THE RIVER OF PRAWNS

Naivety and Affluence

"Peter, Peter", Marie called with a worried look. Peter who was nearby, looked at Marie with eagerness in response. "Are your parents poor or rich?", she asked. Peter and Marie were busy rolling their bicycle tyres using well-selected sticks. It was a game very common back in the days in rural Africa. The interesting part of it was struggling to keep the tyre on a straight path using the sticks while keeping pace. This meant that each person had to run behind his tyre while guiding it with his stick. For some reason, it was such an accomplishment when one person succeeded to cover a considerable distance without his tyre dropping down, especially given the hilly nature of this area.

He kept "saddling" his tyre ahead of Marie as though he didn't hear her question, going further and further away until his tyre dropped. Meanwhile, Marie, whose tyre had dropped several times just kept rolling it and following him, knowing that he had already won the game. It was a wont for Marie to follow Peter home after the usual games and spend some time with his mum who was particularly fond of her. I can't tell whether she was attracted by the huge TV Peter's parents had or by the stories told by his mum, but I know for sure that she always watched TV while interacting with his mum. They arrived at the house looking tired and shabby as always and quickly ran to the back of the house to wash their feet lest Mummy Angum - Peter's mum, saw them. While at the tap at the back of the house, Marie, as resolute as she was, asked him again: "Are your parents poor or rich?". This time around, having nowhere to go, Peter hesitantly said: "We are averagely rich".

He couldn't bear the shame of being labelled as poor. His usual richly balanced breakfast of omelettes, bread toasts, and a good cup of thick natural milk had rapidly turned into food remains of the previous day and sometimes fried rice. His unusually large collection of toys was reduced to just a few toy cars and old LEGO building blocks which were all worn out, tattered and old. His beautiful bicycles were all shattered to the point that he had just the tyres to play with. He could see an obvious shift in his affluent lifestyle, which was trouble enough for him to add unto, with the tag, "poor". This was in 1997, but for you to know the complete story, let me take you about ten years back in time.

Peter was born in 1987 in a quarter called Biyem-Assi, located in the capital city of Cameroon. This quarter was made up predominantly of civil servants, who at the time built sizeable houses and had all the comfort they desired in a house. They were known to work the least in society leaving their homes at past nine in the morning to get back home at three in the afternoon, not forgetting their usual two-hour lunch break. These were the ideal working conditions every worker could dream of. During this ninth decade of the twentieth century, civil servants were generously paid in the society. Peter's parents could afford all that they needed from a fancy house with air conditioning to expensive parabolic antennas with generous monthly subscriptions. The economy of the country was booming, and meritocracy was visibly applied, amidst a few cases of discrimination and favouritism. Scholars earned huge respect in the society and subsequently well-paid jobs in the best companies. At that time, one could boast of being a teacher.

Peter's father was a proud university lecturer, a well-educated, intelligent, hardworking, and strict man. He had completed his university education overseas and obtained his prestigious Ph.D. from Sheffield University. He had two luxurious cars at the time, of the French make, Renault and he could easily afford regular trips to Europe and the Americas. During such trips, Omaze, Peter's father got him most of his clothes and toys. At home, Pidgin-English was strictly off-limits. Mr. Omaze insisted that his children master eloquent English to enhance their appeal in the competitive landscape of opportunities and gain respect in society. The phrase "Speak in proper English" echoed frequently — a stern reminder to rectify pronunciation and grammatical slip-ups. Most of their language errors were meticulously addressed within the confines of their home. Peter was two, when he had an uncommon baby car that attracted attention from the neighbours. It had lights all over its wheels and played different festive melodies that brought the ecstasy of Christmas to his friends whenever they saw him play with it. Indeed, these types of toys were seen by his peers only during the end-of-year festive periods. The car was cumbersome and towered higher off the ground than typical toy cars. The raised driver's seat enabled Peter to maneuver the car effortlessly while walking, his pudgy fingers gripping the miniature steering wheel for control. He loved this car and spent most of his time in it, whooping with delight as his coos sounded a rhythmic "Toto, Toto" every time he drove along the sidewalk. It wasn't just a toy; it was a vessel – a vessel to escape the confines of infancy. After playtime, he followed a ritual: meticulously washing the car to keep it perpetually pristine. Although the car could only be as clean as the two-year-old could achieve, he always ended up soaked and bedraggled himself. The car's gleam mattered more than his own cleanliness — it sparkled in his eyes.