Influence of a King

CHAPTER 10

Today was a very important day. It was barely 5:00 a.m., but Kan- yam was up and ready for the journey ahead. Of all the pupils and students of the school, she had been selected to accompany the mis- sionary to Lagos.

Sister Martha had been invited to give testimony to the governor- general on the need for increased funding of education in Nigeria. She was taking Kanyam along with her for that purpose.

Before they departed, her schoolmates gathered at the missions' common room to bid them farewell. Kanyam looked in the eyes of those who had mocked her for so long. They had the grace to look quite guilty. None of them had traveled beyond Port Harcourt, yet they had mocked her ceaselessly about being just a village girl. Today, she was off to the capital of their country.

"Good-bye," Kanyam said.

"Good-bye, Kanyam. Make sure you take note of everything you

see so you can tell us what Lagos is really like," one of the girls said,

drawing closer to pick an imaginary particle from Kanyam's hair.

"Of course." Kanyam shook her head in wonder. The move to

ignite a friendship with her was obvious. She stepped out of the room

to climb into the back of the waiting car for their journey to Lagos.

After she and Sister Martha arrived in the capital and were ushered

into an impressive building, Kanyam stood in the middle of a room

and faced about twenty-five civilian administrators. She felt out of

place in her school uniform, consisting of a white blouse and maroon

pinafore, white knee-length socks, and brown leather sandals. But she

remained calm, standing with her hands locked together before her.

Chairing the meeting was the chief adviser to the governor-general, Sister Martha had earlier explained.

The chief adviser tapped on the table, raising his squeaky voice. "Is she of mixed heritage? Her complexion seems lighter than the typical."

"Certain people of Eastern Nigeria have very light skin," Sister Martha said. "She has a mix of Eastern and Southern Nigerian in her heritage."

"Does she need an interpreter?" "No she does not."

"Can she hear us clearly? From experience even the educated locals have a hard time keeping up with our speech pattern," the white man said.

"She will understand you quite well."

"Any particular reason for this?" the chief adviser asked.

"She has received sufficient tutelage from me and has bonded quite

well with me to understand my speech pattern."

"Good," he said as the others nodded in agreement.

There were a few who stared at her with disdain. None more so

than a lanky man dressed all in white.

"What is your name?" the chief adviser asked.

"My name is Kanyam Eneni." Her voice was sharp and clear—her

projection confident.

A good number of those listening sat up straight.

"How old are you?"