The Moment of Truth

Chapter 7

Samuel and his three best friends - who were equally his course mates - were seated on concrete seats somewhere on campus the following day chatting and passing the time while waiting their next class that afternoon.
'What's with this rampant killing of pastors in this town?' one of his friends, Taku Richard wondered.
'Isn't it obvious?' the second friend, Ngime Vivian chimed in. 'The Catholic Church has started killing their rivals.' She then went on chewing the bubble gum in her mouth with self-gratification. She was always busy doing that whenever anyone saw her, even in class during lectures.
Vivian was a tall, graceful beauty. However, as her friends and everyone else knew, she was someone who always said what was on her mind: she harboured no secrets and said things the way she saw them, regardless of how it affected others.
She was a Christian of Christ Embassy church, and regarded the Catholic Church with apparent apathy.
'Come on, Vivian,' the third friend, Mosongo Julius chided her. He was taken aback by her vehemence. Though he had always known her to be that way, she surprised him - and everyone else - each day. 'Are you that sarcastic?'
She turned and launched her fury at him: 'I don't blame you, Julius; you speak that way because your own pastor has not yet been murdered.'
Julius - they all knew - was a Baptist Christian.
'Things are really getting out of hand,' Samuel remarked. 'Who would have thought such a thing could ever happen right here in Buea? If care is not taken, this could result in a religious warfare!' When his friends burst out laughing, he said, 'Honestly; it seems you are unaware of the flaring tempers in the Pentecostal ranks. If the police do not come up with something substantial as soon as possible, I fear what would become of this town.'
Richard wondered, 'But who would be so heartless as to murder not one, but two men of God all in the name of emphasizing the sole legitimacy of the Catholic Church?'
Vivian chimed in, 'What will one not see with these Catholics?' She started listing off her points out on the fingers of her left hand. 'They worship statues, pray to people in heaven, cling to all sorts of so-called religious rituals; and now they go about killing...'
'Vivian!' Samuel shouted. 'We do not know whether the killer is even a Catholic.'
'Of course, we don't,' she said disdainfully. 'We should just sit back and fold our arms like we don't know what's going on, right?'
Just then, they spotted Sylvia coming from a distance.
'Aha!' Vivian exclaimed with contempt. 'There comes the serpent with the holier-than-thou attitude!' Turning to Richard and Julius, she said, 'You need to hear what she told Samuel the other day!'
Samuel had told only Vivian about his last encounter with Sylvia; so Richard and Julius curiously listened to hear what vile thing Sylvia had said to incur Vivian's wrath.
But Sylvia was too close now for Vivian to say anything, so she simply sighed and turned her back to Sylvia who finally joined them and beheld their countenances.
Richard and Julius stared at her wide-eyed as though she were an evolution of man not yet discovered, until then; Vivian still had her back turned to her; and Samuel schooled his countenance into glorious boredom.
She then said, 'I'm sorry, Sam. I should not have said what I said the other day.' She paused, waiting for Samuel to say something.
Instead, he just upped and left, followed by Vivian. Richard and Julius joined them, hoping Vivian would tell them what Sylvia had told Samuel, while being mindful of the exaggerated way she narrated stories.
***
As the days went by, Samuel kept avoiding Sylvia despite her attempts to pacify him: he stopped sitting next to her in class, ignored her greetings, did not reply her text messages, ignored her phone calls, and was even tempted to blacklist her number; yet, he did not do it. Perhaps - he thought to himself - he somehow derived pleasure in knowing how many times she called or texted him, only to get no feedback.
Yet what baffled him was the fact that, despite his disregard of her attempts to make things right, she did not relent. Not a single day passed without her sending him at least two text messages or leaving a missed call on his call logs.
And so the Christmas break came with him still mad at her. But just before he went to Douala to spend the two-week holiday with his brothers, he put her number on his blacklist.
It was bad enough that Samuel neither replied her text messages nor picked her calls. Now when her calls to him could no longer be put through and she realized she could no longer send him text messages, Sylvia got even more frustrated.
She spent long hours by herself in her bedroom with the door shut, such that even when her brother banged on the door for her to open up, she would not. He would stand there and hear the sound of her crying, which broke his heart.
Nothing her brother did could cheer her up. Even with Christmas round the corner, she remained sullen and withdrawn. This bothered Roland who had always known her to be very excited about Christmas.
'What's the matter?' he would ask her time and again; yet, she would not answer.
Her father, however, did not care whether she was with them at the dining-table for the meals or not, and showed no regard for her sudden change of character, which infuriated her all the more.
'Dad doesn't even care how I feel!' she complained to her brother one evening just before Christmas when she finally let him into her room. She sat cross-legged on her bed, leaning on the wall and caressing one of her stuffed animals (a teddy bear) in her hands. She wore a singlet over her pajama bottoms, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Two more stuffed animals, alongside two pillows, were strewn on the well-made bed.
As she sat there, her gaze met an enlargement photo of her late mother hanging on a wall in the room. She was smiling at the camera, seated on one corner of the couch in the living room. Sylvia blinked back tears and tore her gaze from the photo to her brother smiling at her with great concern.
He was seated next to her, his left hand placed across the small of her back, caressing her with brotherly affection.
Her study, which was across the room from her bed, was very tidy with four neatly stacked piles of books. A few pens and a pencil were carefully placed next to a few birthday and Valentine's Day cards she had received from her girlfriends and admirers. On the wall just above the table hung a photo of the Blessed Virgin Mary next to that of Jesus mercifully projecting his wounded heart. At one corner of the room was her walk-in closet which was closed.
'Don't say that, Sylvia,' he soothed her. 'By now you should know what kind of a man he is.'
'Well, I can't get past that,' she cried. 'What on earth did I do to deserve all this? For heaven's sake, I didn't kill mum!' She was crying now, and it broke his heart to see her cry. 'Lord knows I have always yearned for her.'
She buried her face onto his chest and he held her close. 'It's going to be alright,' he said, silently cursing their father for making things so hard for her.
He cuddled her until she stopped crying. Then, as though in a trance, he said, 'Mum always loved you, right from when she realized she was pregnant with you. Just before you were born, she thought of so many beautiful names by which to call you: Lucy, Agatha, Josephine, and finally chose Sylvia.'
He smiled, looked down at her and saw that she had fallen asleep in his arms. It warmed his heart to know he had such a strong bond with her. A stray tear ran down his right cheek as though it had dared to embark on the journey the other tears had been too chicken-hearted to travel.
He laid her head on her pillow, careful not to rouse her. He then pulled the duvet over her, kissed her on the forehead, and left the room. Stealing a last glance at her from the doorway, he turned off the light and closed the door behind him as he retired to his own room.
Christmas and New Year finally came. On both days, the Governor's Palace was flooded by a long fleet of conspicuous cars conveying top government officials from within and beyond the South West Region with their families. The massive living room of the Palace was brimming with the guests.
Sylvia moved graciously round the room, clad in a long, sleeveless, red dress with her hair pulled back into a French pleat, and elevated by a lovely pair of high-heel sandals. She welcomed and talked amiably with the guests who were so impressed by her beauty and candour.
However, she made sure not to bump into her father - who equally wandered the living room talking with the guests - or even meet his gaze.
Roland, who was watching from the corner of his eye, was glad to see that she was enjoying herself.
He had done everything he could to cheer her up during the holiday - taking her for long walks, buying her presents (she loved surprises) and telling her all the hilarious jokes he could come up with - and he noticed that her mood had improved, despite the odds.
***
And so by early January the following year schools resumed, including the University of Buea. Roland made Sylvia promise herself that she would not let anything make her sad, no matter what.
She hoped with all faith that this promise would remain true for her throughout that year, and things seemed to be looking up.
One day, she was strolling to class with two of her girlfriends when someone stopped them on the way. It was a younger girl whom none of them knew.
The girl said, 'Excuse me, please. Are you Sylvia?'
'Yes,' she replied, surprised that the girl knew her name.
The girl smiled before opening her shoulder bag to retrieve a small white envelope which she handed to Sylvia, saying, 'It is addressed to you, from Bekindaka Samuel.'
Sylvia was overjoyed to see that Samuel had written to her - no matter what the letter held - after a prolonged silence throughout the holiday. She thanked the girl just before she left.
Turning to her friends, she asked with a sheepish smile, 'Should I open it now?'
'No!' they protested in unison.
Then Rosaline - one of them - said, 'How can you read such a letter while standing in public? We should read it in class.'
And so they hurried to class. The lecturer had not yet come, so they found an empty seat by the corner and sat down.
Sylvia could feel her heartbeat accelerate as she opened the envelope with her eyes closed and only opened them when she had unfolded the sheet of paper containing the handwritten letter. Samuel's handwriting could never have seemed more beautiful to her. The letter went thus:
Hello, Sylvia
I Hope you are fine, and you had a wonderful holiday. I have read every one of your text messages and seen all your missed calls.
Yet, I could not bring myself to reply because a part of me wanted me to hate you forever for adding insult to my grief instead of solace the moment when I truly needed a friend.
However, one cannot be angry forever; I have had enough time for my wounds to heal. Besides, you have once borne with me when I offended you. The least I could do is return the favour.
So how about we catch up on old times over dinner tonight? Say, seven o'clock? You want know where? I'll surprise you. I'll give you a treat by coming to get you at the entrance to the Governor's Palace. I would be pleased if you wouldn't mind.
Yours