Anthills of the Savannah - Page 37

“Did he really say that?”

“I reminded him that he never really wanted to be Life President. That made him truly, hopping mad. ‘I didn’t,’ he said, ‘and you know I didn’t but the moment it was decided upon you had a clear responsibility, you and Ikem, to see it succeed. You chose not to.’ I never before heard so much bitter emotion in his voice.”

“And you didn’t mention this to Ikem? I don’t ask about myself, who am I? But to Ikem, no? You never cease to surprise me, Chris. Nothing in this world can make your heart race!”

“That was more than two years ago. I didn’t think then it was all that important. In fact I never thought of it in this light until you used the word disgrace just now.”

“It doesn’t speak too highly of your power of analysis or insight which is what I have always told you.”

“Please, Ikem, please, let’s not slip back into our routine running battles, yet…”

“No no, BB. I am serious. If Chris had reported this to me at the time I should have insisted that we both resign there and then and we would not be in this mess today. You see what I mean?”

“Perhaps. But we lost that chance. What I want to know is what Chris proposes to do now and what he recommends you do.”

“Simple. I shall draft my letter of resignation tonight and have it delivered to him tomorrow morning. For Ikem I strongly, most strongly, urge a period of silence until…”

“Rubbish, Chris, rubbish! The very worst prescription for a suspended editor is silence. That’s what your proprietor wants. Because cause he makes reams of paper available to you he believes he owns your voice. So when he feels like it he withdraws the paper to show you how silent you can be without his help. You musn’t let him win.”

“So are you going to set up a new paper of your own then?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. If you can’t write you can surely get up and talk. You haven’t lost your vocal chords.”

“Where do you intend to talk? In a corner of Gelegele market?”

“Oh, Chris!”

“Never mind. All I say is careful! That’s all. Or Kabisa. Though I haven’t heard him use that lately.”

“Not when it has filtered down to motor mechanics,” said Beatrice.

“That’s right.”

“Ikem, I think Chris is right. You’ve got to lie low for the next couple of weeks, so we can plan our moves properly. Chris is right about that though I think you are closer to the mark about the danger.”

“Well I wasn’t exactly going to create Hyde Park Corner in Gelegele in spite of Chris’s insinuations. But people are going to ask me questions, and I shall bloody well answer. I’m not going to crawl into a hole…”

A taxi-cab seemed to be having some difficulty with the police sentry. Chris who had a view of the gate from where he sat, got up, moved to the entrance door, clapped his hands to attract the sentry’s attention and signalled to him to let whoever it was come in. But the taxi-driver had already lost his patience, it appeared, and was heatedly discharging his passenger right there.

The passenger turned out to be Elewa. She paid and collected her change in a state of flutter clearly discernible from where Chris stood and rushed into the house breathless and deeply agitated. Ignoring welcoming greetings from everybody she flung herself at Ikem.

“Wetin I de hear, Ikem? Na true say dem done sack you?”

Ikem nodded his head as he pressed her to himself. She burst into tears and violent crying and in that brief instant exploded the atmosphere in the room. All three were embarrassed by this intrusive emotion, but more especially the men, and each put in a clumsy word or two to console the girl and restore the original calm.

“Oh come on, Elewa. I am only suspended not sacked… Who told you anyway?”

That did it. She stopped crying almost as dramatically as she had begun. But her voice, when she spoke, was broken and heavy with grief.

“Everybody de talk am for our yard. Even my mama wey de sick hear am small for six o’clock news from our neighbour him radio. But me I go chemist for buy medicine for am.”

“Never mind, my dear. You see I still de alive and well.”

“I thank God for that.”

“How mama be today?”

“E de better small… You say no be sack them sack you na… weting you call am?”

Tags: Chinua Achebe Fiction
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