She Came In The Rainfall

SHE CAME IN THE RAINFALL
True-life story.
In memory of Ken Sao-Wiwa the unforgettable martyr of the Ogoni Kingdom who would have loved this story.

It was Thursday, April 21, 2005.
It was a wet morning on Bonny Island.
It was raining. But it was not a thunderstorm.
The doorbell rang.
“It’s aunty Joy!” Grace announced as she rushed to the door.
All my younger sister’s children always rejoice whenever she comes to visit us.

Yes, she came in the rainfall.
Her oval head was covered with thick curly Afro hair reminding me of Maya Angelou in the 1960s. And she could as well be reminding me of “Know Why the Caged Bird Sings”. But she was not a caged bird. She was as free as the birds flying all over the trees on Bonny Island. She works here in the Nigeria LNG Residential Area as a housekeeper for the young Dutch couple. And she often comes to visit us carrying Daniel their cherubic looking baby boy with golden hair. He was a cute looking one year old. She is always welcomed. So, I was pleased to see her walking into our living room. She was radiant in her Afro, wearing a blue silk blouse and black knee – length skirt and brown slippers. Joy is the classic black and beautiful African maiden. She is sultry and sexy in her gait. I admired her as she came and sat down on the settee opposite the one where I sat flipping through two of the most successful newspapers in Nigeria. The Guardian and This Day. But sometimes I wonder if I have to get a magnifying glass to be able to read them. The letters are like digits and they are like photocopies. The Nigerian Press should be as good as the ones in Europe, America, Japan and China. Advanced technology in modern printing should not be a novelty in 21st century Nigeria. We should be as good as any press in the developed countries of the world.

She is Joy Dereyenrobari the daughter of Affi of Bomu village of Gokana in Ogoni kingdom the native land of Ken Saro-Wiwa.

I love the Ogonis since I have known them years ago and Saro- Wiwa was going to publish my anthology of poems before he was hanged on November 10, 1995. And on mentioning Ken Saro-Wiwa, she was silent for some minutes. And I could see her swallowing lumps of saliva.
“Oh! The day Ken Saro-Wiwa died. There was no noise in the whole of Ogoni kingdom. Not even the fowls made a sound. There was silence everywhere. The whole Ogoni was like a graveyard. Then, they came,” she was recalling the nightmarish incident.
“Who came?” I asked.
“The MOPOL. The anti-riot mobile police troop invaded our villages and were on rampage like demons in black and gray uniform and jackboots, brandishing AK 47 rifles and sub machine guns. They ransacked our homes and assaulted our girls and women. I was only 14 then. We ran and fled into the mangrove swamps to escape from being raped by the wicked policemen. But the unlucky ones were seized and raped. Even the married women were also raped and their husbands were held back at gunpoint from defending their wives. Those who dared to stand in their way were shot and killed,” Joy narrated their ordeals to me in sober mood.
I listened quietly.
“They went about stealing our goats and tubers of yam and they slaughtered the goats, cooked the yam and had feasts in our villages before they left. They occupied Ogoni kingdom for months. And we were treated like their slaves and like prisoners of war during their illegal occupation of our kingdom,” she said plaintively.
I swallowed lumps of saliva and sighed.

The military junta had sent troops to Ogoni kingdom to seize those who would dare to revolt in protest of the execution of Ken Saro-Wiwa and the eight martyrs. They feared that the people would avenge their death. But they were too heart broken to even raise any hand in rebellion. Naturally the Ogonis are peaceful and they abhor violence. But, they also abhor injustice and that was what Ken Saro-Wiwa and the other Ogoni martyrs sacrificed their precious lives for.
In his closing address to the tribunal, Saro-Wiwa stated:
"I repeat that we all stand before history. My colleagues and I are not the only ones on trial. Shell is here on trial and it is as well that it is represented by counsel said to be holding a watching brief. The Company has, indeed, ducked this particular trial, but its day will surely come and the lessons learnt here may prove useful to it for there is no doubt in my mind that the ecological war that the Company has waged in the Delta will be called to question sooner than later and the crimes of that war be duly punished. The crime of the Company's dirty wars against the Ogoni people will also be punished."

“The day Ken Saro-Wiwa came to Gokana, there was a great gathering of all the people to see him. And I was looking for him on the podium,” Joy said amusingly.
“You couldn’t see him?” I asked.
“I had to stretch my neck to catch a glimpse of the short man with his pipe in his mouth and his moustache twitching as he spoke to us. It was a great rally and I will never forget that day,” she said.

The Ogoni Kingdom will never forget the nine martyrs and the others who have sacrificed their lives for their motherland. And the courage of the Ogonis has made me to love them more than ever before. Yes, I support their just cause. But, I want them to make peace with the Shell Petroleum Development Company and join the rest of Nigeria in nation building. I want them to bury the machete. Make peace and not war.

I looked at her unique facial features. Looking at her long straight nose, deer-like brown eyes eliciting love and sympathy and her small lips. She was attractive. But, I couldn’t touch her. Because, a little touch could lead to other sensitive interactions.
“What of that your sister?” Joy asked.
I knew whom she meant.
Patricia. The sly girl that was pretending to be shy and obtained my love by lying to me.
“I have dropped her. She was not the kind of woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. She had no character and she was insecure and a liar. And worst of all. She had inferiority complex. Since, I did not want to be miserable the rest of my days on earth, I had to flee from the nightmare,” I said. And waved the object of my disdain off in absolute dismissal.
Joy laughed.
She wanted to know if I was still involved or not. And I wanted to let her know that the coast was clear.
She smiled. And I could see that she was now more comfortable and relaxed.
It was now drizzling.
I sat back and admired her. I started thinking of the possibilities of a romantic summer.
Who does not want joy in this turbulent life?
Uncle Ken Saro-Wiwa would have loved to hear that I am falling in love with an Ogoni maiden. He would have smiled and tapped his pipe.
“I will put it in my pipe and smoke it,” he would have said to me.

Just this morning Joy came again in the rainfall.
She told me the good news.

Joy is wedding at the end of this month on September 29, 2005. And all the friends of Ogoni kingdom are invited to the traditional Ogoni Wedding in her Bomu village of Gokana in the Ogoni Kingdom in the Niger Delta of Nigeria.

I thank God I did not have any relationship with her. Because, if I did, she would have been trapped and wouldn't have been able to get over the hangover.