The Teacher's Exit

Chapter 3

No sooner had Pa Abubakar left the compound than his wife exchanged her nightgown for an ankle-length wrapper and hijab. She hastened to Emeka's room and on confirming his exit, muttered: "Why did teacher run away? Why should he leave today of all days?"

With narrowed eyes, the housewife picked up her pressing iron, stove and bucket, glanced around the room for any other item of interest. None.

She locked up and stepped outside, placing those items on the floor as she sat on the bench. Thoughts about her discussion with Emeka flooded her mind. Was it her suggestion the night before that peeved him so much he had to leave unceremoniously?

But the young schoolteacher had been too handsome to resist. When he first stepped into the compound, she knew keeping away from him would be tough. He had a striking facial semblance with her high-school boyfriend at the boarding house. And they had similar features: tall, broad-chested and smooth-talking. In addition, something in Emeka's carriage assured her he could keep a secret for a lifetime.

Before long the wife started comparing Emeka to Pa Abubakar who'd long past his prime on bed matters. In a whole month, her husband showed up in her room once, which didn't do much to quench the raging hormones in a middle-aged woman, especially during those cold and windy nights.

"Must I come over to your room?" She would ask Pa Abubakar frequently.

"For what?" the man always snapped. "With Amina and Rihana for me and two children before coming here, what are you still looking for?"

At seventy-one, and with eleven other kids spread around Kano, Pa Abubakar had added enough to world's population. He, therefore, cautioned his wife to look after the children they'd been blessed with.

Those cautioning words lost meaning when Emeka arrived. With a good-looking, warm-blooded young man prowling the neighbourhood, the temptation to look for romance beyond her husband often seized Kadada.

The very first day the teacher stepped into the compound, Pa Abubakar said to his wife: "Treat him like a son and give him whatever he needs."

"Okay, Alhaji." The woman agreed.

She hastened to hand over basic household items like a bucket and a pressing iron – things previous teachers demanded on arrival. Thinking all options were on the table, she salivated at the prospect of night-time visits to the teacher's room. But the old man, sensing her frantic demeanour towards the guest, quickly cautioned: "Don't speak English to the stranger."

"Okay, Alhaji." She nodded.

A war veteran and a volatile one at that, Pa Abubakar's word was a law in his homestead. Even if age had calmed him down over the years, villagers revered him still. His fearful records as the former head of the vigilante group made him a legend. And news that he shot his first wife on account of infidelity lingered in the minds of many. Forty-three-year-old Kadada hardly questioned her husband's instructions.

She ensured her interactions with Emeka were minimal and formal, speaking only Hausa to him when he evidently didn't understand the language. That language barrier further dampened communication between them, rendering her interest in Emeka latent, until Rihana came up with an idea.

"I want to make friends with the new maths teacher." Rihana badgered her mom repeatedly.

"Let me talk to your father first." She eventually caved in.

Pa Abubakar keyed into the idea and that emboldened Rihana to frolic with Emeka. But Amina soon took a cue: her younger sister won't have all the attention of the light-skinned and handsome corper. After lengthened verbal squabbles which lasted several days, both girls came to a truce.

As the sisters alternated Emeka's room at night, the mother looked away, subjugating her own desires. A mother and her daughters shouldn't be in dalliance with the same man – the aftermath would sting forever should it become public knowledge. That her two girls frequently argued over the teacher was enough hassle. Kadada buried her crush on Emeka Anyawu.

Or so it seemed.

As Emeka's academic reforms took hold in the village school, his fame grew within and around Gwarzo. Female teachers wanted to befriend him. Female students showed interest in visiting his hut. The older mamas weren't left out in the rush for the likeable Nyamiri.

After rebuffing them several times, Emeka could no longer dodge from the ladies. In no time schoolgirls started trooping into Pa Abubakar's compound in pairs, demanding to see him.

For a week or so, slim, chubby, tall and short girls visited their teacher at home after school hours, some covering up with their hijabs while others arrived open-faced.

The series of events aroused Kadada's curiosity. "Doesn't he ever get tired? What kind of muscles does he have?"

Kadada soon began to consider Emeka as some special kind of guy, for schoolgirls to shelve jealousy, visiting him in such a coordinated manner. Their evening-time noise could even make a nun shiver. And the stealthy manner the girls left the compound could only point to awe. In the future, one would relish recounting an encounter with such a man. The housewife let loose her moral grip.

"When will he return to Abuja?" She asked Rihana to inquire at school.

Her daughter later brought news. "They said February fifteenth."

Kadada set her eyes on Valentine's Day to enter Emeka's room, thinking it would be the right excuse to fulfil her wish. "Keep away from the teacher tomorrow night," she instructed her daughters two days before. "Since he'll leave us a day after tomorrow, I have an important mother-to-son discussion with him tomorrow night."

"But we have placed a note on his door that we'll visit him at ten o'clock." Amina's face crumpled.

"Keep away, I said! Can't you see he's busy with his students these days? You've had your turns with him and that's enough."

The girls heeded the pungent instruction since their mother hadn't said such before.

Friday evening, a day before Valentine's Day, while her husband hunted antelopes far away, Kadada knocked on Emeka's door to his consternation.

Once allowed in, she walked towards his mattress, pressing it down several times and nodded. She then spoke to him in English for the first time in a year.

"There are three ladies in this compound, but you've been inviting only two of them. I have also been very patient as I watch schoolgirls come and leave my compound. You're not fair-minded at all. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day – a day to show love. In the evening, I'll come around too."

Kadada turned around and plodded away before Emeka could utter a word, giving the impression he had no choice but to pander to her demands. The woman's deportment sent a clear message: he couldn't stay in the compound that long and then leave Gwarzo just like that.

Emeka's landlady's request came at a time he was plagued with depressing thoughts about the vice-principal's similar demand – a Valentine's Day visit. Besides, the hapless lad heard from villagers that Pa Abubakar shot his first wife and her male lover. No less a warning was the rumour that the old man could shoot down a leopard with one shot. He didn't need a gun to do so. His pocket knife was enough.

Now that Kadada had seen reasons to visit his room, Emeka would rather not be buried hundreds of kilometres away from his parents' house in Abuja. The fear that gripped him made him review his earlier exit plans.

Hanging around Gwarzo until a day after Valentine's Day would be dangerous. He weighed the odds of the situation against receiving his recommendation letter, which the vice-principal promised to bring along to his hut. A mere paper can't take preference over his life.

Right then, he began to pack his belongings, overlooking the need for a formal goodbye. At half-past five in the morning, Emeka jumped over the cattle barn fleeing Gwarzo.

Being the last person who spoke to Emeka before his departure, Kadada believed her friendly proposal led to the teacher's unexpected exit. As she sat on the bench, thinking about it all, she extended both hands forward: "But I didn't ask for too much. Did I?"