While Manny trotted along the plains, Kambi got a better view of the surrounding mountaintops, which were swallowed up in the cloudy horizons. She savoured the lush greenery of the meadows and valleys, and the life of the mountain inhabitants.
On one field, excited children chased two dogs, a couple held hands as they climbed a knoll, and a lady wearing braids waved as she cycled past them.
Beba pulled the reins and Manny stopped. Kambi and Beba alighted.
“Welcome to the mountain stable,” Beba said. She nodded and looked around the bright-green meadow. A young man walked up to them.
“Welcome. Come in.” He beckoned, opening the gatepost. They went in.
The man was wearing blue jeans with a cross strap design on the back. His straw hat, wide as an umbrella, shielded his bearded, brown face. He smelled of hay and horses.
“Bem, this is Kambi, an old friend of mine. She’s a broadcaster holidaying here,” Beba said. “Kambi, Bem is my cousin. He works here in the stable, caring for the horses.”
Kambi nodded and responded to his greetings. “Pleased to meet you too,” she said. Bem shook her hand and turned to Beba. They began to chat in Utugwang and Kambi batted her eyelashes wondering what they were talking about. Looking away, she focused on the horses. She was Igbo, so she couldn’t speak or understand Utugwang. And she’d never travelled to the northern part of Cross River state, where people from many different ethnic groups had settled. There were so many languages here; Kambi imagined she’d have to become a full-time linguist – not a simple poet – to grasp them all.
Tuning out the men’s voices, she watched the horses as they moved about with their heads bowed over the grass in sad repose. Manny moved among the other horses as though he was making rounds to greet old friends.
Beba touched her shoulder and led her into the stables, which were clean and smelled of fresh hay. Kambi listened as Bem explained the lifespan of the horses and their reproductive health. Their feet crunched the needles of hay as they walked around, inspecting the horses.
Kambi gently touched the oldest horse on its head.
Before they left, Bem said, “Beba, you should bring her to the party tomorrow night.”
Kambi was confused.
“Well, we’ll talk about that later,” Beba replied, half-heartedly. He walked away.
Bem stood in front of Kambi. “Promise,” he begged, “promise you’ll accompany Beba tomorrow night?”
“Beba can ask a woman out on a date himself,” Kambi said. She turned to Beba, arching her eyebrows.
Kambi loved the way Beba watched her; his eyebrows were arched too. His pink lips spread in a quiet smile as though he planned to take her up on her challenge. Am I giving him ideas?
“What time is this party?” she asked.
“Tomorrow at 7.30pm,” Beba said.
“It’ll be lots of fun … a bonfire,” Bem added, clasping his hand in a plea. Kambi exhaled, turning to Beba.
“Would you like to go with me?” Beba asked. “I could arrange for you to give a poetry performance.”
“That will be great. But I’d like to get back to my room before 10.30pm.”
“Alright then,” Beba said as he walked towards the stable. A series of tongue clicks brought Manny trotting towards him.
Beba doffed his hat to Bem. Kambi frowned at him, wondering what secrets they’d shared in the mountain language. And why had his cousin concluded that she would make a perfect date for Beba?
She raised her chin and looked at Beba. Their eyes locked. He shifted his gaze. Standing next to the horse against the grey sky he looked like a black and white painting, thought Kambi as she mounted the horse and sat on the saddle.
She relaxed when his fingers clasped her palms. She felt his broad chest press against her back like a shield. When was the last time she’d felt this … safe? It was soothing to be so close to him and to have his warm hands hold her. How would she begin a poem about riding on a horse with a lover?
They rode in silence. Kambi was lost in her thoughts, her eyes shut in a reverie. Until she felt Beba’s grip tighten around her waist, his hands tighten on her. The horse neighed, halted and reared up.
Kambi yelped. Her eyes flew open to reveal huge cows milling all around them.
“Shoo! Go away!” Kambi yelled, waving the cows away. “What do we do?” she asked, kicking at them and reaching for the spray in her bag.
“Relax!” he said.
She took a deep breath. The air smelled of wet grass, cow dung and milk.
“Unconventional material for prose-poetry,” she muttered to herself, breathing out.
On the previous night, she’d blogged about her experience in the cable car and the weather and the restaurant. Tonight, she would be happy to frighten her readers with what she considered a near-death experience. She only hoped they wouldn’t end up in a hospital …
Beba tried to pull Manny around, but the horse wouldn’t budge. “I really don’t want to whip you, Manny.” But the intimidating cows were mooing loudly and shoving Manny aside.
“Wow!” Kambi cried out. Manny neighed as Beba pulled the reins.
“Move, move Manny. Where are the cattle rearers?” Beba bellowed, whipping Manny lightly. He steered Manny away from two bulls close by. More cows had surrounded them by now. Kambi kicked the air to scare the cows away. Kambi tried to think of a more heroic way to rescue them from the herd of giant cows. What a good opportunity to save them both from a catastrophe. Suddenly, she saw the Fulani nomads running towards them with their sticks. Kambi beckoned to them with her hands.
“Hey! Control these cows!” Beba shouted.
Holding Kambi’s shoulders, Beba whispered, ‘Be calm’ in her ear.
Kambi responded, “I am fine.”
She imagined a real disaster where one of the cows drove its horns into Manny’s side and he fell over, while Beba held her in his arms.
The Fulani’s yells and whiplashes shook her out of her reverie. Waving their sticks, they restored order and the cows moved away from the tarred road. Kambi heaved a sigh of relief. Beba hugged her and said, “I hope you’re OK.” She nodded in affirmation. She felt closer to him.
As she turned to look at Beba, their eyes met. Kambi threw her head back and laughed. Tears glistened in her eyes.
“That was fun. Oh dear!”
Beba smiled. They continued and stopped again a few metres from the dairy farm. There they bought some bottles of yoghurt and rode on in silence. Stopping at the gatepost, they secured Manny’s reins and, carrying their lunch, they walked passed the gatekeeper into the cave. This wasn’t very hard to do. Beba only had to doff his hat to the gatekeeper and to greet him cheerfully and the man was too happy to care about the parcel wrapped in a plastic bag.
When they reached the grotto, she gasped at the sparkling spring gushing forth from the rock. Awed by the ferns and moss creeping all over the surrounding rocks, she clutched Beba’s arm. He led her across to sit on a dry rock at the side of the pool. They sat in the shadows of the looming trees, dangling their feet in the water. Whipping out her notepad, Kambi scribbled a short poem. Beba sat beside her, unwrapping their food. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement and understanding between them: they both knew when the other needed personal space.
“This place is magical,” Kambi said. She looked up and squinted at the mild rays of sunlight dancing on tree branches and leaves. Birds fluttered their wings and sang discordant tunes.
“I used to come here a lot during school holidays,” Beba said.
Kambi looked at him and smiled. Two small lines appeared on her forehead.
“What was it like,” she asked him, “growing up here on the mountain?”
Beba sighed.
“It was …” he said. “It was OK. Nothing special. I felt at peace and in tune with nature. But things changed when I got obsessed with the search for my mother.” He handed her a bottle of yoghurt.
“Do you know where she is?”
Beba shook his head. “I have a vague idea. But I know that my father knows.” He took another swig of his yoghurt.
“Deep stuff,” Kambi said. She tried to imagine his grief but couldn’t. Her mother’s love was given her at no cost; it had always been a prerogative she took for granted. For the first time since the botched wedding, Kambi thought of her mother in a different way. Her mother had always been supportive and loving, until their bond became strained by the shame the arranged marriage had brought.
Kambi tilted her head to one side. From the corner of her eyes, she took in his sad demeanour and shuddered. It had never really occurred to her that a man as rich and handsome as Beba could experience such a depth of sadness.
“There were many lonely days.” He paused and sighed. “Let’s talk about something else, like … why don’t you tell me what happened with your engagement?”
“Why?”
“Because I am concerned. You know my secret, now tell me yours.” He looked away at the shallow pool.
“There’s no secret. Bad things happen. Our actions are a function of our characters and free will. It’s a long story,” she said. The sad truth about the story was not so much its length, as the sickening idea that Victor had eloped with her maid of dishonour.
Then Kambi added: “He’s trying to come back. It’s over for me. He’s a joker really.”
“Who? Your ex? Do you want him back? Are you going to let all this chemistry between us go to waste?” he asked, touching her shoulder.
Kambi shook her head and punched his arm in a playful manner. “What chemistry?” She enjoyed the desperation in his voice.
“Don’t pretend you can’t feel it.” He leaned towards her.
Kambi felt his breath on her neck. She shut her eyes and counted in her heart. One. Two. Three. His lips brushed hers. She shivered, opened her eyes and pulled away. “Oh my God,” she whispered, turning her face.
“What is it? Are you still in love with him?” he asked. He nibbled her ear with his teeth.
“No,” she said. “It’s not that.” Her chest was heaving now; her breathing was noisy. She could hear a cautionary voice in her head saying quite loudly: You have to control your emotions. If you don’t keep them in check, you’ll risk misplacing your priorities or making another mistake.
“Then what?” His voice was gentle. Slowly, he stood up and walked towards the spring and back. “Perhaps you aren’t ready?”
Kambi searched his face. He’s so tactful, she thought. She had always admired him for his level-headedness. Kambi had a weakness for men like him.
She sighed and gulped the last drop of her yoghurt.
“Beba, betrayal isn’t easy to forget. The man took off with my maid of dishonour on our wedding day.” Kambi’s voice was low and calm.
Beba looked into her eyes: “Maid of dishonour indeed,” he said. Raising his index finger, he added, “Were there signs?”
“Only a premonition. Nothing concrete. Our mothers introduced us,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.
“Your mothers?”
“I know. I know. I can’t believe it myself,” Kambi said, chest heaving. “It’s against everything I stand for, but I was raised to believe that family is my first duty. I swear, I’ll never consider it again, ever!”
She glanced at the pool. The spring was said to have healing powers. But no-one had proven it to Kambi yet. She wanted her heart and soul to be healed of all the hurt, pain and shame she bore.
She said a silent prayer as waves rippled through the water and sparkled in the mild sunlight.
***
Beba thought about it for a while. He considered her too pretty to end up in an arranged marriage. How difficult could it be for a woman as attractive as Kambi to find someone? He wondered how her mother would assume that she didn’t know what she wanted in a man. Kambi, who had graduated one of the best in her class – and had spent years writing and performing her own poems – couldn’t possibly be so clueless.
But he knew how difficult it was to find genuine love, having searched his whole life without success. Occasionally, he’d agreed to go on blind dates, which often went awry. Once, he went on a date with a lady who was so dim and vain, the only thing she cared about was celebrity gossip.
Now that fate had brought Kambi his way, he was glad to enjoy the company of a smart woman. Why else did his heart gravitate towards Kambi? She had been through a lot and had to be treated with care and patience.
A bird’s dropping landed on his arm. He shuddered and dropped the half-empty bottle of yoghurt on the ground. Kambi laughed. Beba stared at her. He loved her high laughter; it made him feel like a boy.
They laughed so hard that their eyes sparkled with tears. Beba restrained himself from reaching out to wipe her tears. He watched her shoulders shudder with happiness. And he was thankful for the gift of her company. Their voices echoed off the walls of the surrounding trees and rocks. For a brief moment, they enjoyed this world they’d made theirs, this world they inhabited. It was theirs alone.
Beba held her gaze and she held his. It was magical, this art of staring, unblinking.
Beba had never looked into a woman’s eyes like this before. He felt at once that he should preserve the moment; put it on pause with a remote control. His heart pounded against his chest as he reached out and touched her jaw. Kambi’s eyes closed instinctively. He leaned over, brushed his lips against hers. She sighed, reached out and cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. He didn’t resist her.
They paused and he whispered her name in her ear. “I can’t explain the effect you have on me,” he said, nibbling her ear. She shivered, smiled, and moved away.
“Don’t run away again,” he said, depositing feathery kisses on her cheeks, her chin, her nose, and forehead. She exhaled in his face. He drew in her sweet breath and leaned over. Warm, moist, and hungry lips melted into each other. His left hand supported her back as her hand combed his curly hair. They moaned in unison as the patches of sunlight danced on their faces.
Beba pulled her close until her breasts pressed against his chest. His heart swelled with longing, as she returned his kisses with as much passion. His loins awakened with a new life. He groaned. His fingers dug behind her jeans, felt the tightness of her belt. Her upper torso stiffened at his touch, yet he pressed his lips on hers. His heart broke as her hand pushed him away. It took him a great deal of strength to hold back. He willed himself to have the courage to respect her wishes to stop.