a post showing Moyo OKediji art piece

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Sixteen)

ByMoyo Okediji

“Hold it, hold it,” Obaseki said, “here come your people.” He gestured with his nose in the direction of a couple of flickering lights in the dense darkness.

“What is going on there,” I asked?

“That’s Joshua’s spot,” Obaseki said. “He just arrived. And he has company. Most probably Gina.”

I was drunk, anyway, so I asked for one more bottle of beer.

“We are out of ready-made snails,” our attendant explained. “We can make some for you by order. But I recommend you try our ram. There is no better ram in the world than ours.”

a post showing Moyo OKediji art piece

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Fourteen)

ByMoyo Okediji

“You still have a couple of drops in your cup,” Obaseki observed, leaning over. He held his cup to his lips and drained the last drop. “Drink up, Brother Mo, and I’ll take you to my mother’s joint. The beer is always bone-dead cold, I assure you. And you will always get any brand you want. Together with pepper-soup.”

Personally, I was done. All I wanted to do was go home and sleep off my intoxication. But I was all so confused. Somehow I wanted to know more about Gina and Joshua, and the only way I could keep in close contact with them was through Obaseki.

Artist: Dotun Popoola Title: Portrait of Moyo Okediji Medium: pen and ink on paper date; 2020

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Thirteen)

ByMoyo Okediji

As Rufus exited the buka, it was clear that Obaseki was disappointed.

With Madam Ngu and Prof. Wangboje present at the dining table, the circumstances for a total mediation of the crisis were perfect.

They would have just instructed Rufus to cut it, and that would have been the end. Obaseki could not have wished for a better opportunity.

But Rufus left to start his audition with his theater students without the discussion of the crisis coming up. One thing was certain: Rufus was mad and did not hide it.

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981 (Part Eleven)

ByMoyo Okediji

It’s much better now, but in those days, when I felt embarrassed, my nose would break out in beads of sweat. My nose was clammy, and I knew that my entire face would soon be covered in sweat.

Rufus laughed, saying, “You didn’t bring your handkerchief Moyo.” I didn’t know whether he was mocking me or being sympathetic. I shook my head.

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.”)