Thursday 15 March 2012

The tota ran away with the totee....

I bought two totas from Mali the other day. I guess they had come out to check whether life would be any better in Liberia but little did I know that they had come to dupe unwitting human beings. Or perhaps their clever owner Ibrahim has trained these birds to expertly escape from flimsy cages which he sells along with the birds and return to him so he can make the same sale over and over again. Whatever the case, after hardly a couple days of having the pleasure of owning some beautiful parrots, planning on making a bigger cage for them, allowing them to use the guest room at night and trying to develop a friendly rapport with them, I stupidly stared at the empty and intact cage and wondered how the heck those birds escaped. 

Why did I even get those birds? I was walking back from the bank on Randall Street in post chocolate-cigar-happiness which had given way to bitter-leaf-bitter-kola-nut-frustration and saw a fellow walking with a bobbing cage from which I glimpsed bright green feathers a few paces ahead of me. I stopped him and asked him how much was the tota-totee pair, and he told me they were for $ 30.00. He told me they were from Mali and as obsessed as I am about that beautiful country with the most soulful music I have ever heard, I don't know what came over me and I decided to make an impulse purchase. So I asked the parrot vendor, Ibrahim, to follow me to my office. While we walked back to the loft, I casually asked him what other exotic animals he could offer me and Ibrahim rattled off a list which included baboon, monkey, chimpanzee and many other endangered and harassed-by humans species. I just shook my head and we reached our office where I parted with $ 30.00 and mentally celebrated happy years of parrot ownership ahead. 

How was I supposed to know my joy was to be so short-lived?

It was so delightful to have the tota and totee sitting in our newly-painted orange balcony, chirping now and then, and seemingly-relaxed in their new environs. I mean, I thought I had rescued them from a doomed future in that tiny cage and some terrible owner who wouldn't appreciate them the way I would. I was going to be get them a bigger cage after all, it was just a matter of asking our carpenter who was in the process of making our new office conference table. I would put them in guest bedroom at night, close the curtains, shut off the light and close the door. Where else would they get their own room? In the mornings, I could hear Haresh excitedly greet them and give them the names of our annoying clients. "Good morning, Mr. X" how are you doing? Did you sleep well?" Oh did I fuss over those birds, plan a good life for them and tried to give them some peace and quiet. 

So lo and behold, one evening, I asked our housekeeper to clean out the cage before she escorted them to the guest bedroom for the night. I had come down from the terrace where I was about to host drinks for friends. I went back up to arrange the chairs and when I came back down for some glasses, I noticed that the totee was missing! And our housekeeper seemingly was unaware as she had already bid them good night. I got so angry at her but she swore that she had no idea what happened. And truly, there was no way the bird could have escaped. There was no sign of breakage. I felt terrible for mian tota and wondered how he would live without his totee begum.

I soon got busy with my guests and planned on getting another friend for my lone tota and a bigger and secure cage on Monday as it was Sunday the next day.

On Sunday, I lonesomely watched the bird alone in his cage and hoped to get him another partner. I went to take a shower and asked Haresh to watch over the bird. I heard a loud holler about twenty minutes later, "Ms. Farzana Rasheed, the bird has escaped." He almost said it proudly as if he had helped the tota escape or whether he had been hoping the bird escape or whether he enjoyed this tragic news, I'm really not sure. 

I ignored Haresh's proud face rushed out on the balcony and gawked at the empty cage. I suddenly remembered the scratching noise the tota had been making all afternoon but did not see any tota-sized escape hole. Did he rub the floor of the cage and summon up a tota-friendly-genie who helped him magically escape? What happened? Haresh of course annoyingly rubbed it in by saying that he told me not to get the birds because he did not know anything about birds and pets have always mysteriously died in his ownership. Who knows, perhaps these birds got a whiff of it and decided to escape with their lives. Either way, I feel stupid!

At the same time, I hope the birds have made it back safely to Mali and are leading a happy life. 

When we were children, my father used to tell us a story that my brother and I were actually parrots who had flown to him one day and over time changed into a little boy and girl. That is why he nicknamed us tota and totee. My mother even today calls my brother tota in affection, especially when she is begging him to come out of the bathroom.  This is how it usually goes: "Beta Tariq, Tariq, Totay!" And the reply is: "Aa raha hooooon!"

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