V

  Questions and Answers

  What did I lead with, I asked myself, eyes staring everywhere except where Dr. Aliozor stood addressing Mr. Peter, beside the call room.

  “Oga, wait for me there…,” he was saying.

  Did I greet, thank him, ask about the blood sample, or apologise for the false alarm first? Hence, I was tongue-tied when he came up to me, eyes staring past him, at Ebuka’s uncle. That one was walking to the passage in front of the consultants’ office.

  “I want you to go back there and ask the grandmother about the pregnancy history—”

  I brought my eyes to focus on him for a time. Though one has seen it a thousand times on T.V., I’d witnessed it first-hand two years back, there’s a part of you that still doubts this is real, that the person in front of you is really someone else. “But chief, would she—?”

  “She was there. Ask her what she remembers. Then question her again, using answers different from those she will give you. Note her reaction. I’ll be waiting for you in the consultants’ office. Then we can talk with the uncle together. Stop acting confused and be fast.”

  The nerve of him. How easy did he think it was to accept he was Dr. Aliozor? When had he arrived?! Wheeling about, I clicked my phone. 3:19.

  I approached my target with certain dread. What could the natal history tell us, we didn’t already know? Were they hiding something? I was almost a hundred percent sure it was this line of questioning that had made her lose her head with him earlier. I didn’t wish to cut short her joy. And, by extension, whatever relationship we had.

  “Doc,” she said, noticing me hanging by the drip stand. Someone had set up dextrose saline. One jubilant mother with her also greeted me. “Doc.”

  “Good evening,” I said. I checked the time again. 3:21. God… “Biko Doctor Bernard, doctor nke tinyere line…” I pointed at the blue cannula.

  “Eeeh, a ma’m,” the grandmother said, cheerful. Yes, I know.

  “…cho ka’m juru mama otutu ihe.” My voice was small, intonations all wrong.

  “Mama, ka’m bia. Doc,” the other woman said, leaving. Mama, let me go and come back later.

  I drew closer so I could talk in a low tone. “O bu ajuju maka nwa gi nwanyi…” Using my handkerchief, I wiped sweat from my face. “…mgbe o di ime.” It’s about when your daughter was pregnant. Don’t worry. I’ll translate the rest of the conversation directly.

  Mama, it is for Ebuka to get well. That is why we are asking these questions, I said to her, noticing the changes that had come over her face.

  Seconds later, still with some reluctance, she said, “Juo.” Ask.

  First, to be sure. “Mama you told him you were there when your daughter gave birth?”

  “Yes."

  What could she remember about the pregnancy?

  I let her cook, keeping track of time with my phone. Her daughter hadn’t been regular with antenatal clinic visits, but the town nurse visited her at home. She had no problem during the pregnancy. She gave birth via vaginal delivery at the local ‘hospital’ when her date was due. Labour was normal. It ended in the delivery of a live male child who cried immediately after birth.

  “But grandma,” I started slowly, “you told chief that she gave birth weeks before her due date.” Her lips quivering, eyes fixed on me, I waited for an answer. I ploughed on when none was forthcoming. “You also told him that labour was long, and your daughter gave birth to more than… to triplets—"

  Her reply caught everyone’s attention. “Ekwughi ihe ahu ozo, Doc!” Don’t say that thing again, Doc!

  I wouldn’t say it again, I assured her, painfully aware of the stares.

  One patient care-taker even said, “Please leave grandma” aloud, in Igbo.

  “You told him that—”

  "D?c, ike ad?gh? m ?za aj?j? g? ?z?. Onye isi unu aj?la m aj?j? nd? a, m wee gwa ya. ? b?r? na unu echegh? na m na-agwa unu eziokwu, biko hap? m, mee ka m zuo ike." I don’t have the strength to answer your questions again. Your chief has asked me these questions and I’ve answered them. If you people don’t want to believe me, please allow me to rest.

  Dr. Ekumankah asked what that was all about before I left. I told her Dr. Bernard wanted me to verify certain things.

  To me, Ebuka’s grandmother’s reaction wasn’t out of place. I’ve seen worse reactions than her own to family insults. And no one enjoys being questioned fifty times, especially when saying the truth. I told Dr. Aliozor this while in the consultants’ office, the air-conditioner on.

  “Let’s hear from the boy’s uncle first, then I will address this point and any other question you may have.”

  I had loads of them. Nodding, I let the man in. Which would I ask first?

  Taking the chair beside me, he was all gratitude for the first few seconds.

  “You know the thank you wey go full my belle?” Dr. Aliozor said in pidgin. The man managed a grunt. Obviously, he had something, but the man opposite us was merciless. “Just dey answer correct question wey I dey ask. You hear?”

  “Yes Doc.”

  “Hope you no mind this other doctor for here?”

  He shook his head. He knew me. I was a great guy.

  “Your sister, wetin dey really do am? You tell that doctor wey dey for emergency…” He described Dr. Ugo while I mentioned Dr. Ugo’s name. “…her head no well. Wetin you mean?”

  “Doc…,” he said, hesitating.

  Doctor Aliozor could have drawn the information from his mind, could have even cast a spell prompting him. But the mind being a delicate thing, there are ethics limiting, if not forbidding magic of that sort. Other means exist.

  “O boy, just dey play. Until something worse happen to your nephew—” he said instead.

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  “Doc, please no talk like that,” he said, animatedly. Perhaps he’d grow animated enough to transform. “As you put line for im body, nothing go happen to am again. Nothing! Na to just give im blood remain—”

  “How de blood go take appear?....” Dr. Aliozor talked about blood reactions, and how his questions would help them find a perfect match for Ebuka. His and the grandmother’s blood hadn’t matched Ebuka. Mr. Peter better start answering because we were running out of time.

  It was 3:45.

  He repeated his question.

  “She just remain for room, no dey talk to pesin again. She just go dey, dey whisper sometimes that pesin dey watch am, pesin dey watch am.”

  “And no one dey watch am?”

  “No one,” he confirmed.

  “You people no put am for hospital?”

  “For where?” More fire. “My mama no wan hear dat one. She employ pesin wey dey take care of am for house.”

  “When all dis thing start? If you lie, I go know.”

  “Actually Doc eh, e begin wen she return village. Dat time she still dey move around, dey do things for herself for house, but to leave house pesin go dey with am. But she no go feel hold conversation with pesin like both of us now. She just go dey talk rubbish. Sometimes she no go return house if she dey go out on her own. Pesin go find am for street the next day. After she born, everything come worse.”

  Instantly, some of the grandmother’s answers made more sense. Like the nurse visiting their home for ANC..

  “You know wen she born? She born Ebuka wen she suppose born am?”

  He thought for some time, like the answer was hiding somewhere in his head, then said no. Though he was living in the village then, he had only moved back into his mother’s home sometime after the birth of his nephew.

  “Your sister born for house or hospital? You get any idea who been dey wen she born?”

  His mother told him hospital. She and nurse Azuka, the local nurse, took the birth, he thought.

  Was Dr. Aliozor suspecting something happened during the pregnancy, or during labour? Our last case involved pregnancy and curses. Had something similar happened here?

  “And your mama, she still dey remember things well, well abi, that time and now?”

  He nodded vigorously. “She even remember things wey happen to am wen she be pikin.”

  “That nurse wey dey for your community, Nurse Azuka. I hear say she be miracle worker.”

  Deep throated laughter erupted from him. “Doctor she no dey work miracle o. But if you be on admission wen she dey around, you go get well fast, fast. Sometimes you no go even need take drug. E get one boy I know wey have accident, the boy get cut for im head. He go meet her for hospital, she just clean the wound, dress am. The next day, the cut no dey im head again.”

  It was my personal opinion the cut must have not been very deep. Or… Could she be a non-professional? People without formal training in medicine who stumbled into magic. Onyeka hates the term.

  “So, why your mama no take Ebuka for her place wen dis problem start?

  “Doc, village clinic no fit treat Ebuka kain condition,” he said.

  No, no, no, he couldn’t tell Dr. Aliozor that. Ebuka had been here for three days and had gotten no better. But according to Ebuka’s uncle, if nurse Azuka treated you, you’d get well real quick. So, what was this the reason they brought him here? Dr. Aliozor reminded him he’d promised to tell the truth.

  “Doc this one be part. All dis thing una dey do for here, she no fit do am. Also, e be like say my mama and her get beef, ever since my sister born. So, my mama also no wan go where she been dey work. But I call Nurse Azuka for phone… No tell my mama o. She be the one wey tell me make we bring Ebuka for here.”

  “You know wetin cause the quarrel?”

  “Doc you go ask am yourself.”

  “Okay. And the pikin papa, where im dey?”

  A knock sounded at the door while Mr. Peter gesticulated, Prof. Odili pulling it open and walking in.

  Dr. Aliozor stood up and greeted, I and Ebuka’s uncle doing the same.

  “Good evening. Doctor Bernard, I didn’t know that the consultants’ office is now used to conduct interviews for patient care-givers,” he said.

  How cold could a man be? This despite ‘Dr. Bernard’ just setting Ebuka’s line.

  Dr. Aliozor played the part well, going after Prof. to explain whatever to him. He returned seconds later, looking appropriately chastised. He motioned the two of us to re-take our seats. “We dey talk about Ebuka papa abi?”

  “Yes. Only thing wey my sister tell us is the man die for their place for Maiduguri.”

  What if he was alive?

  “Wetin take am there, your sister?”

  “Na work o. She read Social Work for school, so Government come dey post am different place.”

  “She meet the man for Maiduguri?”

  He laughed, bitter. “Doc, as she no gree tell anybody anything, I no know…” They’d even convened a family meeting when the girl returned, pregnant, to get to the bottom of things. Who was responsible? What of his family? She’d told them the man was dead, then had burst into tears, talking to herself and insulting the gathering.

  “Rape cross una mind?”

  “Some people talk am...”

  Dr. Aliozor and I nodded our heads.

  “…Some even say make dem terminate the thing, but my mama no gree. Over her dead body.”

  I smiled within, despite myself.

  Had Ebuka’s mother been close to anyone in the village before and after her return? Had she any friends? Dr. Aliozor asked, in pidgin. Because if Ebuka’s father’s side were the solution to our problem. He wasn’t saying they were, just if, what would we do?

  “Doc, the only people I know say dey close to am, or dey visit am wen all dis thing dey happen is my mama, Father Ama, the priest for our parish, and Nurse Azuka. You no she dey live with pesin for town wen she dey younger.”

  Nodding, Dr. Aliozor shifted course with his next question. “You get place for your village people dey fear go?”

  He didn’t understand the question at first. After Dr. Aliozor explained, he answered in the negative.

  “Your nephew dey play normal with other pikin? E no get time wen he been bite dem before this problem start?”

  If the man had even an ounce of the knowledge we had, he wouldn’t be smiling as he said, “Etu Nkita si eme?” Like a dog?

  Maybe he was mocking us. That we couldn’t tell he was Kanevorian.

  Dr. Aliozor continued staring at him, deadpan, until he finished answering.

  No, Ebuka hadn’t bitten anyone. He didn’t have rabies. And, yes, he played normally with his age mates.

  “He dey like meat pass other things?”

  Mr. Peter said, “I never meet pesin wey no like meat pass other things. Even dis Doc here. Ebuka dey chop meat, dey play ball, dey fight, dey go school normal like other children.”

  This answer brought the interview to a close. If he had new questions, we knew where to find him. He should continue trying with the relatives. Dr. Aliozor thanked him, and he left.

  Like a consultant inviting junior colleagues to give their opinion after reviewing a case, he asked for my thoughts.

  There were so many angles to choose from. But I knew the information I wanted first. Cocking my head to one side, eyes on the hands I’d been rubbing together, I said, “It seems you’re suspecting something else, maybe in the pregnancy, since Ebuka is not Kanevorian.” His body had responded to magic, and his uncle’s answers to those last questions.

  He chuckled. “My little display back in the ward—”

  “But it’s not a lie,” I said, now more confident it was best for Ebuka not to be Kanevorian. Damn the adventurer in me. “The skin of a Kanevorian—”

  “A Kanevorian adult, yes. It is near impossible for magic to affect their skin. A matter to enter into another time. But a Kanevorian child. A possible half-breed? I did some research following our last… encounter.” The word sounded distasteful in his mouth. “Magic can work. But it could take longer minutes to hours to produce a change as tiny as what I—”

  I brought the entire scene to the forefront of my mind. “That didn’t take hours—”

  “You’d already given me several details about him…”

  The more specific details a spell had of its subject, the stronger the spell would be.

  “…So, I began the spell when I entered the first time. What you saw back there was simply the end result. The Kanevorian gene will reassert itself in time. We’re speaking in terms of hours.”

  I turned my head towards the door. That meant…

  He read my worry. “The faster I can get this blood sample to special friends of mine, the better. They have an…extensive array of reagents and blood groups to work with…”

  How many blood groups asides the ones I’d learned in physiology existed?

  “…That should be enough to confirm if he’s Kanevorian or not. If you’d like me to do that, you have to cut short your questions.”

  The way around this was clear. “Let me walk you to your car,” I suggested.