by Eliza Quancy
I know what I have to do. I wait and wait and when I have counted five weeks, I tell him. It’s exactly five weeks since I came here to live in this small prison with the high window, the heat and the gentle Joel.
‘I’m seven days late,’ I tell him. ‘My blood hasn’t come,’ and I see that he’s pleased. It’s impossible, but he wants this child that he thinks is his. He doesn’t even know that he’s not the first one. He’s experienced but he knows nothing. Feels like I’m ancient and he’s just a boy, but I’m sixteen and he is twenty. It was my birthday before I came down the mountain and I’m old enough for most things but Joel at twenty should have a wife by now, especially as he’s got a good job. Maybe he already has one. Or two. I haven’t asked.
‘What shall we do?’ he asks and I almost laugh. How can he ask me that? But then I think and say what I need to say.
‘Let me go,’ I say. ‘Let me escape and we can meet later somewhere safe.’
He shakes his head. ‘I’d lose my job,’ he says. ‘I can’t do that.’
I bite back the words that fill my mouth. Anger. Entreaties. Explanations. I choke on them and swallow them down. They will make things worse. I reach into myself for patience. It’s the hardest thing, but I find it. I will have to wait.
One night he comes and I can see there’s a change.
‘What’s happened?’ I ask.
‘No date for the court,’ he says. ‘There won’t be one.’ He pauses and he’s fighting with himself. Should he tell me and betray his colleagues? I watch his face. I’m silent.
‘They’re going to kill you,’ he tells me. ‘No torture. We’re the police, they said, not some primitive village men. We’ll just kill her and there will be an end to it.’
‘How?’ I ask.
‘They’re going to burn the police station,’ Joel replies.
‘When?’ I ask.
There’s another pause. Joel wants to trust me and sometimes he does, but sometimes he doesn’t.
‘Tomorrow night,’ he replies.
‘Then you’ve got to let me go,’ I say. No more time for patience, waiting, being careful. Who knows what the right thing is to say or the wrong thing. My words pour out. ‘Give me my bilum, Joel and my phone. Let me go.’ I watch his face. I think he loves me but there are other things that matter. ‘You can’t burn your child to death. Your son.’
I think this is the tipping point. Not me. His unborn son.
‘I’ll lose my job,’ he says. ‘I can’t do it.’
‘No,’ I say.. ‘Tell them that I made you do it. I’m a witch, remember. You had no choice. I cast a spell. Now, Joel. I’m going to make you do it. Make you let me go.’
Fear fills his face and I see that his colleagues and the people in his village have filled him up with their stories about me. Their beliefs and fears about Layla and me.
‘It’s not true,’ I tell him one last time. ‘I can’t make you do anything, Joel. I can’t make anybody do anything. I’ve got no powers at all,’ but I can see that my words are not reaching his brain and he doesn’t reply.
Joel goes away, and it is silent. He comes back. Doesn’t touch me. Hands me my bilum. ‘The phone is inside,’ he says. ‘My number is in the phone. Ring me, Aulani.’
I walk through the door of my cell down the corridor into the big room where people come in. And I step outside.
11
It is night and it’s dark. I am on the run and I don’t know where to go. I look around me. I can’t see anybody in the street. On the run? That’s a joke, I can hardly walk. I set off down the street and see the dirt, the rubbish, the green discarded husks of betel nut and the red stains of the juice covering the bottom of the walls of every store. It’s where the walls meet the pavement. It’s where people have spat. There’s been a lot of spitting. Layla used to chew a lot. Her mouth was always red and her teeth. Saul didn’t chew because he said that beer was better, but Layla pulled a face and said he wasn’t a proper PNG man if he didn’t chew. She made me try it, too, but I didn’t like the taste and she didn’t insist. It was supposed to make you feel good but I didn’t get that far.
I stumble and nearly trip over some legs as I notice a man lying in a doorway, but he doesn’t move or speak and I pass by as quickly as I can. Saul said it was dangerous in the city. For a man he said. No man should walk alone at night. For a girl, I asked? Impossible! What would happen to her I wanted to know? But he wouldn’t say. I look around. The place is deserted. No-one around. No body or soul. At least I have a chance, I think. Better than being burnt alive in the police station. Would they have done it? Joel thought so. I want to stop and look at my phone, but I don’t. It’s too dark to see and I can’t risk stopping for more than a minute. I have to keep on walking.
No idea where I’m going. The street is dusty and it’s still hot. My feet are used to having earth beneath them, not the hard grey concrete (is it concrete?) of the streets and I feel the little stones start to dig in. My feet are not hard enough for the city. After a few steps, I have to stop and pull a piece of broken glass from my right foot. It bleeds a bit but soon the blood and dust mix together. My foot is all right after I’ve pulled the glass out. Broken cans are more dangerous but they’re easier to avoid. Many people don’t wear shoes so nobody will notice me for that although, at the moment, there’s no-one to notice anything. That’s good and I’m walking better than I did. All the work I did on my legs and the exercise, backwards and forwards in the cell, has helped a lot.
I need somewhere private to sit down and think about what to do and where to go but can’t see anywhere. A car drives past, slows down but then continues on. A relief. It’s not until my body relaxes again that I realise how tense I am. But the car is coming back. This time it slows down and stops beside me. I walk past.
‘Get in the car,’ somebody yells at me. ‘You need a lift, little girl.’
I don’t reply. I keep on walking. Am going as fast as I can but still, I’m slow. Damn my legs. I used to be fast. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the car drive past again then stop a little way in front of me. A man gets out. The car seems to be full of men, I see faces hanging out of the windows. Leering. The man walks towards me and I wonder what to do. Can’t turn and run. Can’t walk past. I’ve got no weapon. A knife but it’s deep in the bilum if it’s even still there. No stone. No roach poison that some girls carry to spray into men’s eyes. I’ve heard about that and wonder if it works. Wish I had some. Face him. That’s what Layla said. Always face your enemy then you’ve got a chance, but what chance is there? I’ve got no defence. I stop. There’s no way I’m going to get past him. I stop and watch him approaching but I don’t turn round. I look him straight in the eye. He’s not hurrying, coming slow. Smiling at me. It is time to speak.
‘Watch me,’ I say and I put my bilum on the ground and lift my arms high in the air and turn around slowly, all the way round. ‘Don’t touch me or I’ll make your child die.’ I’m speaking quietly but he can hear me. The place is quiet. I see him hesitate and almost stop. ‘Your son,’ I say and then for good measure, I add, ‘and your brother, too. They will both die.’ I have no idea if he has a son or a brother. I’m just hoping on that.
He stops and stares at me. We are both still and staring at each other.
‘What did you do with your arms?’ he asks me.
‘You know what I did,’ I say and I see that he’s thinking that perhaps he does know. Perhaps he does. ‘It’s the circle of safety,’ I say. ‘How else could I walk down the street in the night?’
I am afraid of him and the faces hanging out of the car but I meet his eye and pretend to be calm. Still and calm. Pretend that I can do anything with the power of my thoughts. The power of my will. That I have special powers and that I can do to him whatever I like.
‘Come closer,’ I invite and this time I’ve won. His eyes show his fear and he turns and walks, breaks into a run. Back to the car, jumps in, can’t get in fast enough and they’ve gone.
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I can’t believe it. I made it up and it worked. I made him afraid and he went. Ran! Maybe I do have special powers. How else would it happen? How else would I be able to make him run away from me like that? But I do know. I know about fear, and I know that my power is not real so I don’t want to chance it again. Soon I’ll have people coming after me because I’ve admitted it as I did just now. I said I was a witch.
I hurry as fast as I can with my damaged legs to the end of the street and turn left into a totally different kind of road. No stores. No pavement. It’s dark and there’s not much light from the sky. Perhaps it’s going to rain. I walk along the side of the road past hedges and driveways, past houses that are all lit up. The third house I come to is dark so this is the one. I breathe with relief and pray that it’s empty. Completely empty. I walk into the drive. My right foot is beginning to drag again even though there’s no shackle there now. It’s as though my brain is stuck in the past and continues to feel what has already gone. There is no sound from the house and no light. A miracle I think. A place of safety for the night from men and from snakes. I go under the house and almost collapse on to the ground.
There’s a sink here on a raised slab of concrete so I get up again and step on to it to reach for the tap. Water gushes really loud. I turn it off as quickly as I can but no-one comes so I try again. Turn it just a little bit and drink and wash. I need the toilet so I have to go in the garden. There’s a hibiscus hedge but too low. Looks as though it’s been cut down recently so there’s nowhere to hide but there’s no moon or starlight. Must be cloudy and the house is dark so I go into the garden, crouch down near the hedge and hope for the best. No-one comes. Then I go back and sit under the house. Someone might come back later, I think. There’s space for a car in the drive. The people who live here might have all gone out for the evening. But that seems unlikely. What about the children? And the women? Wouldn’t they have stayed behind? Maybe there are children asleep upstairs in the house but somehow I’m sure that there aren’t. It’s too quiet. Not a sound from inside.
I see that there’s a bulb and a light switch under the house but I daren’t put it on. I search in my bilum in the dark and I feel my phone. Hallelujah! I mouth it under my breath. That’s what Saul used to say. It came from the songs he used to sing as a kid. Religious songs, I think. What does it mean I asked him. It means Hallelujah, he replied and grinned. It’s an expression of joy, Layla said, but I already knew. You could tell from Saul’s face. The phone is off so I switch it on, but it’s dead. The battery must be flat. Either that or it’s broken but at least it’s still there. Let’s hope it’s the battery and nothing worse, but there’s nothing I can do about it at the moment. At the moment? Do I think that soon my life will be back to normal sliding along in a happy fashion? Complete with phone charging facilities. Like it used to do when I was small.
The second thing I feel for is the freezer bag to see if my money is still there. And yes, it is and the salt, too. I’ve got the phone (even though dead) and I’ve got some money. Tomorrow, I’ll get food and try again to find Layla. For now, I need to sleep. I lie down on the concrete with the bilum under my head and wonder whether to do the circle of safety to keep the snakes away. Does it work with snakes? My brain is going soft. Obviously, it doesn’t work. I’ve made it up. But I still do it. Make the circle shape with my hand and turn around. It can’t hurt, can it?
12
The cold has crawled into my bones and I wake up early. I used to have a watch but Saul took it from me a long time ago and it never came back. From the light, I can see that it’s early and the birds are only just beginning to sing. I must go to the toilet before there’s anyone around. My right leg cramps as I straighten it out and pull myself up to stand by the sink. There are clothes pegs here in a plastic container on the draining board. I could do some washing. Ha ha. And then. If only. An intense longing for a normal, ordinary life floods through me as I gaze at the clothes pegs.
I’m surprised at how much colder and harder the concrete is than a wooden floor. Wood is soft but I never knew it till I tried the concrete. I raise each leg in turn a little way off the ground and stretch my foot out. One after the other. Over and over to make them move. My legs hurt from the walking but they are getting better. Not nearly as painful as they used to be, but my stomach is growling. I’m beginning to feel hungry. In the police station, I got regular food and it wasn’t bad. Good even. Sometimes delicious. I like the rice cooked in coconut that you get down here. I sit down on the raised slab next to the sink and get my phone out now that I can see it. I was right. The battery is totally dead. No joy there until I’ve found somewhere to charge it up. (What an optimist I am, expecting to find somewhere to charge my phone, but hope is stubborn. Keeps on rising, despite all the bad experiences that should cause it to die. I locate my purse and take it out of the freezer bag to put it near the top of the bilum. I am hungry so I’m going to have to find a market. Or a store. Market would be better because it’s cheaper I think, although I can’t cook anything. Hmmm. I’ll have to see what there is.
To tell the truth, I’ve never been to a market. There isn’t one in Keroko. Isn’t anything in Keroko. Only us. Not even us anymore. Nothing left. But I’ve seen markets on tv and I’ve read about them in the Post Courier. Surprising how many news items happen in market places. Hope I’ve got enough money. No idea how much things cost. Here I go again, thinking I’ll find a market and get some food. What do I do then, I wonder? I have no idea. I’ve got to find Layla but I don’t know how. I can’t even contact Joel because my phone won’t work. Once again, I go through the people I know in this world to see if I can expect any help. There’s Saul. Dead. Layla. Gone. Joel. No idea. Don’t know where he lives. He never told me and I didn’t ask. He thought we could phone each other. Keep in contact that way. Ha ha. I make a mental note to stop myself saying ha ha because it isn’t helpful. It’s like a hollow laugh and I can do without it.
I look around to check that no-one is looking, take off my laplap, shake it out and then put it on again. Badly creased and dirty. My water bottle is still in the bilum so I fill it from the tap and set off. I’m going to look for a market. Or a store. I’m not going back the way I came because of the police station. The men might see me on their way to work. I’ll have to be careful on the road in case they drive past and notice me. Perhaps I could use my spare laplap to put round my head as a disguise but I dismiss this idea. First, I wouldn’t be able to walk without it falling off. Second, everybody would look at me because nobody wears a laplap like that (and especially the police would look because they’re always suspicious). And third, it would make me hot. I walk to the end of the drive and look up the road. Plenty of cars now, driving up and down. Just have to pray that the policemen have already gone past or that they don’t go to work this way. Soon they will be at work and Joel will have to tell them what happened. I hope he’s all right.
I need Layla and I need my phone charging up, but first things first. I need food. I’m starving. Hunger makes me walk as fast as I can and my legs don’t feel too bad. Sometimes I can walk like I used to do, but then my legs seem to switch back into shackled mode and the muscles contract and hurt and make me take little tiny steps all over again. The road is long and straight and I can’t see the end of it. Nobody else is walking along and I keep close to the side with my head down most of the time.
I walk for hours. Feels like days but must be hours before I get to a roundabout, change roads but nothing else changes. Everything looks the same. The hedges, the houses, the driveways. I sit down and rest for a while and drink some water, but I have to get up and carry on. Another roundabout and a left turn and suddenly hallelujah. There are plenty of people walking about including some women with bilums. I pass a store and hesitate. Just a little bit further I think. I’ll turn around and come back if I don’t find a market soon. Then I see it down a little track. Market stalls and lots of people. Hallelujah, I think once more. I’m get
ting to be a praise-be-to-the-Lord sort of person, but really I’m not. I didn’t go to church and Layla didn’t teach me much about that. I don’t believe in a Lord or a God. There are enough bosses in this world without reaching for an extra one.
I’ve done it. I’ve found it and I’ve reached the market area where I’m looking at some nuts set out neatly in little clumps ready for sale, but I’m forgetting to be careful. I take my eyes off the nuts and have a quick look around when suddenly I see Inspector Boa without his uniform. He’s walking along with another man and a woman is following behind him carrying a bilum. Oh my God. Where can I hide? (Saul said I shouldn’t say Oh my God because God would strike me down dead, but it isn’t true. I’ve been saying it under my breath for years.) It doesn’t seem real about Saul. I can’t believe that it was Saul who shackled me and cut me. That it was Saul who raped me. And I can’t believe that he’s dead. That I’ve killed him. All this flashes through my mind while I’m watching Inspector Boa.
I was going to buy some pandanus nuts but I don’t have time. I go to hide behind some bougainvillaea bushes. I’m keeping my eye fixed on Inspector Boa to see where he goes when suddenly someone grabs me from behind and puts their hand over my mouth. My heart does more than jump, but it’s not Inspector Boa. I try to turn to see who it is.
‘Oh my dear,’ a voice speaks behind me.
‘Layla!’ I look at her and tears spring to my eyes.
‘No,’ she says. ‘Not now, Auli. We’ve got to go.’ It’s my Layla. My real mother but she’s already moving away. ‘Be careful,’ she whispers. ‘Say nothing. Watch where I go and follow behind.’ But she moves too fast. I can’t keep up and soon I’ve lost her.