FROM MY ACHIVES

THE FRESH MILK

       Everybody knew how Gibson loved fura d nunu while we were still in school.

       It was on Christmas day that I finally had time to visit them. When I heard weeks before that Christy, Gibson’s wife, had given birth to a bouncing baby boy, I was quite elated. Gibson and I were both in the same department in school and we did almost everything together.

       “Guy, I just had a bouncing baby boy and his name is Jonathan.” He had announced proudly that Sunday on the phone. From the manner he spoke, I sensed he was in the best of moods. Nothing gladdens a man’s heart than knowing he’s not only productive but has also got an evidence to prove to that effect. The birth of the new-born had shown that the couple was indeed fertile.

       Days crawled pass slowly and dragged into weeks. I had planned to pay them a visit but trust what work, traffic and family could do to a man. Each day, a gnawing guilt sat in my chest knowing that it wasn’t fair what I was doing.

       “You’re, a bad man Japheth,” I constantly heard a voice telling me deep down my subconscious.

       Finally, free on Christmas day, I decided to pay them the much anticipated visit. They were all at home. Three other visitors; a woman, a young lady and an elderly man, were seated sipping juice. I took the seat facing the TV.

       “At last the mountain has decided to come to Moses,” Christy beamed chirpily. We shook hands and minutes later, baby Jonathan was calmly resting in my lap. Christy had - like every good mother would - breastfed him very well and the baby was in a joyous mood.

       “Good guy; Jonathan,” I said playfully making the baby giggle and shriek with excitement.

       Just then Gibson sauntered into the sitting room from the bathroom. He guffawed when our eyes met.

       “I wasn’t expecting you to come,” he puckered. “I thought you would wait until my son becomes the president of the country before you visit us…”

       We chortled at that and then the elderly man announced that he was leaving.

       The woman and the young lady – her daughter perhaps - also stood up to leave. Christy saw them off leaving me with her husband and the infant who had begun to sleep.

       “What can I offer you, guy?” Gibson was standing in front of the refrigerator.

       I blinked, “anything soft.”

       “Fresh milk… chilled; very fresh!”

       Shrugging, I gave him the nod. I used to know how he loved fura da nunu when we were in school. Those days, Gibson had over ten Fulani women who constantly supplied him the fresh cow milk. He had carried along the love for milk to this day.

       “You and milk,” I grinned as he poured me a glass-full.

       Thick, nourishing and very chilled! I drank it with so much relish as we both sat across the table.

       “Who supplied this one?” I echoed excitedly as he poured me a second glass. I hadn’t tasted cow milk that was that nourishing and satisfying before. The taste was simply out of this world. No wonder Gibson has been shinning like a new coin. I thought almost aloud.

       “You like it?”

       I nodded in the affirmative. “Man, I want to be introduced to the supplier right away. Can you introduce me to her?”

       He said he was going to arrange something.

       My mind was on the fresh milk as I drove home. It had soothed my heart and made me feel so good. I kept telling myself that I hadn’t been feeding on the right diet all along. Enough of this junk food Man! I almost yelled at myself.

       The next day, true to his words, Gibson supplied me a bottle which I kept in the fridge and guarded jealously. I told my wife and the maid not to go near it.

       “What is good for the goose…” my wife tried to make a protest but I cut her short painlessly.

       “This one is not good for the gander. It’s a concoction for jedi-jedi…”

       With that, I had the supplies all to myself.

       Three days later I called Gibson for more of the supplies. It had become to me like cocaine and I was glad I had developed an addiction.

       “I had a fight with Christy last night” Gibson muted from the other end.

       He had a fight with his wife; so what? What had that got to do with our supplies? What was my business if Christy had suddenly gone mad? That was their business, not mine!

       All I wanted was my milk and nothing more.

       “Gibson,” I sighed dispassionately. “What is my business if you had a fight with Christy?”

       “Hey Man,” his voice rose with indignation. “You don’t bite the finger that feeds you. Come over and let’s make it up with her…”

       I felt my heart jump into my stomach. What in heaven’s name was he talking about?

       “Gibson… Gibson, what is the meaning of that?” I stuttered curiously.

       “Wake up Man.”

       “What? What? What do you mean?”

       “Listen guy, Christy is the source…”

       “I don’t understand!”

       Time stood still.

       The hairs at the back of my neck bristled; my heart fell into my mouth and cold shiver permeated my entire body as I heard him say;

       “Japheth, the fresh milk came from Christy…”

NB; 
fura d nunu:   Fresh cow milk mixed with millet; a fine delicacy popular with the Fulani.

 jedi-jedi:   An ailment that requires herbal treatment.