Children’s Hour (1)
It was the last Saturday of the month at the Old Hide Out in Surulere. The diners drank in the music with their pepper soup and beer, and chomped their fish & chips to the beat of rhythm & blues. When the music stopped, Taiwo, Ogbuagu and I—the Three Happy Cheers!—we stepped up to the stage to do our thing before the proper Comedian seized the stage.
Ogbuagu took the mike. “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Old Hide Out, the Leisure Palace whose fame has spread across the nation from Abonnema to Sokoto, Badagry to Maiduguri. It’s been a night of good food and drink. We’re going to make it a night of laughter as well . . . .”
“Objection!” said a voice from a distant corner, followed by a chorus of voices. “You can’t eat and drink so comfortably while millions all over the world are starving or making do with a dollar a day!”
“And can you laugh when thousands are slaughtered every day?” said another voice.
“Did you see Aljazeera today?”
“Or BBC, SkyNews, CNN or ChannelsTV?”
“Yeah . . . All the news is war and bloodshed. Suicide bombings. Machine gunnings by domestic terrorists. Beheadings by international terrorists. Al Qaeda, Al Shabaab, ISIS, Boko Haram, Fulani Militia.”
“How can you afford to laugh?”
The air was so tense you could slice it like fruit cake.
“If we don’t laugh,” shouted someone from left flank, “we will have to cry and never stop crying. We must laugh to stay alive!”
The entire hall broke into grateful applause, subsiding finally into bubbles of conversation.
Then, one middle-aged man stepped up to the stage. He cut a friendly home-made figure in his classic hand-woven embroidered traditional sleeveless flared top, now mostly worn by talking drummers and praise-singers. He took up the microphone.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your group, Mr. O. J. I don’t know about machine gunnings and beheadings. But our children are asking questions.”
“What sort of questions?”
“All sorts of questions. You see, I’m only a Village Headmaster from Ogun State. They call me HM. I can’t answer all their questions. I thought Taiwo, Ogbuagu and you can help. You seem to know everything.”
“We may seem that way,” said Taiwo, “but, as the poet said, all that glitters is not gold.”
“Can I bring the children? . . . Come on, Children!”
And what a rush! Boys and girls of different sizes. Fifteen to twenty of them. They sprawled cross-legged all over the stage.
“The Master said: Permit the children to come to me,” said Taiwo solemnly. “From their lips shall the grown-ups be instructed.”
“Thank you,” said HM. “Children, here is your chance to be heard. Speak now.”
Three or four hands went up. HM walked up to the nearest child, pulled him up and handed him the mike.
“Please sir, we heard that some banks have gone into laundry & dry cleaning. Why? Is their business expanding, or is it failing and folding up?”
The hall exploded in laughter.
“Tell us more,” said Ogbuagu. “Which banks?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“What did government say to them?”
“I don’t know if government said anything. I don’t think laundry & dry cleaning is against the law, sir.”
“It is against the law for banks,” shouted one child. “Banks are supposed to stick to their job.”
“What is their job?” asked another child.
“Their job is to take money and give money, not to take clothes and give clothes because washermen do that.”
“That is called competition,” said another child. “Banks must compete with other banks, not with dry cleaners and washermen.”
“So why are some banks dry cleaning and laundering if it is against the law?”
“It means they are lawbreakers. Criminals.”
“Are you sure they launder clothes? I think they launder money.”
“How can you launder money?”
“You know we have so much dirty money. Money so dirty you don’t want to touch it. I think the banks are trying to win more customers by washing the money they give.”
“Are you sure? What brand of soap can they use without damaging the money?”
“I think only the plastic money can be washed. N5 to N50. The rest is paper money.”
“Yes, paper money will soak up water and break in pieces.”
“That’s the BIG money. Paper money cannot be washed.”
“I think they launder paper money with special chemicals.”
“There’s no such chemicals to launder money.”
“Yes there is. It’s imported. I heard it on the radio. Only three banks sell it—Bank of America, Bank of England, and Bank of Switzerland.”
At that point the Comedian appeared.
“We’re not ready for jokes,” Taiwo told him.
He rolled his eyes in fake surprise, but before he could speak Madam strode in.
“How is it going?” she asked.
“The children are holding a conference,” said Ogbuagu.
“Oh good. . . . Next Saturday is October 1st. I will have a BIG Independence Day Cake for everybody!”
The children cheered.
“Thank you, Auntie!! . . . Thank you, Auntie!!!”
“Bring your friends!”
“Children’s Hour continues on Independence Day. Thank you, HM!”
• To be continued.
Onwuchekwa Jemie