?” Jerusa asked with a concerned voice.

“Derrick’s the economist from Ibadan. He changed. Then life changed too. It has been roller coaster of sort. In hindsight, I believe too much money was at the root of our problem.”Madha said in despair. “But how, ordinarily money facilitates matters,” Jerusa interjected. “Yes in some cases but ours was different. Derrick drank more and more when the cuts changed from something small to something big. It got worse when his takings moved from thousands into millions then billions.

Every time I complained he threw more and more money at me, you know like bribing me to keep quiet. I obliged. He employed more workers. He bought me a new car every year on my birthday. I shelved my plans to complete my studies and just let live. My kids learnt in high cost schools and I had a chauffeur to take me shopping anywhere my heart desired,” Madha added with sigh of nostalgia, then the continued.

Our children suffered obesity from over indulgence. I had money, lots of it. I kept the cash under my pillow, as we feared banking it could raise suspicion you know. It was obscene in fact insane.” “You should have contacted me, I would have shared some investment plans,” Jerusa interjected.”Yes, I know, but I had lost all your contacts unfortunately and when one gets lots of money, it buries you quite literally.

Guest of all types flocked our homes,” Madha resumed the story. “Relatives arrived in droves. We opened our hearts to embrace them. Our life was full of excesses- Of everything. We had weekly parties that went into small hours of Saturday mornings. Fathers scheduled masses in our house on Sunday mornings. We didn’t even need to go to church, church was brought to us.”

“Then what, how could you have fallen to this”. Jerusa asked.” I suppose you must have been making some savings or doing some business of some sort”, she added in dismay.

“Wait, there is more surprise coming in this horror story that has been my life. My husband had made serious investments with this money initially. Well he used to call it something small from the government development projects. It grew then multiplied to something mega. He had flats in every town. We had beach plots and mansions; they were all in our children’s names. Other we put in the names of our drivers, pastors and our lawyers. I sincerely did not need to make any savings. This was more than we needed for three generations.

“So …,Jerusa sighed loudly then interjected. I do not get it. You mean you have moved from that level of wealth to this level of want in your lifetime. Please make me understand.” Jerusa demanded like a good friend her eyes popping out in disbelief.

“My husband swam and bathed in alcohol. Soon he was shaking like a man suffering from early stage Parkinson. He took a path of self-destruction. He would not do anything before taking alcohol. People realized when it was already too late to help him. Options of alcoholics anonymous were floated to salvage him but he would here none of it. “Madha said her eyes now welling with tears. That he said would lower his status-remember he was still the economist from Ibadan.”

“What about his friends, relatives,-anybody. Didn’t he have any genuine friends surely?”Jerusa asked now getting increasingly agitated.”They tried, but each time they were too soft on him. People were afraid to offend him. They reasoned he would get to his senses and stop.”. “But he didn’t”. “Yes”

“Then what, I am really getting annoyed with this case. How could your friends, even church friends just do nothing?” asked Jerusa now thunderstruck by the turn the story was taking. “Strangely, and odd as it may sound they did absolutely nothing as my husband wasted away” Madha confirmed. I swear people can be so chameleon like” “But even you should have done something. You should have walked right into his boss office and told him about his condition”, Jerusa interjected in annoyance

“I agree am partly to blame. I feared him. I do not think it was respect. My naivety played a part. He still had lots of money and lots of property too. Then when we thought it was already at rock bottom, things took a turn for the worse.”Madha added in despair.

“How now, what did he do, wife buttery, don’t tell me.”Jerusa chimed. “No, it was worse than that- abandonment. He would disappear from the house for weeks. He would not even appear at his place of work. His work colleagues told me that they took work to him in the bar. From there he dictated directives to his juniors in raised bar stools at high noon. He signed payment vouchers and cashed invoices for the development projects. Then he bragged to them that he was the real economist from Ibadan.”

“But who allowed that.”Jerusa cut in. “No one. This man was the top boss here. His brain was still the best in writing project proposal to the donors. The other bosses that would have acted were brainless posted to those positions by political mandarins. They were clueless in writing project proposals. For these bosses the economist from Ibadan was almost indispensable. Still, they were all dipping in the same cookie jar. Projects where the cuts flowed would be affected and they did not want that. Sadly, even with this understanding he kept sliding down the drain.” “For how long did this go on?” Jerusa asked. “Ten years, it could have been more.”

“When the bosses in the city could not take it any longer, he was fired-on public interest. The economist from Ibadan was relieved of his duties to save the county from further embarrassment. He continued drinking even harder. He made permanent resident in bars. The bar owners had special seats for him where no one would sit. The musicians composed love songs in his honor and the traders in flesh of all shapes and sizes stalked him everywhere he went. He behaved and acted like none of the economist from Ibadan I have known.” Madha added.

“This could only have gotten worse didn’t anybody see this turn for the worst surely.”Jerusa said reservedly. “Yes, we all did, we hoped and prayed that he would stop drinking when his pension was fully spent. We were wrong; he started selling his property one by one. His friends, the judges, magistrates, the accountants’ even priest and the teachers, fought over his property buying them for a song.”Madha said tears now rolling down her cheeks ceaselessly.

“You should have move to court to stop this madness surely,” Jerusa commented in lamentation.

“I did eventually after all other efforts failed. In one case of the beach, estate that involved five houses the judge who was handling the matter was an interested party. He was paying my husband with crates of beer every evening as the case went on. Your guess is as good as mine how that ended. Fortunately, I secured at least this one where I live.”

“How have you survived you must be a very strong person Madha” Jerusa concluded.”Well I live on prayers. I need to pray just to make it one day at a time. Occasionally i loose it and pinch myself just confirm that am awake-that my life is no dream. When I meat people like you, I confirm it is real. My children give me hope too. We have each other’s shoulder to lean on.”

“Their father he died?”Jesrusa asked fearfully. “Yes, a very sad death- Liver cirrhosis. The alcohol shriveled his liver and burnt it out completely. One day some drunkards wheeled him in here in a wheelbarrow at about midnight. He could not speak. I thought it was his usual vegetative state that he had been reduced to. This was his last drinking binge from a local brew. He died in his sleep.

Early in the morning, the day that followed the three relatives that had stayed in my house earlier- Koy Sheddy and Fippy helped me to ferry his body home. The three dug a shallow grave in the soil on unmarked piece of land where we had planned to build a rural home. Here we buried him with no epitaph, ceremony, or fanfare. This, the villagers said was a befitting funeral for the economist from Ibadan. He was interred like all commoners when they die from excessive drinking”

“There up there lies the photograph. The academic cap and the gown look exquisite as if the graduation happened just yesterday. That must have been during the good days in Lagos. The only evidence that once you were married to an economist from Ibadan.”Jerusa said with a lowered voice now tamed with empathy.

“Yes,” Madha said with a sigh like a person awaken from a horror dream.” That is my true emblem. The artwork next that he bought in logos is also truly representative of his life. That python swallowing a lion tells a big story. Nevertheless, I agree that PHD picture takes the gold. That ivory-rimmed frame carries my memories- Some painful and others poignant. The memories of the economist have been immortalized. It carries with it the steps we have taken- some right, others falls. It defines our journey with the economist from Ibadan.”

BY CHRINUS OTIENO GENGA