When Obiefuna's father witnesses an intimate moment between his teenage son and the family's apprentice, newly arrived from the nearby village, he banishes Obiefuna to a Christian boarding school. Surrounded by unknown faces that soon become friends, lovers and enemies, Obiefuna finds and hides who he truly is, while his mother Uzoamaka grapples to hold onto her favourite son, her truest friend. When he leaves school as a young man, Nigeria criminalizes same-sex relationships – and Obiefuna's life, or the life he wants to live, becomes even harder to envision – out of reach in a way that is more dangerous and tangible than before.
1.
Port Harcourt, 2006
In October, he came. His arrival was without forewarning, without ceremony. A slight rap on the door that mild evening, just as the sun was making a final appearance before retiring, and there he was, in his bathroom slippers, hefting a GHANA MUST GO sack on his shoulders, next to Obiefuna’s father, Anozie, both looking weary from the long travel. When Anozie had talked about getting an extra hand to assist in the shop, Obiefuna had not known what to expect, but, somehow, it was not the tall figure who now stood hugging his bag to his chest, a slight downturn to his lips as he stared at his dusty feet. He towered a foot above Obiefuna’s notably tall father, but it was the even darkness of the boy’s skin that made Obiefuna’s eyes linger on him a while longer when he opened the door to let them in. The boy seemed undecided whether to follow Anozie inside or turn and head back the way he had come. He stepped in after a moment’s hesitation, tactfully shrugging off Obiefuna’s attempt to help him with his load.
‘Welcome, Daddy,’ Obiefuna said, still not taking his eyes off the boy.
Anozie grunted a response. ‘Where’s your mother?’ he asked, settling on the sofa with an exaggerated heave. The journey from their hometown of Igbo Ukwu lasted no less than six hours on average and had the ability to leave a person feeling thoroughly incapacitated.
As if on cue, Obiefuna’s mother, Uzoamaka, emerged from the kitchen. She halted at the dining room and looked straight at the new boy, sitting with his head slightly bowed on a stool opposite Anozie. She took note of his bags and the situation in one appraising glance. ‘Welcome,’ she said to Anozie, and nodded in response to the boy’s prompted greetings.
‘Get me a cup of water,’ Anozie told Obiefuna. He avoided Uzoamaka’s eye. Exactly a week ago he had travelled to Igbo Ukwu to attend the town’s union development meeting in his capacity as the assistant secretary, and was not expected home until tomorrow, and certainly not with an extra. He waited until Obiefuna returned with a glass of water and he had drunk from it, setting the glass on the table, before turning to face Uzoamaka.
“Taking note of Obiefuna’s confusion, made a slight squatting posture. It took Obiefuna a moment to understand.”
‘This is Aboy. Remember him? The late Okezie’s third son. He’s just finished secondary school and wants to learn a trade. His uncle followed me home after the meeting and begged me to take him in. Everyone thinks he will learn fast.’
Uzoamaka looked across the room to assess Aboy again. He sat with his legs slightly spread apart, crossed at the ankles in front of him, encircling his bags protectively. He pulled them towards him as Uzoamaka studied him. The crinkling of the sack filled the quiet of the living room.
‘Obiefuna, show Aboy where to keep his things,’ Uzoamaka said, finally, in English.
Aboy looked startled to hear his name, but he rose from the stool and walked down the short length of the living room, following Obiefuna through the corridor and into the small bedroom he shared with his brother, Ekene. There Aboy finally let go of the sack, watching as Obiefuna put it away in the wardrobe. Obiefuna turned to Aboy because he had said something.
‘What?’
‘Where’s the latrine?’ he repeated, in Igbo.
‘Latrine?’
He nodded and, taking note of Obiefuna’s confusion, made a slight squatting posture. It took Obiefuna a moment to understand. ‘Oh, you mean the toilet?’ he asked.
Aboy hesitated, and then nodded again.
‘Come with me,’ Obiefuna said. He led Aboy out of the room, back into the corridor, and pointed to the door of the toilet at the far end. Aboy walked with uncertain movements to the door and prised it open with a cautious push. Obiefuna wondered how long he had been waiting to go. Had he endured the long journey from the village with full bowels? Aboy inspected the bathroom with a perplexed expression that prompted Obiefuna to step into the toilet and tap at the water system, proceeding in halting Igbo, ‘This is where you’ll sit and do it. And then flush with a bucket of water. Understood?’
Aboy seemed to give it a moment’s thought, and then he nodded. He turned to Obiefuna with what Obiefuna would regard in retrospect as his first full smile since his arrival.
Extracted from Blessing by Chukwuebuka Ibeh, out now.
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