Tammy’s Belly(Samuel kolawole) Prologue

Tears made crooked stains on my face. I had snuffed in the unusual amount and felt good about it - I always felt good about it. The unusual amount was the right amount; it makes emotionless tears ramble down your cheeks like furious insects in search for crumbs and renders your face into puffs like clusters of small hills. It also makes you yearn for more.

I fished the snuffbox again from the pocket of my dungarees and slapped the shoe polish case in a ceremonious manner before opening the lid. Then with my right thumb I shoveled the content into each nostrils and snuffed as hard as I could-it had to go deep in, it had to replenish the furnace of my brain and engender fresh embers of euphoria. Tears dripped from the corner of my eyes tumbling waywardly till they crawled into my ears. I wiped my eyes with the back of my palms and ejected a jet of phlegm as pleasure seeped through my skull like ice cubes.

Having ensured that I was in the right condition to think, I began pouring over issues surrounding the party meeting. However, I did not think too long. The sound of beautiful singing flavored by skillful beats of drums hit me, waking me from the solitary isle of my thoughts. A moment later I beheld the approach of women in native clothes with beads wrapped around their waists and necklaces dangling on their beautifully slender necks. They drifted from side to side and swayed their beaded buttocks deliciously to the rhythm of the talking drums, their necklaces making jingling noises like belled cows. The drummers were old men; wrinkled face, gray tuffs of hair on their heads and toothless gums. But they were happy and masters in the art of controlling a woman’s backside with a curved stick.

They were making a familiar melody. They were telling it to the world that they loved me. In my country if they loved you they would roll out the drums. It was as simple as that.

I had thought in Braun village I would sit in the open air and everybody would mind their own business. But it was evident that for me, such a place did not exist. I began to have the idea that I could not run away from people who loved me. It was like a plague. Like my second skin.


* * *

1

I woke up in the morning of the party convention and walked straight to the backyard to throw water on my face and scrub my armpits. The water came with the right temperature, nice and warm. I loved village water; fresh and unchlorinated it caresses your skin like a woman’s touch. While I washed, I contemplated the plastic Rosary and ablution but since I was well nigh water I resolved to do it the Islamic way. Soon I had ranted the last Islamic petition and was putting on my khaki pants and shirt. The khaki wear reminded me of the days of the liberation army: the rallies, the fights, and the arrests. The press releases showing snapshots of offenders resembling prison inmates. We were rugged and impecunious. But we loved peace and represented the people. The people wanted a change and that was what we clamored and fought for. I, like many other crusader of the liberation army, had failed at almost everything else. It all started in Adubi’s a-penny-a-drink bar. We were always there only we hardly ordered for drinks and Adubi never complained. He was such a good old bear. We would hang out all day and lament bitterly about how the government had taken our jobs and ruined ours lives. One day someone got tired of talking. Soon everybody got tired too and we decided to act. We defended the rights of the people but soon forgot that human rights came with restriction; especially the ones placed by the powers that be. The government hunted us with guns and we became pariahs. Many crusaders became cowards. Some joined the enemy.

I was unshaken, solid as a rock in the angry ocean.

People loved me for that. They said I was the right person to lead them to the promised land. I became the man of the people.

The journey to Kebitei, the state capital, took two hours. I got to the party’s red brick building and entered through the glass door. The party members were already gathered. As I entered through the door they threw funny looks at me as though I was a clown or something. Those eyes said nothing and yet by their silence they spoke a multitude of words. Words I wasn’t sure of. In a place like this you weren’t sure of anything. I was led to a conspicuous row of chairs and sat down beside my fellow contestant. I bowed my head and squeezed my eyes closed as though they were my whole being; allowing the panic welling up inside me like dough to take full control. Hot icicles of sweat trickled down my spine and slipped into the valley between my buttocks. It was a moment of decision.


2

"2,000,000 Jeds will come from my organization. A million would be announced to the public," the speaker avowed. Tammy Aorede was his name; he was a wealthy businessman with an overwhelming belly so big he wore elastic pants, no belt. The huge plump rested on his laps like a sack of salt.

"Marvelous Tammy! Two million is marvelous!" Remi Jude, the party chairman said brightly.

"And the one million public release?" I asked tightly.

"Politics my boy, we are talking politics here" said Kute Daniels, the party’s secretary.

"The public can’t handle that amount", Fashi Llama, the PRO buttressed, "they’ll title it a waste".

"Isn’t that what it is?" I returned sharply. The room became quiet. Then Remi Jude spoke in soft, now-let-me-explain voice.

"The citizens of this country understand only one language and that’s money. With two million we don’t have to do much. We just spread the money and it’ll work for us like black magic".

He paused for a cigarette, then plowed ahead, dense smoke whirling around his lips.

"What will count at the day’s end is how many Chechangese you get to vote for you, who cares what they were motivated with. Got it?"

I did not reply. Kute Daniels spoke up.

"The payment plan is quite convenient if that’s what you’re worried about, the first million must be refunded within the first two years of office, with interest."

"What if I do not win the election?" I interrupted

"With two million Jeds in your laps you don’t have a choice, you might as well start planning how you would run your government" said Remi, scratching his rough chin absently.

"You should also be ready to accept Mr. Aorede’s men. You can be sure of their experience and capabilities" Kute broached.

"Men?" I inquired.

The chairman charted a perturbed look towards me, as a teacher would stare at a dimwit. Kute again spoke.

"Mr. Aorede would have the right to supply about thirty percent of your cabinets members as part of the agreement. You do not need to worry."

He said other things but I wasn’t attentive. I was blocked out as though prison doors were shut against me - fortified doors. Only my eyeballs were sensitive, they moved to and fro like a seaman’s telescope, scanning their faces like an alien straight from Mars.

I did not know them.

My gaze fell on Tammy’s belly. That odious outgrowth told a lot about him; turgid with substance from far and near... anywhere far, anywhere near, and yet unsatisfied. My mind flung open like floodgates, embracing more terrifying pictures; mendicants littering little streets like dirt; Young able bodied but unemployed men playing soccer with plastic balls and yelling furious curses at one another; old men praying for death and tender infants wishing they were never born; insecurity, economic breakdown, ethnic and political instability.

"Will someone put an end to all these! Will someone save the black continent?" I screamed inwardly and it seemed my mouth formed what my thought conceived.

"Mr. Majek, are you alright?" Tammy asked.

"Oh yes I’m sorry" I stammered and coughed delicately.

"Would you sign these please?" said the secretary, pushing the agreement papers to me.

After a moment of silence I said, "I don’t think so".

I walked out of the room and went home. I never came back again.


3

When I got home that day it was dark and power was unavailable so I had to make do with a hurricane lantern. I sat in partial darkness and clutched my head with my hand, wondering if it was going to explode. My head thudded like the wielding of a sledgehammer. The days happenings came to me; the election results, the party meeting ... Tammy’s belly. The scenes began playing before my eyes in a breakneck speed. The pictures flashed for a long while till my mind drew a complete blank and darkness enveloped my whole body like a mist. It was as though the stage curtain was drawn to signify the end of a performance…. I was glad the show was over.

Soon the morning sun came and chased the gloom away. I yawned and tossed out of bed. Someone knocked at my door. It was Gbemi Alabarius, a representative from the choice party, and they wanted me to be their presidential candidate. This time there was no financier. There was no finance. We carried placards and hitch hiked till the soles of our feet peeled like wallpaper. We slept in huge cartons like sick puppies, and ate what came our way, then later what did not come our way. It was pretty much like the days of the liberation lords: poor but pure. When the elections came, people trooped out and voted for us. They disappointed the money sprayers, threw their bills back at them like filthy rags. They wanted a change. They wanted true governance, void of corruption. It was victory for the choice party. It was victory for Philip Majek.


4

The time came for my first function as a president - my acceptance speech. I was to stand before a mammoth crowd in Tabasja Square and over a hundred thousand viewers through the media. Almost every citizen would be watching. I waited in the dressing room, feeling good about myself and marveling at how far I had gone as I plucked the tips of my beard.

"We are set, your Excellency" a guard poked his head through the door.

"Coming please" I replied, smoothened my hair then admired my influential self for the last time.

I stepped out of the door and was escorted by grim looking federal guards to the square. The intimidating crowd hailed as I came out into the open. I positioned myself behind a battery of microphones then murmured a ‘thank you’ to show them I was ready for the speech but the noise continued. The excited crowd yelled and screamed my name. I became elated. I stretched forth my arms and closed my eyes as though embracing them... as though loving them for loving me.

They confused me.

President! Chairman! Counselor! King!

The cacophony of noise troubled the insides of my skull.

Maybe I was all.... maybe I was none.

Hands grabbed me. I looked over my shoulders.

I blacked out.


* * *


Epilogue

I woke up with headache, sore throat and ache everywhere. I blinked for a little while then focused on the ceiling. I counted the number of squares on the white ceiling - forty nine, seven across seven down.

White squares.

I pushed my head up and shot my eyeballs around like a surveillance camera, still nothing clicked: no meaningful message from my brain, just prosaic signaling which only made me aware of my environment without gravely thinking about it. I dragged my body out of bed and took slow and short strides towards the door and pushed it open. Behind, was a short narrow passage lined with 100 watt bulbs. I walked absently through the passage and emerged into a beautifully decorated room with nice settees, where I sat down to rest my bones and wonder where in God’s name I was. How did I get here? I thought.

I looked around and picked up an old newspaper. The caption on the bottom corner caught my fancy. LUNATIC ARRESTED: FOUND NAKED IN GOVERNMENT SQUARE. The poor soul was known to have lived a promising young life till he lost everything to frustration, and was left with no choice but to loose his mind. His name was Philip Majek! …My name. Well, what a coincidence, I said to myself.

A short time later, a little lady in a blue nurse dress approached me.

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