Ijeoma and Chioke part two.

Papa Edward:
Uneducated as he was, Papa Edward,was not only fiercely brilliant but also one of those men who could truly be described as self made.  At the age of thirteen he had left his home town of Awka, and had proceeded to Onitsha,with barely ten shillings in his pocket.   He had stayed with his cousin Alphonsus in a shed near the market.  They had toiled night and day,initially as truck pushers.  And eventually they had opened up thier own stall, selling tires for bicylcles, and later for cars.  To cut a long story short, now Papa Edawrd was the sole proprietor of Diamond Tires Inc, and hwas one of the sole distributors of tires to Uwani and Awkunanaw.  All the finesse he lacked in manners, he made up for with a heart of gold.   He was one of those truly naiive human beings who has never given up on the human condition; one of those rare people who one could not help but like him if one knew him.
  To the civil servants of Enugu, he may have been an embarrassment; but when back home in Awka, let the truth be told, there was no door that was not open to him.  Infact, his house rivalled the palace of the chief, and there was no function to which Edward, or rather Obi Okeke( as he was known basck home) was not invited to.  He belonged to Ndi Ozo.  He gracefully wore his red hat with feather on top, and waved his fan as they proceeded to satte functions.  All along beside him, there was Mama EWlisabeth, dressed in her off brown George wrapper embroidered with red and gold threads, with a matching purple head tie, and her gold slippers from India, covered with sequins and beads.   Mama Elisabeth was no fool either.  She had attended teacher training college in those old days, when many young ladies never learnt to read or write.  She had also been a beauty in her day.  She was, with the long lithe limbs that igbo men seem to prefer.  Her skin was fair, and her skin tone was even.  even at the end of middle age it was obvious that here was a lady who had commanded attention in her own day.
Beyond a question of a doubt, Mama Elisabeth had married beneath herself, in the sense that she was far better educated than her husband.  However, for someone whose sole motivation had been to marry the man with the fattest purse, she had done quite well.  She knew quite well, that the weaknesses of rich men are far better tolerated than the shortcomings of poor men.  True, Chief Obi Okeke spoke halting english;but when he was at home in the village speaking his native tongue of Igbo, he could weave the most elaborate of tales using all the requisite proverbs which to them signified a " cultured" man, well versed in the world.  No longer did he appear small in her eyes, but rather as a giant of literature, receiving the Nobel prize in Oslo, or as Mark Antony at his peech to the senate after the death of Ceasar.On those times, her chest puffed up with pride, and the sweat poured down her forehead in the sweltering heat.  The sweat turned to rivers running down the mountains of brownpowder on her cheeks.  She would then bring out her chinese fan, and fan herself with extreme vigor, as if by this action she could keep the pride from swelling any further in her chest.  Later on as the inevitable crowds pressed close to her husband to greet him, she walked with her head held up high.  They would then take the place of honour beside the other chiefs under the main canopy at the functions, prior to vanishing in a swirl of red dust as the traditional dancers made their way through the village square.  all pausing in front of the chief's booth to display their talents.  This was ofetn awarded with a hand ful of Naira notes pasted on the fore headws of the dancers as their feet twirled in the red sand to the beat of the drum.

Oke was calling his mother. " Mama, mama , Papa  n'akpo gi.", he was calling his mother to come in from the courtyard where she was sitting peacefully and enjoying the cool evening air.
She got up hastily , and instinctively straightened out her plain wrapper of ankara cloth, not having realised that her husband was home. " Let's go in and greet him", she answered as she put her arms around her teen age son's shoulder and they went in arm and arm together through the narrow hallway to the dining room.  There Chioke sat alone at the head of the table with his dinner already served though untouched.  He looked up to observe them enter the room together, and although his face seemed to be in displeasure he did not say anything to that effect, instead he smiled at his wife of fourteen years.  She spoke first, " Ndewo" she greeted him as she sat down on his left side at the table.
"Nno,o" she continued.
At this point he could hide his displeasure no longer, " Obero Nno ke fi cho?" he answered some what belligerently.  "Why must I send for you when I come back in the night?  I thought that a wife should be eager to meet her husband when he returns home?"
 To this she said nothing although in her thoughts she wondered why she should rush to see the face of a man who rarely, if ever any longer, gave her any pleasure.  Instead she said, " I was in the back Chioke, I did not hear you get in."
" Well," he said," Sit down and talk to me while I eat." At this point he nodded to Oke, as if requesting that he leave him alone with his wife, and Oke left without a word.  Once he was out of hearing shot he continued in his irritable tone, " Bye the way, I have told you many times that you are tryiny to teach this boy how to be a woman.  Why are you coming in here with him arm in arm? I've told you before, women hold hands, and men hold hands, but not a man and a woman" "Even if that boy is my son?" she asked.
"Ijeoma, Okechukwu is a man now and not a boy, and I want him to be a real man, but you seem to think that by pouring all this lavish affection on him and giving in to all his desires that this will be for his good."
" Chioke, I see nothing wrong with showing affection to my children>"
" All this tuff you learnt in school, dont forget where you came from".
It was the same argument night after night.  There was always something wrong and Ijeoma was beginning to question everything herself.  Even if there was nothing gone amiss, somehow Chioke would turn the tables on her, and create a wrong that must be righted.  He was far too harsh on his oldest son Oke, who was more like his mother than his father.  There was nothing aggressive about the boy at all; he was a shy soul, who rarely said much unless spoken to.  THis was in contradistinction to Chioke who was a mans man and an enemies enemy.  Whenever in the fathers presence, he would quiver, and the more he quivered, the more his father shouted at him  The meetings were inevitably a disaster.  The one fantasy that Oke had was that one day he would please his father although the possibility seemed even more remote by the day.  He was not the only one fantasising about pleasing Chioke.  It seemed as if the entire household was geared towards this one unaccomplishable feat of making the master of the house happy.  For Sunday the cook, it meant long hours in the kitchen trying to cook a variety of stews and soups, which always had to be ready when Oga came in.  Indeed, he could not be dismissed until Oga had come home and had eaten.  There were many evenings where he would not get off until after 11 pm, and then he would have to return at the crack of dawn.  For Nnamdi the steward, it meant spotless white shirts, and starched agbadas, all laid out ready to be worn in the morning.  The children lived in dread should their school grades go down but the greater part they were tacitly ignored by Chioke, except of course, Oke, the first born, who was generally singled out for the harshest treatment of all.