It Couldn't Matter Less

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI

Recently my birthday was marked rather quietly – though there was a plethora of gifts that came my way from a cross-section of South Africans. I am grateful to them all, but one particular touching – though inexpensive – gift/gesture remains indelible in my mind.


And it came from an unexpected source; let’s just call the gentleman in question Raphael, an intelligent essayist and literary critic whom I have known for many years, since he was a bibliophilic young man in fact. He always buys copies of my books and has reviewed many of them over the years. I can not really say I have been close to him since I sometimes do not even see him for up to a year: and he has a rather strange character anyway!

He contacted me via email and told me he would be visiting Bloemfontein city after a long time; and that he had something “small” to give me as a birthday present. I was a bit surprised, since he has never really been the emotional type and he has never cared for my birthday before. Somehow I guessed that his gift would somehow be connected with books, and I was proved right. But it was still a VERY pleasant surprise.

We met the weekend just after my birthday and he was as inscrutable as ever. He won’t thank me for saying this, but does he ever smile? (Laugh) He explained that he had to leave very soon (as usual) as he had urgent family affairs to take care of. Strangely enough, we were inside the main post office, which was quite deserted mainly because of the cold weather.

He had a bag with him, which presumably contained my present. In his lugubrious way he started crisply: “You know, I like other commentators have been interested in your literary influences since you were a kid. These things are always over-simplified, but in many studies written on you, even by me, we always blandly talk about writers like Chase, Sheldon, Cheyney, Francis etc as influencing you...”

I said nothing, as he went on: “Then I read that article, the second one that mentions you, by scholar and researcher Achal Prabhala, where he focuses on Peter Cheyney in particular. I myself had never seen a Cheyney book in my whole life. But I told myself that I must do all I can to buy a Cheyney book for you, even if just for your current library. I was in Cape Town last week, and happily enough after trawling a few old book centres I managed to get a Peter Cheyney book. For just for fifteen rand! What a bargain! I hope you’ll accept the old copy as a present,”

Excitement surged through me. How many decades ago had I last physically seen a Cheyney book myself, though I had read dozens of them as a kid? Raphael opened his bag and brought out the book, titled It couldn’t matter less.

I began to shake. At rare times like this I am quite likely to become nigh-comatose; incredibly the book had the same cover of the copy I had known decades ago! Profile of a woman with the face of the 'notorious' bland Slim Callaghan (detective) somewhat in the background! How I remembered the book!

I almost reeled as my mind went back to my father’s old library where It couldn’t matter less lay among the dusty shelves for many years. How I read the book intermittently then...whilst travelling in-between cities like Ibadan, Oyo, Osogbo, Lagos Akure, Ife (where I had attended university) etc. And I also remembered that the book had been lent to my old friend, Kunle Apantaku who never returned it.

Ah, Kunle. What memories! He was so much in love with writing since we were kids and wrote two astonishingly intelligent novels whilst still a teen ager. Pity that he fell by the wayside as a writer; and worst of all, something terrible happened to him over the years. Raphael did not know it, but this was one of the most touching gifts I had ever received!!!

But all Raphael could see now was someone who seemed about to faint or collapse...”Hey” he said. “You seem upset. I’m sorry, if you don’t want the book-“ He tried to touch the book, but within a jiffy this rare copy of It couldn’t matter less was already ensconced in my bag! “A wonderful gift and present,” I said. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me, but maybe you’ll read about it one day! Thanks so much!”

“Hey ntate!” Raphael protested. “Why don’t you let me gift-wrap the book for you?”

I grinned. “Don’t bother. It couldn’t matter less,” I said.