Nwapa This is Lagos and Other Stories

1. Auflage 2020
ISBN: 978-1-0983-2383-7
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 227 Seiten

This dazzling collection of short stories deals with some of the universal problems shared by women around the world. 'The heroines of Ms. Nwapa's books are strong-minded women who have economic independence and yet, suffer at the hands of unfaithful and unreliable men. Her skill is in presenting her women as individuals and dealing with their special burdens'. Alison Perry, West Africa Magazine.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Nwapa, Flora

Leseproben

The Traveller There was a knock at the door and Bisi went to open it. ‘Good afternoon, please come right in.’ ‘You remember me, don’t you?’ the stranger asked. ‘I remember the face, but not the name,’ Bisi lied. ‘We were together at College.’ ‘Of course it was at College. Please sit down, and where are you now?’ Bisi asked. It was obvious that she still could not place the man. ‘I am in Lagos and have come to do some business here. I thought I should come and say hello to you. You were in Edinburgh last year, weren’t you? I saw you for a brief time while in the company of Obi and his sisters.’ ‘You are right,’ Bisi said remembering her holidays in Edinburgh, but she still could not place the man. ‘How are you enjoying teaching?’ ‘I love it. I did not know I would enjoy it so much.’ ‘I am glad to hear this. Many people get bored with it in no time, and look around for something more exciting.’ ‘You are right. It all depends on the individual. Where do you work in Lagos?’ Bisi asked. ‘I work with a firm of experts. We give our expert advice to the public on buildings and so on.’ ‘And you are enjoying it, aren’t you?’ ‘It is exciting. I do a lot of touring. In December, I was in the Cameroons. After this trip, I shall come more frequently to the East.’ ‘And how long are you staying here?’ she asked. ‘I leave for Ogoja tomorrow, Onitsha next tomorrow, and on Saturday, I go to Port Harcourt.’ ‘That’s grand. I like touring,’ Bisi said, getting up. ‘I am sorry Mr…’ ‘Mr. Musa,’ the stranger said promptly. ‘Mr. Musa, I must go to my lesson now. The children are waiting for me.’ ‘And I must be going too. Thank you very much. Are you free this evening?’ ‘Sorry, I am not free.’ ‘You are free tomorrow afternoon then?’ ‘Yes, tomorrow afternoon, I am free, but you are going to Ogoja.’ ‘I shall be back before lunch time. Can you come to lunch with me at the hotel?’ ‘That is very kind of you. But it is a shame that you should come all the way from Lagos and invite me to lunch. I should invite you to a meal in my house.’ ‘Oh, that does not matter at all. Anywhere I go, I could ask as many people to meals as I want. It costs me nothing. The pleasure is mine. When do I come for you?’ ‘One thirty.’ ‘I shall be here at one thirty, then. See you.’ ‘Bye bye.’ ‘My God, isn’t he talkative?’ Bisi said as soon as Mr. Musa’s driver drove away. She wondered whether he was actually at College with her, and blamed herself for accepting the lunch appointment. However, at one thirty the next day, Mr. Musa was in Bisi’s house, Bisi came out and they drove to the hotel. ‘How was your trip to Ogoja?’ ‘Fine. I am making headway, and I am very happy.’ A taxi, hooted and overtook Mr. Musa at a very dangerous corner, and stopped not quite thirty yards in front. ‘These taxi drivers should not be given licences,’ Mr. Musa said. ‘They know what to do. It is just sheer irresponsibility and lack of patience. What makes me mad is when they abuse you when they are wrong.’ Bisi said. ‘I guess you just go your way when they abuse you,’ Mr. Musa said laughing. ‘Of course I don’t. I abuse them and talk to them in the language they understand. I am not a lady when it comes to that.’ Mr. Musa laughed. ‘That’s what I do too.’ ‘Shall we have some drinks?’ Musa asked as they arrived at the hotel. ‘What would you like to drink?’ ‘Babycham,’ she replied. ‘That’s good. I like Babycham myself, but I will have a small Star.’ ‘Good afternoon, doc,’ Bisi greeted a man who came in. ‘Hello Bisi, how are you?’ ‘Very well, thank you. How is the battle?’ ‘Still raging. Do you know the latest?’ ‘No, what are you up to now?’ ‘Well, we were there as usual. We sat down at our seats. Patients came, we took a full report, wrote everything down in long hand, took the patient in and examined him fully, and called in the next patient. In this way, by twelve o’clock no doctor saw more than three patients.’ ‘Hello, doc.’ ‘How are you, Musa, when did you come?’ ‘A couple of days ago.’ ‘Nice to see you.’ ‘Yes doc, you have a case,’ Bisi said. ‘You mean private practice for doctors?’ Mr. Musa asked. ‘Yes, P.P. for doctors. They have a case, haven’t they?’ Bisi said. ‘Yes, but unscrupulous doctors could easily abuse it.’ ‘Excuse me,’ the doctor said and left. They selected a table for two. ‘Are you going to have pounded yarn?’ ‘No, when I come here, I want to eat something different. And besides I am slimming.’ ‘Women are always slimming. Oh that’s a good high life music. Do you like it?’ ‘I like it, but I don’t like listening to high life music,’ she replied. ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘I like to dance to high life music.’ ‘That’s a good one,’ he said. When they finished eating, they went to his room. He tuned his radio, and waltz music was playing, very softly. ‘Let’s dance, shall we?’ ‘Dance?’ she asked in surprise. ‘I have just eaten. I can’t do any dancing now.’ He laughed and did not insist. ‘By the way, I hear Dora Okeke is here. Can we see her tonight?’ ‘Oh yes, what time?’ ‘About nine o’clock.’ ‘That’s late, make it eight.’ ‘You see, someone is taking me out at seven, and I guess I will be free at nine.’ ‘All right, nine then. I must go now. I haven’t had siesta.’ ‘There are two beds.’ ‘No, thank you,’ she said. He came near her and put his hands round her neck. There was no response. He took her hands in his and squeezed them. The effect was the same. ‘What is the matter?’ he asked ‘With what?’ she replied. He left her. ‘I shall take you back now.’ ‘That is thoughtful of you.’ He drove her home. Mr. Musa arrived at nine thirty full of apologies. ‘Let’s go now,’ Bisi said and called her maid who locked the door. ‘Helen,’ Bisi called, ‘please bring my wallet. I have no money on me and I may buy some petrol.’ ‘Oh don’t bother. It is all right,’ Mr. Musa said. ‘No. Helen, please bring my wallet quickly. It is in the cupboard.’ ‘I said don’t bother.’ ‘I can’t find it,’ Helen said. ‘I said let’s go.’ They arrived at a petrol station and Mr. Musa filled the tank for her, and got a receipt. When they arrived at Dora’s school, she was not in. ‘What do we do now? It is too early to go to bed,’ Musa said. ‘It is ten fifteen, you know I can’t go to bed before midnight.’ ‘All right. Let’s visit a friend of mine.’ ‘Who is he?’ ‘It is a she. You know Nwakama at College?’ ‘Okechukwu Nwakama?’ ‘Yes, Okechukwu. He is my friend’s fiancée.’ In five minutes they were in Sophia’s house. They were introduced. ‘And when is the lucky man coming home?’ ‘Next year,’ Sophia replied. ‘Can I offer you beer?’ ‘Yes, provided you share it with me.’ ‘We don’t drink beer here. We are bush.’ ‘I know you are not bush. You will share it with me.’ ‘All right. We will share it,’ Bisi said. Beer was brought and the two girls had half a glass each which they did not enjoy. When they finished, they got up to go. Bisi drove to her house, and as she said good night to Musa, he drew her to him. ‘Don’t be in a hurry. Kiss me good night.’ Bisi pushed him away. He wanted to come near again, but thought better of it and said, ‘I shall see you tomorrow at eight. We shall collect Sophia and have supper or drinks...