Stepping out

Sunday Nwoze on the side of the side of the hotel bed. He was watching from the corner of his eye a small, round hand mirror that reflected back his own face. He grinned and frown and finally stuck out a long, pink tongue. 'I must be serious , ' he said to himself, looking down at the blank, white sheet of paper before him. Swiftly he pencil - sketched the oval shape of his face. Then looked back in the mirror. Again he saw himself, an average boy with only two distinguishing features. His rather tall and probably like father's father's.

His bubble -nose, even though he knew and everyone said that all the other five Nwoze children and their parents had points to their noses. Mother was sure that his nose came from somewhere back in the Nwoze family just as Father was equally sure that it came from hers. But Sunday had it all right.

Suddenly from not far away. a soft buzz sounded. Then came a flow and gurgle of adult voices. high in cheerful greetings. Some more of my parents 'mates dropping by, he thought I must get to bed or I'll have to be introduced to the whole lot of them.

Sunday quickly reviewed the self -portrait he had just finished and saw that what had been in the mirror was now picture - perfect on the pad before him. Then he closed his sketch book, jumped out of the bed and into his fur - lined slippers --- a reminder of his London home. He hid his pad under a small table just outside the bedroom door, Finished, but toning his blue- striped pyjamas and scurried back to bed. In a wink he was under the searched sheets with the light out.

In the other bed were his junior brother chuba and his baby sister Jane with her doll. From this corner he could see in an adjoining room his other brothers, Ike and the twins olisa and obinna, lying this way and that in the tangle of the bedsheets. All of them were snoring softly in the way of children, all fully satisfied with the huge rich meal they had gobbled up earlier . Now they had occupied since arriving at Ikeja airport from London. Meanwhile their parents entertained their friends and schoolmates from the old days, long before Father was a doctor and Mother, barrister Mrs Nwoze; long before any of them had been born, in fact.

Sunday snuggled into his bed and heard from the parlour -area, the pleasant hum their upper - class voices, the tinkle of glasses, and soft music playing. It's funny. he thought, they are all well educated, professional people. But if I had been introduced, professional people. But if I had been introduced to them tonight, they would just have asked over and over? And what would I have reply? Sunday was a London - born Nigerian who for all twelve years had never been Nigeria before.

He promised himself to draw them first thing in the morning. In his special thick - paper drawing - pad, he would paint them in the bright, bold colors of Nigeria. She smoothed a broad smile across her face despite the fact that Ebele had made fun of her profession quite unkindly.

' And I suppose being a woman barrister will help, won't it?' Said Ebele, not retreating.

' Ah, no more than being a Doctor Mrs, like you,Ebele -- and owning your own hospital too!' I am a barrister, but i I could never own my own court!'

'Well, we're all professionals here. I hardly know of any one of us who regrets it, ' offered John, rather meekly.

But Amos Nwoze was a man of firm action and opinions. He stopped the jokes and took control of the discussion. 'You know, it used to be people like us who we're idealists. We became doctors and lawyers in order to serve our nation. Nigeria was sorely in need of professionals to help her people. We did not do it just to add titles to our names!'

' And we did not do it just to eat and get a bit ahead for our children's sake, ' interrupted Ebele, still undefeated in her pride of status in Lagos society. 'But that is the way things are now. You two are a Doctor and a Barrister Mrs. That will not only put chicken in the soup. It can help you one day to put the same important titles in front of your children's names too. 'Ebele shrugged a bit uncomfortably and added, 'But of course the money and the chicken come easily. And the children... Well, you have to work with them. '

' Oh yes, that's true enough; said John, almost sadly now. ' it can be the most, how shall. I say.unrewarding experience to have a child.. a son. After you have him a first - Tate education, the best your money can buy, he can decide to become wayward!'

Rose and Amos looked at each other, a bit taken aback. Rose gave a little - giggle saying, ' Now john, no one just decides one fine day to become wayward. In my legal experience...

'Oh yes, they do, Rose. At least our boy has! ' Ebele Okeke pressed her husband's arm gently and looked sad as he became more angry.

' Emeka has had the best of every thing! ' John continued. ' And why? We wanted him to become a doctor. Ebele and I are doctors. Were we wrong to expect that with a bit.. quite a bit... Of an investment of time and plenty of money, he too would join us? We never deceived him about our wish! Was it too much to ask that one day, as a qualified doctor, he would fill my shoes at the clinic?

Now there, there, old boy, ' soothed Amos, a bit disturbed at the outburst from a man he had always known to be so calm. ' just what has Emeka done? It can't be as bad as all that. '

So it's not bad to have all our dreams and plans for the future washed away? Emeka just told us one day that a doctor's career. was not his choice. So it's not bad to have this boy, our son, declare to us that he won't fill our shoes? He's already taken the best education, food and clothing in Nigeria, not to mention years of our life. He wants to stand on his own.. as a guitar - playerin some useless band! My first son... a guitar player? In Nigeria? '

The four of them were quite for a moment all deep in thought. Then Ebele spoke softly. ' I'm sorry to have burdened you with all this. Your first boy's still a child, so this problem is years away for you. And so it was with Emeka but he's grown up to break our heart... We're really the ones at fault. We should have seen this coming. We were afraid of pushing him too hard... though with so many doctors in the family, we thought he would just naturally join our profession. ' '

i'm sorry if we have upset your evening. ' John put back a calm expression. ' dropped in to welcome you back. It's just that no matter where we go or what we do, we can't forget what Emeka has done to us. '

' come on, friends,' smiled Rose. ' He must still be young and he"all surely come back to his senses. Children can't be expected to know what's good for them Emeka will come round. But this is a happy occasion after all and both Amos and my self are delighted to be back. so please stop all the apologies. Both of you are our friends!' But her cheerfulness wasn't getting through to the sad faced Okekes, so she quickly added, ' i'm certain that you've done your best for Emeka. What parents wouldn't, when it comes to their own children? '

Amos leaned forward to the edge of his seat And held John and Ebele by their shoulders. ' cheer up. Our children and our professions. we owe both so much love and devotion!

He smiled broadly at the other three puzzled faces of his wife and friends. ' If only for all the headaches they cause us! '

Later that evening however, he showed his own worry. ' And you don't seem at all alarmed! ' Dr Amos Nwoze sat on his bed fingering the pages of a medical journal. Yet his eyes wandered thoughtfully to the corner of their bedroom. ' And remember too,

Rose, they say, " a word to the wise is enough "! '

' They also say, dear that children are the promise of a great tomorrow . Now get some sleep , Amos, and stop bending your medical journal. You'll only regret it later. '

' Rose, if you really are the level - headed person you only think you are, you"all join me in attacking this thing now, while we have time on our side. The only thing I'll regret later is not starting Sunday now on the right path. '

' Amos, you sound as if you' re at war with the boy all this talk about attacking and having time on your side! He's only twelve years old, for goodness ' sake, and he's never so much as looked twice at a guitar. Believe me, Amos, our Sunday is just not the type to join Emeka Okeke's band! The Defence rests. And you should too. '

' Don't be cute. Rose. Besides, it's not his band. I guess their boy's too dull to have his own. Emeka's gone and joined a band ----that's what John said. '

' Oh! I stand corrected, Amos. Good night, any way. '

' ' All right, just a while more, Rose If Sunday is not the same types as the Okeke boy, maybe his mind set along the line of Reverend Aguna's daughter. She operates one room. beauty parlours all over the city to the embarrassment of her great father. And don't interrupt, Rose what of the judge's boy, settling for becoming a primary school teacher? He did that instead of going before before the Lagos bar and accepting his duty of filling his noble father's shoes! '

Rose patient sat up, plumped her pillows and leaned back. ' let's take this calmly but quickly, Amos. One , our Sunday does not want to be. a hair stylist. Two, there's no evidence that he is at all set in the direction of primary education. And three, all except the case of the Okeke boy rumour. So don't run wildly about, insisting that Sunday enter the operating theatre tomorrow on the basis of those stories. '

They can't just be rumour, Rose. It would be too easy to prove. The judge and the Reverend didn't confirm the stories. ' tonight but that doesn't make these reports necessarily false. It takes a lot for a grown man to admit to that extent! '

' Amos, will you actually convict our Sunday, who's sleeping obediently in his little bed at this moment, of hiding some rebellious thought of betraying you? Dear, it's late and you're bending your journal horribly. Please get some sleep! '

' All right then, Rose, just what does our Sunday want? You talk as though you know his type so well.. Just what does he wants to do beside being polite, obedient, and staying by himself ---- neglecting his juniors, I say. Prove to me that our "good boy"Sunday is just like that and hasn't come back all this way to... to miss his opportunities! '

Amos beat his journal with a heavy hand and breathed heavily. His wife just sat calmly. She looked some where into space across the room. ' How would Sunday miss his opportunities, Amos? '

'By being less than I could afford him to be

' what do mean? Must he be president? Can you afford that, Amos? '

'Oh Rose, stop acting like a clever - clever trial lawyer! I mean he would miss a chance at least to fill our shoes...to be a doctor or a barrister! He could become misguided like the Okeke boy winding up as an electrician or a poet or something pitiful like. '

that. '

'Amos ;Rose replied, without a pause this time, ' poet are great men who can live for ever in literature. Remember when. when we were courting, you used to end every letter you wrote to me with a lovely verse..?

' That was in England! Things were different. This is Nigeria. You know as well as I do that writing verses won't get you a cup of gari! Don't be so simple. Some careers just don't belong here. They're worthless to our people! One could starve to death faster by being a poet than by begging!'

' Sunday could be an electrician, though, and he wouldn't starve. Once we leave this luxury hotel, I hear we'll probably be calling an electrician more often than our pastor. Besides, someone's son has to be an electrician, if not a poet. '

' Not our Sunday! We can.. We must have him do better. He must at least.. at least, I say.. fill our shoes! He must at least be what his parents are. If not, he's failed and we've failed with him!'

'Your father was a farmer, Amos. Did you try to fill his shoes? '

Amos sat up as if he we're shocked, finally bending his precious journal into two.

' There was a need for doctors in my time, Rose! ' he yelled. 'There were no doctors in the rural areas. Sick people then were carried either to an idol or to Enugu, two days' journey away! In either case, they probably died still looking for a cure. Meanwhile, all round them were farmers who hadn't a clue how to save or how to prolong life. And still in some areas, things haven't changed! But Sunday owes this to us, Rose. If his country no longer needs him to be a doctor, then we do. If I can't make him be a doctor, what have I really done in life? Who will take over from me? What's to stop my family from slipping back? What prevents our "good boy" Sunday from tearing down all I've built up? '

Amos Nwoze ended on such a furious note that the journal's binding snapped aloud in the room as if applauding. 'We don't want to be sorry in about ten years ' time like the Okekes.Let's begin now to keep Sunday on the right path. We won't regret it, and neither will he, one day. Sunday will fill our shoes, Rose, and then we can all be at peace. ' Amos had spoken quietly now, but with the quiet desperation of someone who has a huge, even overwhelming task before him.

' All right, Amos, I'll help in any way I can. But remember that Sunday is a good boy. He hasn't ever disobeyed us in all these years, let alone looked as though he's going to get on wrong track. Just as you say, he stays by himself a lot and leaves Chuba and the rest to be noisy and trouble - making. He likes books. He always has a pencil and a blank -paper pad with him. He's a quiet boy. Sunday's just a perfect child, Amos. Please don't ask me to push him too far or too fast. '

For Dr Amos Nwoze, it was the perfect answer from his wife and he smiled.

He looked for a moment at the battered medical journal he had carried so carefully by hand all the way from London and sighed again heavily. Then he reached towards the little lamp between the beds and turned out the light. Suddenly he asked, ' what can Sunday be doing with pencils and blank - paper pads? Math? '