Thesis Hum 2008 Terry O (1)

The copyright of this thesis vests in the author. No quotation from it or information derived from it is to be published without full acknowledgementTown of the source. The thesis is to be used for private study or non- commercial research purposes only. Cape Published by the University ofof Cape Town (UCT) in terms of the non-exclusive license granted to UCT by the author. University WITH STRANGE AEONS OLUFEMITERRY;TRROLU001 A dissertation submitted in fulfillment of the requirements for the award of the degree of Master of Arts in Creative Writing Town Faculty of the Humanities University of Cape CapeTown [2008] of COMPULSORY D.ECLARATION This work has not been previously submitted in whole, or in part, for the award of any degree. It is my own work. Each significantUniversity contribution to, and quotation in, this dissertation from the work, or has been attributed, and has been cited and referenced. Signature:~IK\-_;::;.....--+-_________Date: ,\;:1 a \ G:~u\fonns\m-tille-page ABSTRACf: WITH STRANGE AEONS Olufemi Terry Box 638 Green Point, Cape Town, 8051 With Strange Aeons is a contemporary diaspora story of alienation and stark choices. Wome, a quiet Cameroonian university graduate has just moved to New York City from Rhode Island to take up a job. There, he meets Shokare, a combativeTown nonconformist who challenges him to break free of the "African bubble" to which Wome has begun to attach himself. Not wholly persuaded, Wome is neverthelessCape drawn by Shokare's charisma and eclecticism. Wome's eyes are opened to the energyof and possibilities oflife in 1990s New York and, despite his shyness he becomes involved with a Canadian woman, which further complicates his sense of belonging. Shokare becomes frustratedUniversity with work and disaffected from a city he perceives as in the grip of consumerist fever. His sense of alienation is aggravated by ambivalence for his home country, Nigeria. Following a series ofill-judged choices, Shokare's life begins to unravel. Wome tries to intervene but his friend seems intent on abasing hlmselfutterly, becoming more and more desperate. In the end Wome is no longer certain of what he can believe in. Shokare's fate terrifies him and yet he finds the alternative, duty and responsibility, increasingly noncompelling. With Strange Aeons June It was in Brooklyn, at a backyard barbecue, during those heady weeks after graduation that Wome and Shokare were first thrown together. Wome had come down from Brown University, one of many young Africans fresh in NewTown York. But the city was unmoved by these incomers with their Ivy League degrees and signing bonuses, and so too was Shokare, who'd studied at Fordham and cared litde about Princeton or Dartmouth. Cape Shokare knew the city. He'd walked its streets in the days when there was a laissez-faire mayor at City Hall, rubbish in the streets andof addicts on stoops. He professed to miss the edginess that vigorous policing effaced like a stain but, as so often with nostalgists, this was both posture and putdown. The barbecue at which the two men met was one of a hundred in Brooklyn that summer. On offer wereUniversity fingers and flans of manufactured meat, beer and lurid soft drinks from a nearby bodega. The garden was a shapeless, scrubby lawn bounded by weather stained picketing and scarcely able to accommodate the grill, two tables and bodies. The people present made a pretense of networking but simple lust was in play. Early summer is when New York gets to grips with naked flesh for the sun shines crisply enough to linger outside. Come August, the street tarmac melts to the soles of shoes and humidity tightens like a vice across the lungs. 1 Apart from these milling young Americans in saggy white singlets and halter necks, a knot of five African men stood a short way from the potbellied grill. They too were hopped up on a few weeks of city life. None had even glanced at the food but several fists clutched beer bottles and redness had begun already to dawn in some eyes. They shouted rather than spoke, confident their voices would be swallowed in the general buzz. Wome, still sipping his first beer, was quietest of the five; he alone did not compete to be heard. Rather, his long, fine-boned head tumed toward this face or that to follow what was said He knew two of the men, Christopher and Mohammed, if not well; his own friends had found jobs in Washington or Boston. In any case, he remembered these two as studious, even stony undergraduates incapable of raising the sort of yammerTown they now made. The others, Lanre and Kunle, had so far been matey toward Wome out' of reflexive solidarity, which made him uneasy. Cape They were discussing the future, with no fewer than two hoarse voices mingling in . any moment. Wome struggled to discern a coherentof sentence from the spouting jumble of words but managed only to pick out the frequent references to Harvard, McKinsey, and Abuja. Then, into the tumult, with its surging non-rhythm, broke the jeer of an unfamj]jar, male voice. ''Whetin any Universityof you fit do for Naija, for Africa sef?" They jumped and puzzled frog faces swtmg about. Christopher, a Ghanajan, identified the source of the intrusion but he said nothing, did not even need to point and the others simply. followed his stare. From the far side of a table bearing chips and condiments a compact man with a complexion' neither light nor dark was watching them. A tiny smirk bent the comers of his eyes but the overriding impression received was one of combativeness. His skull had been closely shaved, . which made his forehead seem especi.ally massive. Kunle said, ''Excuse me?" 2 ''Tell me, why, after you don taste the good life for America, when you get one fine f!Yinbo or ocala wife, why you go wan' leave? Fashi." He laughed but no one in the circle shared in his mirth. Heads swiveled instead to see if ocala had been overheard It seemed not. The woman-surely an African American herself-who stood next to the sneering stranger seemed oblivious to any slur. "So you think," Kunle rearranged his bulk, "life in America is too attractive for me, us, to ever give up. Not that it's your concern, whoever the hell you are, but my obligation to Nigeria and Nigerians is too strong." At this, there were murmurs, a shuffle of feet; Mohammed and Lanre wanted to speak. The stranger, who seemed immune to the notion of introduction,Town said, ''But what can you really do?" Your father and my father, twenty seven, thirty years ago, they were about the same age as all of us here." His down-tumedCape finger took in the group. ''They were full of optimism; colonialism was ending. And IIIhetin happen? Africa never change yet. What makes you different?" of Kunle fell silent, plump lipsclam.ped together in a glower and it was Christopher who asked, ''Where are you from?" "I'm an African, like you." "He's Naija. He Universitymust be Naija," guessed Mohammed, a Sierra Leonean. ''You're not from Lagos," Lame accused with a vehemence that named him a Lagosian. But their antagonist refused to be diverted "Good So we know ourselves. I'm sti.11 curious though to hear how you sages think your MBAs can save Africa." Lanre stretched out his ann in introduction. "I'm Lame." The other gave his own name with evident reluctance. "Shokare." Kunle, careless of being noticed, mouthed, ''Bende1ite,'' to Wome and Christopher. 3 Lame was saying, ''Nigeria's future will depend on foreign investment. After B- school, I'll retum home to help the government divest of utilities, oil holdings, and state banks, which should begin in a five- to six-year time frame. Foreign investors will be partnered with local companies to help privatized entities run profitably." It was reeled off as glibly as a description of breakfast but the others said nothing. Lame wasn't alone in nursing such ambitions. Shokare kissed his teeth. ''The government has relinquished most of its control over the oil. And what's the result? Oil has cursed us. Yes, even those of Us who aren't from the Delta region." His gaze rested on Kunle's face. ''Nigerians are still blindly hopeful but countries with fewer resources are further on than us. Look at Ghana.Town What do we have? A few billionaires. Oil go dabaroo Naija finish, just watch." Christopher and Mohammed, who'd endured numerous 'Giant of Black Africa' speeches failedCape to hide smiles even as Lanre's face became vexed. "ButJoshi all that. You've been in New Yom only a few weeks, abi?" Shokare was tutting. "And already you dey worry about ofsix, seven years down the line. What of the present?" He received only looks of bafflement. Unhappily for Lame and for those eager to revive the earlier conversation, Shokare noticed the hostess sidestepping her grill, her eyes fixed on them, this obstinateUniversity cluster of men who neither mingled nor ate. She unfastened the cheesecloth apron about her waist and allowed a litde grimace to come over her face as she came closer. Christopher, who always tried to be reasonable, began to make a plea but Shokare , rode over him and Wome recognized in his words a master stroke. "Eyin boys, before these people rink say we be okobos, circulate, ah beg. Fine women dey here." And, heeding his own advice, he moved off with malice in his eyes.

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