A Short Story
The elopement
by Rosaline Nwagboso
For the tenth time that night, Grace glanced at the table clock beside her bed. The silver hands of the clock showed 5.30 am although she knew that she had deliberately turned the clock some thirty minutes ahead the night before. Swiftly, she slipped out of bed and noiselessly pulled a bucket of water which she had hidden under her bed the previous night and carried it to the bathroom.
When she tip-toed back into the room a short while afterwards, her mother, who shared the room with her, called out drowsily:
"Is that you, Gracie?"
Grace froze in mid-step for a brief moment. Then quickly regained her composure. "Of course, it's me. Who else?" she replied in her typical carefree manner. Her mother opened her eyes slowly and blinked at the dull early morning light that had begun to creep into the room. She could make out the outline of her seventeen year old daughter standing against the door.
"Well, what are you standing there for?"
"I have just had a bath and I'm preparing for school." Grace replied.
"At this time?"
"Yes."
Yawning and rolling over and facing the wall, Grace's mother said resignedly, "I haven't heard the second cock crow."
Grace took a deep breath of relief and said to her mother's back: "Your cocks have over-slept this morning."
"Don't be ridiculous." retorted her mother.
In a moment, Grace was dressed in her school uniform. She had left everything she needed handy in order not to have to light the lamp. As always she tried to scatter things about in the room. Her night dress lay carelessly on the bed; her towel hung on the bed railing; and her slippers were scattered on the floor.
Before long she was ready to leave with her school bag hung on her shoulder. Then suddenly her mother said:
"Gracie, I still think you are early."
"Damn!" muttered Grace under her breath. Desperate though she was, she knew she had to sound as casual as she could manage so as not to arouse her mother's suspicion. She was also grateful that there was no light in the room or her mother would have noticed the sweat on her forehead. Since her engagement to Chief Beke, her mother's keen eyes had been on her and followed her about, and noted her every move and expression.
However, she knew her mother well and knew just what to do. She began, sounding irritated:
"Now mother, don't let's start again. You remember last week Friday when it was the turn of my class to do the morning duty? Well I missed it because of your nagging, and I had to stay behind to do my bit while others were gone. As you know, today is Friday again and I have no intention of missing morning duty and walking three miles back from college all by myself. Surely you don't want me to risk going through that dangerous path between those twin villages, Unuodu and Unuosi and…”
"All right, all right, Gracie. Let me catch some sleep. Oh God, the way you rattle! I only hope you won't be like this to Chief Beke. He is a decent and very busy man and deserves an understanding wife."
"He's got two already." Grace snapped.
"They don't suit him; they are both illiterate. Don't forget that Chief Beke is going to campaign for Parliament and he needs just the right wife."
"Why does he not divorce them if they don't suit him?"
"Watch your tongue, my girl. It is not customary. Besides, his mother married them for him. Now he wants to marry a woman of his choice." Her mother told her firmly.
"Mother," Grace said impatiently, glancing at the table clock that was then striking six o'clock, and tilted her head to one side in a girlish arrogant way, "are we talking about the same Beke who was born and raised in an old rundown thatched house near the mission; whose mother almost scrounged to see him through elementary school; who was lucky enough to land a job as a messenger at the Bank; and who suddenly became a rich man after one year of service? Are we talking about the same man?"
"Listen, my child, People make money in different ways and that's none of your business. Beke is a nice man and very influential too. What more can a girl ask for? Your friends will do anything to be in your position. You are the talk of all nine villages. Everybody keeps telling me how lucky I am. Think of all the expensive dresses he has been buying you lately. Not to talk about his promise to bring running tap water into our compound and rebuild our house. Do you know what your wedding present will be? I promised to keep it secret. You'd be surprised my girl. You are a very lucky girl, and you will make me a proud mother."
"Wife Number Three" Grace said almost absent-mindedly. In a desperate attempt to end the unwelcome conversation she looked around nervously and then said abruptly:
"I want yam porridge for lunch."
"What?"
"Nothing. I'm off."
"Be sure you're back in time.'
Casually, Grace walked out. As soon as she was out of the premises, she raced as fast as she could towards the opposite direction, leading to the village square.
In the square meanwhile, Ejike standing beside his bicycle knew that he had been waiting far longer than had been planned. Impatiently he looked at the sky and frowned at the fast approaching daylight, wondering if Grace had changed her mind.
But suddenly, Grace appeared with a small bundle containing a few clothes. Ejike hurriedly mounted his bicycle and waited while Grace breathlessly clambered onto the back carriage.
Ejike then made off towards the railway station. They arrived at ally station in less than the time it normally takes. Ejike then wandered off in search of Mrs Oti, their final contact, while Grace remained under the shadows of the trees.
Ejike's deep-set eyes screened the crowd at the station until he located Mrs Oti.
"Good Lord," exclaimed Mrs Oti. "What kept you?"
"Her mother delayed her," replied Ejike.
If the train hadn't been late, all would have been in vain." Mrs Oti said.
"I was afraid so," Ejike confirmed, as he handed her the bundle that Grace had brought.
"Where is she?" asked Mrs Oti.
"Just around. We can't risk anyone seeing her." Ejike told her.
"That's right. Anyway, you know what to do." said Mrs Oti, sounding relieved.
Ejike wandered off.
Sitting opposite each other in the express north-bound train some thirty minutes later were Mrs Oti and Grace.
The older lady looked at Grace and smiled. The train had gathered speed and was racing through the clusters of palm trees that lined the rail track. Grace smiled back nervously.
But her thoughts were in a whirl. She thought about Beke and shuddered at the man her mother had wanted for a son-in-law. Beke was older than her mother, not to talk about his revolting bulky figure, with swollen eyes to match. All people saw in Beke were his gold chains, gold rings, and gold buttons that lined his purple traditional outfits. Grace saw much more. She thought that he was disgusting.
Her wandering thoughts strayed to the recent past, remembering how she had danced to her mother's tune; how she had to sit and listen to Beke's mirthless jokes and roaring laughter, not to talk of his offensive habits..
"He is rich," everybody had chorused.
"Money is everything", they said. Every talk in the village, every behaviour seemed to carry the same hidden message. Grace should be railroaded towards Beke's mansion. Grace herself is not important. She was just like a commodity, and everyone even children, could negotiate around her.
She also wondered if she had left any trails. She couldn't bear the thought of her mother discovering her elopement before she was ready. She also hoped that Ejike's involvement would remain secret for his sake, because she knew the extent her mother would go to seek reprisal, what would it be to her if her mother sought the help of Beke...
Her thoughts drifted to Ike and a thrill of joy ran through her. To think that by the next day she would be with her only true love with nothing between them, was sheer bliss. She had last seen Ike two years before and had missed him. She thought of people like Mrs Oti who had risked this venture of true love for her brother-in-law's sake and couldn't find words to thank her. She was surprised that such gallant people existed.
Grace thought, sitting opposite Mrs Oti, Wish I were around to see the faces of my village people, listen to their market square gossip, their disappointment at having missed the feast Beke had promised them on "our" wedding day. If I knew my people well, some must have taken laxatives to purify their systems in readiness for the big feast... just one week away. How amusing it would have been to watch them wailing and cursing for failing to drag yet another lamb to the slaughterhouse.
Whatever the case, thought Grace, I am northbound and I feel like shouting from the rooftops and letting the world know that Ike is only a few hours away.
