Peter Abel Investigates Alice’s Father

27 Jun Peter Abel Investigates Alice’s Father

That Winston Udor was a dictator in his own household was obvious from what both Alice and her mother told Abel. This only made Abel more determined to confront the man. As a reporter, he followed a familiar routine before interviewing a difficult subject. He researched the man thoroughly, learning all he could from available sources.

Abel uncovered the history of a man fallen on hard times. He had nothing to show for his 68 years but a bald head, a face lined with furrows dug by poverty and a meagre pension, which paid him peanuts.

As a young schoolteacher fresh from Edo Catholic College, Udor had been stocky and athletic. He had a sense of style, dressing well and speaking eloquently, self-consciously using big words.  However, jovial as he tried to be, he had a vicious hot temper, which four years of weekly homilies preached at his church could not cool. Volcanic and increasingly unpredictable, people often avoided him like a thorny ring.

During his college days, he loved and chased women. But once he graduated and became a primary school teacher, he was required to live an exemplary life. He worked in Ashi, a village, where eligible women could be counted on one’s finger tips. There he had to try hard to hold his libido in check. And of course the stress of all this made it difficult to handle his boisterous pupils without exploding in fits of temper.

Not surprisingly, Udor soon lost favour with both administrators and parents whose children openly complained about him. He finally quit and went home to live with his father. Returning home allowed him to spend time with Mary Momo, the most obedient of his three girlfriends. One day he unexpectedly presented her the gift of a sky blue flowery dress and a black handbag. They signified his serious interest in her. He had decided Mary would be his wife and sure enough, they were married three months later.

At 24, he was four years older than Mary. They had met when, on her way from a public water tap two years earlier, she had turned to look at Winston jogging nearby in white shorts and a white T-shirt. In the process, she tripped over a stone step and lost her balance. The bucket of water fell from her head, splashing water and mud on him. To her surprise, he rushed to her aid. The combination of his neatness and kindness attracted her to him and they became friends.

His mother was elated by the friendship of her only son to the tall fair-complexioned beauty, who was so quiet, obedient and respectful.

Soon after the marriage, Winston proceeded to the University of Ibadan to read history. He went from there to the civil service, rather than the classroom, to which he had proven to be singularly unsuited.

In the civil service, he rose to become a senior officer in Immigration in Lagos until his retirement. Even here, Abel’s personality held him back. A supervisor once told him that but for his temper, he would have risen to the top echelons of government.

Faced with a limited future, Winston took out his frustrations on his family. Mary often was the victim of misplaced aggression. Mary told friends she was tempted to flee, but with three children, she thought it wiser to stay to protect them and to continue to pray that Providence change her domineering husband.

Alice’s birth brought some relief because Winston became obsessed with his beautiful daughter. And true to the Oedipal model, she became equally attached to him. So much so, that outside of school hours, father and daughter were inseparable.

Over the years, Mary watched her only daughter blossom into a beautiful and intelligent young woman, loved by all. But then the once-warm father-daughter relationship came to an abrupt end. It happened three years after her husband’s retirement and their fall into poverty.

To the family’s complete surprise, Alice suddenly developed a fear and deep hatred for her father. If Mary pressed Alice to explain her behaviour, the girl would tremble uncontrollably and break down sobbing.

Mary saw a glimmer of hope some months later when Alice grew close to a few girls her own age who attended the same church. Mary took it as a sign her fervent prayers for divine intervention had been answered.

Abel uncovered all of these details, but they did not tell him what he most wanted to know: why had such a change had occurred?  His sources exhausted, Abel knew the only way to uncover the rest of the sad story was to meet Alice’s father, Winston Udor.

He chose a Sunday morning, when he was sure the rest of the family would be in church. Abel rose early and drove to Yaba. The streets were free and quiet and the mild breeze so soothing that he shut off the car’s air conditioner and rolled down the windows. The air smelled good as he whistled his favourite song, Bob Marley’s Natural Mystics, bobbing his head to the right and left in tune with the rhythm.

He understood the song to mean that there was a lot more happening in the spiritual realm than most people could ever appreciate. Abel wondered if understanding that realm would help him deal with this one. Despite the upbeat mood brought on by the beautiful morning, Abel was anxious about meeting Alice’s father. The man’s temper and tyrannical nature had taken on, for Abel, a kind of mythic quality. He hoped the reality of the man would be less intimidating than his reputation.

No. 126 Antioch Road in Yaba turned out to be a weather-beaten two-flat building. The whole street was so quiet it appeared as if all the residents had departed in favour of the churches which beckoned one and all every Sunday.

As Abel sat in his car, he thought perhaps Winston would not be at home after all. He felt a mix of disappointment and relief. It was then he heard a baritone voice humming a song he could not place. The voice was coming from Alice’s flat. Had it not been such a nice day, Abel’s window would have remained up and he never would have heard the man. But circumstances seemed to be driving him toward a meeting with Winston Udor after all.

Abel left the car and walked up the short cracked cement pathway which led to an old, dirty wooden door. Finding no doorbell, he knocked.

“Who is that?” the voice boomed.

The door creaked open before Abel could answer. His host looked up enquiringly, and coughed into his right hand. He wore brown pyjamas and his feet were bare on the cement floor.

“Sorry to disturb your meditation, Mr. Udor. I am Lazarus Adio.” Abel, as usual, had prepared a new identity for this interview, one meant to gain the confidence and trust of his subject. Peter Abel’s name was too widely known as a journalist. And for all he knew, Mr. Udor had learned of his encounter with Alice and Mary.

Winston looked past him at Abel’s expensive car and, apparently sensing he was a man of means and therefore might do him some good, invited Abel inside.

Abel followed the lean elderly man with a shiny bald head into a house rife with signs of poverty. The living room had a greasy four-piece settee to the left of the door, and to the right, a large, old, dented Sony television. As Abel sat on one of the settees, his eyes caught the wooden plaque hanging on the wall above the television. “The timidity of the Omnipotent is the commencement of sagacity.”

Winston’s famous love of big words, Abel thought and swallowed, unable to hide the smile that broke impulsively around his lips.

“Oh, that?” his host said, seeing Abel reading the plaque. He coughed into his hand again, a disconcerting repulsive habit. “It simply means the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom.” He grinned. “It is a reminder that there is a living God, even though some of us don’t attend church.”

Abel thought there was something wrong here in the translation of the words on the plaque. “The timidity of the Omnipotent …” would mean God is timid. But he didn’t want to be disturbed by his thoughts. “My personal experience has proven that beyond doubt, Sir.” Abel took his eyes off the plaque and looked directly at his host.

“So, what can I do for you, young man?” he asked and sipped water from a big jug beside him. He offered none to his guest.

“I have come about Alice, Sir.”

“You want to marry my Princess?” Winston put the jug down in excitement. Abel wondered at his immediate offer of the girl. Nothing subtle about the old codger. Abel thought all he had to do was name a modest price and the girl would be his. No different than shopping for a new piece of furniture. “Alice is not here at present. My wife has taken all the children to church.”

Time to strike, Abel thought. “We attend the same church, even though I am not a regular there. I am not even sure that she knows me.”

“No matter.” Winston didn’t seem the least bit disappointed at this news. Clearly, having actually met Alice was no requirement for a prospective husband.

“In any event, I have not come to barter for her hand”, Abel couldn’t help but reveal some of the contempt he felt.

“Then, what do you want with her?” It was as if sex or marriage were the only options. Again, Abel had to keep his cool.

“Your daughter was once admired as a beautiful and decent girl, but she seems to be turning to the streets now, and I thought that should be controlled from home in order not to repel prospective suitors.”

“Then you are indeed a prospective suitor.” Winston stated bluntly and locked his red eyes on Abel’s face.

The man has a one-track mind, Abel thought. But he had come here to play a role and it was obvious what role would get him the most information.

“Yes”, Abel lied. “I am a businessman based in Festac Town, who needs to settle down …”

“Just in time, young man. Alacrity in life is always a winner. Her mother will be happy.”

This was news to Abel. Mary didn’t seem in any hurry to marry her precious daughter off. “Why is that?” He asked with more genuine curiosity than Winston could have known.

“Because she is unhappy with certain men who have showered our daughter with gifts and promised to take her overseas for employment.”

Abel was speechless. Here it was. The trafficking he had been seeking.

“And why would you want your daughter taken from the country?”

The old man laughed until he coughed.

“You are a naïve young fellow. My God. If Alice were taken abroad to work, it would ensure our sustainability, don’t you see?” He coughed again, rather deeply. “That car is yours, am I right?”

Abel could see where this was headed. The man was so transparent.

“Right, Sir”, Abel said to the excitement of his host, who drank some more water. “My only problem, Sir …”

“What problem?” Winston cut in. He sensed a sale and did not want anything interfering.

Abel took a breath as if bringing up a delicate subject, but one he wished to resolve.

“I am told you have a strained relationship with Alice. It is likely to cause us problems in future. A couple should maintain a cordial relationship with their in-laws …”

Winston got up, agitated, and paced about acting every part the unfairly wounded man.

“That is an unfounded rumour. A blatant lie, calculated at discrediting me and bringing my family to public disrepute.” He coughed yet again, and Abel wondered if he might be seriously ill. Winston continued after the brief interruption. “I will show you ample evidence of love.”

Then, he stormed out of the room. Abel heard him crashing about somewhere toward the back of the house.

Winston soon emerged with an old notebook and sat down, breathing heavily.

“Look at this if you doubt me. I loved my Princess so much that I kept notes of her physical and emotional development. Please read it aloud.” He handed the open notebook to Abel.

Abel hid his excitement by clearing his throat. He peered down at the worn pages. Although slightly faded, the handwriting was beautiful and legible. He read aloud: “My beautiful Alice walked at twelve months. She started babbling at eight months and she spoke her first word at nine and a half months. She displayed emotions like affection, anger and jealousy before one year. At fifteen months, she showed considerable curiosity. Between then and two and half years, she wanted her will done. She hated restraint and fought it with aggression.

As Alice got close to four years, I saw my daughter filled with unconscious impulses of curiosity about the genitals.”

Abel paused, thrown by this unexpected reference. The man was either a monster or completely insane. Both wouldn’t be out of the question. Abel took a breath and continued.

“They had become a source of displeasure to her. That was not all. I had become sexually attracted to her. She demanded full and unshared attention from me. She often asked me to dress and undress her, take her to the toilet, bathe her, put her to bed, and even tickle her.

“That was, perhaps, the Oedipus complex at work. This complex was named after the Greek figure Oedipus, who unknowingly killed his father and married his mother.

“It was natural for children at that age to display unrestrained love and affection for the parent of the opposite sex. I learnt from child psychology books that if her love for me was not properly resolved, it might cause personality defects in her life. She could later become neurotic in her attitude towards men. She might even be overtly fearful that no man would love her.”

Abel stopped reading and looked up.

“What is it? Why have you stopped?”

“If what you write here is true, then something must have happened for your relationship to turn sour.”

“Nothing I did, I can assure you!” Winston was defensive. Abel waved away the possibility.

“No, of course not. I suspect bad peer influence.” Abel continued to probe. He wanted to give the man enough rope to hang himself.

“Maybe.” Winston took some more water. “But I believe its source is her mother’s religious fanaticism. I love my Princess so much that I did everything to protect her, even against the powers of earthly principalities.”

Abel had no idea what the demented man was ranting about, but he encouraged him to go on.

“What do you mean, Sir?”

“I once took her to a popular spiritualist in Ajegunle to seek protection for her.”

“Protection from what?”

“I have already said. From earthly principalities. But she hated this spiritualist. And she has kept away from me since then.”

“How old was she when you took her?”

“Eleven.”

He shifted away from Abel, his skull suddenly reflecting light from the dim bulb overhead. It gave him a ghoulish appearance. In the eerie half-light, the narrow face and discoloured whites of the eyes transformed the old man into a palpably demonic presence.  And it shocked Abel out of the role he was playing. He went on the attack.

“Think what you are saying! Your loving daughter has hated you for four long years simply for taking her to see this man. It is impossible.”

Winston became angry, a sure sign that he was hiding something.

“You doubt me? Who can explain these young girls? What they will take offence at?”

“I am trying to get at the truth. And so far, I am not hearing it. What did you do to her?”

The old man snatched up a walking stick which had been leaning against the settee. His famous temper was very much in evidence.

“You are no suitor! Get out! Get out or I will smash your head in!”

He took a step toward Abel who held up his hand as he retreated toward the low doorway.

“I’m going. But we aren’t finished.”

Abel ducked quickly out of the flat, the old man following, stick still raised. He stood outside his ramshackle home amid the weeds and cracked cement like a mangy dog guarding some rotten, maggot-infested scrap of meat.

As Abel drove off, he glanced at Winston in the rear view mirror. He had turned away and was greeting a well-dressed, tall, dark-skinned young man. Abel watched as Winston pointed emphatically toward his retreating vehicle with the walking stick.

A chill went down Abel’s spine. Something about the two men standing together made him afraid, not for himself, but for Alice. And he had no idea why. But he was certain she was in danger. And he was certain his meeting with this deranged miscreant had made her situation even more perilous. Abel had to move quickly. To prevent what, he did not know. He only knew that time was running out.