Thursday 13 June 2013

At The Edge

*CHAPTER 1*

Ladipo stood outside with two porters in their blue uniform close behind him. His gold-rimmed sunglasses hung precariously from the high cheek bones he inherited from his Igbo mother, and threatened to fall off at any moment. The Tommy Hilfiger button-down he wore was now adhesed to his tall built frame by a layer of sweat. The first thing that hit him every time he returned to Nigeria was always the sweltering heat; even at six in the evening, when the sun had started to recede to it's home beyond the horizon. He glanced down at his watch - a minimal rose-gold Omega piece - clearly flustered. The wait for his luggage had annoyed him enough but this was becoming ridiculous. He looked up in time to catch his father's tiny driver approaching the crowded waiting area.

"AMINU!!", he beamed, more excited by the prospect of going home than the actual sight of the wiry man.  Aminu flashed a brief yellowed smile back and motioned towards the car park. Ladipo stepped off the sidewalk and mimiced the gesture to the airport porters. The little convoy snaked it's way through the various vendors littered around the car park for a few minutes, finally stopping behind a sleek black Mercedes G550 with government licence plates. The three men struggled with fitting the four Louis Vuitton trunks in the confusingly small car boot while Ladipo made himself at home on the custom leather upholstered back seats. The boot slammed shut behind him and he threw a couple of scrunched-up thousand-naira notes out of the window; a more than generous tip, he thought. From his perch, he could barely see Aminu as the car pulled out and headed towards the exit. He pulled on his shades and drifted off, watching the control tower shrink into the distance.

***

The high-pitched ruckus of Aminu's Nokia jolted Ladipo from his sleep. They were stuck in stagnant traffic on the bridge that joined the Mainland and Island regions of Lagos. The sun was nowhere to be found and the dark tint of the windows dimmed the evening to night inside the car. Lights from the billboards reflected dully on the calm water's surface, reminding all who cared that Coca-Cola was the preferred soft drink of the people.

" 'Ello?", Aminu answered via a tiny bluetooth headset he had on. His English was so heavily laced with the indigenous Yoruba intonation that it was difficult at times to tell which of the languages he was speaking.

"Yezz ma. Hi haff peek 'im". Yes ma, I've picked him. Ladipo chuckled to himself as he watched Aminu gesticulate with one hand as he spoke. One would think the person on the other end of the line could see him. They crawled forward slowly, the traffic progressing slower than a family of snails. Ladipo watched ominous grey clouds gather in the violet sky. The celestial meeting could only mean that Lagos was to expect a heavy shower tonight. Ah, how he missed the torrential downpours and the calm they brought with them.

" 'Eez for you sah". It's for you sir, Aminu said handing him the phone. He knew only one person who would talk to him through Aminu instead of calling his phone directly.

"Mummaaay", he answered, feigning excitement. He hadn't truly been pleased to see the woman since he was weaned off her breast-milk roughly 20 years ago. Since then he had simple managed. He was also a very deceptive actor. she had brought it upon herself though. Over the years he had figured out that her presence somehow ended up dampening his spirits. And his father's as well. He chuckled at the thought.

***

I felt like I was floating around the house, gliding up and down the italian marble stairs making sure everything was prim and perfect for my baby's arrival. I swirled into the kitchen, the bell of my lilac dress wrapping in soft petals around my ankles. There was nothing Junior could possibly want to eat that was not available at the moment. The kitchen shone with modern gadgets, sleek black and chrome surfaces greeting me at every turn. I studied my reflection in the fridge door and smiled. Of course I had touched up my face! I was a mother of three but it didn't mean I had to look it.

The sound of the car horn tore me away from my reflection and sent me dashing into the spacious living room. The horn blared twice more before Musa, the gateman, must have finally opened it. I heard the tell-tale sounds of the tyres riding over the crushed gravel of the car shelter out in front. Anticipation bubbled in me.

***

Ladipo woke up again as Aminu pulled into Park View, a high-end exclusive residential estate usually home to the more affluent members of society. Large flamboyant houses were the order of the day, arranged sparsely in short drives and closes. Aminu could navigate the maze of the estate with such uncanny ease and usually took different routes to the house seemingly for the fun of it. He pulled the steering wheel hard to the right and Ladipo found them in front of the eight-foot high ornamented wrought-iron gate that hid his house -well, some of it- from the public eye. Musa must have been sleeping the gate hadn't slid open in front of them. Ladipo threw himself forward and jammed his palm into the horn. Three long honks later, the gate peeled away noiselessly and the car turned in, slotting in between a metallic black Bentley coupĂ© and a massive black Armada with an intimidating front grille.  Ladipo stepped out onto the gravel and stretched. Home sweet home. Musa and Aminu heaved the boxes through the bulletproof oak door.

Before Ladipo could cross the threshold onto the panelled wood hallways of the ante room, his mother had seized him - well his waist - in her arms.