28 JULY 1990, Page 42

New Life

Telephonic hang-ups

Zenga Longmore

Although the weather last week was hot enough to fry plantains in their skins, it came as no surprise to see Uncle Bisi calling at my door clad in a three-piece suit, clutching a black umbrella. Olumba ran from the kitchen to give him a soap sudsy handshake.

'Uh uh uh! Welcome Uncle.'

it's impossible to organise a surprise party for Nostradamus.' `Nephew — ah — I have come,' announced Uncle Bisi, over Omalara's screams, 'to discuss serious business.'

Flattered that his uncle was about to confide in him on important matters, Olumba ducked his head and simpered. `Yes, Uncle? What would you like to discuss with me?'

`With you? Ha no. Heh heh! It is with my business associate on Onitsha, whether

he has sold a house or not, that I wish to discuss munificently. I have to use your Phone. There is a certain reason why I cannot utilise my own telephonic appar- atus.'

`Why is that, Uncle? Is it tap-tappo? Can your business really interest the CIA or the KGB?'

`No, nephew; it is the cost of phone messages. If I use my own telephone, it will cost me much money on the bill. Have you any idea how much it costs to phone Nigeria? Chai! Hand me the phone.'

`Yes, Uncle.' Dutifully, Olumba took the phone from Omalara. For many months now, Omalara has found the phone an invaluable playmate. My friends all know they cannot call me until midnight, When Omalara is asleep, because I leave the phone unplugged. All day long, Oma- lara can be found shouting the only words she has mastered into the receiver: `Up bedtimes!' On the rare occasions when I have left the phone plugged in, she has pressed the R button, and has got through to the person I have just called. A stunned gasp can be heard on the other end of the line, as `Up betimes' is roared into the phone.

During uncle Bisi's long and involved conversation in Ibo, Omalara was doing her best to wrest the phone from his grip. Finally, with an irritated, `chaff!' Uncle Bisi dropped the phone into Omalara's eager hands.

'Well, Uncle?' asked Olumba, bringing in the tea tray. 'I hope everything went okayo with your business associate.' `Rah! Unable to descry my monolithic logic, the rascal hung up on me.' I was deeply impressed. How anyone even at the other end of a phone hundreds of miles away, could have had the temerity to hang up on Uncle Bisi, was quite beyond me. Such an heroic gesture seemed worthy of a medal for courage over and above the cause of business.

`Ah,' said Uncle Bisi, watching Omalara rattling the phone, `to quote St Paul, When I was, ah, a child, I did childish things, ah, because I was a child. But now 1 am a man, ah, I see through a glass darkly." ' With that, he put on his sunglas- ses and left.

It was only then that I saw the phone had been unplugged from the wall, and that Omalara was earnestly chewing the cable. Could it be that, ever mindful of our telephone bill, the intelligent child had Pulled the cord out sometime during the beginning of Uncle Bisi's monologue?