She took him seriously. Tall, huge, imposing and instinctively aggressive, he was just what she needed to feel safe in Mimboland, where men were rumoured to have an aggressive desire for unattended women.
She was flattered when he discouraged her from wearing makeup, saying: “There’s no need seeking to enhance what is already perfect.”
They hastily married, and left for Africa.
Three things he remembered to bring along: The writings of Karl Marx which he hoped to invest in every African he met; Cuban cigars which he had accumulated over the years, stolen off his stepfather’s impressive collection of the finest Habana without him noticing; and different whiskies, brandies and wines to keep him going. He once described himself as a man who had reconciled capitalism with communism in his personal life, the only place where such reconciliation was possible, by making his “determined communist mind pregnant with material ambitions”. His mastery of Karl Marx struck an instant chord with the provocative and recalcitrant head of Political Science at the University of Mimbo. With an understaffed department and plethoric student numbers, the head of Political Science had little difficulty making a case for Dr Mukala-Satannie to be recruited as a part-time lecturer… The conversation was no doubt interesting, but Lilly Loveless was dying to go to bed.
“I should be heading home,” she told Bobinga Iroko, yawning. “Could you point out where to get a taxi to where I live?”
“I’m not too drunk to drop you off,” he replied, standing up, his half finished bottle ignored. “Let’s go.”
It was difficult to say whether Bobinga Iroko’s sobriety was literal or figurative, but Lilly Loveless was trusting enough to entrust herself to him.
“Just a moment,” she said and went over to the two students of Dr Wiseman Lovemore, who were still there with the men. She introduced herself as a friend of Dr Lovemore’s, and as a researcher, although she stayed deliberately vague on what she was researching. She gave them each her complimentary card, at the same time as she complimented their beautiful hairdo and lovely outfits. Then said she would very much love to meet and discuss with them at their convenience. They exchanged phone numbers. Against the first Lilly Loveless wrote “Fancy”, and against the other “Goodness” – the names the girls gave her.
“I’ll call you,” she told Fancy and Goodness with a giggle.
“Enjoy the rest of your night,” they giggled back, sizing her up. Something about the way they exchanged looks told her what exactly they meant.
She looked at Bobinga Iroko who was watching the starry skies and smiled, broadly.
As Lilly Loveless drove home with Bobinga Iroko, her thoughts were much less of the rest of the night than of the mysterious Mrs Lovemore.
She determined to meet her by hook or by crook.
Lilly Loveless is sitting at the CNN New Look, having a conversation with Britney, the receptionist of Mountain View Hotel, who impressed her the very first day they met. Britney has accepted to serve as her research assistant on weekends, and to conduct interviews on her days off and especially during the strike period, as she would not have that much time once courses resume at the university where she is a student as well. Lilly Loveless has already sensed that to tap Britney and her connections is to tap a wealth of information and experience as a participant observer. They’ve agreed on an allowance that pleases them both.
Today Britney is presenting the results of her first interviews, for feedback. Lilly Loveless’ digital recorder is switched on, and Britney is keen to impress. The money is good and badly needed.
Drinks – a Mimbo-Wanda for the one, a Pamplemouse for the other – and soya are served to them in the back room where they are seated, away from the noisy customers, and the musical cacophony generated by competing bars.
Britney, playing with the tassel of her small beaded purse on the table, begins anxiously: “Here at the University of Mimbo, we use the term ‘Mboma,’ to refer to a married man who is usually older and with children and who just can’t resist what younger university, high or secondary school girls offer.”
Lilly Loveless fidgeted with her recorder to be sure it was recording. Satisfied, she sat back and listened, taking down notes from time to time, and scrutinizing Britney to determine if she had made the right choice of research assistant.
Britney started with an opinion: “First and foremost, affairs in our environment are encouraged by money. And we know money is the source of all evil. Money is the machinery behind most cases mentioned of this nature, as you’ll see from the interviews I have conducted. Nevertheless, it does not wipe out the fact that there are other aspects attached to affairs.”
Lilly Loveless didn’t interrupt, but she would have to ask Britney to keep her opinions in check in future interviews. Scholarship is not about subjectivities. Objectivity is paramount, and a good researcher is one who sterilises her personal opinions the way a zombie without a tongue does her words.
“I know a girl, Emma,” Britney continued, presenting her first interview. “She is a dark, beautiful girl of average height. She reads Life Sciences and lives not faraway from here, with her junior sister who is also in the university and reads the Bilingual Series. She is going out with a 55 year-old Mboma in town. I shall call him Innocent. Let me add right away that other Mbomas I know are much younger than this man, and given their lucrative jobs as customs inspectors and state treasurers in Sawang, they are certainly much more competitive with girls here in Puttkamerstown than Innocent could ever be on his meagre salary and lousy bribes as an ordinary civil servant. But since he can’t simply allow them to beat him hands down, he invests as much of his salary and bribes as he can into these fountains of delight, if you don’t mind the expression.”
“So it is all about competing for the attention of the girls?” asked Lilly Loveless, taking a sip of her Mimbo-Wanda.
Britney nodded and added, “He wants to prove himself to his competitors and to himself, that he is a force to reckon with, despite his modest means.”
“Interesting, very interesting,” Lilly Loveless noted in her notebook.
Britney continued: “Innocent’s wife of 35 years, a beauty in her days, complains, using the fact of their children’s education, five of them, to appeal to his conscience. But he just can’t see himself giving up on such exciting encounters with ever more beautiful girls at the university and schools around. That doesn’t mean he totally neglects his wife or kids. No, he couldn’t do that for the world! He claims all over that he gives them as much as possible the lifestyle they aspire to, which isn’t negligible, believe me. His eldest daughter is in high school, and they rent and live in what by every standard should pass for a comfortable house, which is just like the personal retirement house he built in his home village up country during his days as a top civil servant when bribes and salaries used to be hefty and distractions not as plentiful.
“Emma’s parents are not poor by any means. Her Mboma, Innocent, met her at a students’ party organised at the M&G nightclub, commonly known amongst students as ‘Mbomas and Girls.’ That was during the second semester of her first year at UM. Innocent, although at the party with his wife, still managed to make an appointment with Emma. Men can be as cunning and subtle as a serpent. Before the party he is said to have practised well-known dance steps used by young boys to attract and impress young babes.
“Even then, Innocent had to go out on several dates with Emma before she yielded to date him regularly. He promised to take good care of her. If the material possessions of Emma are used as an index for Innocent’s ability to take good care of a woman, then Emma has no need to complain.
“Innocent gives Emma a lot of money. As noted above, Emma lives with her junior sister and this used to disturb Innocent. So in the fourth semester, Innocent asked her to move to an apartment which he equipped with good sofas and a family size bed. She