Jagua Nana

‘We jus’ passin’ time, till night come.’

At that moment they heard the sound of a police siren just outside. Instantly the boys dispersed into their various rooms. Jagua saw Sabina leap into the next room and pull up a ladder from somewhere. Up the steps she climbed, lithe as a cat, and vanished through a hatch in the roof. Even the record player had stopped, the record jammed in it.

The sliding panel glided with precision into place and the ceiling assumed its normal shape. The rooms were all empty and the luminous eyes were trained expectantly on the door. Only Jagua and Dennis remained in the room. They sat tense while police boots thudded on the pavement outside. There were at least twelve uniformed men and they showed Dennis the search warrant. The whole village had come to the door to watch them.

Jagua admired the nerve of Dennis. He remained calm and completely unflustered. ‘Upon Information Received’ the policemen had come to Obanla to search the lodgings of Dennis Odoma and his friends. They took down all the boxes, opened them and looked inside, threw around the photographs, asked questions, then all went back into the Black Maria and drove off.

Before the van had turned the corner, panels began to slide. The taxi driver was the first to come into the room and hand over a small packet to Dennis who handed it over to Jagua with a smile.

‘Das what dey lookin’ for,’ he said. ‘You know what to do with dis.’

Jagua tore away the wrapping. The gold trinkets sparkled even more elaborately than those Dennis had given her the other night.

‘Wonderful! I goin’ to take dem to goldsmith to buy an’ melt. An’ you kin have de money.’

‘Das alright! You don’t charge me commission?’

Jagua laughed. ‘Plenty time. Make we sell de thin’ first’.’

The taxi driver gripped Dennis by the arm. ‘Masta … Masta, what about tonight? What time you wan’ me for bring de taxi?’

‘Is better we leave after twelve o’clock night,’ Dennis said.

The taxi driver looked anxious. ‘Is too early. I tink de bes’ time is two o’clock midnight, so dat de shop kin close and de night watchman begin feel sleep. You know dem use to keep late in dat area of Lagos. Plenty pub-houses.’

Jagua realized that they were planning a raid. She gathered from their talk that it was a shop they were going to burgle: not for goods, but for money. The taxi driver kept reminding Dennis that he had actually seen the shop owner put away at least £1000 in notes, in a strongbox and that he was sure the strongbox ‘slept’ in the shop. They talked cold-bloodedly, not minding the presence of Jagua.

Jagua had the sensation of a man who has suddenly opened the door of a strange room and found a man and woman in bed, naked and intertwined. The difference lay in her being unable to shut the door quickly enough on what she had seen and heard. Consequently she remained with her self-inflicted embarrassment.

From one of the rooms, a woman was shouting abuses at the taxi driver, projecting her voice so that it came vividly into the room and became a presence. She was calling him lazy and useless, threatening to pack her things and leave him. It was the taxi driver’s wife, Dennis explained. She was in a fighting mood because she had been wanting to buy an outfit costing £100 but the taxi driver could not find the money. The outfit had been described as a funeral-cerem

ony dress, and the woman was bound to attend as she was the most important relation of the dead man.

‘Thief that you are!’ came the abusive words in Yoruba. Jagua looked at the face of the taxi driver. She saw on it the fear of a man who feels too small for the woman he has taken. ‘I left all better men to come and marry you, you’re not glad! You should rejoice! … This is how you make me go naked every day while other women dress up and I feel shame and cannot show my face where they are. Rogue, that you are! You must get me that £100 if not go to the shop yourself and buy me the Asho-Ebi. If you don’t buy it, there are men who will, you hear that! Don’t think you’re the only one I hope upon, you idiot! When a beauty queen like myself come to this wretched house and sleep with dirty man like you, who get nothing in his pocket, you think my life is finished …’

Dennis turned his face in the direction of the noise which had become unbearable. ‘You there, Bintu! … Shut up there, you hear? We got a decent lady here. You disgracin’ we before her!’

‘Useless man!’ went on the voice. ‘You drive taxi from morning till night! You carry women free and dem give you no money. You’re only splitting their legs in their rooms. When you do that whose going to buy de petrol? Useless ass!’

Jagua saw the manner in which Dennis left the room. She heard a door slam, heard the sound of blows and the whimpering of the woman. A moment later, she raced out in her chemise, her face swollen and the Obanla crowd again gathered at the door to see. The taxi driver held Dennis by the arm. ‘I beg you. Leave her. If you follow de mouth of woman, you will commit murder. Let her talk! Is good for her. She’s me own wife, and is me she cursing.’

‘Come on! Get back into de room!’ shouted Dennis. Jagua saw him in a new light, as one to whom all the gang showed respect. ‘An’ if I hear anodder word from you, I come inside an’ kill you!’

Sabina came towards Dennis, wiggling her full hips. She slipped her hand under his arm and rubbed her small hard bust against him. She led him back to the room where Jagua waited patiently.

‘As I was saying,’ Dennis began. ‘Now, where was I?’

Jagua put the packet of trinkets in her bag. ‘I got to be goin’ now. I goin’ to take dis to de goldsmith an’ see what I kin do.’

Dennis frowned. ‘Jagua, I sorry about all de noise. Dat woman tryin’ to bring confusion for our business. She trying to drive we to do what we not ready for. Everythin’ person do in dis world got to be done with sense.’

‘Don’ worry,’ said Jagua.

‘You treat her well!’ Sabina giggled. She was sitting on the floor, Indian fashion. ‘You flog de okro soup out of her mout’. Nex’ time she mus’ know how to talk!’

Jagua said: ‘I goin’ now, Dennis. When you come to de house, I goin’ to tell you what de goldsmith say.’

She got out of the taxi, slid past the market that stank of decaying leaves and fish. Leaving the noise behind her, she entered the goldsmith’s shop, a dark alcove between a tailor and a barber. The goldsmith had been working for some time and now he got up as she entered. She produced the packet and handed it over, sitting in the musty office.