People of the City

‘You know that men are not allowed to stand about talking to girls in this store. You must be buying something or moving on. Unless you want me to be sacked?’

‘No, no!’ he said quickly, and went up into the restaurant above the store.

As he entered, Bayo pinched Sango and said: ‘Look! That’s Lajide, your former landlord. Let’s ask him. Perhaps he has seen Beatrice.’

‘Forget it,’ said Sango.

Neither of them could imagine the mental torture through which Lajide was passing. The girl was far too stubborn and independent. He was prepared to go any length to make money and yet more money, to consolidate his position with her. It was all strange to him, because he took it for granted that he was master where all women were concerned.

He did not get back home till late in the evening. He was tired. He had a wash, changed into a light cloth, and called Alikatu. She was his third wife. But it was Kekere, Lajide’s eighth wife, who came to say that Alikatu was not yet back from the market. She brought him a drink, and curtseying, offered it to him.

Lajide was bored. ‘Sit on my knee and amuse me,’ he told Kekere.

She was the youngest of them all, about eighteen, with very round eyes. He called her Kekere, which means ‘small’ because in position she was the most junior of them all. He never did this till he was in a playful mood or wanted some favour from her. Her soft fingers rested on his cheek.

‘Why have you been so angry lately? You have neglected all of us . . . Or are we going to be nine?’

‘Me? Angry? Nine! Ha, ha! . . .’

?

?Where are you going, Kekere?’ Lajide said, as she rose laughing from his knee.

‘To put on some music.’

‘Not too loud! The compound has been very quiet since that Sango left this place. I don’t want any noise. My head aches.’

She gave him a saucy look. ‘All right! But I’ll play my favourite record.’

He watched her bare shoulders. For a girl so young she looked very mature. Her bosom trembled beneath the cloth as she moved. He was excited by the soft freshness of her well-made body.

‘Is all right now. Come and sit here.’ He tapped his knee.

Beatrice would never obey such commands; and now even Kekere was being naughty. She bent forward and twisted her hips, dancing a wiggle dance to the music. Lajide watched the cloth, fearing it would soon drop off.

‘Stop that! I want to think! What’ll you say if a stranger enter here and see my wife with her cloth off?’

‘No one will come.’

She laughed and continued to tease him with her dance. He was discovering her for the first time. Did he really have a girl like this here, under his own roof and yet —

‘Come and sit here, Little One!’

‘I hear, my Lord!’ She moved, noiseless on her toes, and stood with hands behind her back. ‘I’m here.’

‘Is this madness?’

She laughed and sat on his knee. He held her close, imagining desperately that she could be Beatrice. He did not see the strangers enter.

Kekere whispered: ‘They want you.’

‘Who are they?’

‘I can see them: two men.’

Lajide had never seen them before, yet they called him by name. Instantly he was on his guard. He pinched Kekere. ‘Go into the bedroom. I’m coming . . .’

‘So you always say, and you won’t come to me. You’ll go outside to that woman.’