Yefon: The Red Necklace (22 page)

“That is quite an impressive necklace you’ve got on,” he exclaimed with a faint British accent.

“A gift from my pa,” I replied quickly.

“The man has fine taste. Could there be a more beautiful gift?” he said laughing and raising his eyebrows. It was an infectious squawky laugh that forced a small smile to form on my lips.

“I am Father Paul Anthony Bungard, the parish priest of the Shisong Parish,” he said, pointing in the direction of the church.

“And you? What is your name, young lady?” he asked.

With my heart pumping loudly, I answered, “Yefon Labam,
sah.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Yefon,” he replied, warmly offering me a firm handshake. I was surprised at how weathered his hands felt. Their roughness felt like one of Kadoh’s masks.

I looked up at him, and the heartfelt smile I received shocked me. He was handsome for his age, and he had kind eyes just like my Pa. I sold him a basket for a good price, and he invited me to come to the church sometime and learn about God and Jesus.

“I would love to,” I replied, “but I would rather sell my baskets. I need the money.” I don’t know why I felt comfortable
enough to say that, but people say that when you meet a good friend, you know it immediately inside your heart.

Father Anthony looked at me for a bit, studying every part of my face, and then he asked me to come to the parish on Sunday for a job interview.

I was overjoyed and I boasted to Kadoh like a child with a new toy when I got home.

“
Levels don change o
,” I sang to her as she weaved a basket in front of her mother’s
taav
.

My brothers were splitting wood so it was hard to communicate over the loudness of the axe.

“I am happy for you, my sister,” she replied, and once more helped me pick out a colorful wrapper and earrings made from old beer bottle covers to wear when Sunday came.

“You go get this job,” she said wholeheartedly.

I smiled at her with tears in my eyes before heading out for the parish.

By this time the renovation at the parish was almost done, so most of the workers had left. This was the only road to my destiny and I wanted to make an impression. In those days, we didn’t have the luxury of buying perfumes from a store. We made it ourselves. Deep in the evergreen forests of Mbam there were many medicinal plants, amongst which were large bell-shaped, orange-red flowers with yellow borders on the petals and four brown-antlered stamens in the center. These were African tulips.

If you sealed in the flower buds, and sliced it open, it would squirt like a fountain. We would fill the base with clear water and a hibiscus mixture, and squirt it on us like modern day perfume. Such arrangements were only for the rich, but let’s just say that Kadoh could be quite resourceful.

A host of Bantu maids greeted me cheerfully as I arrived at the parish. I was led into a big office by a forty-something looking house servant, and asked to wait for Father Anthony. I smiled politely as he walked away. The floor looked so clean, one could lick it, and I was itching to touch the walls that looked smooth like Mama’s pot of pap.

I couldn’t wait to go home later that evening so I could spill the beans to Kadoh about this place. I would tell her how it smelled strongly of an old cathedral burnt out by fresh incense. It was believed that it drove away devils, and I could imagine that
there was some element of truth to the rumors. The blue walls were adorned with a variety of ornaments and a giant luminous crucifix hung from the back of the chair.

I observed several pictures of religious figures and several portraits of long-haired white people dressed in long robes which were equally distributed in almost every nook and cranny of the parish. I later learnt these to be Jesus, Mary and Joseph. The Jesus figure had a halo over his head and I squinted my eyes trying to understand what that light was and why it was over his head. I couldn’t figure it out, so I soon lost interest.

On the other side of the room, a beautiful painting of Queen Victoria graced the wall. I grew so antsy after counting how many beads were on her pearl
sha
η
g
that I decided to stand up and walk about.

A spinning blue globe on Father Tony’s table fascinated me, and I felt a strong urge to spin it, even though it was against my better judgment. I gave it a spin and that was when I heard a cozy voice behind me.

“A curious one.”

I jumped around so quickly and maladroitly that I pushed a stack of books off the shelf next to me. Apologizing clumsily while picking the books up, I gave the two men a fake smile, trying to impress them. Father Anthony just laughed at me.

“I see you were getting yourself acquainted,” Father Anthony observed, looking relatively relaxed, given that I had almost just ruined his shelf.

Next to him was a white man, more on the round side though younger. He seemed to be in his thirties.

Shaky, out of breath, and stiff, I looked at their faces, unsure of what to do next. “
Sorry, sah
,” I apologized, feeling really small.

“Please,” Father Anthony pointed at the chair.

Slowly, very slowly, my backside touched the chair, my eyes never leaving them. That was when the main parish office maids, Yuyun and Keafon, walked in. I had never seen them up close, but I was familiar with their faces from seeing them on the way to church.

Yuyun was older than Yenla, and Keafon looked no older than twenty-three. With their plump figures hugging their aprons,
they waited dutifully.

“Sorry it took me so long!” Father Anthony blurted, “Brother Andrew, meet Yefon; Yefon, Brother Andrew. This is the girl I told you about.”

I curtsied, not sure what else to do. Brother Andrew had a heavy Irish accent, which sounded more broken when compared to Father Anthony’s slower deeper manner of speech.

“So you want to work at the parish, eh?” he asked.

“Yes, sah” I responded politely.

“You’re hired.”

I looked about, finding it hard to breathe as my red
sha
η
g
burned my chest. I could barely contain my excitement.

“Just like that?” I asked eagerly, like a child asking its parent for an extra bonbon.

“Just like that!” he assured me.

I began to scream then held myself. They all looked amused. Keafon covered her mouth with her hands to giggle. I was elated and that was how I began working at the parish.

I ditched the baskets at
Waynama
for my new job, which I began the next day. My duties first started with odd jobs like cleaning the church before mass, carrying gifts back to the parish after mass, running errands, and going to the market to buy supplies.

Yuyun gave me an initial job introduction. She showed me the equipment room where brooms, aprons, irons, and other things were kept.

“
I open, I close. You no touch key.”

We made our way through a clean corridor, well lit with several Foley lights, down a short flight of stairs, to the big cool room where food and supplies were stored. I walked down the stairs, carefully stepping down one at a time with the help of the banister.

“You take out shoes at the once you come parish. Understand”?

“Yes ma,” I nodded, admiring the vast storage room that looked like three of my mother’s
taav
s. Kadoh had to hear about this! I studied the whitish lamps that were shaped that those avocados I always craved during my period.

“
And you only ansa, Big fada, not sah
,” she said, her jaws
twitching.

“Father,” I repeated dutifully. “Big Father.”

During my first month or so, at the parish, I hardly spoke with Father Anthony other than an occasional nod or pat after mass on Sundays. It goes without saying that I started attending mass on Sundays. As workers in the parish, you were obligated to do so and receive the sacraments. Masses were usually long and boring. I hardly understood what the priests were saying. They spoke too fast, and even though they had started using translators, like Pa Bulam’s oldest son, I usually zoned out and dreamt about the city, and how little time I had before facing it. Would I find my prince charming immediately? What would my life be like? It was too early to tell, but I knew it would definitely be more fulfilling than this one here.

I eventually graduated to Father Anthony’s office, and by the end of the year, I had saved some money, wore better clothes, and was one of the favorites at the parish. I also enjoyed church more now, mostly when Father Anthony was the priest at mass.

One of the perks that came with my new position was that I got to call him Father Tony. I listened to his sermons attentively. They mostly spoke about the life of the Son of God that was sent to save us. I was in awe of this Jesus character. His miracles and his unwavering faith instilled so much hope in me and convinced me that my goal was possible.

A striking young clerk joined the parish towards the end of the year. He was called Tah, and I think he liked me. I thought his low cut hair was neat, and his lips were generous, so I didn’t shun his attempt to walk me home one day. He was the shy type and we really didn’t say much on the way besides obvious things like commenting on the pleasant weather and parish inside jokes. Beyond his honey eyes, he seemed shallow with little to excite me.

Ma chased him away with a cutlass once we arrived at the entrance of our compound and I was too amused to be upset at her. Dizzy with disbelief though, I looked away at the
mbanga
trees covered with dust and walked off when she began to speak about how I will bring disgrace to the family. I wasn’t angry; I just didn’t need to hear all that.

“You are a blockhead. That’s all you know boys, boys, boys.”

Of course, Tah wanted nothing else to do with me, but I
wasn’t really bothered by this.

A few months later when many girls around the village started getting married, Ma wouldn’t stop whining about her daughter’s unmarried status.

“Ah? Didn’t you chase away my suitor a few months ago? What else do you want?” I asked, smiling. Even Yenla thought that was funny, for it was!

“My friend, get out of here,” she sighed, and I did, laughing so loud that she could see every muscle in my throat.

I was informed at work that I would be receiving the sacrament of Baptism on Sunday, and I told Ma. Ma hardly answered when I spoke and this situation was no different.

She sighed a long sigh and continued busily chewing and lapping at her sugarcane with heavy sucking sound. She spat out thick chaff onto a plate next to her. I invited Kadoh and Yenla and they both accompanied me as cold water was thrown over my head at the church. That was how I became a Christian!

-13-

THE PARISH

Father Tony, better known among the maids as “
big father
” was a perfectionist. He wanted his I’s dotted and his T’s crossed. Everything had to be just in place for a small smile to travel slowly across his sun-tanned face.

He had been known to sack his aides very often, as many of them were lazy and slow. Keafon had told me about it on recruiting day, and so I did my best to stay alert.

He often spent time in his office study, his glasses hung low on the curve of his nose, reading the bible, and making notes while drinking a hot cup of green tea.

“Yefon, can I have a fresh cup?”

“Yes Father,” I replied before rushing with the kettle pot to replenish it. The smell of green tea reminded me of the water I threw away on the farm behind our house after washing bitter leaves for my mom. He liked his tea without sugar. Occasionally a butter biscuit graced his side plate.

“These biscuits are excellent,” he would often say. I soon

learnt it meant they were nice.

“Try one,” he often offered, but I declined respectfully, since Keafon had told me that the priests tested their workers. If you seemed too eager to eat biscuits and other things, they could tell that you were one of those prone to stealing, so it was better to be modest with your answers.

I wasn’t completely used to the Foley lights in Father Tony’s office. I preferred the oil lamps made from cans that we used at home. The colors of clothes seemed dull and artistic and everything didn’t always have a shadow with the Foley lights. At home, I liked to create several shadows with Kadoh and stare into the lamp.

I learnt so many things during my stay at the parish, and I would tell Kadoh the stories, not missing one detail.

The parish workers spoke about the craftsman down the street who was going to be contracted to carve some
Juju
masks
and paintings to be sent to museums in London, so I stopped to admire this village artist painting art and masks on the way back from work one day.

Each piece of artwork had a unique message of its own, and I marveled at the expressions on their faces and the beautiful reds, yellows, and greens that were used to paint them. If you stared at them long enough, they looked like they would come to life and start dancing.

Kadoh would do well in this business, and many others, frankly.

“Ashia for work,” I greeted the sweaty craftsman. That was a common slang used to encourage someone when they were working.

“Thank you o, ma sistah.”

I always told Kadoh everything I had seen. “The masks are harder. Yours look more flowery,” I explained to her.

“So do you like mine?” she asked, from yet another one.

“They are eg-cellent,” I replied, feeling proud at my use of the Father Anthony’s word.

In Lamnso, I spoke very fast and fluent. Kadoh used to say I spoke so fast that sometimes when I told her something, she would look at my body language and imagine what it is that I meant and then respond. But in English, I was much slower, choppier, and had to be extremely careful like a toddler learning to walk.

Once a roguish looking, short fellow called Josev Stanislaus came in a car from Douala to visit the parish. His nose was long and pointy and his accent sounded like running water, especially when he was talking to Father Tony in another language that sounded like grinding corn. I later learnt the language was called Russian.