Blessing. Florence Ndiyah

also our African brothers in neighbouring countries.’

      ‘Temkeu, would you like to play the next round?’ someone asked.

      ‘What else can a man do at The People’s Club on a Country Sunday? Help the women to sell vegetables?’ A gale of laughter broke out as Temkeu moved to take his place in front of the game board, a new one. Superstition held that the first time a newly carved board was used, good luck was to knock on the door of one or several of the contestants.

      ‘Yes Temkeu, play,’ someone said. ‘Maybe that good luck which this board brings is meant for you. We have been playing since afternoon but are still waiting for good news to meet us.’

      ‘How could you think good luck would recognise you when my hands have not touched the board? I am Temkeu and when Temkeu is present things happen. Let the game begin!’

      After several rounds of playing by the rule of elimination, Temkeu sat face to face with Angu Matamo.

      ‘If we sit facing each other now, it is because we are the masters of this game, Angu said. ‘We have crushed all who came to try our might. Let us now show them how to play real mejang.’

      Moving the horn away from his mouth Temken replied, ‘This is the part that makes my blood become red. I will do anything just to add some colour to the game.’

      ‘One cock each,’ Angu proposed. ‘The winner takes the two.’

      ‘I prefer women – I mean hens.’

      ‘As long as it walks on two legs but is not a man.’

      The deal set, the game went underway with Angu picking up the seeds used as dice. As they played he bragged, ‘I have told you not to argue with one who knows more than you, Temkeu. I will show you that I started playing this game when your father’s father had not even picked out your mother for his son.’

      ‘You can argue with your mouth, Angu. I will argue with my hands on the board.’

      Fifteen minutes later, Angu had more reason to hit his chest. ‘Temkeu, I have told you that a duck will never grow teeth. See, I have just added a hen to my poultry simply by moving a few seeds around a board.’

      ‘It is luck which helped you to win, not big sense,’ Temkeu defended.

      ‘I prefer to argue with my hands on the board, not with my mouth. Let us play again, and I will show you that luck did not even come near me – you know that luck does not smile two times with the same person at the same place on the same day.’

      ‘Stop the talking and show us the action,’ one of the spectators intervened. ‘Show him that he is just throwing empty words, Temkeu. Play the game to show him that you are the master.’

      ‘I came here to play and I will play and even show Angu that I started playing this game long before he ever saw a mejang board.’ As Temkeu yielded to the baiting, the spectators exploded into a round of applause.

      Angu had not yet given his last word: ‘I will defend my title, yes, but on one condition.’

      ‘Talk it, shout it, sing it, Angu. I will do anything to show you that I was born with a mejang seed in my hand.’

      ‘Anything I say?’

      ‘Yes, anything. Anything …’ Temkeu hesitated.

      ‘Are you changing your words, Temkeu?’ Pouafo said. ‘Is fear taking control of you? You are the one who has to show us that you are a man. So you have to accept Angu’s condition.’

      ‘Okay, let us hear your condition, Angu.’

      ‘Hm, let me see ... what if I ask for the hand of your daughter?’

      ‘What?’ Temkeu exclaimed. ‘I am not sure I heard well. Somebody should tell me that Angu did not just ask me to give him the hand of my daughter over a mejang board.’

      ‘You heard well, Temkeu, and if you want to hear again, I will repeat it. You said I could ask for anything in return for playing another game with you. So I ask for the hand of your daughter.’

      ‘Land of our ancestors! So he is serious! He is talking about my only daughter, my treasure! My answer is No! No! No!’ Temkeu took a deep breath, looked straight at Angu and then asked, ‘Tell me, did you have this idea in your head ever since?’

      ‘Whether I had it in my head or not one day she will have to marry; and if that day is today, then you will start enjoying today.’

      The onlookers, who at first had seemed shocked at Angu’s proposal, now nodded in agreement. ‘Yes, think about it, Temkeu. Fatti is still young – that means you are still a long way from owning the respect of a father-in-law. But if you are wise enough to exploit this opportunity which the ancestors have put at your door, you may climb that ladder very soon, even today, even in some minutes.’

      Temkeu quickly got over the initial shock. He looked from Angu to the crowd and back to Angu. Could seeds of a marriage planted under a palm tree by the roadside ever grow? And if those gathered around were really his friends, would they urge him to plant where he may never reap. When his gaze merged with Angu’s, he remembered the promise the former had made to him at Fatti’s first funeral: ‘If it means that we hack our way through, we will uncover that road which leads to a compound of fertile women, and we will pluck another ripe fruit for you. You will have another daughter, Temkeu. I will not sleep until it happens.’ How could the very Angu who had promised to help him find the mother of his second daughter now try to steal his only daughter even in the presence of so many witnesses?

      ‘Temkeu, you know that tomorrow is pregnant and nobody knows what it will bring forth’ someone was saying. ‘Who knows? Fatti may even die again, and the ancestors would surely not be so kind to send her back to life a second time. They cannot allow her to make history two times on such an important issue. She shocked us when she came back from the land of the ancestors the first time. It cannot happen again! Therefore, you should act with wisdom and use this opportunity which the gods have sent to you. I am not saying that I want your daughter to die, but tomorrow is pregnant. If she is engaged today and dies tomorrow, you would have at least tasted something on her head.’

      Several times, Temkeu had envisaged sitting down with famous families to discuss Fatti’s engagement. He had fantasised about how he would drink palm wine only to spit it out later because a promising trader was not good enough for his Fatti. He had imagined himself turning down a worthy suitor and then confidently waiting for the next important man and his family to show up. But here he was under a palm tree with more than twenty pairs of eyes from different families, all looking at him and waiting for his decision about his daughter’s future. They were not even in his compound but under a palm tree by the road! He could get up and walk away or he could stay there and prove he was a man, one capable of making a courageous decision under complex circumstances.

      ‘Fatti will make a good wife,’ Pouafo added his voice to the chorus. ‘But remember that her chest is still flat. You also have to keep in mind that many other girls are as nice as Fatti, but those girls have small balls on their chest and they see some blood each month. Also, Angu here – I do not need to tell you that he is not just a titleholder but also a man with open hands. You know that many men send their daughters to go and swing their hips in front of him. So are you going to behave like a man of wisdom and give Fatti the chance that she may never again see? Are you going to offer her to a great son like Angu or are you going to reserve her for hunters and palm wine tappers?’

      ‘Pouafo, do not waste too much spit, Angu said. ‘No one can force Temkeu to play, but I still repeat that I will play with him only on the condition that I take Fatti if I win.’

      ‘Temkeu, do not allow Angu to be declared a champion with your hands down! Do not give him an easy title,’ someone declared.

      ‘By the way, Temkeu,’ another person said, ‘the talk in the village is that Mefo said that you did not want to bury Fatti on the day she first died because you were hanging on to the money you had lost through her.