Against the Odds. Ben Igwe
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ran out of a burning house instead of focusing on putting out the fire, as his people would say.
Once he was fairly comfortable, or rather had adjusted to the discomfort of his narrow economy seat, Jamike kicked off his shoes and stretched his legs under the seat in front of him. Now and then he would try to sleep, but whenever there was a noticeable turbulence of the aircraft, he would open his eyes to check on the reaction of other passengers. Since the pilot informed them that the flight to New York was across the Atlantic Ocean, Jamike had focused some thought on that. He did not know how to swim. What would happen if the plane fell into the ocean? If any such thing happened, he thought, that would be the end of him, and as an only son their household and lineage would permanently come to an end after his mother passed away.
Jamike’s other thoughts were of the village and the people he had known, and the village square that was the center of his childhood and adolescent life. When would he be able to see all that again? What would his mother be feeling that night and in the days to come? She must have been lost in thought of him. But Jamike was glad the headmaster would check on her the following morning. What of the old village church where he sometimes taught catechisms to small children? What of Oriaku, the old blacksmith, for whom he used to fire the mud furnace when he was a youngster? Again, he thought about his inability to swim as they were crossing the Atlantic; he remembered that knowing how to swim might not be helpful to even the best of swimmers, because they would not know where to swim to in the vastness of an ocean with no horizon in sight. These and other thoughts interfered with his attempt to sleep. He kept awake and reminisced.
As he relaxed, Jamike reminisced about the farewell party that the villagers gave him in the church hall. The remarks made by the elders contained a litany of what Jamike should do and should not do when he gets to America. As the elders spoke, Jamike’s mother lapsed deep in thought, both palms holding her chin, a favorite position when in thought, her facial expression wavering between sadness and joy.
Ikonne, an elder, who spoke at the reception, told Jamike never to forget his origin, village, or his country. There were many good things, they heard, that were sweet in America. He should not allow himself to be deceived by such things. A second elder told Jamike that they had heard that American women were very beautiful, their skin so shiny it reflected the image of the beholder. “So are our own women, too, if you look carefully and closely,” he told him. “Remember, if you say your mother’s soup is not good enough, people will believe you and help you spread the word.” He continued:
“Do not go there to marry a foreign woman. I say to you, look around this hall. Apart from the young ladies here who are related to you, there is no type of woman you will not find among them and in all Aludo. Big ones are here, so are small ones. Tall women are here, so are short ones. There is no shape you will not find. As you see them here, so will you find them in all the villages from which we marry. Just point to the one, and we will marry her for you before you come back. Or if you want, we can send her over there. You know, if you marry a wife from there your mother will die of heartache before you bring her home. American people have a language we cannot speak or understand. If you marry one of them, you have to bring Uridiya to America to learn the language too.” There was plenty of laughter.
As these remarks were being made, Uridiya murmured a few sentences to the effect that if her son would want to cause her death, he could go ahead and marry a foreign woman. One of the oldest men in the village stood up to speak. The hall was now rowdy but he was not going to allow that to deter him. He kept standing with his walking stick in hand, waiting for the noise to die down. That did not happen until the headmaster stood up and clapped his hands many times to get their attention.
Raising his wine cup made from a cow’s horn, the old man invoked the spirits of the ancestors in a libation. He implored the spirits to share in the food and drink. He committed Jamike to their hands, asking them to protect and guide him as he set forth on a journey that was just a dream to the villagers. Since this had not happened to them before, it might be for the good of the village. To everyone’s surprise the old man added, “Everybody has given you all kinds of advice. I am sure your ears are full by now. They have all told you not to marry an American woman. But I tell you the opposite. If they are human beings like us here, nothing stops you from marrying one of them if the two of you agree. If we cannot hear what your wife says, maybe she will teach us.”
He joked that by the time Jamike would return to his fatherland, he too could be talking like American people, and they all might need an interpreter to understand him He turned to Jamike’s mother and told her,
“If your son comes back with an American woman and you do not know what to do with your daughter-in-law, you can send her over to me. My wife has been long dead as everyone in this village knows,” he said, “I think an American woman could prolong my life, and those waiting for my death would have to wait longer or even die before me.” Continuing, he added,
“There are many things a white woman can help me to do. She can stoke the fire so I can keep warm at night. I can teach her how to rub my aching back. I don’t have to speak her language to do that. She too can teach me the rascality men and women engage in these days. I am not too old to learn that. I know some of you are expecting my funeral, but I tell you, I am not dying yet, not if you give me a woman from the white man’s land to take care of me.” He sat down and the hall broke loose with mirth!
Jamike was about to respond to the advice given to him, when the traditional head of the town arrived. He greeted all the people in the traditional way with his wide leather fan adorned with peacock feathers. Once he sat down and was recognized, Chief Ekele made his remarks.
“I greet all who came to this happy occasion. We are glad that Jamike has passed all the examinations required to go overseas to study. Your son, Jamike, has done what no one expected. We thank him and advise him that the road that has been opened for him should not be closed. He should not close it for others as some people would do, but instead he should keep it open. America is not for one person, and we will like for others to go there too. As our custom goes, the Chief’s council will meet to set a date to prohibit everyone from harvesting their palm trees. This prohibition will last for eight weeks.” He continued,
“After this period, the village will harvest them communally, and money realized from the sale we will send the sum of one hundred pounds sterling to Jamike.” Then he asked them, “Is this our custom or not?” The villagers answered that it was their custom. He continued, “I believe we have done this for one or two of our sons studying in our country. We now have to pray for good harvest. Anyway, I know that those making it possible for Jamike to go to America will see that he completes his education. Going to America is not a play matter for a mother and her child, as we say. Carry on and enjoy the merriment, as I have to leave because I came out in the middle of a meeting to be here. You know that the absence of the Chief from this type of occasion would be misunderstood.”
Chief Ekele left the hall without eating or drinking. When Jamike began to speak he thanked the chief who had already left, for his presence and kind words. He said that he has heard all their advice and remarked that he would only pray to God to hear their prayers for him. He told them he would not forget where he came from and he would not eat up everything presented to him in America. He would surely save and bring back some to them, as only a sensible child would do. Whatever achievement he would make in America would not be for him but for them.
Then he added that as the elders said, “When a child picks a snail in the bush, it belongs to the child, but when he gets home, the snail belongs to the village. Marrying or not marrying an American or foreign wife is not the reason I am going to America. I recognize that my primary mission is to receive an education, and that is what I am going to face when I get there.”
Recollections of his send-off party in the church hall that Sunday afternoon came back to Jamike vividly as he sat in the plane. He thought of his mother and prayed that God would keep her until he returned. Jamike looked at his watch, a gift from Mr. Ahamba and his wife, Asamuka. The headmaster was around to comfort and encourage Uridiya the morning after Jamike left for a place she referred to as “white man’s land,” where Uridiya already said neither her hand nor her voice could reach any longer. To the villagers, anywhere overseas was