Chapter 4 THE BLOODY RETALIATION COUP

Everything I had dreamt of and hope for rested in a paper, locked in one of those old ugly unkempt lockers in the post office. Today would mark the third time of going to the dirty post office to see if I've received a letter of admission from university of Ibadan, this was the third and last batch of names to be sent admission letters' to, I had faith my name would be there.

I may not be a loyal and faithful Christian but today was one of those days when I had no choice than to have faith. Not just because I wanted to run away from home, I couldn't stand bearing the shame of Nne's silent gaze at me at every moment. Nne's silence was worse than any maltreatment because after a scolding followed a taunting long silent gaze.

It's hard to tell if Monday morning was always occupied with the scent of weekend's leisure or that the day had its own aura, but whichever ways, I liked what I perceived. Except for the busy and noisy Uselu market, my ride to the post office was smooth and peaceful. The gentle breeze blew above the busy sands, trees dancing and whistling the tune of nature's harmony. While some hands and legs hurrying here and there all in haste to start the week's duty walked nimbly, others, walked slothfully, still heavy laden with sleep and gazing with sour eyes. It was easy to tell they hated Mondays. I wonder who didn't.

"Good morning sir," I greeted the man at the post office reception on entering.

He held down the tip of his eye glasses to have a proper look at who was greeting. He took some seconds and realizing I wasn't a familiar face, he threw away his face to the dusty newspaper he was reading and in a low hoary voice replied.

"Can I help you?"

"I applied to the University of Ibadan and was told to come today to check if I've been sent a letter of admission."

I sounded more polite than usual. It was my first time of encountering him at the office, he was aged and cranky, and probably a grandfather from the way he looked. He should be home bathing in the fruitfulness of his children rather than working as a receptionist in a dirty place. It was common in government establishments, people not wanting to retire as at when due. The free money was too good to be left for another. Nna loved such kind of jobs, government jobs where you worked less and still got paid.

"Come back next week, nothing has been sent," he replied without even shifting his gaze to me.

"Please sir, if you could help me check I'll be grateful to you."

He turned his gaze to me, sneered and then returned it to the newspaper. It was no use begging, government workers were all the same; lazy and inconsiderate. While still pondering what to say next, I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Epa dormo sir," it sounded so noble and pure.

I turned around and behold! I didn't know if to smile or rush to embrace. It was who I least expected, no doubt, fate smiled on those who needs her the most.

I wanted to say hello but I was dumbfounded. She looked the same, actually better. It was like she got prettier by the day. This was fate-no one could convince me otherwise. It was no coincidence her coming today, twice I had come to check for my letter of admission but she didn't. I had stopped expecting she would show up, her picture in my head were becoming more vague, and only time remained for memory of her beauty to have been wiped off, and here she was, standing beside me.

"Omoh," the man answered with much delight.

I couldn't understand the rest because they spoke in their native Benin dialect. All I knew was that she had greeted him and he replied. The man while still smiling started for the lockers, he was obviously going to check for her letter.

"That was easy," I told her. "Please when he comes back; tell him to help me check for mine"

"I already did, you're welcome," she grinned.

Deep down I was pleased she even remembered me. I held my peace as the old man returned with two letters in his hands. I took mine and tore the envelope apart while stealing glances at her. It wasn't a long letter, it was direct and short, I had been admitted.

I jumped on her as I shouted; she didn't look baffled by my actions, as it was expected. The old man did, but I didn't care. From the smile on her face as she read her letter, I could guess she was admitted too, but she just couldn't shout and jump as I did.

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We walked out the post office, then down the street, both of us basking in the joy of having been admitted. Our walk together was surprising to me, and I guess to her too, because our awkward silence grew as we went further. I almost wanted to hold her by the hand and squeeze her palms out of excitement, but I dear not, her firm beauteous and disciplined face warned otherwise. She wasn't like one of those cheap and loose girls, she was different. I kept thinking of what to say, and then I remembered I didn't even know her name.

"You owe me to tell me your name." I began, garnering boldness.

"If I remember correctly, I helped you gain access to your letter. We're 50/50, so I owe you nothing."

"Don't flatter yourself; I could have easily done that," I replied, marveled by my response.

"But you didn't," she said succinctly.

I held back my words as quickly as they were about to escape my mouth. I realized it was pointless trying to force her to tell me.

"Ok," I admitted. "We are equal. Will you be so kind to tell me your name, my lady?"

She for the first time since we started walking looked at me, then back to the road, in a manner that suggested she liked my gentlemanly asking. I had copied that from a romance book I once read. After this, I was going to copy more.

"My name is Ivie Osezwa."

"Wow!" that was all I could say.

"What is wowing in that?"

"I'd have loved to say you have a beautiful name but am sure you must have heard a thousand guys say that to you and I wouldn't want to be the one thousand and one guys' to."

She smiled, but it faded away as swiftly as it came. I could swear she smiled. I didn't know where I got the boldness to say those words but I did, and it got her smiling at me for the first time. It gave me more reason to continue.

"Thanks by the way, if not for you I'd have to come back another day," I said, hoping my words keep her interest floating.

She gestured.

I was short of words. I had a lot planned in my heart, I had rehearsed them from time to time every day in front of my mirror, and here I was, when it mattered most, I couldn't deliver. She swiveled to look at me occasionally, then would grin and shyly face the road. I knew I had gotten her attention, but how do I not lose it because I was beginning to fail my very self.

She seemed to be enjoying me fighting with my heart because she kept looking at me and turning away her gaze shyly. She chortled loudly then stopped. I did too.

"Do you even know what I told the man about you?"

"I don't. You both spoke in your native tongue and all I kept hearing was "Koye"

She giggled again and this time her lips came into perfect view. Small and dainty, they were smooth and poised, adorable to the eyes and pleasing to the mouth. My eyes were fast to see the deep hollows of her dimples, which covered the edges of her cheeks.

"I told him you were my neighbor and was just released from the asylum a month back after you were driven from the east."

"What!?"

I was more dumbfounded than curious to hear her repeat herself. We both began to laugh. She didn't hold back.

"Nice one," I continued, "I must do my own back."

"You are welcome to try."

We stopped at one street and began to chat. We talked like we had known each other for years. She possess a certain kind of allure which is spell bounding, and we both seem to have something in common, what it was I was yet to know.

"Do you believe in fate?" I asked blurting. It was foolish of me to have asked, I shouldn't have, because that one question changed the look on her face. At that moment, I felt like the ground should open up and swallow my stupidity but it didn't, instead it kept its mouth closed. She stood up, took one last look at me and turned in disappointment. I quickly caught her hand.

"I'm sorry," I told her apologetically. "I shouldn't have said that."

"But you did," was her cold reply.

I kept holding her hand not knowing what to say, she on the other hand didn't give me confidence as she didn't cast a gaze at me. People passing could immediately guess the scenario, but I didn't care. She was the best feeling I've had in years and I wasn't going to let opinions deny me what I wanted.

"I'm sorry," I said, but she said nothing. The wind from the left blew sensuously and it blew some strands of her hair to my face. I felt the taste in my mouth but it wasn't enough to make my taste bud forget I had spoiled the moment.

"Can we at least see again?" she didn't reply. I thought for a second what to say but nothing, then I let go her hand. She walked further without uttering a word neither did she look back. I placed my hand over my eyes in utmost disappointment of my own self, and that was when she replied unhurriedly?

"Let's meet same place in two days' time."

I opened my eyes to see that she stopped and swiveled, but it didn't take seconds on opening my eyes that she twirled back and walked away. I didn't know if to be happy or sad, but what I did know was that I needed girls lecture from my sister. I headed home.

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My walk home was quicker than ever. This time around, I didn't take note of the pot holes just few streets away from ours; neither did I notice that the dirt Nne and Iya Rotimi fought over had been parked. The adrenaline in my blood could not stop pumping excitement into me. I kept remembering her laughter like she was still laughing. I wanted to live in such moment again, but I needed to recreate it. How? Ndidi. She would help me; first she was a girl and second was experienced than I was. I wonder if that were true, because she was mostly locked behind the doors, as it is popularly said in Benin; "Omo get inside." Though I've come to learn that no matter how you cage a girl in doors, a girl will still be a girl.

I entered our compound with so much determination and was calling "Ndidi!" but no answer. I rushed inside the house full of life only to open the door and see Nna, Nne, and Igbane sitting motionless with anger painted deep in their eyes, and my sister standing directly opposite them trying to deprive her cheeks from being watered by her eyes but she couldn't, they showered overpoweringly.

"Come inside," I heard Nna call at me in his enraged voice. That only meant I was in trouble, yet confused because Ndidi was the one shedding the tears.

"Ehihie oma," I greeted in our native tongue as my feet hurried forward and stopped close to Igbane.

"What is good in the afternoon," he replied.

It was clear he wasn't in the mood for language speaking, not that he ever was.

"What do you know about your sisters' man friend?"

I stood there void of what to say. If I denied, they wouldn't believe me and Ndidi would be all alone in her already crumbling world, and if I claim to know, I would share in whatever trouble she was in. I wanted to think of my options when Nna shouted the native name I was told grandfather named me. He had become impatient.

"Uzondu!"Nna shouted

"I just know him from a distance," I lied. I hadn't even seen him.

"Ewemmmm!" Nne cried with both her hand on her head, "This children will not kill me."

"Woman shut up and let me handle this," Nna shouted on her.

"What tribe is he from?"

"He's a Benin man, his brother is a chief,"

My words got Nne crying again, this time she was twirling and hands flying like the wings of an helicopter. Nna just ignored her drama.

"Daddy, let's go to the palace and report him," Igbane suggested.

"The case won't be heard, it would just be swept under their rug," he told Igbane regretfully.

"Then let's go to his house and make him admit what he did," Igbane was sounding more aggressive, "If he doesn't we will beat him up," he added

"That is even worse," said Nna stunned at his sons' words. Igbane fumed at the reply and folded his hand looking ready to wound somebody. I wanted to ask what was going on but I fear they might revisit my case, so I let them continue suggesting.

"We are in another's man land and therefore our voice is limited. Anything we say or do would put us in trouble, one worse than it seems. We just need to accept what has happened and pray it doesn't get worse.

"Worse!" I reiterated. "What happened?" I asked

No one at first answered, their look suggested I was a culprit in whatever must have happened because I didn't report about her man friend.

"Ndidi was raped by her man friend, and then beaten," Igbane finally said.

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The next day at the first light of dawn, Nna and Nne took Ndidi to the hospital for checkup and testing. Nna wasn't going to be a grandfather to a child from a rape incident. Nne was more concerned about her daughter not being infected and luckily the test showed negative in both cases.

The result made no difference to Ndidi. Her eyes had become red and swollen, she glued to her bed like she had been bitten by tsetse fly, only hers was worse than such a bite. I could imagine how she was feeling at the moment, every fun memory she had of the assumed love would become pictures of regret been scrolled through, and the tune in her head would be "I wish I had known" with a sorrowful rhythm louder than her own heartbeat. Most likely with lyrical rhymes such as:

I wish I had listened to brother

He cared and so was bothered

But his advice I ignored like every other.

I grinned as it rhymed in my head. It would have made a good song only that the situation in which they were being formed were unpleasant. My lively seventeen year old sister whose smile and kindness is enough to bring back the dead has suddenly faded. I sympathized with her even though I felt she had it coming. She had no reason to listen to her elder brother who gave her three years distance in age; to her my thinking was old school-the deceit found in teenage age. Adolescence brought along with it the feeling of adulthood that makes many teenagers make foolish decisions which they get to regret later in life.

I laid on my bed ambivalently. Here I was thinking of how to recreate a loving moment with Ivie and the one person I knew could help me was in a throbbing of her own and I still wanted to lay before her my problem. I couldn't help myself; I needed her advice so I dashed to her room.

"Ndidi," I called as I opened the door.

She sat on her bed, looking at the window. "I need your advice," she didn't look back so I continued. "I need you to teach me how to get a girl really interested in a conversation?"

"How can you be so selfish?" she finally said in a cracked voice as she looked at me

"It is selfish of me, I know it is, but if you were in my shoe you would know how it feels," I replied gently not sure if she would understand.

"Then wear my shoe and know how it fits," she retorted

"I know and I am sorry. You can't blame me, I am in love and true love is selfish," I spoke in low drone, my voice breaking unnecessarily

"True love is selfish!" she pondered on the words. "Is that your excuse?"

"No," I answered, "it's the paradox of love."

"Love!?"

At that instance I lifted my head with full brevity, an idea just hit me. No, it wasn't an idea it was the fact. I'm in love. I'm in love with Ivie Osezwa.

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Later that evening, Igbane and Nna sat in the parlor discussing politics. I sat opposite them trying to concentrate on my ironing. I was preparing to meet Ivie tomorrow and I had to look my best, but their discussion was creeping into my thoughts.

"Nna tell me more about mid-west democratic front," asked Igbane.

"You are really interested in the politics of this state aren't you?"

"Yes Nna," he answered with excitement, "People are preaching change, and the only way to effect that change is if you are a part of it. I'm tired of people seeking for change and they don't want to work for it. I want to work for mine."

"You have spoken like my true son," Nna spoke with pride in his words, though I wasn't sure if he was indirectly throwing a jibe at me.

I finished ironing and was about to leave when Nna's eye met mine and commanded me to sit. I obeyed and was forced to listen to their political jargons. It was times like this I wished Nne would show up.

"MDF is a small political party in Nigeria mid-west region. You can say they are a western minority ethnic group born out of the western region of this country by act of parliament."

"I see," said Igbane with his right hand rested on his jaw. "They must be small and the reason for forming alliance with the northern people's congress?"

"Small! Did you say small?" Igbane sat up as if to enter Nna as he spoke. "It was the first state to be created in this country and by a constitution, not by this military fiat that seems to be eating us up."

"Then Nna, my name will one day be mentioned like Oba Akenzua the second and Dennis Osadebey who fought for mid-west independence," Igbane mentioned them proudly but forgot to mention the likes of Jereton Marierie and James Otobo. I wasn't going to add to their discussion, after all, it was assumed I was the dull one in the family.

"No, your name won't. Those men are our foundation, but if you work hard enough, your name will be mentioned to the unborn generations," he told Igbane as if he was sure of what he was saying.

Igbane was still pondering on it and there was a knock on the door. I rushed to the door hoping it was Nne knocking, though I was sure it wasn't, her knocks were always heavy and impatient as if she wanted to bring down the door.

I opened the door in no hurry and saw it was the same men from the government office that came to see Nna the other day. Their presence meant that my ears won't be crowded with Nna's political nonsense, yet I was displeased because I would have to excuse them and in so doing, my detective mind would miss out on their reason for visiting Nna.

"Good evening young man, is your father at home?" I had opened the door wide open and gestured they come in before the taller one finished greeting and asked of Nna.

They walked in confidently and went straight to where Nna was sited. Igbane greeted and started for his room, I did also only I didn't go into my room, I hid behind the transparent cotton hoping to see properly this time around and eaves drop.

"Mr. Shehu and Mr. Hakim, I'm surprised to see you," Nna didn't hide his feelings.

"We are less surprised to be here," said Mr. Hakim, the shorter but seemingly prudent one.

"If our discussion had ended mutually the last time, our coming would have been no surprise," added Mr. Shehu. He still had the touch of humor as he did the last visit.

"I haven't changed my mind. You can tell your superior that nothing would make me act otherwise. I am an upright citizen of this nation and would do no such," he was sacrosanct.

"And what about if it means losing your miracle job?" Mr. Shehu asked rather ambivalently.

"I still won't do it," Nna reassured them.

Mr. Shehu was about to say something when there was a knock on the door. It was a heavy and impatient bang. I didn't wait for my name to be called; I dashed out of my hiding place straight for the door knowing who it was.

I opened the door for Nne and carried the nylon bag she brought from the market. The men on seeing her stood to their feet, took a bow at Nne, about to leave then turn to Nna and said"

"Some things are not always what they seem, not all miracles are heaven made. Some are man-made." They left.

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The sun was beginning to make its way out, yet the dark blue sky still threatened. People didn't seem to be bothered by the power tussle in the atmosphere and neither did I; my cause to keep going was no other than Ivie.

The silence in the bus seemed to push thoughts into my head and the driver didn't help matters. The look on his face was no different from that of Mr. Hakim's when he yesterday said "Some things are not always what they seem, not all miracles are heaven made, some are man-made." I couldn't help to think that he was referring to Nna's supposed miracle job. Even Nne was beginning to think the job was given to Nna hoping that he would dance to the governments' tune whenever they played a dirty song. Unfortunately, Nna didn't know how to dance.

Nna had told Nne that they wanted him to claim he was importing more than what he actually was so the government would reduce his import tax and award him a fake contract of six figures to import more cars into the country. That was too large an amount for Nna to cast a blind eye. Nne didn't say that to him, but I'm sure the thought had occurred to her from the way she looked at him after being told. Even if she hadn't, it soon would cross her mind, she was a woman after all and women will always be women.

I highlighted from the bus with so much eagerness that everybody kept gazing at me until the bus shadow was no more to be seen. I headed straight to the spot we chatted the last time and to my surprise she wasn't there. Suddenly, my eagerness ended and I became worried.

"Why isn't she here?" I kept asking myself, "could she have changed her mind? Or could she be at the post office?"

The idea of her being at the post office I knew was impossible for we hadn't agreed to meet there, plus she had no business to be there. I still wanted to be sure, I needed to be certain, and leave no stone unturned. It was one of the madness of love.

I carried my feet to the post office as swift as I could walk, but nothing, she wasn't there. My anxiousness for the day's meeting was already wearing out. I still wasn't willing to give up. I started back to our lovers spot with many possibilities going through my mind.

"There you are," she said, sited were she had said she would. By the mere sound of her voice, every worry and anger I was beginning to feel melted into the air and the zephyr wind of the moment blew it above the serene and peaceful city.

"I've been waiting for you, why did you come late?" I wanted to say angrily, but instead, with a soft smile that could make enemies shake hands; I said "Hi, you look beautiful."

"You're not looking bad yourself," she complemented.

I sat close to her, closer than the last time. I was wondering what to say, how to say what to say, and the manner in which to say what to say. I thought of telling her about the unfortunate mishap that had befallen my sister, but I thought again, that could make her think immoral and impious of my family.

As if she could sense my lack of what to say, she asked "What did your parents do when you told them of your admission?"

"They were excited, even more than I was. I guess because it is long overdue," I answered in a fading tone.

"You are lucky. Mine couldn't even afford to be ambivalent. They didn't like it and clearly told me they won't pay my tuition fees."

"That must be a joke, which parent would deny their child such?"

"Not my parents, they are dead," she answered without emotion in her voice. "I live with my uncle and his wife."

I was lost for words. I didn't know if to say "sorry" as it was commonly said or I should just sigh with pity? I looked into her deep blue azure eye, and beneath the eye shadow, for the first time I could see the blood in her eyes, the ice in her veins, felt the pain in her heart yet somewhere there was love. It was a part of her I had never seen before, but it was that part that made me at that moment decided I want to be her second half and make her fragments whole.

"I've told no one that," she said. I could feel the tremor in her voice.

"I know," I replied assuredly

"How do you know that?" she asked now surprised.

'I just do."

"If you would let me," I began not knowing where the words neither the boldness was coming from, "I want to be here for you, and stand by you no matter what."

She looked at me in disbelief. It was the same look my inner eyes flashed me after I said what I said. She threw away her face, stared into the air for some seconds then turned back to face me, only this time, her eyes were too shy to gaze into mine.

"You do not know what you say, you barely even receive love not to talk of giving to another."

"Those who lack love are those who know how to give it most, because they know what it means to not be shown love."

"Do you mean what you say?" she asked shyly.

"Every word," I said, fixing my eyes into hers.

It was then I realized her hand was in my palm, she couldn't let go my gentle caresses, it was reassuring, and it was comforting. She used her left hand to gently rub my cheek like a mother rubbing her sons' fat cheeks, and then she kissed me.

It was deep, I was blown, I wanted more but then she stood to leave, I quickly held her back.

"When do we see again?"

"I don't know," she whispered in blushing tears.

"Let's meet tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow is the 29th, I will be busy. Let's make it next tomorrow."

"Fine by me."

I let go of her hand slowly and watched her walked away wishing she had kissed me one more time before she left.

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I had spent the night thinking about Ivie. It was long and dark, the hour was so vile that I was too scared to peep through the window and see my street in its silent moment. I didn't really care, the thought of the girl I love stole every hour my eyes were too lazy to close.

My thoughts weren't organized and bumped into one another that I often forgot what it was I was thinking. At one time, it was me brooding over our final moments together, the seal of a kiss. Was it real and from her heart, or was it just an act she put up to bring a beautiful end to her pain in which I had soaked in? At other times, it was me marveling over her. She wears a façade beneath the agony she faces, and she was good at it, unlike some, who walked with sore faces and a piteous appeal, so the whole world would see and pity them, but not her, she was strong, beautiful and intelligent too.

I was willing to help with money for her tuition fees, at least part. There is time enough to gather the money, resumption is till next year. I would ask Nna to borrow me half, and she can come up with the rest.

I woke early hoping to approach Nna before he left for work but I woke a little bit too late and missed him. The remainder of the morning was without meaning, I had only one thing on my mind and that was to have a man to man discussion with my father and ask him to borrow me some money. How I will pay back, I have no idea, but it was something I was willing to do for love.

Finally, Nna came back earlier than usual, he had only gone to pay Igbane's senior certificate exam fee. He got into the house to learn that Ndidi had gone to her catering school, Nne, maybe to the market or to gossip, and I was the only one at home. It was a perfect timing for no one needs to know my intentions with Nna, especially not Nne.

Nna took his bath and made his way to the sitting room. That only meant time to eat. If there was one thing Nna couldn't do without, it was food. It always surprises Nne how much he loved to eat and yet lazy to work for it. Before the miracle job came, he had a routine. He took his bath every day as early as 8:00 am and then called on Nne for his food. Actually, he called on her before bathing to enquire what he would eat. Less than an hour after noon, he was calling on her again, and then when darkness begins to rise, he has sent Nne to the kitchen to pound fufu for him. It was like he never thought about anything other than food in his spare time. He would clad on his wrapper, fold them in between his legs and demand his food be brought to him.

As he sat, he folded the wrapper in between his legs and looked up to call my name, but before he did I had already started towards him with a tray of hot Jollof rice. Old habits don't break. As he ate, I stood opposite him contemplating how I would begin. One time in primary school, we were to have two excursions in the same term. To him and Nne it was unnecessary but to I and my sister it wasn't. We finally conquered the fear and asked him for the fee, two naira for each trip. He ignored us on our first request and the second time only nodded. It was about two weeks later he gave us money for one trip. It was pointless requesting for the other half.

"Daddy," I began, garnering boldness.

"Son," he answered without looking up. He swallowed every spoon without break even as they were hot.

I was about to say "Can you lend me two thousand naira before Iya Rotimi broke into the compound and in her loud microphone voice shouting "They have come o!" around the compound. Nna stopped eating, lifted up his head towards the window but couldn't see, so he sent me to go check what is going on in his compound.

As I came out the front door, Nne rushed into the compound holding Igbane and Ndidi like babies who just found their footing. Iya Rotimi immediately gripped Nne who just shut the gate behind her.

"Where are they now?"

"How should I know? Why don't you go outside and find out," was Nne's sarcastic reply.

Immediately there was a loud shout heard from across the street and as a typical Yoruba woman she is, Iya Rotimi placed both her hands on her head and shouted again

"They have come o!"

She ran into her room. Mother then grabbed her chicks and dashed straight for the house. I watched the whole scene with a concealed smile on my lips. I opened the door wide for Nne to run inside with her chicks knowing there could only be one thing that has come, it's what we had been expecting. Though I wasn't sure if it was what I thought it was, I had a strong feeling it was the retaliation coup.

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Not much was known about the coup except that it's the country's second coup and has brought Gowon Yakubu into power. The excuse of the military having taken over in the first place was to bring back normalcy and reconstruct the country back to its shape, but they came into power and did no worse than the prime minister and likes.

Even Mama Ose came to the house in the later part of yesterday and didn't have a story to tell. Nna had jokingly teased her that her brother in the military didn't tell her anything this time around because he was sleeping on duty when the operation was on going. One thing was sure which is that it was an ingenious mapped out coup, one the country had never experienced.

"I can bet with you that this coup will cause tension in this country and especially for the Igbo's," Nna had argued with Mr. OyIgbo that night.

Mr. OyIgbo in his calmness just listened to Nna make his points. I listened too, but I didn't gain much being politics wasn't my thing. I couldn't say same for Igbane. Fear crept into the living Igbo communities. I especially wondered how life would fair for my brothers and sisters residing in the north, that was the one thing I and Nna talked about and agreed on.

The most awaited retaliation coup has occurred and I wasn't freaked about it. Instead, thoughts of meeting with Ivie crowned my head, and menacing over how I would escape the house to go see her.

It took time for Nna to leave the sitting room unlike usual. He kept listening to his static radio that only transmitted when the government has a message to pass across, but this time around, nothing. It was unlike the first coup when the coup plotters made several speeches even days after the plot, it seemed more like they were desperate to be famous and so got their voices on air at every opportunity.

With Nna in his room and Nne being distracted by her fellow gossiper; Mama Ose, I made my way to the gate unnoticed, opened it silently and with all carefulness ran as fast as I could down the street just in case I had been seen and called back, I wouldn't answer cause I didn't hear.

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It was rare to see the city in such calm and serene state. Such occurrences were very rare, today was the rarer. I trekked from home to the post office and didn't come across more than three persons. There was no sit at home order given, this was self-imposed. The fear of what happens next after the retaliation has scared people, there seems to be an impending looming war and its catalyst had begun.

The more I walked the farther was the trip to the post office. It was then it became clear to me-that place had become our tryst. The more it seemed like I was involved in an affair that entailed secrecy, the idea of such mystery began to make sense to me. It made me feel like a part of something. It was seemingly looking true that everything dark and dangerous had a seductive appeal to it.

I got to our spot as swift as my legs could carry, then it dawned on me that she might not come. I waited. I had time enough so I decided to spend it. As the hour went by, it became clearer she wouldn't come but I wasn't willing to give up, at least not just yet. I didn't know what to think, I didn't know how to feel, whichever ways, I knew I was going back home to face Nna and Nne's punishment for disobedience, and it was all for nothing.

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It's been months after, we were slowly approaching the ember period and everything seemed to be changing, or rather, everything had changed. From time to time I stole trips to the post office in hopes that Ivie would one day appear, but that hope faded with every passing wait, but that wasn't the only thing that changed. First it was Nna. Every morning he would take his bath as usual but instead of heading out for the office, he'd come out of his room clad on his green wrapper that knows the shape of his waist perfectly than his wife. Nna never talked to any-one about himself, he kept to himself. In fact, he is any word that has "self" attached to another word.

I and Ndidi occasionally whispered about his new style but since his wife hadn't enquired why, we dared not to; we simply just assumed he was on leave. The food stuffs in the store began to reduce and so did our meal, we moved from three square meal to two, then to one and then one and a half. We no longer ate yam and egg, the egg was substituted for palm oil, even the oil was fried so it would spread around our plate just in case it didn't go round the yam, that's if the yam were ever enough. The meat on our plate of food reduced from one big piece to something I couldn't measure, but Igbane says it's the quarter of a piece. Not that we were complaining, no, we had suffered worse. We were just surprised that a lot was changing and Nna was saying nothing about it. We could tell from the way Nne did things that she was being patient, but we could also tell that her patience was gradually wearing off.

That afternoon, a postman came to our home carrying a letter from the village. It was from Nna's parent; they wanted to come and spend Christmas with us. Nna didn't buy into the idea of their coming.

"At least give your parents a chance," Nne begged, "You can't be angry with them forever."

"They are my parents," Nna replied rather unmoved by her plea, "It's my choice to make, and I've made my choice."

"But don't you think-

"Is it your thinking?" Nna interrupted her. "Have you eaten two square meals a day that you intend adding two extra mouths to the pot?"

"Since it's been years you last heard from them, I only thought it appropriate-

Nna interrupted again. "Appropriate! You have learnt one new word from your gossip center and you want to use it on me? Try somewhere else."

Nne wanted to say something but she thought about it and sighed deeply instead. It's no longer new to us the story of how Nna's parent didn't like his choice of wife and so he ran away with her, eloping to Benin City where I and my siblings were born. Somehow, I think she still feel guilty about distancing her husband from his parents. Nna didn't reply the letter, and Nne made mention of it no more.

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Nothing was the same anymore, not only in our home but also in the country. After the two coups, tension was heating up and Igbo's residing in the north was being massacred. That was the beginning of the rumors of retaliation by the Igbo's whose lands the northerners' reside in. Such retaliations was the kind that resulted into civil war.

Nna's view hadn't changed. He still believes his Igbo brothers shouldn't have tried to usurp power in the first place. He argues that they are no better than the north and greed was their driving force. Nne thought different.

"I'm telling you danger is approaching," Nna told Mr. OyIgbo fervently as if what he was talking was already happening. Of late, he got into argument with almost everybody who cared to argue, and this was a trait he had long dropped when he got a miracle job, and little by little, he was revisiting the habit.

Mr. OyIgbo didn't say much, he never did. To him, people who argue are pointless because shouting alone makes you lose; it's the quiet one that looks most reasonable even when he's points are actually wrong.

"A man convinced against his will is of the same opinion still," those were what Mr. OyIgbo once told me, "So therefore it is foolish to argue," he added. I laughed forcefully knowing very well he was referring to Nna. I shouldn't have, but I did, I guess it was what I got for saying his daughters' teeth was like the seven hills spread over the city of Ibadan.

The sun was just beginning to set that evening when they both sat outside discussing, at least that's what Mr. OyIgbo intended, but Nna was doing the opposite.

"The pogrom is part of the growing tension between the east and the north," Mr. OyIgbo stated boldly, "Hope you are aware of that?"

"Which is as a result of the Igbo greed, or why else did they usurp power in the first place?" Nna asked. "Why begin a fight that you can't win? Do they think the British were not wise to hand power over to the north; they had eyes and still do."

"Do you think these unrest and massacres can lead to a civil war?" Mr. OyIgbo asked innocently.

"No. greed and selfishness will lead to war and that's the path the governor general of the east is treading," Nna answered assuredly.

"I think so too," he replied, "Especially with his menacing remarks against the federal military government, it shows he has a hidden agenda."

"This creation of states by the military government is for the eventuality of war."

"You think so?" Mr. OyIgbo asked

"I know so. From my calculations, I think twelve states will emerge eventually from this creation. Their aim is to isolate the east totally from the oil producing states. That way, they are not entitled to money gotten from oil."

Mr. OyIgbo nodded as he mulled over what Nna had just said. There was sense in it, even though all were assumptions; they seemed well calculated.

The noises on the street were getting louder, feet were heard in a hurry, and it was obvious they were returning home from work; Nna went silent, obviously enjoying the sounds of it. I have a feeling Nna missed coming from work to take his bath, then tie his wrapper around his waist and ask for his food to be served him. It was a routine, one that he sometimes relives just for the experience, but as wise men know, the best way to relive a thing is to actually live it.

He should have ceased the opportunity to live it this morning when he was visited by Mr. Shehu, but he didn't, instead he told me to tell the poor messenger that if they know him as they claim, they would know that his decision is sacrosanct, that after all they have done their worse. You should have seen the look on Mr. Shehu's face after I had delivered the message, I couldn't tell if it was one of disappointment on not getting his cooperation or if it was one of pity.

It got Nne so angry at her husband that they quarreled for almost over half an hour, throwing words at him for being selfish, and lazy. If he wasn't selfish, he would have considered his family before taking such stance, and lazy because now that he was facing the consequences, he was too lazy to look for work elsewhere. Not that he'd find any in the government establishment, his name has been blacked out, but he was too lazy to use the money he had saved to start up a business. My concern was my tuition fee for my resumption in few months' time. He never replies whenever I ask him about it. I knew this was trouble for me.