Stars of the New Curfew Read online

  Passing a shop that sold imitation ancestral carvings, Ede remembered something strange Maria had said: that a man in the office had sworn to make her his woman, even if it meant using sorcery. Suddenly, as if the confusions of the city were making him hallucinate, he began to see Maria everywhere. He caught her face fleetingly on the faces of old women. He saw her in the eyes of women flashing by on the backs of motorcycles. He thought he saw her from behind, her head and shoulders disappearing into the marketplace.

  He went down several crossroads, jumped over gutters to avoid the indifferent truck-pushers, and caught flies in his ears as he listened to the music from the numerous record shops. It occurred to him that when chaos is the god of an era, clamorous music is the deity’s chief instrument. He didn’t fully understand the thought, but it illuminated why he felt drawn to music that had clear, burning melodic lines like forces of nature. He remembered the last time he went to the beach with Maria.

  ‘Even our seas have gone mad,’ she said, referring to the items of sacrifice that had been washed up on the beach like rejected prayers.

  ‘These are new times,’ Ede remembered saying. ‘We need new skins to cope. New songs.’

  ‘We need new nervous systems,’ she had added, laughing.

  He heard her laughter through the window. As he hurried on to her room he found his anticipation not only intact, but multiplied by all the obstacles. A wondrous feeling kindled in him at the sound of her. He knocked. A man he had never seen before opened the door.

  ‘Yes, who are you looking for?’

  Ede peered into the room. A group of old men and women stood round the bed.

  ‘Maria. Is she in?’

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes, you.’

  The man who had opened the door was cross-eyed and his face was covered in a complicated net of wrinkles.

  ‘My name is Ede …’

  Then Maria, in a weak voice, called him in. Ede walked into a sorrowful atmosphere. He stood with the people gathered round the bed. Maria, her face paler than ever, was covered up to her neck with a white cloth. She had a red head-tie on. Her eyes were feverish. She looked unbearably lean, her features had arrowed, her eyes were larger. There were the smells of carbolic, incense, and animal sacrifice in the room. The old women kept touching her and mumbling prayers under their breath. The old men looked on with inexplicable sadness in their eyes. A beautiful little girl sat on the bed beside Maria. She had been crying. Maria’s eyes kept shutting slowly and opening suddenly. When it looked as if she had fallen asleep the people gathered round her began to leave. The mother of the little girl had to carry her away because she didn’t want to leave Maria. Ede could still hear the little girl crying outside. The seven candles fluttered in a corner of the room. Soon Ede was the only person left. He sat down on the bed. Maria opened her eyes wide and said:

  ‘I have been thinking about you.’

  Then she shut her eyes again.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘What do you mean? Something’s wrong.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  There were several bottles of medicine on the table beside her bed. Around the room, as if a herbalist had visited, there were basins of herbal waters with barks and leaves floating in them. There were jujus on all four walls and there was another one on the awning above the door. He had never seen them in Maria’s room before.

  ‘I am ashamed and sorry about the way I behaved the last time I saw you.’

  The kerosene lamp gave off black smoke. Grotesque shadows stalked the room. Mosquitoes whined. It was hot and stuffy, but Maria did not sweat.

  ‘This mad city has been throwing obstacles in my path, delaying me from reaching you. It took me more than three hours to get here. But how are you, my sweet Maria?’

  ‘I’ve been looking death in the face,’ she said.

  ‘What’s been wrong?’

  ‘No one knows. My uncle, the herbalist, thinks I was poisoned or bitten by a snake.’

  ‘A snake? Come on!’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve been feeling faint. I passed out for two days. I haven’t been able to eat, to walk, or do anything. This is the first day I’ve been able to talk to anyone.’

  ‘Take it easy,’ he said, touching her forehead. He felt the boiling heat of her skin.

  ‘They finally sacked me at the office,’ she continued. ‘I got the letter yesterday, a week after it had been sent. Where have you been all this time?’

  ‘I have been very stupid. I deserve to be punished. I have missed you so much. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Save your sorrow for yourself,’ she said, her face brightening. ‘I’ve been throwing up at least twice a day. My head feels like a wizard’s drum. What can I do with your sorrow? I might have died while you stayed away.’

  ‘Look, don’t be too hard on me.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You don’t know how much I’ve suffered getting here today.’

  ‘So what? I make that journey every day. Every single day. On my way back from work. You’re not the only one who suffers, you know.’

  Ede looked at her lean face, her shining eyes, and a sudden feeling made him start to cry. She did not hold him or console him. She watched him with bright, pitiless eyes. When he managed to pull himself together he asked:

  ‘How are you feeling now?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘I mean really.’

  ‘I’m really fine.’

  She had addressed him like a stranger. There was no special affection in her voice. He stared at her. She stared at the ceiling.

  ‘I dreamt that you had died,’ he said.

  She shivered.

  ‘I haven’t yet.’

  ‘I took it to mean that you had stopped loving me.’

  ‘You never know.’

  ‘Have you?’

  She shut her eyes. They were silent. Then she said:

  ‘I dreamt that market-women stoned you to death.’

  ‘Don’t say such things.’

  ‘And in the dream I had to die for both of us to come back to life.’

  ‘You’re frightening me.’

  She looked at him as if she had never seen him before.

  ‘Are you strong enough to walk?’ he asked, changing the subject.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s hot in here. Let’s go for some fresh air.’

  ‘Have you got a basin?’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘To catch it in.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  He watched her for a long moment. Then he drew closer to her. She smiled.

  ‘So long as you don’t mind getting what I’ve got.’

  ‘Come on, Maria.’

  He kissed her passionately. She did not respond. Her lips were warm. She shivered again and pushed him away.

  ‘I thought I would never see you again.’

  ‘Impossible.’

  ‘It’s only when you want something that I see you anyway.’

  ‘You’re wrong,’ he said, feeling transparent and ashamed.

  ‘Do you want something to drink?’

  ‘No thanks.’

  ‘I’m a bad host today.’

  ‘Don’t worry.’

  ‘In one of my dreams a goat spoke to me with your voice.’

  He looked at her, baffled.

  ‘In another dream you sat in a dark room, singing. No one was listening to you except me.’

  He sighed.

  ‘Have you written any new songs?’

  He wanted to tell her of the song he intended to write in praise of her, but he decided to keep it a secret.

  ‘Yes. I’m writing a song about a burning tree,’ he lied.

  After he had said it he realized that it was a good idea.

  ‘So what about a burning tree?’

  ‘They burnt one near our house.’

  ‘The city is burning.’<
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  ‘You should have seen the tree.’

  ‘You should have seen what I saw.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s nothing.’

  He kissed her again.

  ‘Let’s go out,’ he said.

  ‘I can’t go far.’

  ‘Let’s go for a short walk.’

  While she considered it, he swept the covering off her. She was half-naked underneath. Her stomach had shrunken. His eyes were hungry.

  ‘Do you want to eat up a sick woman?’

  He kissed her stomach and smelt the warm herbal essences of her skin. She held his head to her full breasts. He kissed them and she moaned. Then she got out of bed and tied the white sheets round herself. Her bones creaked.

  ‘I sound like an old woman,’ she said, laughing.

  She brushed her teeth, got dressed, and powdered her face. When she had finished she said:

  ‘I am ready. If I fall you must catch me. I don’t want to drown in a gutter.’

  He put his arm supportively round her. They went out into the courtyard. In the street, she said:

  ‘The air is bad.’

  They passed huts and stalls. She began to talk feverishly, the words moving in and out of focus:

  ‘One night, about three weeks ago, I went out to the toilet. I saw a man with three heads sitting outside the toilet door. I asked who he was and he spoke to me with your voice. I was scared. When he spoke all of his six eyes shone at me in the dark. Then I heard something hissing. I felt something touch my leg. I ran inside and knocked on people’s doors and came back out with a lamp and a knife. But the man had disappeared. I told people what I saw and we searched the compound and we found nothing. When I went to work the next day that man I told you about, who threatened me with sorcery, was sitting on my desk. He left, but whenever he saw me he smiled strangely. When I came back from work that day I fell ill. Just like that. I couldn’t sleep unless there was light around. Why didn’t you come and see me all this time?’

  He had no excuse, except vanity. They walked on. She continued.

  ‘And all this time I’ve been having strange dreams. Prophets run after me, singing. One-legged visionaries hallucinate around me. I saw strange tall women dressed in black pouring salt out of bags. They poured it out until they had made a white mound. Then they began to scoop the salt back into the bags. When they had done that they tipped it all out again. I saw dead bodies getting out of their graves and walking around the marketplaces. They bought garri and kola nuts and stared at people. I was at the sea and you were a bird that was flying away. Are you?’

  Half afraid, half embarrassed, Ede laughed. The Maria he thought he knew had transformed into something different, had entered into an incomprehensible mist. A curious energy emanated from her face. It was as if the illness had sharpened her spirit.

  ‘I’m dying,’ she said.

  Ede held her hand.

  ‘Nonsense. Don’t talk like that.’

  They walked in silence.

  ‘Let’s go back,’ she said, after a while. ‘I am not strong enough.’

  They turned and started to go back.

  ‘Why don’t you sing for me?’

  He did.

  He had never sung for anyone in the streets before. He sang of the bicycle-repairer who had crazy dreams of riding on the sea. He sang of friends who died in the Civil War, of mad soldiers and hungry policemen, of children who grow leaner, of buildings in the city that were sinking into the earth. He sang of love, his love for Maria, her love for the world. He got carried away with his improvisations and sang loudly, outdoing the record shops and the bellowing hawkers. She touched him on the arm and said:

  ‘It’s alright.’

  He sang on. Then she added:

  ‘Or do you think you are Orpheus?’

  He stopped singing.

  Near the house they encountered Maria’s uncle, the herbalist. He had a green feather in his hair and a red cloth round his waist. He had a handsome young boy, an acolyte, with him.

  ‘Go in and rest for your next treatment,’ he said sharply to Maria.

  They went into the room. Maria got into bed and kept looking at Ede as if she wanted him to be daring. But when he touched her thighs she looked towards the door and said:

  ‘In this heat even the mosquitoes are jealous.’

  He lay quietly with her on the bed. He listened to her thinking aloud about getting a new job, living a new life. The heat made him drowsy. He slept for a while, his head on her chest. Her irregular breathing lifted his head and lowered it. Then suddenly she woke him up.

  ‘A spirit entered the room just now. It’s been staring at me.’

  ‘Where?’

  She pointed in the direction where the seven candles burned in the corner. He saw nothing. He sat up. One of the candles went out.

  ‘Are you tired?’ she asked.

  ‘I love you,’ he said.

  ‘That’s what politicians say to the people.’

  ‘I’m going to stay with you tonight and forever. I will never leave you. And when you are better I would like you to be my wife.’

  She giggled and then she fell silent.

  ‘Did you hear me?’

  She stayed silent. Then her lips began to quiver. Her limbs trembled. Her eyes opened wide and she stared fixedly ahead of her, at something quite specific but invisible.

  ‘Are you alright?’

  Her trembling grew worse. She clung on to him and dug her nails into his arms as she stared straight ahead. The bed began to vibrate. Tears rolled down her face. Ede, worried, shook her. She screamed so piercingly that Ede was momentarily deafened. When he recovered she had got out of bed and was running about the room, cowering against the wall, fighting out against an invisible thing that seemed to bear down on her.

  Ede ran over to her, but she ran away from him, as if he had become her antagonist. He caught her, held her, and pinned her down on the floor. She kicked and scratched and fought at him. In an uncanny, guttural voice, she shouted:

  ‘Leave me! Go away! Don’t come back!’

  She fought wildly and drew blood from his neck. Terrified, Ede called her uncle. When he entered the room she became still. Ede carried her to the bed. She looked pale, her eyes were shut, and she seemed asleep. Her uncle began a preparation of herbal treatment. After a while Maria opened her eyes and stared at Ede sadly.

  ‘Go,’ she said. ‘I don’t want you to see me like this.’

  ‘No, I’m not leaving. I’m staying here tonight.’

  ‘What about your mother? Won’t she be worried about you?’

  ‘Just rest,’ he said, ‘and don’t worry about anything.’

  There were knocks on the door.

  ‘Go now!’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I will come and see you.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘When I can.’

  The door opened and Maria’s relatives came in. They brought with them an air of mourning. They came into the room and gave Ede rough looks, as if he were intruding, or as if he were in some way responsible for Maria’s condition. When they came in he got up from the bed and stood feeling isolated, unwanted. Maria beckoned him. He went over and she said, in a whisper:

  ‘What made you think I would wait for you, anyway?’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You treat me so badly.’

  ‘Forgive me.’

  ‘You better go before my relatives make you feel unwanted.’

  He hovered over her, but she didn’t say anything else. Her eyes had become lifeless. He wasn’t sure if she had fallen asleep or passed into a coma. Then her lips moved. He leant over.

  ‘I might be yours forever,’ she said, weakly.

  Then she fell still. He shook her.

  ‘Don’t!’ her uncle said sternly.

  Ede waited, but Maria didn’t move.

  ‘It’s time for you to go,’ her uncle added.

  Without knowing what he was do
ing Ede got up, greeted everyone mechanically, and stumbled out into the courtyard. He passed the handsome young acolyte. As he drew away from Maria’s place, confused, he thought he heard her voice ringing in laughter into the yellow dust of the night air.

  She’s a strange girl, he thought. He passed children playing at street-corners. He took short cuts through the backs of houses and leapt over gutters of stagnant water. She really is a strange girl, he kept thinking as he wound his way back to the main road. A three-headed man outside the toilet? What did she smoke? He smiled as he remembered one morning when he had woken early and had heard a goat being slaughtered at the abattoir opposite their house. At the time he thought a woman was being murdered. He raised an alarm. The compound people had asked him the same question. What did you smoke?

  As he came to the crowded marketplace he made out numerous heads floating above the blue haze of dust and darkness. People were still pouring back from their late jobs or visits. Hawkers called out their wares. He heard cries of ‘Thief’ in the depths of the market. The cries circled the air, shouts followed, then the cries died down. He passed a stall where a man with matted hair was preaching. People around warned one another to watch their pockets, that preachers were often allied with thieves.

  Then suddenly a weight of sadness came over Ede. For a moment his eyes clouded and in the ethereal mist Maria came to him, luminous in a white dress. When his eyes cleared he felt different. He felt that something had fallen out of his life. Then he began to see Maria everywhere. She transformed into an owl that was flying away. She became a cat. She turned into a dog that followed him barking. He saw her dark eyes in the eyes of chickens and goats. Dogs looked at him mournfully. He got the curious feeling that she was watching him from all the eyes of the animals, old men, and children. Beautiful young girls stared at him as if they knew. As he pushed through a crowd he heard a voice far behind him call out:

  ‘Ede! Ede!’

  He tried to stop, but the crowd pushed him on. He didn’t hear the voice again. Jostled and pushed, wherever he looked he saw, as if in a multiplying mirror, Maria disappearing and passing out of focus. Then he heard something being shouted, being echoed all around the marketplace in a cacophony of ecstatic voices: