Father
and
Sons
Janvier Chando
TISI BOOKS
NEW YORK, RALEIGH, LONDON, AMSTERDAM
PUBLISHED BY TISI BOOKS
Contents
This story is dedicated to the grandfathers who stepped in and rescued their grandchildren from the life of decadence their fathers put them into.
My deepest, warmest, and everlasting thanks to my entire family: Special thanks to Big-Papas Njiah Njweya-Womte B.J. Ntsiyep Kaba Njweya-Womte.
―JOSEPH CHANDO-NJIAH
Joseph Nkabyo Njike looked worried that afternoon. Anyone familiar with the history of his family would have thought he had nothing to be apprehensive about since his youngest son’s friend finally left the hospital after fighting for his life from gunshot wounds caused by trigger-happy soldiers of the nascent Cameroonian army. The fact that the tragedy happened during the wee hours of the morning, while he harvested herbs with his father, said a lot about the military escalation in the country.
For over a year now, the increasing military presence in the area had only increased Joseph’s doubts as to whether his decision to move his family to his ancestral homeland two years ago was the right thing to do. To justify his decision, he reminded himself that his family was safe while most of his friends in Douala had lost at least a member of their families or a relative to the ongoing conflict between the liberation movement and the French-backed regime of the first Cameroonian president. Besides, it warmed his heart enormously that Gavin, his youngest son, loved it here in Banganté.
When Gavin learned that the hospital had just discharged his friend Njofang Kabafeu, he asked his father to allow him go to Njofang’s home and pay his regards. Joseph did not grant him the permission, insisting instead that he do that the next day. Gavin did not press hard on his parents to change their minds about it, figuring it out that their point was valid. After all, he was with Njofang all morning. Still that thought did take away the forlorn expression on his face as he sat with his family in the parlor and listened to his father’s anecdotes.
“Papa, you promised to tell me the story about Mokam several times already, but you never lived up to your words.”
“What is it about Mokam you want to know?”
“How his pride led him to make a fool of himself.”
“Do you want to hear it now?”
“Yes, Papa! Papa, are the soldiers and police going to lock Njofang up too?”
“No! Your friend will be all right. Now, cheer up and listen to the story about the famous Mokam. Are you ready for it?”
“Yes, Papa, I’m ready,” Gavin said and sat up.
“And now begins the story of the husband and the pudding,” Joseph began:
***
“My story is about Mokam, “No! Your friend will be all right. Now, cheer up and listen to the story about the famous Mokam. Are you ready for it?”
“Yes, Papa, I’m ready,” Gavin said and sat up.
“And now begins the story of the husband and the pudding,” Joseph began:
“My story is about Mokam, a Bamileké man from a village that has produced the best goat thieves in the Bamilekéland.”
“Papa, is Mokam from Bamena?” Gavin asked.
“What makes you think he was from Bamena?”
“Papa, Mama told me the other day that the people of Bamena have a bad reputation,” interjected Gavin’s older brother Salomon.
“Bad reputation? What do you mean by that?” Joseph asked.
“She said the Bamena people are excellent goat thieves,” Gavin’s immediate older brother Salomon said with a laugh.
“Kemayou’s mother is from Bamena. I heard his father teasing her about it yesterday,” Gavin said with an excited motion of his hands.
“Ha, ha, ha...ha!” Joseph laughed, “Sons, I am glad I brought you back home. Now you are learning something. The different Bamileké communities have funny and stereotypical things to say about one another. Yes, sons, in olden days, Bamena was famous for its goat market, even though the Bamena people did not rear that many goats. So, they stole goats and sold them in their famous goat market.”
“They are thieves,” Gavin laughed.
“Just a very small number of Bamena people stole goats. In fact, goat thieves from distant communities in the Bamilekéland converged with their stolen goats in Bamena on market days, certain that they would get buyers. So, people in the neighboring communities who lost their goats knew that the Bamena market was the best place to find their animals or the thieves. That was how Bamena became infamous.”
“Very funny,” Salomon commented.
“We say that the people of Bafoussam love money to the point where they are even prepared to sell their heads if you offer them the right price. The Bamileké people of Balengou are said to be smart but prefer to play the fool and end up looking foolish.”
“What about our people from Banganté?” Gavin asked.
“Papa, doesn’t Banganté mean the House of those who refuse to succumb?” Salomon interjected.
“Uh-huh, Son.! Besides, hmm! We the children of Banganté! Hmm! Our other Bamileké brothers say that we are very loud and dramatic, and that we sleep with our feet outside.”
“Sleep with our feet outside? What does that mean?”
“Sons, that means Banganté men live for today and see no reason why they should build or invest for the future.”
“Ha, ha….ha,” Salomon laughed, “That means we are lazy.”
“Hmm! Nevertheless, our men are not as lazy as Mokam from the Bamileké realm of goat thieves. Now, back to my story,” Joseph said, and then continued:
“Mokam was a shameless husband and father who made very little effort to provide for his family. His wife Tenga, on the contrary, was a very compassionate, dignified and hardworking woman.
“Tenga kept herself busy all the time by taking care of their eight children. Now, it is easy to think that Mokam was very grateful for his wife's disproportionate input in the smooth running of the family. Sons, that was not the case. He never showed his appreciation for the wonderful job Tenga was doing as a good mother and wife. Instead, he beat her every now and then as if he thought marrying her was the biggest mistake he ever made in his life. Why she allowed him to get away with it, even though she was bigger and stronger, I don’t know. However, on the two occasions that she fought back, she beat Mokam up so badly that he spent days agonizing in pains in his sick in bed. She regretted those two occasions afterwards, wept about it for weeks and asked for his forgiveness as if the fault was all hers. Despite her regrets, the mouthy Mokam, the son of a famous goat thief, failed to live happily as a man married to a strong woman who would never raise her hand against him again.
“I remember returning home from my farm one evening and spotting an excited Mokam getting into a vehicle that plied the roads of the neighboring villages and towns. So, when your mother told me afterwards that our infamous Mokam had seized his wife’s savings and disappeared with the money, I knew he was up to no good.
“Nothing was heard of Mokam again for weeks until he returned home one night and ordered his wife to serve him food. Tenga had nothing left to offer him at that late hour of the day, but she urged him to give her a moment to put together a meal for his hungry stomach. She asked him a question or two while preparing the meal, but Mokam angrily refused to tell her the fate of the money she had saved in a tin container underneath their bed, money which he took away without her permission. Instead of apologizing, he turned around and blamed her for all his misfortunes in life, and then after doing so, he vowed not to eat her food for a month.
Now, what did Mokam do after berating his wife, when the right thing he should have done was apologize to her? As the astonished Tenga stood there trying to make sense of his strange behavior, her husband went on to stamp his feet and curse, and then raised and dropped his hands several times before storming out of the house, mumbling angrily to himself. He trekked to his younger brother’s home half a mile away and ate the scrapes his sister-in-law offered him that might.”
“Papa, what is a sister-in-law?” Salomon asked.
“Son, a sister-in-law refers to the woman a person’s brother is married to, or to the sister of the person’s husband or wife. A sister-in-law is also the wife of the brother of a person's husband or wife.
“Does that mean Uncle David Nemafou’s wife is also your sister-in-law?” Gavin asked.
“Yes, son, your Auntie Therese is my sister-in-law. However, it would be more appropriate to call her your mother’s sister-in-law because Uncle David is your mother’s brother.”
“How do I get to call the woman Gavin marries?” Salomon asked.
“Gavin?” Joseph said with raised eyebrows.
“Would Gavin’s wife become my sister-in-law?”
“Uh-huh!”
“Papa, I don’t want to marry when I grow up. Salomon’s sister-in-law will be Christian’s wife.”
“Ha-ha, ha...ha!” Joseph laughed, “Son, if you do not get yourself a wife when you become a man, you will end up as the only male in the history of the Njike family who failed to marry. Now, where were we with the story of Mokam?”
“I don’t mind! I will have Mama with me,” Gavin said.
“She is my wife. I won’t allow her to leave me and live with you.”
“She is my mother.”
“Son, do you see me living with my mother?’
“She is dead.”
“Hmm! You are right. Look around you in Banganté, and then tell me the number of men you have seen that are living with their mothers.”
Gavin looked thoughtful about it for a moment. “The two of you can live with me.”
“Oh! You mean Salomon and me?”
“No, Papa! I meant you and Mama. Salomon eats too much. I wouldn’t be able to come up with enough money to feed him.”
“Okay, Gavin! We will live with you only if you marry a hardworking woman like Mokam’s wife. Now, where were we with the story?”
“Where Mokam told his wife that he wouldn’t eat at his home for one month?” Gavin said with an incredulous expression on his face, “Papa, can you do that?”
“Why?” Joseph asked.
“Mama always gives you the biggest share of everything, especially the meat and chicken.”
“No, Son! I can’t afford to do something like that. You don’t want your father to walk around without his big belly; do you?” Joseph said, pushed his belly forward and regarded his sons comically.
“Phew, phew…phew!” the children laughed, “Papa, you are trying to make a zangalewa belly,” Salomon interjected amidst the laughter.
Joseph laughed too. “You are right, Sons. I don’t have a zangalewa belly, but my belly is always full because I love and respect your mother; and above all, I appreciate the wonderful job my wife does everyday feeding us all.”
“Uh-huh!” Gavin affirmed with a thoughtful expression on his face.
“Now, where were we with the story?”
“Where Mokam didn’t eat his wife’s food for one month,” Salomon said this time around.
“Yes, he did not,” Joseph affirmed, ruffled his youngest son’s hair, and then continued:
“Mokam spent weeks blackmailing his wife because he was getting his free meals from his brother’s home. He would tell her of the wonderful dishes his brother’s wife prepared for him every day, of the enlightened manner with which she lived her life with her husband and children, and he would even praise his sister-in-law for things that she did not do. He went as far as urging his wife to learn how to run a home from his sister-in-law.
“I am sure Mokam had no intention to stop getting his free meals at his brother’s home and using it to make his wife feel bad about it. Therefore, when he approached his brother’s home that afternoon, it was business as usual. However, he had not reckon that something unexpected could happen that day, until he knocked on the door and discovered that his brother, his wife and their kids had left unexpectedly that morning for a trip out of town. The hungry Mokam did not like the fact that they left without informing him about it. So, he turned around with a disappointed look on his face, and then walked back home to the utter surprise of his wife who was still in the kitchen, cooking the afternoon meal.
“Mokam’s wife was steaming bundles of egusi pudding in her huge enamel pot on the fireside when he walked in and grunted as if that was the right way to announce his entry to a place he hardly spent time in. His wife did not mind and greeted him in her good-natured voice, which he responded to by feigning grumpiness. Tenga said nothing for a moment until he sat down on the stool by the window. But then, he went on to sneer, grunt and snort at every effort she made to communicate with him. His act paid off because she became convinced that she was responsible for whatever ills that were afflicting her husband; and she even begged him to forgive her for all her trespasses. She also pleaded with him to start eating her food again and promised to do everything possible to make him happy.
Mokam responded to her peaceful overtures with leers and insults instead. The fellow went a step further by vowing to continue boycotting her food for another month unless she paid a fine. Convinced that her husband would not change his mind, she sadly concentrated on finishing with her cooking before the children returned home from school. So, when she informed Mokam at one point that she would be away for a couple of minutes to get the cutlass in the barn and harvest some plantains in the backyard, which she also intended to cook for lunch, she expected nothing good to come out of him.
“Mokam was the sort of fellow who made his life a drama and enjoyed the attention he got from his acting, even though he rarely benefited anything from playing the false role of a hurt victim. What could he possibly gain by refusing his wife’s food while demeaning himself in front of his younger brother and his sister-in-law? Well, the answer is simple. He gained nothing.
“Anyway, Mokam’s wife couldn’t find the cutlass in the barn, but then remembered right away that she had it in the kitchen, on top of the hanging rack where they put the fresh and damp firewood to dry. So, she turned around, walked back into the kitchen and went straight for the cutlass without looking in her husband’s direction and without uttering a word to him. She found the cutlass, got hold of it, and then turned around and started walking out of the kitchen again when she noticed something trickling down her husband’s temple. She stopped and looked at Mokam fixedly, the expression on her face turning into one of concern, and then alarm.
“‘Why are you sweating so much and twitching your face like that?’ she quivered.
“‘It is my cap,’ Mokam gasped with a wince, and then placed a hand on the top of his fez cap. ‘Don’t worry, go ahead and get the plantains. I will stay here and keep watch on things for you,’ he added and then winced again.
“‘Mokam, what is wrong with you? Why is your sweat white? Are you sick?’ she asked with dread in her voice, dropped the cutlass and approached her husband with a look of trepidation on her face.
“Mokam stopped her at arm’s length. ‘Leave me alone, go to the backyard and harvest the plantains for the children who will be back soon. Woman, I am sweating hot sweat, that is all. Don’t worry; I will be fine in a minute. Go out, go away now, I order you,’ Mokam entreated, sounding more like he was pleading with his wife than giving her orders…
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