Mama Uju

Khaki was strikingly handsome. The type of guy most men envy, genetically programmed with six-pack abs, tall, dark with a perpetual mysterious bulge in his pants that kept the women; married and single, ogling, wondering what kraken lurked in those depths. There was also something darkly forbidden about his eye-candy features, a steely springiness that seemed to emanate from somewhere around his loins…and yet he was a mere boy, caught in the transitional ‘no-man’s-land’ where the teenage genes are in a contest with the age of majority.
I never got to know ‘Khaki-No-Be-Leather’s’ real name and I doubt that anyone in our Aguda Surulere neighborhood ever did. But I knew his "Oga Bansico" very well. Bansico was a very short and potbellied Igbo auto spare parts dealer. There were quite a number of his type back in the day, mostly in their late thirties and early forties, with names that all ended with a ‘co’, ‘son/sin’ or a ‘naa’; Bansico, Pepsico, Emico, Emmason, Okayson, Okenna, you get the drift? They were all indistinguishable in their affinity to three-bedroom apartments in Surulere and environs. Homes that all spotted red carpeted sitting rooms, dowdy flowery red curtains and velvet ‘akwa-oche’ settees. The car of choice was the obligatory ‘Clean’ Mitsubishi Tredia or Lancer, a Tokunbo definitely. If perchance the individual owned a ‘Clean’ Tokunbo flat-boot Mercedes 230, then he was more of a ‘Chairman’ than an Oga.
Success for an Oga like Bansico was defined as owning one or two small shops at Idumota or Alaba markets, the capacity to ‘tua’ one or two containers of auto parts or electronics per month from Japan, or China and build a modest house in the village in eastern Nigeria. Did I mention that a formal education was not part of the success criteria? Almost all of them “mulu afia”, learnt their trade and acquired the relevant capital through the Igbo traditional apprentice culture. Teenage (oftentimes pre-teen) boys where farmed out to rich relatives or neighbours under a tutelage arrangement lasting between five to ten years at the expiration of which the apprentice, known as ‘boyi’ or ‘Nwaboyi’ is settled or “made free”. The lack of a formal education made it quite common for a relatively well travelled and well to do Oga to ‘murder’ the English language, unabashedly saying things like “Mbensheeti” for “bed sheet”, “Valumtide” for “Valentine”, and “Behugee or Behu” which actually has no equivalent in English but appears to be an Engli-Igbo onomatopoeic coinage that denotes anything problematic, i.e. “This game is very behueged”, or in pidgin English, “Nna the thing don behue!” This is the world that impeccable English speaking Khaki found himself, having dropped out of a special science school because his parents could no longer afford the requisite tuition.
It also appeared as if all the Ogas, in a bid to compensate for their lack of education, where in a competition to marry the prettiest, tallest and most educated wife. There were three surefire methods for achieving this objective. The first being what I can only refer to as the “Incubator / Investment” model, choosing a pretty, intelligent, indigent girl from your village and training her through secondary and tertiary education, the Oga’s Return On Investment (ROI) being the consummation of their union. Those who didn’t have the patience to train their own wife will go through the “Mma anyi si”/ “My Mother said” Model. For these individuals, their mothers help to seek out an industrious, beautiful and educated girl from their village, hence the “Mma anyi si”. The final method is “the Football Match” model. All Igbo communities seemed to have an annual Football competition that was held during the Christmas festive period. It was common to see the returnee Oga (under the shade of a mango or gmelina tree), standing on tiptoes (to peer over the head of the spectators), craning his neck with his mother or guide pointing out all the potential brides, “See Okeke-Okafor’s daughter! I have it on good authority that she is industrious and humble, and she is not pompous like other University graduates…Okwa ezigbo wife material”. And the girls? Such venues had long been known as potential husband match-making sites so they always came out properly painted and decked.
So it was quite common to hear an Oga boasting, “Nna my wifu de study law na Unilagi”, and it wasn’t surprising that my 50 plus year old neighbor, Oga “Ite-Ego” a.k.a “Pot Moni”, went that route. Two Christmases earlier, Ite-Ego had returned from the festivities in his village with a voluptuous, sexy, sultry, six foot tall (Ite-Ego was barely 5 feet), long legged 23 year old graduate, Mama Uju, in tow. The first thing that struck me when I saw her was that she was as different from her husband as night is from day. But Ite-Ego clearly didn’t mind, boasting about his good fortune when his wife started spitting ‘tufia-tufia’ shortly after she arrived and then had their daughter, Uju, nine months later. ‘Pot-Moni’ in a true reflection of his moniker showered her with gifts, jewelry, even shopping trips to Bangkok (or as he will put it, “Thailand via Bangkok”) but obstinately refused to allow her practice with her law degree. His only concession to any form of enterprise was to allow her set up a small bukateria, serving delicious Igbo native meals to all the Ogas and Nwaboyis in the neighbourhood. The business became so successful that it kept her away all day, and it became a well-known fact that because of the volume of sales, Mama Uju usually stayed behind for at least an hour after the business had closed to customers to conclude her bookkeeping in readiness for the next day’s sales.
Mama Uju’s restaurant will typically come to life towards the evening, when traders troop back from Idumuota or Alaba markets after their day’s sales. Many came to eat the delicious food but a number also came to bask in the beauty of Mama Uju and her team of equally beautiful, handpicked service girls. Many an Oga’s “ego na ngwo afia”, business capital and goods, were partly depreciated at Mama Uju’s. It was also not surprising that a number of Nwaboyi’s stole their Ogas money to impress the girls at Mama Uju’s.
On this day, I had stopped over on my way back from school, very broke and very hungry for Mama Uju’s had never failed me. I was sure to run into one of my Oga friends who for some reason where always quite happy to show that they could feed an Undergraduate despite their lack of a formal education. I quickly scanned the buka to see if I will recognize any of the patrons but I initially had no such look till my gaze landed on Khaki. 
Clad in the traditional shorts (against trousers) used to differentiate a Nwaboyi from an Oga, Khaki was holding court over a lavish table laden with drinks, plates of ‘isi-ewu’, ‘nkwobi’, ‘ugba’, peppered gizzard and other such delicacies. There was also a lot of giggling emanating from his corner as Mama Uju’s girls seemed to be giving the table a lot of attention.
Khaki waved me over regally, and I soon became part of the mostly alcohol fueled flirting, merriment and raucous singing. In the course of the ‘enjoyment’ and over the din of chatter I learnt that Khaki’s Oga Bansico and Oga Ite-Ego had travelled on a business trip to Japan hence his being home from work at that time of the day and holding court in such a manner. I gulped when the first bill arrived but Khaki casually pulled out a wad of Naira notes from his shorts and quickly settled the bill. I left them at almost midnight, by then a number of Mama’ Uju’s girls had started mopping the floor and setting the chairs on top of the tables, indicating to patrons that it was time to go home. As I was leaving the buka, Khaki’s raucous laughter followed me down the hallway, ringing in my ears and I remember thinking, doesn’t this guy plan to go home today?
Suffused with food and drink, I slept off almost immediately only to be awakened by, Mama Uju’s pleading, baby Uju’s cries and the voice of Oga Ite-Ego screaming, “Mama Uju, how many you du? Eh! How many you du?” “Ashawo, go home!’ Akwunakwuna prostitute! Domitilla! I ga ana!!!!!! You must leave my house, Kwakua Ife gi! Pack your things! I ga ana na abania”, “You must leave my house this night!” As if this wasn’t enough, whelps and screams where heard from Oga Bansico’s apartment as well. Confusion first reigned but as the dust settled the story gradually emerged. 
Neither Oga Bansico nor Oga Ite-Ego travelled to Japan. Oga Bansico who had harboured a suspicion that Khaki was stealing from him had rifled through Khaki’s items and found a suspicious note penned by Mama Uju. After he shared his thoughts with Oga Ite-Ego, the “trip to Japan” tale was a rouse to mask their sting operation, letting themselves into the Buka after the patrons and service girls had left, leaving Mama Uju behind as usual.
Though the lights at Mama Uju’s where out but the men had no problem navigating between the tables as the slippery-sloppy-smacking sound of wet love making and Mama Uju’s unstrained moans of satisfaction led them to the kitchen. There was Mama Uju, lying on the kitchen worktop, perfect legs spread-eagled, as if pointing and leading straight up to heaven, and Khaki, shorts down at his ankles, hammering away, thrusting beautifully in perfect rhythm to Mama Uju’s gasps and moans.
Oga Bansico was later to confide in me that there was something eerily beautiful and complete about that scene, that Mama Uju and Khaki’s shagging was like music, and that he couldn’t help thinking of the trauma that will be Ite-Ego desecrating such a beauty. Even Ite-Ego’s own initial reaction was that of awe, admiration for Khaki’s well-endowed member, and in what will later become a popular expression in our neighbourhood, exclaimed ‘Nna nekwa eke this boy bu n’ukwu’’, ‘Nna see the python that this boy has for a dick”, sending the copulating couple springing apart in shock, Mama Uju falling off the kitchen worktop in a tangle of panties, bra, pots and pans. Delayed reaction anger only followed after Bansico and Ite-Ego’s feeling of awe wore off.
By the next morning both Khaki-No-Be-Leather and the sultry, voluptuous and leggy Mama Uju where gone, both banished to their homes. Oga Ite-Ego made it final by returning the Bride Price to Mama Uju’s father as he could not live with the humiliation of his wife shagging a Nwaboyi. Of course the charge of theft meant that Khaki was not Settled, was not made ‘Free’ by Oga Bansico, thus his almost five years of service was wasted.
Somehow, deep inside of me, I suspected that the last had not been heard of Mama Uju and Khaki and I was proven right. On my way to school about six months after the incident, I saw a horde of workmen frenetically painting a building adjacent where Mama Uju’s restaurant used to be. Later that evening I froze in mid-stride when I read the colorful legend emblazoned on a billboard in front of what was now clearly an Eatery;
“MAMA UJU AGAIN – Biko, Khaki No Be Leather Nnam”




Jekwu Ozoemene