Chapter Twenty

 

It was Ife’s last day at the State House clinic and as a civil servant. She had met the lady taking over from her and reviewed case notes with the woman. Mrs. Shade Olawale. A petite light skinned lady who was excited about being appointed as physician to the First Lady. Ife was amused watching the excitement. She had not been pleased but this lady in front of her was over the moon at what she saw as some type of promotion. She wanted to know from Ife what the schedules were, how soon she could be given a car and if she would be allowed to go away with her own car as she understood that Ife was being given a jeep no less.

Ife was startled by the information and she stared at the woman in disbelief asking her if she was sure she had the right information. Mrs. Olawale clamped her hands to her mouth in horror at having allowed the information to slip and almost knelt down begging Ife not to let on. She said she just heard it from the personal secretary. According to the personal secretary he didn’t want to be told a story about witches again.

Ife was puzzled until she remembered when she explained about culpability of bribery through accepting gifts if you were not sure you have qualified for them. Ife smiled. “No wonder he always looked at me strangely since then—I am not a witch.”

Mrs. Olawale defended her instantly, “No of course not!”

Ife wondered how she was going to accept such a gift and what she was going to tell the First Lady. Over the period she had worked at the clinic, she had learned to like the ultra slim lady. She had seen her show class and finesse in the face of the crudity of women like Dolapo Peters or smelly Nike.

Ife admired the First Lady in the dignity she had brought to her office and the silent strength she had offered a man who in some situations had shown a cloven foot. She allowed that men were not perfect and she chaffed at the way they treated women. Also the lip service they gave the women, who were most of the time used as political groupies. She was always saddened when at each function the women would rise and sing silly songs praising the Governor and his Commissioners just for the opportunity to be given tokens of so many meters of cheap material, a bag of rice, and occasionally tins of imported vegetable oil.

They hardly got contracts as the men generally treated the women as dumb donkeys. For a long time the best the women in politics could hope for was being called a Commissioner for Women Affairs and be the ‘woman leader’ as they were called. They hardly had any political input.

Ife remembered meeting the ‘woman leader’ of the ruling party. She could barely string two educated statements together. She depended on the power of her fetish medicines and boasted that she was always making sacrifices for the welfare of the state and her Governor. Ife had wondered in horror if she was being paid taxpayers’ money for such stupidity.

Tiwa had once asked her if she had anything against women in public office, and she had replied that the office of being a woman was much higher than that of being in public office.

“A real woman knows where her power lies, my elegant friend. We have moved so far away from being truly what we should be that we have ceded our true power, hence we are trampled upon. I am a medical doctor, there is nothing wrong in that or your profession but I never could understand why a woman would want to be a soldier or a wrestler. We did not only eat the apple we have refused to rise from the mud since then. I am not the one who would change the world but I can try to clean up my immediate environment.”

Tiwa had laughed but she was thoughtful and they both agreed that the season of rice distribution was upon them. Each time an election came near, trailers upon trailers of imported rice was loaded on and distributed as per ward loyalty. Each party competed to see who would distribute the most. Ife wondered why none of the recipients of rice ever asked for roads to be made, or boreholes sunk in their communities. She hated listening to communities coming to thank the government for providing them with electricity.

Babatunde agreed with her on that. When he had visited and was given money, Kabiyesi had simply handed over the money to the community purse demanding that a treasurer should give account of whatever the politicians offered them. They had decided to convert such a collection for the common good. At one meeting, she had heard Babatunde state that the populace should ask to be given seeds they could plant.

“If they bring you rice, thank them and ask instead for rice seeds. We will plant them in the rice fields we have and soon we will sell the rice to the same politicians in a few years. Ask them for what we can use to repair our roads too.”

The personal secretary knocked on her door to let her know that the First Lady was waiting to receive her at her reception office. Ife thanked him and handed over the small gift she had made ready to give him. It was a wristwatch. The secretary was surprised and thanked her profusely.

Suddenly Ife knew how she could accept the imposed gift waiting for her—she would sell the jeep and channel the funds towards the clinic. She would even name the clinic after the First Lady. At that thought her heart lifted and she followed the secretary.

 ~~~

 

Almost four months later, in a private room attended by nurses as well as traditional birth attendants, Oba Adeolu was informed that his throne now had an heir.

Prince Adeife was born in the early hours as the dawn rose and a golden finger stroked the cheeks of the town.