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ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Twenty)
Josephine came out of Rufus’s room and sat next to him.
“I didn’t know you were around,” I told her.
“I came out when I heard your voice,” she said.
“You must have been pretty scared when the guys who took Papa Ru’s things came,” I said to her.
“No,” Josephine responded. “I came in about thirty minutes ago. I missed everything. My friend at the school of nursing didn’t come to class today, so I went to find out what happened to her. Turns out she is sick.”
Woman: Ọmọ Ọlọ́mọ
Woman: Ọmọ Ọlọ́mọ
Iya Oyo had a woven basket full of unshelled melon seeds on one side, and on the other side, she had a bowl into which she dropped the shelled melons, as she worked rapidly, automatically, her fingers moving so rapidly they formed a blur if you pay attention to them.
They came to see the Akodi Orisa.
These kids appeared from nowhere.
They came to see the Akodi Orisa, they said.
“We know absolutely nothing about the Orisa. Do you kill people and use their blood for money.”
They wanted to learn about the Orisa from Baba Olorisa.
ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981
As soon as we drove to the front of the house, we knew something was wrong. There was a crowd of nearly twenty people waiting for us.
“Mr. Rufus, good thing you are back,” said a neighbor stepping forward from the crowd. “Nobody knows what the problem was, but we had to break down the door to your house….”
Before he could complete his story, Josephine, ran to the Mitsubishi bus, breathless, “Papa Ru. That your friend almost killed Steve! I ran out to call the neighbors, but when I went out, he jammed the door. They had to force the lock to free Steve from him!”
THE RETURN (Part one)
His ordeal began with a brief phone call.
“Hallo? Hallo? Honorable! Are you there? Your mother. She was stolen from her house.”
A sharp pain pinched him in the middle of the chest and traveled slowly down to the bottom of his stomach.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” he thought.
For the past week he had been nursing an ominous feeling that something beyond his control was going to happen. Somehow his mind kept going to his mother.
He was thinking of driving to the village this weekend to visit her.
“Hallo? Hallo? Are you still there?” the voice asked again.
When I arrived…
When I arrived the United States in 1992 to start a doctorate at UW, Madison, I had only $98 in my pocket.
My professor, Henry Drewal, quickly came to my assistance. He immediately paid my school fees for the first semester, and gave me $1,000 in cash to start me off. Then he provided me with free accommodation in the posh part of town for the first year of my studies, while I found my feet.
