Canvases

The first time they met was not when their cars collided, in the middle of a gridlock. But Bibobra would think of the auto crash as the more remarkable moment. It was only a smashed bumper but she found herself railing at the man who had hit her from behind. 'How had he gained his license, was he blind or just callous?' And "Are you going to pay for this?" She exploded?

He said nothing, which was strange because silence was acquiescence, and no one agrees to being wrong when caught in situations like that in Lagos. He ought to have been shouting back, telling her how she had caused it in the first place because she was was a poor driver who was probably texting on the wheel. There was loud honking and a couple of drivers had converged about them. For some reason, when he took out his cell phone and asked for her bank details so he could pay for the repairs, that was when she got really angry. 

'This is not taking responsibility, it is just the opposite,' she was thinking. 'She would have preferred not to have been bashed into, in the first place. Someone might have gotten hurt. And did he imagine her remonstrance was about money?' Bibobra huffing replied with "Go back to driving school" and entered her vehicle. It was only when she was taking the stairs up to her one bedroom apartment afterwards and thinking how dumb she had been not to have taken the repair money, that it struck her she'd met this man before. 

That was just yesterday. Or the day before. She wasn't certain. Bibobra worked with one of Nigeria's Telecommunications companies, heading Operations from their main Lagos branch. Kemi in Marketing should have mailed a file to her hours ago and she could have rung for it but Kemi was her friend and Bibobra just felt like checking on her then. She got to the office Kemi shared with two other marketing people and found the woman conferring with someone who was certainly not one of them, a customer perhaps. 

They had been introduced but she couldn't remember his name just now. His thick mop of black hair was peppered with not a little white. She knew it had to be early graying because he had a youthful face, chiselled jawline, a lean figure and neat. That was what she found really interesting about the man then. How clean he appeared in denim trousers and a tribal print shirt, a single ivory hued wristband on the left arm, with that subtle scent of sandalwood. Bibobra in her office shoes stood many inches over him. Being over six feet and heavy, she was used to people, men especially who like this one was not tall, appearing to be somewhat uneasy around her. She possessed a very sharp sense for that discomfort but this man didn't show it. His eyes were dancing and staring up into hers like he was probing, asking her questions she couldn't understand. When Kemi had said he was an artist, Bibobra was not surprised. 

"Mind if I ask what business you have brought to us sir?"

"I need your money. That is all". He replied. He sat down again and smiled at her, showing crowded white teeth.

"Well, you are welcome to it. Although I should warn you that we are not as rich as you heard. No company is these day".

"They are doing this em... art festival". Kemi broke in. "Right? And we are sponsoring."

"Great. Answered Bibobra. "Please Kemi, the file... I shouldn't be in your way. Break time, Kemi" And to the man, "Good luck sir". Then she had retreated. How had she failed to recognize him on the road? Even with the baseball cap he had on, that was inexcusable. 

While fixing something to eat that evening, her cellphone buzzed and it was Kemes reminding her about the dinner they had agreed to have at his place in Ikoyi. He'd asked that she get to know where he lived and have a proper home made meal with him. She said 'no problem', and reading his text now she smiled at the 'babe'. If she and Kemes become a thing, it would make an interesting story. Interesting in that he had once been her boyfriend's best buddy.

That was back in Secondary School. Kemes and Preye were two very dissimilar people by way of appearance. Kemes was the tallest boy in the school, gangly. Preye, wiry and short. But they were alike in one aspect. They were the school comedians, the boys with something witty to say at every turn. The spirited, always happy pair. In SS2, Preye was Socials Prefect and going out with Bibobra and so it became a team of three. Secondary School passed and life separated them. Preye and Kemes went to the same university some distance away from Bibobra's OAU. Later she was told her now ex lover's best friend, Kemes had quit the tertiary institution during one of the long lecturers' strike and moved to the UK to start over. By this time she was in that fluid relationship with David. 

People who knew them would agree it was one of those affairs where both partners loved each other greatly, equally. The kind of love that was just in everyone else's face, proud and unabashed. At some point in University they were living together. Sometimes David would wear Bibobra's feminine perfumes as if using her skin care products was not enough; she gave up lady's slides for his sandals, and from time to time, donned heavily starched men's shirt over thigh hugging jeans. They had planned their marriage and hoped to do it immediately after final exams. So they went for tests, and got the bad news. David and Bibobra were both AS. To have kids would be quite a risky adventure as it was too likely that they would be bringing a child into the world to battle sickle cell disease for a whole lifetime. Marrying should be out of the question now as every health professional would advise. But the pair had been so possessed by each other that going apart at this juncture was unthinkable. They appreciated their untenable position but were going to stick together regardless. 

Was it so necessary to have kids anyway? Couldn't they be together and maybe adopt if they really wanted children? They both seemed to think along those lines and hence agreed they go ahead with their 'together forever' plans. Unfortunately, Bibobra and David didn't wed after their finals. Both had been poor undergraduates and their savings wouldn't cover a wedding. They chose to get jobs immediately after graduation, rather than continue with the one year national service scheme, and in that, they were both lucky. David got a position with a Lagos based civil engineering firm and she got a bank job. Two years later, Bibobra would make a little advance in her career with that place in the telecoms industry. But that was before the shattering. 

On a lazy Saturday morning, Bibobra received a long WhatsApp message from David. She had been living with her parents, he in an apartment on Victoria Island. She spent weekends at his place, but on this particular weekend he was away for work. The message ended with: "I am sorry this couldn't work, for the life we might have had. Thank you for giving me the best times of my life yet. Goodbye and I love you." Two months later, he got married.

After David, life had been a stupor. She was broken. It took some time but even when she could tell herself that she was alright, she knew that it was not true and wondered if it could ever be. Bibobra's dating life was not messy. It was a clean slate, as her romantic relationships with men always end on the first date. At the thirty-six, the woman was committed to being single forever, convinced that it was not bad life at all. More women were making that choice these days and who's to say they can't have full lives with plenty of exhilarating experience while being highly successful and unattached. Her photographer friend, Lisa had encouraged her the year before to take more pictures. She had done just so and was becoming something of a fashion blogger on Instagram. With a form that some would describe as lush, voluptuous, unique; with that well preserved dark complexion; it was not so hard. Recently she clinched her first influencer contract with a fast growing Nigerian fashion brand. Life was not how she imagined it ten years ago, but wonderful. True, nothing seemed to excite her greatly. Not the photo shoots. Not even that first girls' trip to Dubai. Nothing at least, until Kemes. 

She was going up to her car some weeks ago when she sensed someone walking behind her. There should not have been anything unique about that as this was the busy parking lot of a big mall. But she felt like she ought to know who this someone was, and turned. He stopped too, looked at her like someone observing something strange on display, brows knitted, hands akimbo. For a few seconds she was baffled but then recognition came.

"Kemes!" She exclaimed. "Kemes Seimiengha. Really,  Is this you?"

"That was quick. I had thought it would take you some time. I am disappointed." His voice was baritone, powerful, clear. They hugged. Kemes was a giant of a man, almost seven feet, but he only gave her a few inches.

"Your pictures are all over the internet Kemes, it should take very little for anyone to recognize you." They hadn't seen each other in sixteen years but Facebook had put a lot of old acquaintances back in touch. So they saw each other's pictures and talked from time to time. "But my God, look at this paunch! And how come I am just finding out you are back in Nigeria? Kemes is this fair? Why are we even acting like we are friends in the first place?" She said, reproachfully.

"I admit Bibi, I ought to have informed you. But then I wanted to surprise people and not tell them I am back home until they get my call or I just meet them like this. You understand? Well I have been here for about a month and work has kept me really busy. Remember how we were talking some time back on socials and I told you about this plan to move back to Nigeria and build a startup? So this is it Bibi, it's on. We have a few investors and things are moving fast. That's how come I kept putting off making the call. I am so sorry."

"Mmm... It is not accepted. Just know that." Said she, with a light punch to his barrel chest. But it's so good to see you in the flesh again Cheetah, after all this time. That had been his nickname in high school. No one could best him in a race. 

He said "What are your plans just now? Can we get a burger in there and catch up some? 

After a few dates, Bibobra knew they were really good for each other. Kemes was her kind of person. Deep but with a healthy humor, gentle and then, driven. She knew she felt that ease with him, the feeling that comes off the knowledge that this person is safety, because he gets you, and the both of you are like two things that's really one and the same thing. Once, she had been to his work premises where mostly young people with computers in front of them were building what he said would be Nigeria's most efficient agritech business. What he had discussed with her before he returned was a company that offered solutions to farmers that would make their businesses more productive in terms of agro output, storage and sales. It seemed that was just what they were doing with the UAVs and all those agricultural scientists he had working with him. 

Bibobra went to his place on Friday evening, as they had arranged. It was a big colonial style building, studded with a few trees and boasting a well kept but somewhat wild garden. Kemes said it was not his home. The real owner was his friend who at the moment was out of town. He was still on the lookout for an apartment and it had not been fruitful so far as he was so busy and was yet to find 'a sensible real estate agent'. 

"For now I am very comfortable here." Said he. "Tunde and I go way back, since Leeds actually, and he's great."

One enters the house and it immediately announces itself as an artist's enclave. Canvas paintings and sculptures everywhere - the balconies, the hallway, sitting rooms, corridors. 

"Also, it's the studio. Some days it's some heady artists' gathering. You know, working, talking, partying. Superb company!"

"I love art. This is like you taking me to a gallery. Look, your place when you get one better be like this or I won't visit." Bibobra said, smiling. He left her to take a tour by herself, so he could set the dinner table. 

It was when Bibobra entered a room that she thought had to be the actual studio, with numerous paint brushes and other artist's equipments, that she saw it. It would have been easy to miss but the give away was the dress. In this particular painting, the lady was wearing a dress that was quite familiar. A different color no doubt, but she knew she couldn't be wrong. The earrings were different too and as the subject seemed to be behind some sort of glass, it had been well disguised. She saw four other paintings like that. Strange but exciting backgrounds involving graphic symbols, unfamiliar plants and animals, seashells. The same female subject. All finished. She would have described them all as sublime. These were an artist's masterpiece. She was laughing silently while standing in front of one of the canvases when Kemes joined her.

"What's funny? I didn't think Tunde added a joke to any of his works" said he.

"Oh no, it's something else entirely that I just remembered now". You know how it is. 

"My ears prick for the story. I hope you have had your fill for now because our table is ready and I must confess, I am famished..." He paused. "Hey I am not much of an art lover but this babe looks a lot like you. My word!" Bibobra laughed. 

The next morning, after a light breakfast of bread and omelets with coffee, she was set to get back to her apartment. The evening before had been great. After the meal he held her in his arms and she let him. She expected passionate kissing but felt she would be grateful if they didn't. She didn't feel quite up to it. Kemes did not push. Maybe he felt the same way or it was probably the memory of Preye between them. A laughable idea, but there you are. They spent the rest of the evening watching a TV series and talking into the night. They both slept on the same bed and did only that - sleep. He was as single as she was but she realized they would remain great friends, never lovers.

Monday at the close of work, someone knocked at her office door and when he entered she went straight to the point, businesslike.

"Mr. Alao, when artists use a person's picture, when you paint someone I mean, isn't there supposed to be some form of recompence for the original owner of the image? Please sit sir." She had taken his cellphone number from Kemi and dropped a message earlier in the day.

"If the artist wishes to reward you." He replied, taking a chair. "And that should be after the work has been sold, of course". He paused. "I prefer your office."

Arms folded across her chest, she stared long at him. His own glance did not waver.

"Thank you. About this." She replied, waving over the space.  "Since I am looking to retire soon though and live off people like you who use my images, I expect it won't be mine for long."

"Good plan!" He laughed. "Hey, I suppose you have closed for the day. It's 5:20. Why don't we talk more about that over a meal. I know a nice place in Bode Thomas,"

"Alright. That is my neighborhood. Wow! It must have  been a lot of stalking, Tunde." She rose, picked up her bag. "Okay to call you by your first name?"

"Please." He replied. "You know, I am just glad you aren't shouting this time."

Eight months later, these two were found honeymooning somewhere in Spain, after a quiet Lagos wedding. 

Photo Credit:

Uzo Njoku @uzoart on Twitter.