Composition with Jolomi on a casting couch

Jolomi grew up in a one-bedroom apartment she shared with her mother and three brothers. The building housed many families like an ant hill. The place smelled continuously of Izal and burnt beans. It was home to irate men, thieving children, and nosy women. Jolomi’s mother did not talk to the other women living in […]

Jolomi grew up in a one-bedroom apartment she shared with her mother and three brothers. The building housed many families like an ant hill. The place smelled continuously of Izal and burnt beans. It was home to irate men, thieving children, and nosy women. Jolomi’s mother did not talk to the other women living in the building and from experience she knew not to smile at their husbands. She was the only divorcee living amongst them, so it was necessary that she treaded softly. She wouldn’t want to be the topic of their gossips. Once in a while her steps caught the eyes of the women snapping egusi on the balcony, chatting about their children – how well they fared in school; and their husbands – how sexy the nights were these days; the latest parties – what the most up-to-date lace material was and who to ignore; their attention would turn to her, only for a second, and then their loud discussions would turn to whispers.

‘What is her story again, why did she leave her husband?’

‘She caught him with the maid; is that not what they said?’

‘Is that a reason for a woman to leave her husband?’

‘Hmmm! Behaving like a white woman. Did he beat her? Deny her children education? Did he steal her money?’

‘I wonder!’

‘So because his hands groped under the blouse of a small girl, she packed her load? Stupid woman!’

They usually ended with virulent hisses which trail her all the way into the street.

Jolomi watched a lot of fashion shows on TV. Her family was aware of her dream of becoming a fashion designer; ‘or an actress,’ she would add whenever she could, knowing that her mother never prayed for the latter. ‘What if fashion doesn’t work out? I can’t place all my eggs in one basket,’ she’d say, and her mother would nod. The television was positioned in a way that made the lights beam into the bedroom and permitted those sitting on the only mattress, placed on a mat, to have a peek. Jolomi would sit on her favourite seat, a leather chair bursting at the seams exposing yellow foam. There were only two in the sitting room; the other was for her mother. Jolomi was the first child and the only one with a job as a waitress in a bar in town. Her mother was retired from civil service, and her brothers were all in school. The youngest of them was positioned on the floor close to their mother, while the two middle ones occupied the mattress in the bedroom. The boys watched soccer shows during the day, when the women were out, and chatted about girls in school – the ones whose buttocks danced like fluctuating lights.

When Jolomi told her mother she had a small part in a TV series coming up, her mother gave her a pair of gold studs from her trinket box.

‘You’ll make an impression,’ she winked at her daughter, stroking the girl’s forehead.

*************************************

The audition was held at The Lounge, a bar on the Island. Mother’s stud stayed pretty on her earlobes. She was the first to arrive. A group of girls joined her later. She moved into their circle. ‘When do you think the audition will start?’ she asked.

‘It could start later in the evening. They would want to take some girls out.’

‘Out to where?’

‘To the clubs, motels, for a drink, some sex.’

‘What?’

‘You don’t know?’

‘Know what?’

‘These minor parts are never determined by talent. If we had any talent we’d be super stars by now. This is my 35th audition, and I’m proud to say I’ve acted in 34 movies ever since.’

‘Playing the invisible maid?’

‘Still I find it a privilege. You judge me, how many have you featured in?’

‘None yet.’

‘And none it will be until you learn how the industry works.’

‘How does it work?’

‘Too many questions. How many do you want me to answer? You want to be a star?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then get ready, ‘cos while you are reaching for the sky, some guys will be peeping through your skirt.’

Jolomi crossed her legs.

‘Not figuratively.’

After a couple of hours they were joined by three guys. They introduced themselves as the casting directors for the audition. When they hear the whistle, one girl is expected to come in.

‘You go first. You’ve been here longer.’

Jolomi took quiet steps to the men in the other room. The smoky air suffocated her. She held a weak smile as she stood face-to-face with the casting directors.

One with dreadlocks scanned her face.

‘We want a very beautiful girl for this role. She’s the new maid in the house and its out to seduce the Oga.’

‘What Pain May Bring’ will be released late 2011 by The Jalaa Collective. Isi Bewaji is the author of Eko Dialogue, a collection of short stories about Lagos. She has worked with lifestyle magazines and is also currently working on a body of poems and radio plays. She lives in Lagos with her family.