KWEE Liberian Literary Magazine Jan. Iss. Vol. 0115 Mar Vol. 0315 | Página 17

Liberian Literary Magazine you men want to credit it, I have no objection.” “That's what I like you for, Gbiti, you got a solution for all my problems. Bring the bottle. I will pay you double interest for it.” “I know it's the truth. If you pay me all the interest you owe me, I will be rich.” Gbiti pointed out. Tene reached in her bossom and pulled out a handkerchief with a knot at one end. She opened it and took out a dollar bill. “Gbiti,” she called, “here is the cold water for the men.” I pitied her for the gesture, but nevertheless accepted it. The watchman's wife had some cane juice and beer under her bed to seil, so we did not have far to go. This illicit selling of rum helped to augment the watchman's meager income. Our host, a jovial little stooped shoulder fellow soon joined us. The first joke he cracked was, “I see the liquor palava's coming on all right, but where do I pen you two billy goats for the night?” He asked us to excuse ourselves and follow him. “I know it is the sleeping place palava you have called us here to hang head.” Karmo observed. “Old man we don't want to embarrass you. When we are finished with our drinks, we will go to Cooper Farm to ask some friends to put us up for the night.” “You boys sound like two asses. You know I wouldn't agree to such a preposterous idea.” The old man pointed out. After a Promoting Liberian literature, Arts and Culture further search of the warehouse facilities, the old man came up with a new suggestion. “You boys follow me,” he invited. “The boatboys are not here. They left a big tent capable of accommodating ten couples.” We went over and examined it. “There's nothing wrong with it,” Karmo remarked. I didn't know how well Tene would accept the idea of sleeping with me, having just left her husband and returned to her parents in Bendabli. When the old watchman observed my indicisiveness, he asked, “what, you not sure of your woman?” “Weil, she's got a young baby,” I replied. Karmo interferred, “man move from here, with your baby business. You will be a big fool if you don't begin cashing in for all your lost labor.” That night under our tent room, Tene did not resist my approaches. We played until very late in the night. Early the following morning we all scattered in different directions; Karmo and Gbiti headed for Suehn, Tene for Bendabli and I to Cooper Farm to stay with some 17 friends. Before leaving for Suehn, my friend offered to come to a family council in Bendabli, if I thought it is useful. Three weeks after the encounter with Tene I paid a visit to Bendabli. I noticed that our quarter, particularly, the big house was in a very dilapidated condition. The rains had washed away a considerable portion of the outer walls. The old folks found it convenient to move into my kongo, the annex I built in the back of the house. Tene and her baby shared a room with Kema in a neighbor's hut. Old man Joma asked friends to beg me to come back and settle down in the village. He and the old lady promised that, under no circumstances would they allow Tene to put her foot out of the village. To further convince me, one morning old lady Karn invited me into the kongo to tell me that from now on she would not permit Tene to be dominated by her sister. I pitied the old lady very much. The wrinkles in her face had become deeper, and her ribs, jaws and shoulder bones protruded sharply.