Charles and I followed her to the classroom where the INEC officials waited. On seeing us, the INEC official with the paunch scowled in our direction, pointed a threatening finger, and hollered , "What are you people doing here?" The other one, the thin one who had struggled with the agent in peak-cap, said he would call the policeman. An agent standing with them, a man with a scarred face, brought out a knife when told by the INEC officials that we were being nosy, glowered as he pointed it at us, then slipped it back into his pocket. Unnerved by all these, we turned and walked away. By this time, I noticed that Charles and I were caught up fully in Lizy's quest to vote. Charles stopped to say that the election was a ruse and that we should leave at once. He did not bring up the behaviour of the party official in army boots as evidence that to vote was useless since the ballot box would be snatched and party officials stuff it with already thumbprinted papers. I forgot my angst that my inability to marry was because there were unsuitable girls in Benin City. Rather, both of us were fuming. It was as if the arrogance of the INEC officials and the thugs had made us determined to find a way to thwart their plans and to make us want to vote. Lizy led us to the centre of the field, stopped, and turning towards the classrooms, said, "If I have to die, I'll vote today."

The next time Lizy suggested that we go to the classrooms, I told her there was no need. No vehicle had driven into the primary school to disgorge more electoral materials. The thugs in the bus were still inside it; they were waiting for the voting to start.

Charles, no longer gentle, argued: "Lets go. Lets see whether the large envelopes on the desk are still eight."

While we debated, Lizy strolled towards the bus, passed it, and disappeared by a corner. After she left, Charles and I dropped the issue about going to count the envelopes and fell silent. My legs were aching me, so I sat down on the grass, and leaned my back against the thick bark of a mango tree. Charles, arms akimbo, stared at the classrooms, his eyes burning with anger.

Lizy returned fifteen minutes later. Charles and I took the two bottles of coca-cola from the paper bag she held out to us. As we drank from the bottles, the old woman, the one who told me about the thugs in the Toyota bus, waddled down from the edge of the field and sat down beside us. Lizy sank to the grass with a sigh.

"Found another thing?" I asked, and she nodded and spat into the grass. The INEC official with a paunch had jumped out through the back window of the classroom, so he would not be visible to voters on the field, and had gone to a bush near the Toyota bus, accompanied by the agent with the scarred face. He had had a conference with the thug who had killed at the last elections.

"They want to complicate matters," Lizy said. "They want to create confusion and fear among voters."

"They want to cause confusion for their mothers," the old woman said.

"I never cared about voting before," Charles said. "But now I care. I'm going to vote."

Lizy sipped from her bottle, her brow knitted in a frown as she thought. She didn't speak for the next few minutes, her tongue placed at the opening of the bottle. Her eyes were bitter and dark.

"Are they lying about the electoral materials not being enough?" I asked.

"I think so," Lizy said.

"I agree with you," Charles said. "Sure, ballot boxes are being snatched before getting to polling stations. But in this case, shortage of materials is being used as ploy to delay voting. They want people to go away before they start thumbprinting the papers."

"This will not stop me from voting," Lizy said. She tossed the bottle of coca-cola on the grass and turned to me. "Julius, go and see whether the ballot boxes are still in the classrooms."

I stood up and wandered towards the block that housed the classrooms; but when I stepped on the veranda, the policeman came towards me. He had been counting a bundle of crisp naira notes in the doorway of a classroom, and now he frowned as he stopped in front of me. When he learnt that I wanted to see the INEC officials, he barked : "Is this your father's house? Do you think you can come and go anyhow? If you don't leave here, I'll deal with you."

Boiling with anger, but knowing that the policeman could hit me with his big fists, I bowed and ambled back to the mango tree to tell Lizy what happened.

"These people won't get away with this," she said and stood up and hitched up her pants. She turned her head in a slow motion towards the block that contained the classrooms, and I found myself admiring this young woman's indomitable spirit. Still keeping her gaze on the classroom, she bit her lower lip and hissed. "But they're making a mistake. I'm going to get a paper and place in my vote." She swiveled her head in our direction and said: "Lets go."

"Lets go," the old woman said, getting up.

"We shouldn't allow them to treat us like second class citizens," Lizy said.

"This is horrible," Charles stated. "They have no right to do this."

"I'd rather fight for my rights than allow a bunch of criminals shortchange me," Lizy said.

"These people are crazy," I said.

"I said lets go!"

At that moment, a lorry drove into the school compound and stopped on the field; soldiers with guns jumped out of its back to the grass.

"The soldiers will restore order!" Charles shouted and jumped up to his feet. "Now the thugs and the INEC officials can't shortchange us." Taking off in a sprint, he headed for a line quickly forming behind the small table on the veranda. Lizy and I got up and chased him down to the line, but he allowed Lizy to stand in front of him. A few minutes later, one of the INEC officials, the one with the paunch, came to announce that voting would start shortly. A rumor spread on the queue that the soldiers had forced the INEC officials to start the process, under the threat of shooting them if they continued to complain about the shortage of materials. Word also spread that the policeman had fled, and that the Toyota bus had been driven away by the thugs. Charles was not able to contain his excitement over these developments, as well as about voting. "I never thought it would happen," he said.

The line began to move.

As we neared the small table, we heard the sound of a man howling, and I looked up the field. Some of the soldiers were chasing a man towards the path that wound out of the school compound. The man being chased was the thug in mufti, the one who vowed to stop people not supporting his party from voting. The soldiers caught up with him at the edge of the field and grabbed him. One of them swung a rifle and slammed it against the thug's face. He collapsed on the grass, and he began to thrash his feet on the ground. He was dragged along the grass and hurled into the back of the army lorry. The old woman, who knew him from the previous election, said he specialized in snatching ballot boxes from polling stations. By this time, the line was moving. When it got to Lizy's turn to stand behind the small table, the INEC official, the tall thin one, yawned and stretched out his arms. Lizy placed her voters card on the table and looked hopefully at him. The INEC official did not look at the card; instead, he shook his head and told Lizy that she should be patient, and that there was a problem. "What are you saying?" Lizy demanded. "Are you saying I can't vote?"

The official stood up. "I'm not saying that," he said. "Just wait for a minute." And he walked away.

After twenty minutes, he returned and sat down behind the small table. When he did nothing, Lizy accosted him. "What's happening?" she asked. "Why has voting stopped?" The official did not answer.

Charles pushed Lizy aside and stood in front of the official.

"What's happening?" he asked.

"We've exhausted the materials," the official said.

"Exhausted the materials? What do you mean?" Lizy asked. "Are you saying I can't vote? Are you saying I can't vote?"

"What's the real position?" I asked the official.

"I said its exhausted!" he shouted. "Is it my fault that its exhausted?"

The official with the paunch emerged from one of the classrooms and walked towards us.

"James," he called his companion. "What's happening."

"I told them the materials are exhausted. They don't want to believe me."

The official with the paunch turned towards us.

"That's the truth," he said.

"Are you saying we can't vote?" Charles asked.

The official lost his patience.

"I said its exhausted!" he shouted. "Are you deaf?"

"Deaf?" I asked.

"Yes, deaf!" the man said in a heated voice. "I'll say it a thousand times."

"You've not gone for reinforcements," I noted.

"Why can't you people mind your business?"

"This election is our business!" Charles shouted.

"I don't know about that," the official said. "What I do know is that the materials are finished."

Lizy, aware of the interest of a soldier standing nearby, said with fury: "Its a lie! They're hoarding the papers! They're hoarding the papers!"

The soldier, overhearing, came near. He was the one who swung the rifle against the head of the thug in black mufti.

"Can you prove it?" he asked Lizy.

"Yes."

"Take us to where they hoarded the papers," he said.

Hitching up her pants, Lizy led us out of the queue and marched along the line of classrooms to the end of the block. No one spoke, except the old woman, who continued to curse the mothers of those who wanted to prevent her from voting. When we reached a small bush at the back of the block, Lizy looked around for a short moment, nodded her head, moved towards a path by a guava tree, and plunged into it. The INEC official, the one with the paunch, attempted to turn and run away, but the soldier grabbed his hand,pushed him up the bush path, and shouted at him. Lizy led us along the grass strewn path, stopped by a palm tree, and pointed at the ground. Placed on the grass by the palm tree were two big envelopes bearing INEC's insignia. The soldier bent down, picked them up, and looked at them all over. Menace in his eyes, he turned and faced the INEC official.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. "Why are you people so unpatriotic? Why?"

"I didn't do it," the INEC official said. "Its the thugs belonging to the Peoples Party."

"Never mind," the soldier said. "Lets go."

We struggled out of the bush and headed towards James, who was still sitted on the chair behind the small table. When we got to him, the soldier dropped the two large envelopes on the table, while Lizy, Charles, the old woman, and I took our former positions on the queue. In a harsh voice, the soldier ordered James to start to collect the voters cards and to allow the people to vote. Grabbing the official with the paunch, he began to drag him by the belt of his trousers towards the army lorry at the edge of the field; while the official pleaded in a voice that sounded desperate. James turned from them, too frightened to interfere. With shaking hands, he opened the flap of one of the envelopes and poured out the papers inside it on the table. Looking up at Lizy, he said: "Where's your voters card?" As she took the card out of the pocket of her pants, she stared at me, and the look in her eyes was triumphant. Staring at her, I smiled and held her hand, convinced at long last that there were still women one could marry in Benin City.