And now she saw that England had widened the gulf between them.
20
Jagua sat beside Uncle Taiwo in the Pontiac. On the bonnet the party flag fluttered. On both sides of the street the people interrupted their work to wave at them. O.P. 2! … O.P. 2! … Uncle Taiwo on the job! … Jagua felt pleased. They entered
the rally ground, fenced high with wire netting. On the rally ground, thousands of people were already massed and above them a man in robes was yelling with the aid of a megaphone. She waited while Uncle Taiwo locked the Pontiac and carried his papers. The O.P. 2 speaker was telling them the issues.
Their rival party O.P. 1 for the Obanla constituency had fielded an Englander, Freddie Namme. He had been studying in England, but did he know the problems of the people of Lagos, after being in residence for a few weeks? In three months’ time voters would be called upon to choose a man who would present their views to the Council. It was only in O.P. 2 that such a man was to be found, and his name was Uncle Taiwo! … He turned the megaphone towards Jagua and Uncle Taiwo and wild cheering broke out.
When it died down, the speaker promised that if O.P. 2 won there would be bigger markets, education would be free and medical treatment prompt and efficient. There would be wider roads built to all the nooks and corners of the island city so that it would be a real example to the whole world.
Jagua was beginning to like election campaigns. This was one aspect of Lagos life which gave her a chance to exercise her vanity in the sunlight without appearing cheap. When Uncle Taiwo had acknowledged the cheers, he mounted the rostrum. Then he opened his black bag and coming down moved among the people, scattering handfuls of ten shilling notes, like rice grains on a bride. The election ground had become a rugger ground with the printed notes as the ball. Later Jagua asked him where the money came from and he said: ‘Is Party money. I give dem de money like dat, so them kin taste what we goin’ to do for them, if they vote us into power.’ Loyally Jagua followed him, and as they moved on the wild ones closed in behind them, scrambling and fighting.
The campaign continued.
Jagua looked outside her window at the street below. She started back and drew the blinds. Uncle Taiwo watched her with questioning eyes.
‘Why you jumpin’ about like you seen de devil? Sit down Jagua, le’s enjoy our drink!’ Slowly he was pouring out her beer. Water had frosted on his drinking glass and was running down the sides in sweat streams. Although the table-fan was turned full on, and directed towards his face, he still mopped his brow with a handkerchief. Jagua could still feel his weight as they had lain together only a moment before. ‘You don’t fit to talk again, Jagua? I say why you jumpin’ from de window like you see de devil?’
‘Is Freddie, and—’
Uncle Taiwo dropped his glass. The thin glass broke into fragments and the beer formed little frothy lakes on the carpet. ‘My rival! De one who think he kin ruin me. De gentleman of politics!’ He roared with laughter. ‘What he want here?’ His laughter did not impress Jagua who could see that his teeth were clenched.
She picked up the glass pieces and Rosa came in and mopped the floor. Uncle Taiwo rose and went to the window. Both of them looked at the Land Rover, packed full with the wild ones. These youths had the chiselled bodies of fighters. They wore brief shorts and briefer shirts. They were all biceps and calves. They had bull necks. Jagua clutched at Uncle Taiwo’s robe. She did not want to think of what would happen the way these two rivals were taking things.
‘De boy got some sense, awready!’ Uncle Taiwo hissed. ‘He got his own bodyguard!’
Jagua knew Uncle Taiwo well enough to detect the unsteadiness in his voice. She saw his eyes darting round the room uneasily as though he wanted to jump into a cupboard. ‘You fear dem? You tink dem comin’ to beat you up? Uncle, you look like you pissin in your trouser. Well, das how you men do you own politics! You beat your rival with stick. Don’ fear. Freddie only making show. He don’ get de nerve to beat up anyone. He got too much conscience. Is a gentleman.’ Jagua recognized Dennis Odoma among the young toughs. She was glad. It meant the police officer had not yet died. It meant that Dennis was under Freddie’s protection. She could sense the mutual advantage to both men. Freddie would gain ground in Obanla, and Dennis would be given expert legal support. She saw Freddie come out of the Land Rover and cross the road. Then she heard a cracking knock on the door. Freddie confronted her in his open neck shirt and thick trousers. He looked handsome and lovable.
‘Jagua, I come to salute you an’ to keep my promise.’
‘Welcome, Freddie.’ She knew he must be feeling awkward after their encounter the other night. ‘Welcome. You know Uncle Taiwo. He keepin me here. What kin poor woman like me do? I got no work an’ you forsake me—’
Freddie extended his hand. ‘Jagua said you’re my rival for the Obanla seat, aren’t you?’
‘Definitely! And I’m going to win, hahaha – aaa!’ Uncle Taiwo roared out his exaggerated laugh which created the right atmosphere of ease.
They began speaking in what Jagua regarded as ‘grammatical English’ and she felt immediately excluded. These men: she never could understand them. It was really odd to her, the way they acted. They never seemed to harbour any bitterness about themselves as women did. They called for drinks and Rosa came and brought out two bottles of beer and two clean glasses. She put a bottle and a glass by each man’s stool. Deadly rivals, thought Jagua. Look how they drank like two long-lost brothers who had suddenly discovered each other.
When Freddie glanced at her, she thought she could read in his eyes the faintest spark of desire for her. She was wearing her dressing gown, and when she sat down she chose a corner directly in his line of gaze, crossing her legs so that he saw and did not see. Then she went and sat on Uncle Taiwo’s knee, asking him irrelevancies.
As soon as Freddie left, Uncle Taiwo swallowed his beer in a quick gulp. He put his hat on his head and without so much as a goodbye, stamped out of the room.
‘Where you goin’, Uncle T.?’ Jagua asked.
He did not reply, but his face was tense.
Next morning Jagua heard that Freddie had been beaten up and was lying in hospital seriously ill. She hurried to the hospital, but was told that Freddie had merely been treated for minor injuries. It was true he had been attacked. He and his group of rascals had been flying the banners of O.P. 1 round the town and shouting their election slogans, when a small bus bearing an equal number of wild ones shouting slogans of O.P. 2 made straight for them and deliberately rammed into them.
A fight ensued, and the man who had engineered the whole thing stood apart, roaring encouraging epithets and bursting into resounding laughs. They heard later that it was none other than Uncle Taiwo. But he kept himself hidden in the background, the engineer who would never expose himself to the flying stones and jagged bottle-ends. All this took place at dusk and before the police could intervene, the streets were clear. Jagua was terrified for these two men. The other candidates for the remaining fifty-nine seats pursued one another in much the same manner, but she did not know them and did not much care.
When Uncle Taiwo came in that evening, she told him to desist. He smiled, called Rosa to give him more beer and said: ‘If your man don’ fit to fight, den he mus’ lef de game of politics.’
‘You call ’im my man? Everythin’ finish between we two. If I see road for kill Freddie, I kin do dat.’
Uncle Taiwo roared his roar of disbelief. ‘You wan’ to kill Freddie, an’ when you see am, you begin shake your wais’ all about de room. You tink I don’ see you?’
‘Me? Shake my waist? You don’ know what you talkin’.’ She crossed her legs. ‘De man come here, and if to say he wan’ to kill you cold, he for kill you, like small rat. He got all de wild ones with him. An’ he meet you for woman house, after you done tire!’