by Eliza Quancy
13
Layla comes back to look for me. She doesn’t want to lose me.
‘You have to hurry, Auli,’ she says. ‘We have to get out of sight.’
‘I can’t go any faster,’ I say and point to the marks on my ankles. ‘I’ll tell you later.’
She slows down a bit after that and eventually, we turn off the main road into the University campus, then turn again, and once more and we’ve arrived. Layla leads me into a house full of women and children all of them talking and shouting at once.
‘This is my niece, Agnes’ she introduces me. (Agnes? Oh well.) ‘Come on, Aggie,’ she says, turning back to speak to me. Put your bilum on the veranda and come into the garden. You can tell me about Nasili and March.’ (Nasili and March?) I do as she says and follow her into the garden. We go to one end and sit down on the grass.
‘Act normal,’ she whispers as we both sit down.
‘I am normal,’ I reply and she smiles. That old Layla smile and my heart melts and I want to throw myself into her arms. But I hold on and we start to talk.
‘Where are we?’ I ask in a low voice and she tells me that we’re on the university campus (I know that - I saw the sign) and that this is her friend, Shantelle’s house but she is not Layla. Here, she is not Layla. Only her friend knows that she is Layla and her friend won’t tell. ‘Then who are you?’ I ask. I’ve got a hundred questions.
‘I’m Rosa,’ she says. ‘I was at college together with Shantelle. That part is true. I’m from Madang, she says. Don’t forget, Agnes. I’m Rosa and I’m from Madang.’
‘Rosa,’ I repeat. ‘And I’m Agnes.’ Layla nods.
‘I’m on the run,’ I tell her. ‘Have to stay in hiding. Can I stay here with you?’
‘Yes, I think so,’ Layla says. ‘Back in a minute.’ She walks off towards the house and comes back a few minutes later. ‘Yes,’ she confirms. ‘You can stay here for now.’
The ‘for now’ echoes through my brain, but it’s better than nothing. I can’t complain.
‘Will you put my phone on charge?’ I ask, fetching my phone and the charger out of the bilum. Layla nods, gets up and once again goes into the house.
‘Why didn’t you answer me?’ I ask her. I rang so many times and sent so many texts.
‘I didn’t get them,’ Layla replies. ‘I wiped your number off my phone a long time ago. It wasn’t safe.’ She sees my face and understands. ‘For you,’ she explains. ‘It wasn’t safe for you.’ I still don’t know what she means.
It’s late and it’s time to cook so we have to go and help prepare the food. Neither of us brought back any food from the market and I say I am sorry. It’s all right, they tell me. You can get some tomorrow. We’ll need more tomorrow. Layla looks at me and I know she’ll come with me. Not safe for either of us but we will get a chance to talk. I still don’t understand why Layla ran away but she’ll tell me when she can.
We cook and we eat and there’s no opportunity to talk to each other. Just being near to Layla is a pleasure almost more than I can bear. It’s like coming home after so long. But we haven’t got a home. We’re both in hiding and I’m waiting to hear Layla’s story. The men of the house come back while we are cooking and they eat first. I don’t get to meet them and that’s a relief. Too many questions and I don’t have any answers.
After we’ve served the men, we sit down to eat ourselves. We’ve done the cooking underneath the house but we sit down on the lawn to eat. I don’t say much and Layla tells them I’m shy. It’s easier like that so I don’t have to answer questions. They smile and hug me and ask me when I’m getting married so I go quiet again and they laugh. They tell me it will be all right with the man - - when I get married that is and they laugh some more. What has Layla told them?
We sit and talk for hours and there’s plenty of buai to chew, but I’m no good at that and worry about it a bit but Layla tells them I’ve got a bad stomach. They don’t look convinced but the moment passes and mostly I sit and listen. Layla chews enough for both of us and her mouth gets red like theirs just like it did when she chewed at home. I don’t mind the lips or the spitting red juice all over the grass, it’s the red teeth I don’t like but now I’m changing my mind. She’s beautiful. Layla is beautiful. Even with red teeth.
For hours they all tell stories and then it’s time to go to bed. Telling stories is what the Aussies call gossiping but gossiping sounds bad and telling stories sounds good even though it’s the same thing. Or nearly the same thing. I’ve never lived with other people so it’s my first time for this. I know about these things because Layla taught me in the life lessons but I had no idea at the time how useful those lessons would be. That they would help me to fit in and keep me safe.
At last, it’s time for bed and I’m tired but still tense. Can’t stop worrying about saying the wrong thing. About the way the girls look at me sometimes. About the police looking for me and what I’m going to do when my time here runs out. I’m given a mat in the room with the other girls and I think I won’t sleep, but I do. Layla isn’t here. She’ll see me in the morning she says. They’re still telling stories when we are lying down, but I pretend I’m asleep and soon I am, and I don’t wake up until the next day.
It’s my stomach that wakes me this time. I’m used to the rice and coconut that we ate last night because it was the same kind of food that they gave me at the police station but there was something else in the food here. Some kind of leaves that I’m not used to but I don’t think it’s that. It’s the baby again making me sick. I’m sure of it. I get up and go outside so I don’t disturb the others. It’s still very early, not quite light. A man is sitting on the steps outside. He’s smoking and he looks at me and gets up to let me past. Instantly I feel afraid. What if he’s a policeman? He might be. He seems OK and laughs when he sees that I’m nervous of him. Thinks it’s just because I’m a young girl that I’m like this. I drink from the tap and go back inside.
It’s still early when Layla says she’s ready. We’ve eaten and washed and I’m relieved that I don’t have to spend time with the girls. Even though they’re nice. We’re your cousin sisters they tell me and we’ve never met you before. What are you doing here? Where is your place? Who did you come with? So many questions that I can’t answer and I’m worried about arousing their suspicions. I can’t be shy forever. Not so shy that I can barely speak.
Layla and I are both silent as we set off from the house.
‘Follow me, Auli,’ she says, ‘and walk as fast as you can. We can talk later.’
I try to keep up but it’s hard and she stops to wait for me lots of times. My legs are aching and tense. They’ve gone backwards since yesterday. It was easier then but however hard I try, I can’t seem to get faster.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask.
‘To the market,’ she answers. ‘But first of all, we’re going to sit in a garden and talk.’
Soon we get to the place she means and I see that there are benches and high hedges full of hibiscus and no-one else there. We sit down and I try to stop the torrent of questions that has been building up in my head.
‘Why did we have to walk so fast?’ I ask as I sink on to the bench and bend down to rub my aching legs.
‘So we have more time to talk,’ she says, ‘ and so there is less chance of anyone seeing us on the road.’ Layla has questions, too, so we try to start with hers but before I tell her all that has happened, I can’t help asking a question of my own.
‘Did you leave because of me?’ I ask her.
‘Yes,’ she says, ‘but not for the reasons you think.’
‘How do you know what I think?’ I ask and she laughs.
‘I always know what you think, little Auli,’ she says and she hugs me close so that I start to weep. It’s been so long.
‘So why did you leave?’ I ask again.
Layla sighs and looks at me and answers my question with a question.
‘How much do you know?’ she asks. �
��About what happened before Saul took me to Keroko?’
‘I think they accused you of sorcery,’ I say, ‘and it was Saul who helped you to escape.’
Layla nods.
‘And do you have special powers?’ I ask.
‘No,’ she says and then adds, ‘Or maybe.’
What does that mean? Two answers. Not the same.
‘I’ll tell you another time,’ she says.
‘Did you kill a child?’ I ask and I can see that she’s hurt that I even ask.
She shakes her head. ‘Of course not,’ she says. ‘How could I?’
‘But I killed Saul,’ I blurt out and I see the shock in her eyes. She didn’t know. Maybe she won’t love me now. She waits for me to go on.
‘After you’d gone,’ I tell her. ‘Saul changed. He shackled me. He fastened my ankles together with metal cuffs. He cut my hands. I was his prisoner and I couldn’t escape. So one day I killed him.’ I don’t want to tell her about the baby so I can’t tell her about the rape. I don’t understand why I can’t bring myself to tell her these things, but I can’t.
‘How did you do it?’ Layla asks.
‘With rocks. I dropped rocks on him while he slept.’ It feels unreal even to me. I can’t believe that I did it. Layla doesn’t speak and I add the final thing. ‘And I opened the circle, Layla. Before I left I opened the circle and when the police went to look, his body was gone.’ I watch as she turns away and I see that she’s sobbing, her shoulders heaving but she’s trying to stop. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I’m so sorry, Layla. I had to do it. There was no other way.’
I ask myself if it’s true. Is that what anyone else would have done? I don’t know. These are questions I can’t answer. Layla’s shoulders are shaking. I’ve never seen her cry before. She’s strong. Always she has been strong.
‘I’m sorry, Layla,’ I say it over and over again. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.’
Maybe I should go. I’ve lost them both now. Both my parents. Saul and Layla.
‘Should I go?’ I ask. ‘Do you want me to go?’
And Layla turns and takes me in her arms.
‘I’m crying for Saul,’ she says, ‘I loved him, Auli. I’ve always loved him,’ and she holds me closer and tries to control the tears but the sobs still come, ’and I’m crying for what he did to you.’ She tries to stop. ‘Most of all,’ she says, ’I’m crying for myself. I don’t know what I’ll do without him in the world.’ And then she becomes calm again. The sobs stop at last. We hold each other and rock from side to side. ‘And for what has happened to us, for what has become of us,’ she whispers, ‘I’m crying for what we have each become.’
Later, I will remember what she says but now I say nothing and we sit in the garden and drink water. I keep picking hibiscus flowers to put in our hair. It is a long time since we did that. Layla’s hair is the same as mine. Big and soft. The bright red flowers stay easily. We put them behind our ears and they look pretty. There’s a lot more to say. A lot more questions but it’s enough for now. We can’t manage any more. Not now. We are thinking of Saul. Each in our own way.
‘Just one more thing,’ I say, ‘that you need to know, Layla,’ and it’s almost more than I can say. There has been too much to tell. There is still too much to tell but this Layla needs to know now. She looks up. ‘The police are looking for me. They think I have special powers. Like you. They think that I practise sanguma. That I’m a witch.’
‘How did they get you?’ she asks.
‘I rang them,’ I said. ‘I needed help and there was no-one else to ring.’
Layla says nothing and I carry on.
‘One of the policemen was kind. He told me what his colleagues were planning and helped me to escape. He said they were afraid of me and even he, Layla, even he looked afraid. I saw it in his eyes. They were going to burn me, but he helped me to escape. He was kind. His name is Joel. His number is in my phone.’
Without pause for even a second, Layla replies, ’Don’t trust him, Auli. You can’t trust him. You are in his debt,’ she pauses. ‘One day you will have to pay back.’
14
It is time for us to go or we won’t get to the market. We need to buy food and take it back to the house. It’s hot and my legs hurt. They’ve been bad all day today. Before we leave the garden, we take the hibiscus flowers out of our hair and drink from the same bottle. We hug each other close before changing into Rosa and Agnes, aunty and niece, close, but not close like Layla and Auli are to each other.
We keep close to the side of the road and to each other. If anyone’s looking, they’ll be looking for one woman, not two. That’s what we hope. I am a woman now. My girlhood is gone. I look like a girl, but I’m not. I’m a woman. Almost a mother. Already a killer. Considered a witch. A thought passes by and catches me with the full force of its longing. To be a child again. A baby. To be held and fed and cared for. Held close and rocked. I toss it away and it’s gone like seeds in the wind and I walk on. I would like to stride but my legs still won’t do that although every day they are stretching wider. It’s a good job I think because they’ll need to go wide when the baby comes out. What will that be like I ask myself but once again the thought is gone. I have to think of the present. Concentrate on this moment or there will be no time coming for babies or for anything. No future at all.
It’s a long way to the market but after what seems like hours, Layla turns to me and says that we’re nearly there and I recognise the place from yesterday. There are more people around now, especially women. Maybe it’s because it’s earlier in the day.
‘What are we going to buy?’ I ask, ‘and who will buy what? Where shall we wait for each other?’
‘I’ll buy the fish,’ Layla tells me. ‘And some buai, lime and mustard. You won’t know how to choose.’ She’s right. I haven’t got a clue about how to buy fish or the mustard and lime for the buai.
‘You can get the pandanus, bananas and some cabbage.’
‘What about coconut?’ I ask remembering the taste of the rice and feeling the ache in my wrist from scraping the coconut last night.
‘Already plenty,’ Layla replies. ‘No need.’
‘How much should I pay?’ I ask, thinking that we should have discussed all this earlier and I see that Layla has forgotten that I don’t know how to do this.
‘Pay what they ask,’ she instructs me. ‘It won’t work twice but it will work once. They’ll wait for next time to ask for more.’
‘And where shall we meet?’
This is my last question. I’m still muttering pandanus, bananas, cabbage under my breath so I don’t forget. I’ve never been shopping before.
‘Where the track comes into the market,’ she says. ‘Under the tree.’
‘It’s full of people,’ I comment as I look over to where she’s pointing.
‘Exactly,’ she says. ‘A crowded area is always the best place to meet.’
‘How many bananas, pandanus and cabbage?’ I ask, but she’s already moving off and I see her struggle not to snap at me.
‘Whatever you think, Auli’ she replies so I give up and set off with my purse and my bilum (which is already nearly full) and no idea at all of how much I’m buying of anything or what I should pay.
I manage the bananas or think I have. Did she mean eating bananas or cooking bananas? Or both. To be safe, I buy both and discover that I can hardly bear the weight when they’re loaded into my bilum on top of everything else. I’ll get the pandanus next or the bilum will be too heavy to hold. Don’t think I’ll manage the cabbage. I go to the same stall as yesterday and remember that it was here that I saw Inspector Boa and his wife. I hover behind a bush and watch the crowd. There’s no Boa in sight and I giggle a bit at his name. I think it’s safe to go to the stall and buy the pandanus.
The nuts are laid out in little bunches on the grass and a woman sits behind them waiting to sell. That’s all she has. Just the pandanus. Nothing else. Not even any other kind of nuts.
I’m about to make my choice when I catch sight of somebody in the crowd. A face that I never wanted to see again but I might have imagined it. I look again and he’s gone. Peer hard into the crowd of faces. Even look behind me but Scarface is nowhere in sight. He was the one who made me fall over and who pushed me hard. Worse than that, he smiled every time Boa said something unpleasant to me. Maybe it wasn’t him. He can’t be the only person around with a scar on his face. I decide which three piles of pandanus I’m going to buy and hand over the money. The woman smiles at me. Half her teeth are gone and her mouth is red with juice but her smile is warm. I am handing her the money when I feel a hand on my shoulder and I fall forward on to the nuts.
There’s an immediate outcry from behind me as people shout at the man for pushing me forward on to the nuts. It is a mark of great disrespect to move someone’s wares or to step over them. I learned it in life lessons and there was a news report once about a fight breaking out in Lae when someone had stepped over a market seller’s piles of kaukau. I don’t waste a moment. I get up as fast as I can, ignoring the pain in my ankle, and turn to face him but he’s gone. Scarface has gone. If that’s who it was. I need to disappear. Maybe Layla was right about the crowd being the best place for safety. I’m not sure though. A policeman versus a young girl in a dirty meri blouse? No contest.
I’ve got a problem. My bilum is too heavy to carry so I dump all the bananas bar two and put them on the grass next to the nuts. The woman is looking alternately amazed then pleased as she nods and smiles at me. She thinks I’m giving the bananas as an apology for falling on the nuts. The pandanus are light so I stuff them down the side of the bilum next to my clothes and I move off, trying to look behind me as well as in front while I walk. It’s difficult but I do keep trying. I’m heading for the exit and I’m not going to stop under the tree.
It looks as though a crowd is gathering near the track that leads back to the street so I slow down and wonder what to do. I can’t see Scarface, and the people in the crowd seem to be mainly women. They’re getting agitated and starting to chant. The main languages here are Tok Pisin and Motu but I can’t tell what they’re saying. Doesn’t sound like anything I know. I wonder where Layla is and hope that she’s safe. I decide to go back to see if I can find another way out because I’ll never get through the crowd in front of me, but I turn around only to find a denser crowd behind me. I’m hemmed in and both groups are walking towards me with men leading the way waving sticks. One or two are holding stones but it’s mainly sticks and while I’m wondering what to do the thought goes through my mind that they can’t stone me because there aren’t enough stones around here. Takes a second to think that. I know now what they’re chanting. It’s my name.