New life
Backroom baby
Zenga Longmore
Anong the many new words and phrases now being picked up by Omalara day by day is `backroom leaner'. This, of course, means 'vacuum cleaner'. Yet Omalara is a wiser child than she herself knows, as for many months our vacuum cleaner had been leaning unused in a back room. One fateful day when I was hoover- ing a rug the machine gave an unexpected death rattle and ceased to function. Consigning it to a corner, I reverted to brush and pan as Nature intended, heartily cursing vacuum cleaners, Nature and all her intentions.
Ever on the look-out for new playthings, Omalara discovered the vacuum cleaner and adopted it. First she looped the cable around her neck like a Kikuyu necklace. Then, with a crooning cry of delight, she seized on the plug and cradled it in her arms with a sigh of Tabby!' They made quite a charming pair, Omalara and Plug, or (in Omalara's eyes) Mother and Child. As long as I was there to ensure no harm resulted, there seemed no reason why she should not cherish a vacuum cleaner plug as a fostered foundling. Olumba, however, took pity on me as I struggled with the brush and pan, and then took pity on himself when I sug- gested he have a go. `Tomorrow I take vacuum for menders. 'e go fix-fix,' he declared. Omalara's eyes followed the hoover as it left the flat, clutched under Olumba's arm. Where was her Babby going? A few days later, with all thoughts of cleaning forgot- ten, Olumba and I were deep in discussion. `Did you hear the latest news-o?' he asked. Women are having babies by test tube! Uh-uh! How can such things be?' `Well, let's face it, when you look around at some of the men on offer these days, you can hardly blame a woman for preferring a test tube. At least a test tube doesn't come home dead drunk like the man at number seven, demanding supper and waking up the children. Nor does it pester you on buses and ring you up at inconvenient times. No, if there's one thing you can say about a test tube, it is that a test tube knows its place.' `But na test tube don't put up shelves or carry shopping-or `Granted, but there again neither does the bloke at number seven.' Just then, the telephone rang and a voice announced, `Yer vacuum's ready, lidy. Sound as a bell and sweet as a nut. Got a lovely tone to it now.'
Off went Olumba to collect it. Shortly afterwards, Uncle Bisi arrived and seated
himself ponderously in my favourite arm- chair. Contenting herself with the next best thing to a backroom leaner, Omalara played with the dustpan and brush. Uncle Bisi eyed her with abstract benevolence.
`A child so young is no use around the house. What you need is nephews.'
`Nephews?' `Nephews. Schoolboy nephews who run all your chores and obey your every whim. Back home in Nigeria, an uncle never need lift — ah — a finger. One such nephew stayed for 15 years!' `Which one was that?'
`He is there!' Uncle Bisi announced dra- matically, as a flustered Olumba entered, entwined with a vacuum cleaner. `Olumba!'
`Yes, Uncle Bisi?' `Plug in the cleaner, see if it works, then clean up the place.'
`Yes, Uncle Bisi.' With a cry of delight, Omalara ran to her friend the hoover, and tugged at the switch to hear it click. To her amazement the machine roared into life, howling and bay- ing like some strange beast from the Amazonian rainforest. Taking several steps backwards, Omalara pointed wordlessly at the revitalised vacuum cleaner. Her baby had come of age.
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