THE FRESH MILK
Everybody
knew how Gibson loved fura d nunu while we were still in school.
It
was on Christmas day that I finally had time to visit them. When I heard weeks
before that Christy, Gibson’s wife, had given birth to a bouncing baby boy, I
was quite elated. Gibson and I were both in the same
department in school and we did almost everything together.
“Guy,
I just had a bouncing baby boy and his name is Jonathan.” He had announced proudly
that Sunday on the phone. From the manner he spoke, I sensed he was in the best
of moods. Nothing gladdens a man’s heart than knowing he’s not only productive
but has also got an evidence to prove to that effect. The birth of the new-born had
shown that the couple was indeed fertile.
Days
crawled pass slowly and dragged into weeks. I had planned to pay them a visit
but trust what work, traffic and family could do to a man. Each day, a gnawing
guilt sat in my chest knowing that it wasn’t fair what I was doing.
“You’re,
a bad man Japheth,” I constantly heard a voice telling me deep down my
subconscious.
Finally,
free on Christmas day, I decided to pay them the much anticipated visit. They
were all at home. Three other visitors; a woman, a young lady and an elderly
man, were seated sipping juice. I took the seat facing the TV.
“At
last the mountain has decided to come to Moses,” Christy beamed chirpily. We
shook hands and minutes later, baby Jonathan was calmly resting in my lap.
Christy had - like every good mother would - breastfed him very well and the baby was in
a joyous mood.
“Good
guy; Jonathan,” I said playfully making the baby giggle and shriek with
excitement.
Just
then Gibson sauntered into the sitting room from the bathroom. He guffawed when
our eyes met.
“I
wasn’t expecting you to come,” he puckered. “I thought you would wait until my
son becomes the president of the country before you visit us…”
We
chortled at that and then the elderly man announced that he was leaving.
The
woman and the young lady – her daughter perhaps - also stood up to leave.
Christy saw them off leaving me with her husband and the infant who had begun
to sleep.
“What
can I offer you, guy?” Gibson was standing in front of the refrigerator.
I
blinked, “anything soft.”
“Fresh
milk… chilled; very fresh!”
Shrugging,
I gave him the nod. I used to know how he loved fura da nunu when we were in school. Those days, Gibson had over
ten Fulani women who constantly supplied him the fresh cow milk. He had carried
along the love for milk to this day.
“You
and milk,” I grinned as he poured me a glass-full.
Thick,
nourishing and very chilled! I drank it with so much relish as we both sat
across the table.
“Who
supplied this one?” I echoed excitedly as he poured me a second glass. I hadn’t
tasted cow milk that was that nourishing and satisfying before. The taste was
simply out of this world. No wonder Gibson has been shinning like a new coin. I
thought almost aloud.
“You
like it?”
I
nodded in the affirmative. “Man, I want to be introduced to the supplier right
away. Can you introduce me to her?”
He
said he was going to arrange something.
My
mind was on the fresh milk as I drove home. It had soothed my heart and made me
feel so good. I kept telling myself that I hadn’t been feeding on the right
diet all along. Enough of this junk food Man! I almost yelled at myself.
The
next day, true to his words, Gibson supplied me a bottle which I kept in the
fridge and guarded jealously. I told my wife and the maid not to go near it.
“What
is good for the goose…” my wife tried to make a protest but I cut her short
painlessly.
“This
one is not good for the gander. It’s a concoction for jedi-jedi…”
With
that, I had the supplies all to myself.
Three
days later I called Gibson for more of the supplies. It had become to me like
cocaine and I was glad I had developed an addiction.
“I
had a fight with Christy last night” Gibson muted from the other end.
He
had a fight with his wife; so what? What had that got to do with our supplies?
What was my business if Christy had suddenly gone mad? That was their business,
not mine!
All
I wanted was my milk and nothing more.
“Gibson,”
I sighed dispassionately. “What is my business if you had a fight with
Christy?”
“Hey
Man,” his voice rose with indignation. “You don’t bite the finger that feeds
you. Come over and let’s make it up with her…”
I
felt my heart jump into my stomach. What in heaven’s name was he talking about?
“Gibson…
Gibson, what is the meaning of that?” I stuttered curiously.
“Wake
up Man.”
“What?
What? What do you mean?”
“Listen
guy, Christy is the source…”
“I
don’t understand!”
Time
stood still.
The hairs at the back of my neck
bristled; my heart fell into my mouth and cold shiver permeated my entire body as
I heard him say;
“Japheth,
the fresh milk came from Christy…”
NB;
fura d nunu: Fresh cow milk mixed with millet; a fine delicacy popular with the Fulani.
fura d nunu: Fresh cow milk mixed with millet; a fine delicacy popular with the Fulani.
jedi-jedi: An ailment that requires herbal treatment.