Love is Beyond the Kafkaesque

Love is Beyond the Kafkaesque

As much as he wanted to come down to her level of comprehension, she could still not grasp the salient issues of his cause. He was really disappointed that communicating with her was still a problem even though she graduated with a degree in English from the University of Lagos.

“I cannot even discuss Albert Camus or Franz Kafka with her,” Nkemjika complained to Nojim his friend as they sat inside the Jazz Hole Café on Awolowo Road, near the Polo Club in Ikoyi.
“Then discuss the literary subjects she knows,” said Nojim and drank from a mug on the table between them.
“The common references to Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart as if that is the only novel he authored. She cannot even discuss Wole Soyinka’s The Interpreters, “ Nkemjika said and sighed.
“I can see that you really love her, otherwise you would not be so bothered by her intellectual inadequacies,” said Nojim.
Nkemjika nodded as he gazed at his own mug of beverage placed beside a saucer of cookies. Then he looked up as some people came into the café. It was a jovial company of three young men and a young woman. They were all in T-Shirts and blue jeans pants and snickers, but their T-Shirts were not the same. The young woman was carrying a big black handbag that could even pass for a schoolbag. Nkemjika smirked and looked at Nojim.
“Nojim, I wonder why our ladies go about with big handbags these days?” Nkemjika whispered.
“Because they come with a lot of baggage,” Nojim chuckled.
“I would be scared to spend the night with a lady with such a bag without knowing the contents,” said Nkemjika. ‘She could even have a gun or a dagger inside it.”
The guys and lady had come for lunch and regarded Nkemjika and Nojim as they sat down at a nearby table whilst one of the waitresses attended to them. The lady paid more attention on Nkemjika and nodded at him. He raised his right hand without lifting up his arm to acknowledge her with his fingers making his signature V for Victory sign. He was a prize winning writer and performance poet with highlights in the leading daily newspapers, therefore he often received attention from those who must have read about him or saw his performances at different venues in Lagos city. He had his first public limelight at 17 when he produced and directed his first play at the National Museum decades ago, four years after General Yakubu Gowon was toppled in a bloodless coup.
‘Nkem, I am fine, “ said Nojim standing up.
“Alright, let’s go,” Nkem said and rose to his feet.
They passed through a corridor formed by long shelves of books, magazines and other publications sold at the place.
“Nkem, love is not always a companionship of two like minds, but sometimes between two totally different individuals who have to make sacrifices in order to build a lasting relationship. Do not expect Nkechi to be everything you want in a woman, but someone you can share the precious moments of your life with,” Nojim said as they entered his Toyota Camry car parked in front of the entrance to the Jazz Hole.

“Nkem!” a middleaged looking man of average height greeted as he was about to walk into the Jazz Hole.
“Good Afternoon Olakunle,” Nkem greeted and paused to exchange pleasantries with him. ‘Nojim, you know Olakunle Tejuoso?”
“Yeah, MD of Glendora Bookshops,” said Nojim stepping out his car to shake hands with Olakunle.
“He also runs Jazz Hole,” said Nkemjika.
“Nkem, when are you bringing your new book?” asked Olakunle.
“That would be after the launching during the Valentine,” said Nkemjika.
“Okay. That cover is something else,” said Olakunle and grinned.
“You know me well. Believe it or not, that’s Oluchi’s backside modeling a Victoria’s Secret lingerie,” said Nkemjika.
“Black is Sexy will attract global attention,” said Olakunle.
“I hope so,” said Nkemjika.

As they left for Nojim’s office on Victoria Island, Nkemjika ran his fingers lovingly on the cover of a copy of his new book and smirked. I should have put the picture of Nkechi’s booty instead of Oluchi’s.
“What is amusing you?” asked Nojim.
“Love is beyond the Kafkaesque,” he replied.
Nojim nodded.


~ By Ekenyerengozi Michael Chima

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