by Ilongo Fritz Ngale
At 1am on a very wet july morning, Pa Gana was the last client to leave the boisterous “Tonton bar” in the red light district of “Quartier Malabar.” Staggering drunkenly, he miraculously zigzagged his way through the overflowing drainage conduits, splashing indifferently across mud puddles. At the beginning of Nkane Street, women of all ages, shapes and sizes huddled under shabby umbrellas, waylaying the late passerby: “Darling share my bed. It is very cold outside.” “I can make you really happy.” “I have a warm bath waiting.” “Don’t you remember me?” Under his stinking breath, Pa Gana was saying: “Get lost. I want only Adidja. Can’t you leave me alone?” The withering looks the ladies gave him in the dark could have frozen a river, but the old man was past caring.
At last Pa Gana arrived at the modest but well kept home of Adidja. As he was about to knock on the door, it was violently thrown open and a bald muscular man shouldered his way out, knocking the old man flat on his back. Stunned for a few moments, Pa Gana blinked rapidly as drops of drizzling rain brought tears to his eyes. When his vision cleared he saw outlined by the pale yellow light of a bush lamp, the tall entrancing silhouette of Adidja, barely veiled by the thin wrap around her ample form. The mud spattered man comically struggled to his feet, washing his hands with invisible soap.
“Who is it? What do you want?” Asked Adidja in a deep sensual voice that left the drunk salivating. “Can I come in?” Peering forward in the dark night, slightly relieved by the faint rays of the bush lamp, Adidja jumped back with an oath: “Go away Pa Gana. You are not welcomed here.” She started shutting the door. “Twenty thousand francs.” Said the desperate man. The movement of the door slowed down but continued with some hesitation. Smirking in the dark, the old man warmed to the unfolding game: “Thirty thousand francs.” The door was moving on slow motion by now, and when it looked as if it would be shut definitely, the shivering man shouted: “Forty thousand francs.”
The door swung in the opposite direction, and Adidja ushered the victorious man into the one room structure that had as unique furniture a king sized rumpled bed. Adidja was saying: “You have to leave at 5 am. Not a second later.” “Fine my darling. Since I have only four hours to go, can we get started?” Sometime later, a surreptitious movement by Pa Gana under the lone pillow brought Adidja awake: “What was that?” “Nothing my dear.” At 5 am, Pa Gana was hustled unceremoniously out of the house into the thick gray half light of approaching dawn. When Adidja checked her booty she discovered that her client had left fifty instead of forty thousand francs. “What an old fool. Anyway he pays well.”
At 10 am, knowing the girls were still asleep or slowly getting up from sleep, Pa Gana alighted from a taxi near “Quartier Malabar.” In the light of the day, the old man resembled a demon escaped from hell. Ten years earlier he had been involved in a ghastly motor accident. By some miracle he alone had survived, but then the aftermath left him the most repulsive human creature in Mongou. His upper lip was missing while his nose was squashed across his face, giving him the weird appearance of a grinning black mask. Contrary to his repulsive physical appearance, Pa Gana’s bank account kept swelling as if by some divine compensation.
As he moved along Nkane Street, now illuminated by the hugely grinning sun, the receptive, inviting ladies of the night before quickly banged shut their doors upon his approach, only to open the latter and peer out curiously when Pa Gana did not knock on any of them. He seemed bent on some deadly purpose, for moving with an unusually energetic bounce to his steps, he headed resolutely in the direction of Adidja’s home. Soon a crowd of curiosity seekers was following him at a discreet distance. Ruffling his feathers, planting his feet solidly on the ground, Pa Gana finally knocked on Adidja’s door.
A wave of shock, surprise and disbelief swept through the faces of the gathered prostitutes: “What is the beast doing infront of the beauty’s door?” “Wonders shall never end.” “I wouldn’t accept him for a million francs.” “What a frightful looking creature.” Indifferent to the insulting comments, the old man kept banging on Adidja’s door. Suddenly the latter was thrown open, and the bleary eyed lady opened her mouth in shock upon seeing Pa Gana standing at her doorsteps, while behind him a crowd of cheap prostitutes as she called her neighbours kept moving closer, in order to watch first hand the unfolding drama.
“Can I come in darling?” “Who is your darling. What are you doing here? Get away you beast!” Adidja shouted hysterically, trying at the same time to shut her door. Before she could carry out her intention, Pa Gana coolly said to the hearing of all the women: “I slept here last night.” The ladies clapped their hands: “Her pride is thus only skin deep.” “She sleeps with such a creature.” “What a disgrace she is.” Spat out the jealous, vindictive neighbours of Adidja. The latter lashed out valiantly: “I will sue you for making such utterances. Look at the thing that wants to destroy my image.” Unperturbed and definitely enjoying himself by now, Pa Gana said: “There is proof that I slept with you last night in your room. I can get it.” “Over my dead body are you going to come into my house.” “Well then, get us the pillow on your bed. Within its case you will find my identity card and the sum of one hundred thousand francs.” “You should be out of your mind.” Feebly retorted Adidja. By now the women were crowding behind Pa Gana, morbidly craning their necks to have a look at Adidja’s room.
When she finally brought out the pillow, Pa Gana removed his ID card and a hundred thousand francs from within its grimy cover. “Is this not my identity card ladies?” Moving forward they could all see the grinning mask on the card. “I only go for the best. Money speaks loudly.” Boasted Pa Gana, as he moved through the crowd of women who fell back in horror at the repulsive looking man. Turning back as one to confront Adidja, the door was violently shut in their faces. “Shame on you Adidja.” “You arrogant for nothing fellow.” “Cheap prostitute.” “You have no class.” The women copiously insulted Adidja for the next thirty minutes. That same night, the humiliated beauty packed her few belongings, and under the cover of darkness slipped off to an unknown destination.
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