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“I’ll finish in a second,” she said. “What did the bank manager say?”
“He was very pleased.”
“In future don’t be a silly little boy. You know the proverb about digging a new pit to fill up an old one?”
“Why did you trust so much money to that sly-looking man?”
“You mean Joe? He’s a great friend of mine. He’s a ward servant.”
“I didn’t like his looks. What is the proverb about digging a new pit to fill up an old one?”
“I have always said you should go and study Ibo. It means borrowing from the bank to pay the insurance.”
“I see. You prefer digging two pits to fill up one. Borrowing from Clara to pay the bank to pay the insurance.”
Clara made no answer.
“I did not go to the bank. I didn’t see how I could. How could I take so much money from you?”
“Please, Obi, stop behaving like a small boy. It is only a loan. If you don’t want it you can return it. Actually I have been thinking all afternoon about the whole thing. It seems I have been interfering in your affairs. All I can say is, I’m very sorry. Have you got the money here?” She held out her hand.
Obi took her hand and pulled her towards him. “Don’t misunderstand me, darling.”
That evening they called on Christopher, Obi’s economist friend. Clara had gradually come round to liking him. Perhaps he was a little too lively, which was not a serious fault. But she feared he might influence Obi for the worse in the matter of women. He seemed to enjoy going around with four or five at once. He even said there was nothing like love, at any rate in Nigeria. But he was very likeable really, quite unlike Joseph, who was a bushman.
As was to be expected, Christopher had a girl with him when Clara and Obi arrived. Clara had not met this one before, although apparently Obi had.
“Clara, meet Bisi,” said Christopher. The two girls shook hands and said: “Pleased to meet you.” “Clara is Obi’s—”
“Shut up,” Clara completed for him. But it was like trying to complete a sentence for a stammerer. You might as well save your breath.
“Obi’s you know,” completed Christopher.
“Have you been buying new records?” asked Clara, going through a little pile of records on one of the chairs.
“Me? At this time of the month? They are Bisi’s. What can I offer you?”
“Champagne.”
“Ah? N
a Obi go buy you that-o. Me I never reach that grade yet. Na squash me get-o.” They laughed.
“Obi, what about some beer?”
“If you’ll split a bottle with me.”
“Fine. What are you people doing this evening? Make we go dance somewhere?”
Obi tried to make excuses, but Clara cut him short. They would go, she said.
“Na film I wan’ go,” said Bisi.
“Look here, Bisi, we are not interested in what you want to do. It’s for Obi and me to decide. This na Africa, you know.”
Whether Christopher spoke good or “broken” English depended on what he was saying, where he was saying it, to whom and how he wanted to say it. Of course that was to some extent true of most educated people, especially on Saturday nights. But Christopher was rather outstanding in thus coming to terms with a double heritage.
Obi borrowed a tie from him. Not that it mattered at the Imperial, where they had chosen to go. But one didn’t want to look like a boma boy.
