Incidents at the Shrine by Ben Okri

Author:Ben Okri [Ben Okri]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House
Published: 1993-03-18T00:00:00+00:00

Masquerades

I

THE LIGHTS WERE cut as he pushed his way up the slope. The air was fresh and there was the sweet smell of earth after rain. He climbed the slope high enough for him to see the front of his compound and then he made for the cover of a banana plant. Insects thrilled from the forest and all around him. In the darkness he watched the house. The two men were still there.

One of them sat on a stool and smoked a cigarette and gazed at the forest. His companion had one foot shorter than the other and had taken to limping up and down the forecourt. They both clapped at mosquitoes. Fireflies darted around them.

Watching the men from behind the plant, he brought out the little bottle of Arabian perfume he always carried with him. He slapped a good quantity on his neck and shirtfront. The men looked as though they would be waiting for some time. It was his night off and he decided to go and have a few drinks. He carefully made his way down the wet slope.

He had passed the woman at the crossroad, who sold fried bean cakes and fish, when the lights came back on. Music came on too at the hotel. As he approached he could see the prostitutes in the dark places of the street. They called out to potential customers. He didn’t see any of the women that he knew. He went into the hotel, where raw music poured out from faulty loudspeakers, and he spent the next three hours getting drunk.

He sat on a straight-backed chair. He had five bottles of beer and a glass on the table. It was very crowded in the hotel. Three women danced in semi-nudity on the stage. He listened to the drunken disc jockey screeching above the music. On the walls there were murals of fat women entangled with thin men in dark glasses. The last time he had been to the hotel was a few weeks back, when a fight had broken out and a man got slashed at the throat by one of the new prostitutes.

The noise of the singing crowd, the flashing lights and grating music, started a throbbing in his eyes. He drank steadily. The more he drank the more melancholy he became. His neck began to hurt again. And he kept seeing the two men waiting at the bottom of each glass of beer.

Women conspicuously brushed past his table. One of them smiled cunningly at him as she went past. She had sheen above her eyes. She was robust and fleshy and wore a tight-fitting dress. He was sweating. He smiled back at her. She came and sat next to him and she moved with the music. He slapped on some more of his perfume.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Titi.’

She had small bright hungry eyes and large breasts. She kept rearranging her dress.

‘What do you want to drink?’

‘Guinness,’ she said.

He got up and fought his way through the crowd. After a while he came back with three more bottles of beer and two bottles of Guinness.

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