Taduno's Song (19 page)

‘I'm happy for you!' Taduno could not contain his excitement. ‘At long last!'

‘Yes, at long last. I‘ll seal the deal in a few days.'

‘This deserves a toast surely!'

They had a few bottles of beer in the kitchen while Aroli told him all about the mega-deal that had fallen into his lap so miraculously.

TWENTY-FOUR

Taduno arrived at the Studio of Stars at about ten, and he received a rousing welcome. Many of the people he knew no longer worked there; but everyone knew him. The female secretary, who happened to be a new staff member, ushered him into Mr Player's office with pride, her pretty face flushed.

Mr Player was overjoyed to see him. He rose from his desk to welcome him with open arms, apologising profusely about the last time.

‘Sorry, I did not remember you the last time you were here. It still does not make sense to me. I cannot explain what happened!' Mr Player sounded genuinely baffled.

‘It's okay,' Taduno said. ‘Everyone forgot me. I guess it is just one of those things that cannot be explained.'

Mr Player's face deepened into a frown, still trying to understand. And then he shook his head helplessly. ‘What brings you here?'

Taduno saw no point beating about the bush. ‘I want to sign for your label,' he said solemnly.

Silence fell, and for several moments Mr Player simply stared at him. Thinking he did not hear him correctly, he asked, ‘What did you say?'

Taduno repeated himself.

Mr Player let out a howl of joy. He jumped to his feet and went round his desk to hug Taduno, almost pushing him down to the floor in the process.

‘Of course I would be delighted to sign you!' Mr Player said, after managing to rein in his emotion.

Taduno continued with his very direct approach. ‘I want to produce a hit song within the next week to praise the President and his government,' he explained.

Mr Player was stunned. Not that the idea troubled him; in fact, he saw it as the perfect opportunity to make the kind of money any producer can only dream of. He beamed. ‘I'm in favour of praising government with music!' he said.

‘We must get it on the airwaves and into every record shop in ten days.' Taduno hesitated and added, with a hint of desperation, ‘It is urgent. There is no time to waste.'

And then Mr Player smelled a rat. ‘What can be so urgent about producing music to praise the President?' he asked.

‘Because it is very urgent,' Taduno replied lamely, not wanting to explain his precarious position. ‘Rest assured it will be worth your while.'

Mr Player's business mind took over. It occurred to him that Taduno must be getting something for praising the President and that something must be an unimaginable
amount of money. His mind began to race with excitement. It was an opportunity too good to miss.

‘Are you telling me that you have the President's approval to undertake this project?' Mr Player asked.

‘Yes, he commissioned it.'

‘Any written agreement?' He wanted to be sure that he was undertaking the right investment.

‘Take me at my word.'

Mr Player thought for a moment. He could hear his own brain ticking. Ordinarily, he would have taken Taduno at his word. But he reasoned that if Taduno was willing to stoop so low to praise a dictator with his music, then he was no longer a man to be trusted. So, he told himself to secure his investment before agreeing to anything.

‘What is in it for me?' Mr Player asked.

Taduno frowned. ‘What did you say?'

‘I said what is in it for me?'

‘I'm sure Mr President will make it worth your while when the music is out.' His heart raced with anxiety.

‘I'm sorry, that is not good enough for me.' Mr Player shook his head. ‘I'm a businessman, see? I have to know what I'm getting. It doesn't come cheap to praise a tyrant with music – good music for that matter. I want a percentage of what you are getting. Forty per cent. And I think that is a fair deal.'

Taduno almost blurted out that he was getting nothing – apart from securing the release of his girlfriend. But he realised that that would put Mr Player off.

‘I will see to it that you get something from Mr President,' he said hopelessly.

‘No!' Mr Player said sharply. ‘I have no business with the President. My business is with you. I want forty per cent of what you get. And I want to see something in writing telling me how much you are getting from Mr President.'

‘Getting something in writing could prove difficult,' Taduno croaked.

‘Those are my conditions. If you give me what I want, we will have the music out in less than a week.'

Mr Player rose to his feet.

‘Take me at my word,' Taduno pleaded.

Mr Player shook his head. He wanted to say, ‘Given the level you have descended to, your word counts for nothing.' But he simply shook his head again.

The meeting was over.

*

Taduno roamed the streets in confusion, acknowledging half-heartedly the greetings that followed him. His guitar was a heavy weight on his shoulder and he thought of flinging it away and telling the President to go to hell. But he remembered Lela's words, and he knew he could not afford to do something so rash.

Time wasn't on Lela's side. Every passing second increased the possibility of her dying in detention. He needed to make urgent contact with the President, but he had no way of doing so. He agonised under the fiercely burning sun. His lips were parched. His mind became blurred. And then as he walked past a lone soldier, a brazen idea suddenly occurred to him.

Without wasting any time, he caught a taxi to army headquarters.

*

He arrived at army headquarters playing a loud meaningless tune on his guitar and a handful of soldiers promptly swarmed around him, shouting angry orders to stop his useless music. And then, realising who he was, they stepped back and warily trained their guns on him.

‘What brings you and your music here?' a soldier asked.

‘I have come to be arrested,' he responded.

The soldiers exchanged curious glances.

‘Why do you want to be arrested?'

‘Because I want to see the President.'

Again the soldiers exchanged glances.

‘Mr President is a busy man. He cannot see you! And we have orders not to arrest or maltreat you.'

‘In that case his government will be toppled! And all of you will go down with him!'

Gripped by fear, the soldiers took the only logical action open to them. They arrested him.

A smile of triumph lit up Taduno's face.

*

They bundled him through the gates without bothering to search him or confiscate his guitar. No one wanted to touch his guitar. They saw it as a very deadly weapon that
must not be touched – a weapon capable of overthrowing the President.

News quickly spread throughout army headquarters that the government was about to be overthrown. The army chief gave hurried instructions and all military bases were placed on red alert. The stampede that followed reverberated in far and distant regions.

They processed him through the ranks until he stood before the army chief who was not sure how to handle him and his guitar. ‘What are your demands?' the man asked, too confused to think straight.

‘I have just one. Take me to the President. Or else he will be toppled and all of you will go down with him.'

Not unaware of the President's desperate efforts to buy Taduno over, the army chief sensed that the situation was very serious indeed. And so, without uttering another word, he took him before the President.

*

The President welcomed him warmly. ‘To what do I owe this visit?' he asked, after dismissing the army chief.

‘I have a problem,' he replied, ‘a problem that could derail our earlier arrangement.'

For a brief moment the President's face hardened. ‘And what is this problem?'

Taduno explained.

The President thought for a moment. ‘That can be fixed,' he said with a smile. ‘Shouldn't be difficult at all.' He called in the army chief and told him what to do. ‘I
want Mr Player brought here immediately. And make sure you treat him very nicely.'

*

They brought in Mr Player within the hour. He looked terribly agitated, but relaxed a little when he saw Taduno and the President chatting lightly like old friends. He could not believe his eyes.

‘Please take a seat,' the President said. His charm put Mr Player completely at ease.

‘Thank you, Mr President,' Mr Player replied, sitting down.

‘My friend here explained everything to me. He said you are asking for forty per cent of whatever he gets and that you want a written commitment from me.'

‘That's because I wasn't so sure you commissioned the project yourself, Mr President. But now that I'm sure, there's no problem at all. The song will be out in less than a week. And it will be on the airwaves and in all record shops.'

‘Good!' the President beamed. ‘I have no problem with you getting forty per cent of whatever Taduno gets. To me that is okay. But there's a slight problem because I don't know how much Taduno wants. But as the three of us are here, we might as well settle that.'

Mr Player nodded eagerly. ‘I agree, Mr President. It makes good sense to me!'

‘So how much do you want?' the President asked, turning to Taduno.

‘Nothing. I want nothing,' Taduno replied.

Mr Player's jaw dropped.

‘So you get forty per cent of nothing,' the President said, with a delighted clap of his hands.

‘But, Mr President . . .' Mr Player stammered.

‘Relax! I can understand your shock,' the President said with a laugh. ‘You get forty per cent of nothing from Taduno. And from me, to show my gratitude, you will get seven truckloads of money. How about that?'

A smile spread across Mr Player's face. ‘That sounds perfect, Mr President! Very perfect!'

‘Good. So we have a deal?'

‘Yes, Mr President, we have a deal!' Mr Player rubbed his palms together, a very grateful man.

‘Come to think of it . . .' the President said with some thought.

‘Yes, Mr President?'

‘I think you should do a concert before releasing the song into the market. The national stadium would be a perfect venue. That will make the song popular, don't you think?'

‘Yes, Mr President,' Mr Player nodded, ‘it makes a lot of sense.' The deal was getting better!

‘Great, so Taduno plays at the national stadium a day before the song is released.'

‘Yes, Mr President!'

Taduno was speechless.

The President turned to him. ‘Deal?'

He was trapped, he simply nodded.

The President smiled.

And so the matter was settled. The red alert was eased across the country, and relief rose into the air from every military base.

Back at the studio, a contract was hastily drawn up and signed, including the clause that Mr Player would receive forty per cent of nothing from Taduno. Mr Player kept apologising for not taking Taduno at his word. ‘You know, you can never be too careful when it comes to business,' he said.

‘I understand.' Taduno's voice was flat.

‘When can you report to the studio to start work? I say we start immediately!'

‘I will report in two days. I have an assignment to carry out before then.'

Mr Player shrugged. ‘I'll be right here waiting!'

TWENTY-FIVE

Taduno was in a very sober mood as he went about his assignment the following day. At Mama Iyabo's restaurant, he held a concert that drew a large crowd that covered the entire street. He delivered a scintillating performance, a Farewell to Conscience. His audience wailed in adulation and stretched their hands towards him, grateful that he was singing with a magnetic voice once again.

From Mama Iyabo's restaurant, Taduno went round the famous bus stops of the city, enchanting delirious crowds with hit performances. Aroli and Vulcaniser followed him as he went, and they both agreed that they had never seen him perform so brilliantly before. But while Aroli understood what was to follow – the death his voice would undergo – Vulcaniser was merely left to wonder.

The Channel 4 newscaster beamed with joy. Her station aired Taduno's performances live; her background commentary pulsated with colourful words. ‘Taduno is back with a bang!' she screamed with delight. ‘The people have a
voice once again! Music, rare music, joyous music is back into our lives!' On and on she went, her words rolling out with polished diction.

In his office, the President watched with satisfaction, his manicured fingers caressing a paper knife. He had always wanted Taduno to sing in praise of his government. Now his wish was about to come true! He saw no better way to get legitimacy, no better man to give him legitimacy.

*

Taduno brought his performance to a grand closure at TBS. It was not only the homeless men that were present at the square that night; people from all walks of life came too. Even the President's men, caught under the spell of his music once again, came without their guns.

The crowd covered the square and beyond, with barely space for anyone to move an inch. A giant podium had been hastily set up for him. And when he climbed onto it, even before he strummed his guitar or opened his mouth to sing, a deafening roar of approval that lasted several minutes shook the city. Absolute silence ensued. Then the first notes from his guitar tore through the night. His voice followed, and the crowd began to heave with a joy that even the Channel 4 newscaster could not describe with words.

The concert ended at midnight although the audience wanted it to go on for ever. But he had to bring it to an end so that he could spend one last night alone at his far end of the square.

At last, only Aroli, Vulcaniser and the homeless men remained. Everyone came forward to congratulate him on his brilliant performance. Aroli and Vulcaniser wanted to stay with him at the square, but he begged them to go home, and they did as he asked.