Chapter 58: Chapter 58

EPILOGUE

Seven years later.

When Teju’s name was mentioned among the list of names of prisoners who had found mercy in the sight of the government and had incurred her pardon on themselves, he could hardly feel a thing. Or perhaps, what he felt was rather slippery so that whenever he tried to describe how he felt, words got stuck in his oesophagus or his stream of thoughts paused like a video, only to resume when he had decided to abort his erstwhile efforts.

It was the eighty-second month of his inevitable acquaintance with the cold, damp stone walls of the prison. A whole lot had happened to him, but none had the balls enough to pull him off the land of the living. He had seen a lot; one would be surprised by the utter amount of spectacles there was to see within the barrages of confinement, a fortress of convicts. There, he had learnt the society needed to be protected from people like them– criminals. But more often, he realised even criminals needed to be protected from the stern gaze of the society which did not give much room for an internal rebirth. Teju could hardly believe he was about to slide into a completely different category in the society. He was going to become a person the society tagged asan ex-convict.

A year after Teju’s sentence, Gogo had disappeared from the prisons without the slightest trace. He remembered that he and other inmates had woken up onesunny morning to his fairy tale disappearance. If Gogo had by any mystical means teleported himself out of the prison to somewhere as far as the shores of the Mediterranean Sea, it could not have been moremystifying. Given that Teju and Gogo became inseparable mates, Gogo’s disappearance without a word prior to his disappearance dealt a jaw-breaking blow to Teju. And owing to the fact that Gogo was literally his protector in a physically and psychologically vindictive environment, Teju at first, could not feel his feet– they seemed to have been crippled by the chill of fear and loneliness. But Teju had risen rapidly in rank among inmates like the torrent of the sea in a thunderstorm. However, the respect the inmates had for him grew perpendicularly with the hate he stirred in them. The more the power, the more they wished him dead.

He was not surprised Tiwa’s Dad did not fulfil his ‘prerogative of mercy’ promise; he never got to be a governor anyway. However, two months before the official end of his sentence, his name was read out loud to the whole yard of inmates with other twenty-four names. They screamed, and laughter poured on their faces. They shook each other’s hands and slap each other’s backs in a congratulatory gesture. Though a large percentage of inmates were obviously displeased, showing their irritation with loud drawn-out hisses, murmurings and provocative insults, Teju could say he had never witnessed such expression of joy in all his seven years in prison. The bearers of the names that were read out walked about like free men, throwing their weights around and raising their arms in a prideful arc as though they had been conferred with national honours. Teju also smiled, he laughed even, but it was more to persuade his inmates of his happiness than to convince himself he was meant to be gleeful.

Teju was released two days later. One would expect that his appearance would appeal to the stereotypical imagination of people regarding what a person just coming out of prison looked like; unkempt, in rags, skeletal and possibly with crude mannerism. Though Teju was aware of his skeletal body, he had ordered to be clean-shaven, and his clothes properlylaundered.

Standing outside the gates of the prison, it seemed ages had passed, and for the first time, he was grateful he was finally free from the cold, the musty and toxic stench of the prison. He inhaled the fresh air, wishing his lungs were large enough to take in all the fresh air in the world to flush out the abhorrent stench which still glued to them like zobo juice stains on a white piece of cloth.

Of course, no one had shown up to take him home, but then nobody knew it was the day of his release. Teju had shut himself against the outside world thirteen months after his sentence. He stopped receiving visitors. He made no calls. No other world existed outside those high walls, guarded by the meanest of men.

Perhaps it would have been a different story if Ronke had not shown up. Perhaps, he would have felt differently about himself.

Three and a half months into his sentence, Simi had brought the news; she was four weeks pregnant. Reality slapped him in the face; he was less than nine months to officially becoming a father. He had never seriously considered being a father, so it was rough for him at first. But gradually, he became fond of the prospect, and he looked forward to Simi’s visiting hours so he could see his child’s constant growth behind the wool of her mother’s flesh. When Simi went for her ultrasound scan, and she told him it was a girl, he was initially a little disappointed. But then, his joy of approaching fatherhood was overwhelming that it did not matter whether he was having a daughter or a son. They teased and argued on whom their daughter was going to resemble and what names they were going to call her. Of course,Teju wanted to name her after his Mom, andafter the Yoruba heroine, Moremi, but then, Simi claimed to have already come up with all the names, half of which were from the Bible.

Teju was on the field of labour with other inmates when the news of his wife’sdelivery was brought to him. Though he was a little disenchanted by the fact he had not been there when Simi was going through labour or when his daughter was eventually born, the roar of jubilation from inmates made his shoulders feel light and his chest unburdened. He had probably received the highest amount of laudatory pleasantries in his entire life that day. Even the prison wardens treated him well for a few days. However, something happened, and being a father behind the prison walls became a burden unbearable to his soul.

Three months after nativity, Simi visited Teju in the company of their little daughter, Ronke. Teju had looked forward so badly for the day he would set eyes on Simi, and most especially on Ronke. He had endured over twelve straight weeks of not seeing Simi or his daughter who he was yet to meet, and it had started to take a toll on him. Simi had shown up at the nick of time. Teju could discern the distinct changes in Simi almost immediately he set eyes on her. She had become rounder, her breasts much bigger. She looked more beautiful, and she smiled more often. However, most of her smile was not for him, it was Ronke’s, and Teju had to admit, though excruciatingly, that he now had a new rival for Simi’s love.

Looking at his daughter, and even carrying her in his arms, he was grateful. She had the eyes of her mother, she had even inherited Simi’s intense gaze which could intimate anyone. Ronke had Simi’s smiles too. Throwing her up and catching her, tickling her tummy with his mouth, Ronke chuckled like her mother.

Days later, an inmate had stabbed his delight of being a father with something edgier than a dagger.

“You’re happy that you’re now a father, aren’t you? Let’s wait and see how happy she would be when she grows up and finds out her father’s a criminal”

Teju who had been an advocate of non-violence in the prison cells rushed at the inmate, gave him a punch across the face and went on to pin him against the nearest wall. Teju pummelled him as a boxer would unfeelingly pummel his punching bag. Everyone was sure the mouth diarrhoea-infected inmate would have died of lethal convulsion or some nameless cause of death if the prison wardens had not come to drag Teju away. Only three words had made him lose his restraint, ‘happy’, ‘she’– a pronoun for his daughter– and ‘criminal’.

By the time everything was over, the damage had already been done. The thought that his daughter would grow up to knowing that her father was in prison haunted him like a ghost day and night. Then, he decided to do something about it. The next time Simi visited him, he had asked her not to visit him ever again. Simi was shocked, but Teju did not give her a chance either to process her thought or to protest against the degree. Teju had simply said he did not want his daughter growing up to know what a prison smelled or looked like. He did not want her to grow up knowing she was fathered by a convict. Simi and Ronke were thus banished from the prison. Now, it had been over five years he had seen his family.

Teju switched on his phone. The battery was on red. He tried to call Simi to announce his release but there was no SIM card in it. He switched it off to save the battery still he had time to charge.

Teju heard a rumbling in his stomach. Sometimes, it sounded like the organisms in his stomach were in sort of impassioned quarrel. Sometimes, his stomach hurt that it seemed the organisms were in a fight, throwing one another against the wall of his stomach. The organisms engagedin these struggles whenever they were less busy, or when they were not so stomach-full. Teju needed to stop the unrest happening within him. He checked his wallet, hoping he would not be disappointed, but he was. Each penny was intact just as he had left it seven years ago; he felt like applauding whoever was in charge of his property in those seven years.

Teju had enough money in his wallet, and he decided to eat still he grew a paunch before heading home. He devoured five wraps of fufu with okra soup, big ogufe known as goat meat and washed it down with a sweaty can of Monster Fury. He bought and registered a GLO SIM card.He boughta stack of newspapers and stuffed them in a plastic bag. Hoping for the worst, Teju believed he should start a job hunt and looking into newspapers for job vacancies was a smart move.

When Teju got home, he could see that many things had changed in the estate. The estate now had a gate, manned by a uniformed security man. The tarred road had been stricken with the pothole disease, although the potholes had been filled with sand.

The gate of his house had been repainted; it was blue, now it was black. A Christmas emblem with an image of Santa Claus hung from the gate, dancing to the wind, even though Christmas was still five months away. The fence was still in its colour, yellow, but it was brighter than he had left it. The frontage was carpeted with green artificial grass, and the African daisies had been replaced with thorny pale-green flowers in large plastic vases. This sight unsettled him. He stood at the gate, unresolved on whether or not he should knock. He was not sure if he was ready to be told that his house had become a mortgaged property. Where would he go? How would he find his family?

He noticed that a doorbell had been fixed on one of the poles holding up the gate, and it seemed he was about to intrude in a fortified house. He pressed a button twice on the bell, and waited, bracing himself up for the bad news he must hear with his ears. For about a minute, nothing happened. Teju was about to push the button, three times this time around but he was stopped by the clanging of the latch. His heart leapt like a grasshopper when he saw the one behind the buttressed property.

If Simi had been split into half, she would not have looked slimmer. But then, Teju was aware he was also as skinny as a rail. When Simi recognised him, her jaws dropped and her eyes doubled over. She stood bolted on a spot for a minute, or for a moment which seemed like an eternity. When she recovered, she covered the space between them with four quick strides and threw her hands him. Though her grip was tight, it was also unmistakably fragile. Teju could feel her judder against his body. Teju was as stiff as a poker, scarcely returning her embrace. He had expected her to be angry with him. If she despised him, he would understand, but no sense of guilt could intimidate his conscience. Teju stood there, in her tensehug, until they were both jolted by a voice.

“Mummy?”

The voice came like a gentle wind and caressed his ears. Simi disentangled herself from him, wiping her cheeks with her palms.

“Come,” she said to him. Without looking at him, she took the newspaper-filled plastic bag from him and turned to lead the way in.

Ronke was standing askance at the door, looking at the gate. She smiled when she saw Simi coming, but her smile vanished the moment her eyes fell on Teju; she seemed to be asking, who the hell is this? She turnedto Simi with the questioning look.

“Go inside,” Simi said, her voice suggesting to the young Ronke that she would explain better later.

It was some minutes past three in the afternoon, and Ronke was still in her school uniform, but she had changed to her fancy slippers. Simi had told her to go upstairs and change her clothes, but she showednosign of having heard the instruction.

“That’s your Dad, you should welcome him” Teju had heard Simi tell Ronke. Ronke had come to kneel before him without a sound. He had smiled at her.

“How are you?” Teju asked.

“Fine” Ronke whispered.

Teju could tell Simi had never mentioned him to Ronke, he was grateful for that, but it had also put him in a difficult situation. It seemed he had only entered the house rather as a stranger, someone who was bound to leave soon enough.

Ronke has grown. She was six years old. She was like a young Simi. Her hair was plaited suku, each suku adorned with fanciful clips. Her skin was the colour of polished wood.

Now she sat on a sofa across him with her teddy bear in her grip.

“What’s his name?” Teju asked, pointing at the teddy bear.

“She’s a girl. Her name is Cindy”.

“Cindy” he repeated, “it’s a beautiful name”.

“Thank you” she whispered.

Teju smiled. He took out a Punch newspaper from the plastic bag and started flipping. Simi pretended to be in the kitchen. Teju pretended to be engrossed in the contents of the newspaper. Ronke pretended to be playing with Cindy. But they were all surreptitiously observing each other. Once again, the silence was the only thing that remained.