a picture showing moyo okediji poised for the camera

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Ten)

ByMoyo Okediji

Once Obaseki realized that Iya Ngu was busting him, and called him out that it was from him that the smell of marijuana was coming, for some inexplicable reason, his nervousness reduced. He smiled and said, “Madam, it is true. I just smoked a tiny joint.”

Obaseki’s sunken face took on a different appearance. I observed his face holistically the way Madam Ngu taught me to study the human face. On my first meeting with her, in the drawing class, she took a look at my drawing and she said, “Moyo, what am I going to do with you? You don’t know how to draw. Come, let’s go to my office. You are still young. I can mold you.”

a post showing Moyo OKediji art piece

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Nine)

ByMoyo Okediji

Madam Ngu finally cornered me in the buka.

If I had any inkling she was coming to that buka that fateful day, I would rather have starved than be found dead there. She had been looking for me for weeks. And I had been evading her. I was trying to break free of her influence and she was trying her very best to ensure that she stamped herself into my art, my being, my style of creating, and my idioms of expression. She had studied at the Royal College in London and was trying to make me a master draughtsman who painted in the European fashion. And I was a radical looking for a way to break out of the western mold of painting.

a picture showing moyo okediji with his legs crossed poised for the camera

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Eight)

ByMoyo Okediji

His jaw was clenched as Rufus advanced toward Obaseki. I realized that he was shutting off the reasoning valve and pressing on the throttle of turmoil within the engine of his brain. His sense, judgment, calculation and intelligence was at this point on vacation. The agents of automation were now in control of his anatomy. He was more machine than person, and his entire being was on remote control as Rufus began to press forward.

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Seven)

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Seven)

ByMoyo Okediji

Rufus froze when he saw Obaseki moving towards our table. His jawline tightened. The grotesque was unmasking. I understood the meaning of that facial reaction. When a cobra flattens its head and its neck while lifting up its body off the ground to the torso level, even a baby knows what that means. We had crossed the red zone. I immediately got up and picked up the tumbler in front of him before it became a scud missile. My movement also distracted him for a moment. This was the climactic moment that had been building up for a year.

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY,1981 (Part Six)

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY,1981 (Part Six)

ByMoyo Okediji

Rufus was almost done eating the plate of food abandoned by Obaseki, and was washing his hand, still chewing the last piece of the goat meat. Then to my amazement, we saw Obaseki as he returned, walking through the door, straight into the buka. He looked dazed, as if he was walking in his sleep. He hesitated briefly, before making directly for our table. Dede Mabiaku took one look at him, and said, “Dis man don shack very bad Igbo.” (“This man looks like he has been smoking pot.”)

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY 1981 (Part Five)

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY 1981 (Part Five)

ByMoyo Okediji

Obaseki, looked cornered. He certainly was not anticipating an encounter with me at the restaurant. His shrunken face looked collapsed with fatigue. The anxiety that he was feeling was palpable. His face began to twitch. It was bad enough when he saw me entering the restaurant. But the moment I informed him that Rufus was on his way to join us, his system could no longer handle the tension. He stood up. He patted his pockets.

“What is the matter?” I asked him. “Is everything fine?”

“Oh, I was-was-just checking my—my—my pocket. For my-my-my-house keys.”

“And is it in your pocket?”

a picture showing moyo okediji poised for the camera

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981, (Part Three)

ByMoyo Okediji

They took Obaseki to a native doctor in Benin, straight from the police cell.

I ran into him about six months later when he was released.

His condition had deteriorated remarkably. He looked gaunt and shrunk. He must have lost about fifty pounds, (and he weighed not less than 175lbs and stood at 6’ tall when he assaulted Steve). His face had dark blotches and rashes all over it, and he moved with a stoop that made him look much shorter, as he gingerly carried his tray of food from the counter to a table.

I knew that he saw me as I entered the Ekewan campus cafeteria. But he quickly averted his face, pretending that he didn’t notice me. I went to the food counter to place my order. I decided I would surprise him by joining him at his table once I got my food.