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6
Anyone who has followed this story at all carefully may well be wondering what had become of the Elsie whom I said was one of my chief reasons for going to Bori. Well, that chief reason had not altered in the least. I had in fact written to her as soon as I had arrived and then paid her a visit at the hospital on the following Saturday morning. But she was still on night-duty and had been waked up from sleep—against the rules of her hospital—to see me. So that first visit had had to be very short. Actually the reason I went at all was to confirm that she was coming to the house to spend the two free days she would earn after the night-shift and that she was bringing a friend of hers along for Chief Nanga, although we did not spell it out so crudely.
In our country a long American car driven by a white-uniformed chauffeur and flying a ministerial flag could pass through the eye of a needle. The hospital gateman had promptly levered up the iron barrier and saluted. The elderly male nurse I beckoned to had sprinted forward with an agility that you would think had left him at least a decade ago. And as I said earlier, although it was against all the laws of the hospital they had let me into the female nurses’ quarters and waked up Elsie to see me.
Although she was obviously very drowsy her unconcealed pleasure tempted me very strongly to stay longer than was reasonable or fair. Her sleeping head-tie hooded her face almost down to the eyebrows and completely covered both ears. But despite this and the sleep-swollen eyes she was as desirable as ever. And she was ready—it was just like her—to start rushing around looking for a soft drink and biscuits for me. I refused quite firmly.
In fact I was already on my feet when the other girl came in to greet me. She obviously did not feel as confident as Elsie about her looks and had taken time to touch up. I tried very hard but could not recollect her face at all, even though Elsie said she had introduced us at a university party. She was reasonably good-looking but in that pointed mandibular way that made me think of the talkative weaver bird. Yet she hardly said a word; and when I finally rose to go she did not even go with us to the car outside. Strangely uncurious for one of our women, I thought.
As Elsie and I walked to the car I said humorously:
“I hope Chief Nanga won’t ask for a swop.”
“For what?” she asked with a puzzled look. Then it occurred to me that she might never have heard that word and so I explained, and we laughed.
“I thought you meant the cotton-wool we use in the theatre,” she said, and we laughed again. Then she remembered to add graciously that a swop would not be necessary as her friend was the more beautiful of the two.
“If you are looking for flattery from me this afternoon you won’t get it,” I said, stooping at the door which the chauffeur had been holding open since I first emerged from the night nurses’ dormitory.
“By the way,” I said backing out and straightening up again, “I met an American lady called Elsie at a party the other night. . . . Whenever her name was called—my mind went to you.”
“Who tell am say na Elsie be im name? When you see am again make you tell am say im own Elsie na counterfeit. But Odili, you self na waa! How you no even reach Bori finish you done de begin meet another Elsie for party? Make you take am je-je-o.”
“Relax,” I said, imitating Jean. “What is wrong in telling you I met your namesake at a party?” Actually I was pleased to see Elsie jealous. I meant to go on to say, and had in fact half opened my mouth to begin saying, that she needn’t wo
rry, that the other Elsie was no patch on her. But I quickly changed my mind for tactical reasons. Instead I said that if I wanted a second girl-friend I would pick one with a different name if only to avoid confusion.
“Na lie,” she said, smiling her seductive, two-dimpled smile. “The way I look you eye I fit say that even ten Elsies no fit belleful you.”
“Nonsense,” I said. “Abi dem take Elsie make juju for me?” I asked, laughing.
“I know?” she shrugged.
“You suppose to know,” I said.
The chauffeur dropped a very broad—and rude—hint at this point by shutting my door again. I chose to ignore him.
“Wetin be the name of your friend’s car?”
“Cadillac.”
“Ah! This na the famous Cadillac? I no think say I done see am before.” She was full of girlish excitement. “Na tough car! Eje-je-je! You think say these people go go another heaven after this?”
“My sister I no know-o. Any way make we follow them chop small for dis world.” I opened the door myself and went in, and she helped close it. “I’ll be here on Thursday then—at four. Run along now and sleep, darling.” I sat back with a proprietary air unusual for me. She stood waving until we disappeared round the bend.
That Thursday evening at six the Minister was due to open the first ever book exhibition of works by local authors. I was specially interested in it because I had ambitions to write a novel about the coming of the first white men to my district.
He came back for lunch at around two-thirty clutching the speech they had prepared for him. Apparently he had been so busy at the office that he hadn’t had time to look at it at all. So I thought he was going to sit down now and quickly run through it; but no, he put the file away on top of a book-shelf and began to ask about our trip to the hospital. I hadn’t realized till then—and perhaps Chief Nanga himself hadn’t—that he was going with me.
“I hope they will be ready when we get there. . . .”
“Yes. I told Elsie you had to be at this other place at six.”
“Tell me something, Odili. How serious are you about this girl Elsie?”
“You mean about marriage. . . . Good Lord, no! She is just a good-time girl.”
“Kabu—Kabu?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
