The Encounters in School

K ukua emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of fufu and a big smile across the length and breadth of her round face. The other people in the living room were already half-way or quarter-way into their bowls of the favourite meal and she was eager to charge into hers. She sat down on a stool beside the arm-chair where her father sat directly facing the television. Placing her bowl of fufu on the small traditional table by the stool, she bent over it like a predator ready for the kill. To Kukua, a bowl of fufu with light soup full of smoked mud-fish and mutton was like a prey to be devoured. And if there happened to be mushroom and two or three fingers of fresh green okro on the side-like what she had this afternoon then, of course, she quickly turned into a starving predator. It was the second day of her arrival from school and she had requested for fufu made of plantain with cassava-her favourite. Her energetic cousin, Kuntu, was around and was to do the pounding, but Kukua insisted that she was strong enough to do it. Half-way into the cassava, however, she begged Kuntu to help. The pounding was over and the enjoyment was on, with their faces bent over their bowls and savouring the special light. soup that faithfully accompanied the soft and elastic fufu. Everybody was at home her father, mother, brother, sister, and cousin Kuntu who lived with them. Aunt Phoebe had also visited. It was meant to be a brief visit, she informed them, because she had errands to run for Grandma, but she ended up staying for over an hour, which explained why she too was bent over her bowl of fufu Except her mother, they all sat on the arm-chairs facing the television something that was against the rule. They had all disobeyed that family rule not to eat from the arm-chairs facing the television. "Use the dining hall table," Audrey, their mother, often yelled. And when her husband also ignored the simple rule and sat with the children to eat and watch television, the woman wondered why men were like children sometimes. Almost always particles of food would be found inbetween the cushions and under the seats, inviting cockroaches and ants. So why was it so hard to understand the need to keep to the rule- especially after that terrible incident when they had guests? They had received the guests from church and what an embarrassment that visited them that day! They were all having their hot lunch when a cockroach appeared from under one of the seats and ran over one of the guests a girl in the junior youth fellowship who couldn't stand the visitation of insects, especially flying ones like cockroaches and the praying mantis. The pandemonium that ensued went beyond laughter to prayer. The girl threw her bowl of banku and okro soup into the air, yelled as if she had just beheld a ghost, and dashed towards Audrey. In her alarm, Audrey spilled the entire contents of her own bowl of banku and okro soup and grabbed the girl. It was later when the commotion had died down and everybody was sharing a testimony-for that was the purpose of the get- together that they all learnt the girl had a phobia against insects. That was what led us the priver, as is berage of astvice thom Audrey to the youth on the whole quetion of phobia and fears But the idea of a cockmach appearing from inbetween living room am-chate cushions embarrassed Audrey in particular. So she banned eating at the living room area. But this afternoon was special. Kulon had returned from high school on holidays after so many weeks away So Audrey had decided that a little bending of the rule wouldn't spoil anything Only, they were to be extremely careful not to drop particles of food on the arm chair cushions Kukua left the living room ares with her empty bowl and entered the kitchen. When she returned two minutes later, the bowl was no longer empty and she wore a mischievous smile. She spied her mother who had chosen to eat her lunch on the dining hall table. When their eyes met, the mischief on her face grew wider as she looked down into her bowl. The second helping of the afternoon's fufu was almost equal in size as the first, which was one reason she wore the mischievous smile. There was another reason Jojo, her little brother, also departed the living room area towards the kitchen. Kukua watched her brother go and allowed her mischievous smile to grow even more intense. Jojo had hardly entered the kitchen when he returned in a face that was a mixture of anger, sadness, and frustration. In a loud voice, he vented his frustration, "Mummy, Kukua has taken all the meat from the soup." Everybody terminated mid-way the morsel of food travelling to the mouth and looked at Kukua. To justify his accusation, Jojo explained. "She was the last person who entered the kitchen" For a moment, the heat was on Kukua, but she had learnt how to handle such situations. She still wore her mischievous smile because she knew what she had done. It was true she took the last two pieces of fish-not eat as Jojo protested but she thought no one else would nituen for a second helping, and their mother had said this special afternison fufc was a welcome-home treat for her "Oh, did 17 she feigned ignorance. "How could I have done such a terrible thing? Okay, come and see something." Jojo walked over "Look at the two pieces in here," Kukua said, pointing at her bowl of fufu Jojo stared at the bowl for some time and then blurted out "But I see only one piece in here." Their father laughed, so did cousin Kuntu and aunt Phoebe, but Kukua said, "Oh, is that so? My counting is really bad these days Well, I blame it on the high school. I used to count very well in junior high. So there's only one piece left? Aha! Okay, what is half of one Jojo looked at her. "What is half of one, I ask you?" There was no longer frustration on Jojo's face. He appeared to be enjoying the intriguing questions Kukua was asking. The others looked on. "Answer my question: what's half of one- that is, one divided by half?" Jojo now answered softly, "I don't know." "Okay, I'll tell you, but you'll pay me for telling you Half of one is half." Jojo nodded but said nothing. "All right, since half of one is half, and as you say there is only one piece of fish left in this bowl, take half of it and then I'll take the other half. Is that fair since I provided the answer to my question?" The uncertain look on Jojo's face was easily interpreted by Kukua to mean confusion. Her brother took half of the remaining piece of fish and went away to consume it along with his second helping of fufu. Kukua looked at her mother and her mother looked back. Audrey shook her head and said. "If you lost your counting ability in senior high school, are you sure you haven't learnt something else from there "Like what, Mum? "Like mischief!" "Just a bit of it. Mum. In the senior high school, a little bit of many things is good for survival" "A bit of many things!" "Good things, I mean." So the conversation went on, for everyone had a question of their own for Kukua. How was school this term? How were the studies? How were her friends? What was exciting and what was boring? Her answers were straight to the point and uninvolving. Well, school wasn't bad, only a few of the teachers were boring-majority of them were nice and exciting, some mates were troublesome, others were okay. Studies? Well, tough. And she told them about the headmaster's honours list and how everybody seemed to be aspiring to get on it. Then she told of Grandma's letters which she said were the best thing that happened to her, for Grandma always wrote to encourage her. And Grandma wrote such sweet letters in her old-fashioned handwriting. She always looked forward to Grandma's letter "Did you write back to her she too needs encouragement, you know!" Audrey asked. "Not much just two letters during the term." "Mum used to be a great writer-remember, Phoebe? Always writing letters to us when we were in school. I'm not surprised that she's still writing. I wonder how she gets time to write" "Mum?" Phoebe supplied the answer. "Maybe, you're asking where she gets inspiration to write, but as for time, she has a lot of it. She hardly sleeps at night. I've always wondered what she's been writing" Grandma lived with her grown-up daughter Phoebe, a single parent with her three boys. When their father died some years carlier, the old lady had the choice to move in with any of her three offspring Audrey and her family at this Nyaniba Estates, Ebo and his family who lived rather far away at the other end of the city, or with Phoebe and her three boys whose three-bedroom house was only a few blocks away. The old lady quickly chose Phoebe Her husband was virtually living outside the country and she knew Phoebe herself would need her company. Kukua continued to testify about Grandma's letters. wrote five letters this term alone-that's about one every fortnight. Great letters; very encouraging. In fact, I think I've received more encouragement from Grandma's letters than I've received from any other ordinary book." "She "That's a big statement," Phoebe said. "I think you should let her know this. Believe your mum when she says Grandma needs encouragement too. These days she talks so much about Dad, musing over their life together, and Dad has been gone for many years. The other day she woke up in the middle of the night, called me, and said she just saw Dad in a dream and that he was so happy where she saw him and that she was really longing to join him in heaven." Kukua said, "I told her in my letter that she shouldn't be thinking too much about the past and I mentioned how her letters are superb." Audrey sighed. "When old people begin to talk like this, watch out, their days could be numbered." "No way!" Kukua protested. "Grandma's days can never be numbered. I love her so much and I pray nothing bad happens to her. She has to live throughout my senior high school days, the university, work, marriage, and beyond. You don't think Grandma would love to see her great-grandchildren?" And she laughed aloud "That's a long way from now," Audrey stated. "For now, let her keep on writing Writing is healing, you know that. The more she pours out her heart, the more she offloads her burdens. She's always dreaming about writing a book. When she was here last week, she seemed to feel guilty that she never followed through with her desire to author a book." "She still talks about it," said Phoebe. "She thinks it's too late now." "You know nothing is really too late, once you have the determination." Kukua was listening. "It's never too late to do anything you really want to do. Grandma can still author her book." As soon as she said this, an idea struck her. "Ah, I have an idea... yes! When I see her tomorrow night I'll suggest it to her. "What's the idea?" "Simple. She can write a book of letters. She can title it Letters to a Student. I've seen so many of such books. The Bible is full of letters. Newspapers are full of letters. The post office is full of letters." Phoebe said, "That's a bright idea, Kukua. You're coming home tomorrow, right?" "Yes, tomorrow-my friend Samira and I." "Good. Suggest that to her. She's written many letters, and they can be compiled into a book for her. The problem, of course, would be how to find copies of those letters. She wrote them to people and she wasn't keeping copies." They talked into the late afternoon. "How about your friends, Kukua?" Phoebe asked. "Any exciting ones?" "Yes Hey, I should tell you about Samira a girl of wonders She'll be spending a few days here with us." Phoebe looked at Audrey for confirmation. Audrey nodded. "They have the guestroom to themselves." Her father was returning from the bedroom area. "We saw Samira when we visited, right? The smallish, sharp-looking girl you introduced to us?" "Yeah, Dad. She lives with her mum and two brothers at Nima." Her father, Manfo-Baidoo, nodded and went to the backyard through the kitchen. Whenever Manfo-Baidoo was free, he liked to work in the garden. Samira moved in with Kukua and began to enjoy the hospitality of the Manfo-Baidoos. The double bed in Kukua's room was big enough for them, but Samira chose to sleep on the extra mattress Audrey provided. The day she arrived, Audrey literally spoiled her with a sumptuous meal, abundance of laughter, long stories of her own school days, and a late-night movie. Still, as was the tradition in the home of the Manfo-Baidoos, they gathered around the living room and prayed before dispersing to bed. The next day. Kukua made another attempt to see her uncle, and it was great that Samira was with her this time. She was now itching to see Uncle Ebo and bombard him with her experiences of school days. The senior high school was so full of happenings that she couldn't help but accumulate them in her subconscious mind, ready to release them bit by bit as the situation demanded. It was now four days since they returned from school and she had already been to her uncle's Adenta Housing Down flat in Block F, but Ebo didn't show up the whole time she was there and had to return home. Today would be different, she hoped, for her uncle's wife had said her husband was busily putting together a weeklong seminar for a bunch of accounts clerks and cashiers and was due back later in the day. Earlier, Kukua spoke with him on phone, and he promised to see her later in the afternoon The original plan was for Uncle Ebo to pick them up from the house on his way from the office, but he called to say things were ught for him. He had to rush to the airport the moment he got home. She had never known her uncle to be so busy. No problem they would go anyway, Beatrice, Ebo's wife, was expecting them But Samira had other plans. If time allowed, she pleaded, could they stop over at the public library on their way back? She wanted to borrow a novel or two. At sixteen she was already addicted to reading novels, and the ones she had devoured so far were written and published abroad. "I don't know if the library has novels written locally," she said I think so," Kukua guessed. "Certainly yes," she now confirmed. "They will have the African Writers Series and many others. Samira said she had already finished reading the two books the headmaster gave them. Those novels were thin anyway, and Samira was an avid reader. "There's a small bookshop near my mother's shop in the market at Nima, on the other side of the big gutter," she said when she talked about the public library, "and the guy there is selling used books. I wanted to buy a few, but I thought I would rather borrow some from the library-if they have any." Kukua asked if Kuntu, her cousin, would be kind enough to drop them off at their uncle's house, and Kuntu said it was his honour, as he put it jovially, to drive two queens to visit their uncle, "for a small fare". He wasn't joking about the fare, he insisted, because Kuntu was sure the students had returned home with pocket-money they never used. "How do you know that?" Kukua had asked "You have no idea how we chewed on at school" Chewing on at school can never be compared with chewing on at home," Kuntu said, and pressed on until Kukua tipped him with a few notes "Excellent!" Kuntu said. "It's really not for my sake but my pocket's" At twenty-four. Kuntu had been driving now for two years and seemed to enjoy sitting behind the steering-wheel and manoeuvring his way through thick traffic at rush hours. Between cruising on a motor-way and meandering through heavy traffic, Kuntu easily preferred the heavy traffic. Real driving, he said he had found out in just two years, was working the gears and clutch while steering away from collision and generally being in control that was driving, he insisted. The first time he tried his hands on driving a car with automatic gears, he called it "lazy driving" because his left foot had no clutch to work with and his night hand had no gear lever to operate. He chose to drive directly through town instead of using the outskirts road towards Adenta Housing Down. Kukua once queried him for this waste of time and he only laughed contentedly. Her light-hearted cousin sometimes got on her nerves but Kuntu hardly ever got angry. He went right through the busiest roads, competing with the commercial mini-buses and taxis, listening to stories from Eternity Senior High, and having a good time in his own way. "So." Kuntu began a question, "what would you say was your best event in school last term?" None of the girls spoke. "No answer?" "Whose question is it?" Kukua asked. "Okay, let me ask Samira." "Why me?" "Because you look like...err... a character in a book." Samira turned sharply to Kukua and back to Kant behind the steering wheel. "I look like what? A character in a book? "Yes." "And exactly what does that mean? "I read a book in which a character resembled you. I mean, how you talk and how you look like" "How do I look like?" "Oh, the writer described this character as smart, cute, intelligent, and very wise " The girls laughed. "And you think I'm that character? "I didn't say you are that character, you look like her." Samira laughed. "Thank you if that's a compliment, but wasn't expecting to hear at home what I've been hearing in the school "You see! So I'm right. So tell me about school life. Why is your school called Eternity? "No way!" Kukua protested. "We're not going to answer any such questions. Just listen as we talk and then learn. You should be telling us what you're doing with your life. "Easy" Kuntu replied. "I've told Mum to buy me a van like this. I want to run my own little transport business." "You want to drive all your life?" "Yes, if I could get a van like this to start with; then I would save money and buy a huge 50-seater bus I just enjoy controlling moving vehicles The way I see it I could fly an airplane if I had the opportunity to study aviation-or it aero-dynamics? Something goes through my veins when I'm responsible for moving and comrolling moving objects" "That a strange one," Samira remarked. "Driving is strange Kuntu asked as he dodged a pothole and almost drove into an oncoming vehicle "Sorry," he said. "Driving is not strange Not the driving." Samira explained, "but the way you describe it I wonder whether every driver feels anything going through der veins when they drive." For a brief moment there was silence in the van Kukua exhaled and reoriented herself from her cousin to Samira. She had known her for just this last year in senior high school, but she felt she had known her all her life. She was like a sister, not a friend She asked Samira. "And you said you and your mum talked?" "Yes-and I got tough at a point." "About what? The woman- you know," and she glanced at Kuntu, wondering if they could talk plainly on that subject or whether to speak in parables. She chose parables. "It's serious, Kukua." "Serious?" "Yeah Mum believes the girl really belongs to the woman." "Really?" It was about Samira and the story was still quite fresh in their minds. Every time Kukua remembered Samira's story, she shivered, for it was no ordinary story. It was in the first term, she recalled, when Samira boldly told the whole class that when she was born, she was discarded by her heartless mother. The woman she lived with, whom she called mother, was in reality a guardian, a kind-hearted guardian. One drizzling night seventeen years ago, the woman was returning home from the neighbourhood when she heard the cry of a baby coming from a heap of rubbish. In fear, she went to inspect the incinerator and discovered to her horror a tiny infant wriggling in a bundle of bloody rags. She yelled but quickly controlled herself. Gently, with her hands shaking, she lifted up the bundle with the baby in it. Looking this way and that way and found nobody watching her, she carried the baby home She neither thought about the Department of Social Welfare nor the police: she just carried the baby home and nursed her She, Samira, was that baby she told the class. Later after the class, curious Kukua took her aside to a hideout and listened as Samira supplied the details of that story. The kind-hearted guardian mother looked after her like her own baby through nursery, kindergarten, primary, junior high school, and then to Eternity Senior High. The moment she met Samira, Kukua knew she would become her bosom friend, for their chemistry merged nicely and she liked her very much-like her own sister. But Samira's story took a dramatic turn just last term when a woman visited the school and claimed that she was her mother! The woman had gone to the school earlier during the second- term holidays to investigate whether Samira was a student there and had secretly paid her fees. Grateful as they were, Samira and her guardian mother couldn't come to terms with this strange woman's behaviour. Later, she met Samira and Kukua but they wouldn't welcome her. She wrote Samira a long letter in which she explained how she was truly her mother, a matter that was getting out of proportion, for she promised she wasn't going to give up her claims. The episode was rather troubling, for her mother, the kind-hearted guardian, had rushed to the school to warn Samira about the strange woman who had visited her to claim that she was the legitimate mother. Samira returned home from school this long vacation eager to learn more about this strange woman and her uncanny claims. And now, here she was in the van saying that her guardian mother was confirming the woman's claims. Kukua listened as Samira, trying to hide the bare facts from Kuntu, spoke in parables, referring to herself as the girl. "That woman is crazy, Kukua," Samira was saying. "She offered the girl's mother all kinds of things a house, a car, a supermarket, and money for her business, if only she would allow her to take the girl away" "Really? "Yeah. And that's where the girl got angry?" The girl got angry? Why? "Why not? That's her mother. She's not interested in any other mother. So the girl told her mother if she wasn't interested in her anymore she should say it and she would find her way out of the house." "You said that?" Kukua forgot the parable. Samira made a little face and brought Kukua back to the parable. "Yeah, sorry. Do you mean the girl could say that to her mother?" "Why not? Look, anybody can say anything to anybody depending on the situation. Desperate situations call for desperate measures." When Samira said this, as if she was now permitted to speak plainly and not in parables anymore, she added, "I was really upset! To go away with that woman would be like abandoning the mother I know." "You're right and I'm happy for you." "She told me the woman visited her several times and made those offers. Can you imagine?" "That means the woman is still in town," Kukua said. "I don't think so. Remember the letter she wrote? Didn't she say she was returning to London and that she would return?" "By the way, what happened to the money-I mean the pounds she put in the letter?" "It's there, intact," Kuntu, negotiating a curve on the potholed part of the road, chipped in, "Money? Are you girls sitting on money?" "No. How can students have money?" Kukua was prepared for Kuntu's usual witty response. "Give me a break, Kukua. Some of you students are richer than those of us who claim to be working." "Thank you for saying that. May it ever be so for Samira and me. May we be prosperous, Don't you think so, girl?" "Of course, I do. Mum is ready. As soon as the woman shows up she will return the money to her." "And if she doesn't show up?" "That's impossible. The way she was desperate when she visited us, she'll definitely show up." When they got to the suburb of Adenta, Kuntu drove directly to Block F and parked under the ever-green shady tree in front of their uncle's flat. Beatrice just closed from school. It was for their sake that Beatrice worked half-day as a part-time teacher, so that she would make time for her growing daughters. In the last hour, she had been busy working on some home-made cookies that would go the freshly-squeezed pineapple juice in the refrigerator with When Kukua called and said she was visiting again with her best friend in school, she decided to welcome them with something homely like the juice and cookies as starters. For the main meal, which she had scheduled for the evening because she knew Kukua wouldn't just pop in and out, she already had a whole chicken stuffed with a blend of her favourite spices grilling in the oven. That would go well with vegetable fried-rice. Rice wasn't her husband's typical meal, but if that was what everybody was eating, he wouldn't mind. She expected him to arrive any moment from his busy schedule in the office. In the next, world would she marry a man of figures? Her husband's accountancy career took all his time. When she heard the sound of a vehicle, she wasn't sure whether that was her husband arriving or Kukua and her friend. Her daughters were at the door before her, hoping to welcome their daddy home. Instead, in walked Kukua, followed by Samira, and then Kuntu who had stayed back to lock up his van. "Welcome, welcome, welcome!" Beatrice enjoyed having guests, and Kukua part of their family was more than a guest, of course, she was "Welcome, all of you,"Beatrice said again "Make yourselve comfortable" "Let me introduce my friend to you, Auntie Bea, Kukua said. Beatrice had already done her quick appraisal of the gir Kukua had spoken about so highly. Yes, she could see it for herself now she was indeed pretty and bright-faced. A little shorter than Kukus but certainly speedy in her moves just observing her enter the house. She didn't appear to be too shy. In a few seconds, she had already run her palm over her little daughters' heads more than once. She noticed how her two girls stared at Kukua's friend, the only stranger in the house. The picture on the wall seemed to attract Samira Beatrice watched as the girl studied it for a while. "That's the family," Beatrice supplied the answer to Samira's unasked question. "That's my husband and me with the girls," "Lovely people in a lovely picture," Samira complimented. "Thanks. You may introduce your friend, Kukua," Beatrice said as everybody found a place to sit. "But I wonder what else you want to reveal about her. You've already talked so much about her that I feel like I know her already." The Eternity Senior High students laughed. "I wonder what she's been saying about me," Samira joked. "The good or the bad?" "Mostly the bad," Kukua said. Beatrice remarked, "The way she talks about you, I doubt if she's capable of noticing anything bad!" "In that case," said Samira, "we'll let her introduce you." That was smart, Beatrice noted, and waited to see what Kukua would say about her and her family by way of introduction "Okay," Kukua stood, cleared her throat, and began a drama, Madam Samira, may I have the honour to introduce to you Grandma's only daughter-in-law Beatrice interjected, "What?" "I've not finished," Kukua continued her drama. "In fact, she's the only daughter-in-law in the family-Grandma's other children are women who brought in sons-in-law!" Beatrice was amazed. She had never considered herself that way before. But even more notable, she's the sweetest woman in the area." "Thank you. I enjoy flattery." "And, look at these two angels here: aren't they something?" "Lovely," Samira said. "They are so beautiful." "Well, those are my angelic cousins the greatest cousins in the world-well, except for this international driver here called Mr. Kuntu! Oh, and I have his younger brothers as my other cousins, Aunt Phoebe's other two boys. I'm a girl of many cousins!" "You should have brought them along with you." Beatrice genuinely wanted to see them. "Actually, we all forgot." It was a light afternoon, and Beatrice was pleased with hosting them. Later, her two daughters overcame their initial shyness and suddenly became fond