Figgy and the President

by Janu,Tamsin

  FIGGY

  AND THE

  PRESIDENT

  TAMSIN JANU

  An Omnibus Book from Scholastic Australia

  To Oma

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  CHAPTER 1 THE PRESIDENT

  CHAPTER 2 OBRUNIS WITH A CAMERA

  CHAPTER 3 GETTING AWAY

  CHAPTER 4 FIGGY’S AUDITION

  CHAPTER 5 FAMOUS

  CHAPTER 6 OFF TO THE BEACH

  CHAPTER 7 A BAD MAMA

  CHAPTER 8 FILMING

  CHAPTER 9 NANA’S PAPA

  CHAPTER 10 KOFI AND KUMASI

  CHAPTER 11 THE SEARCH FOR NANA

  CHAPTER 12 THEY DON’T KNOW

  CHAPTER 13 A BABY

  CHAPTER 14 WITH THE HELP OF KWAKU

  CHAPTER 15 HIDING

  CHAPTER 16 THE RESCUE

  EPILOGUE

  THE AUTHOR

  Also by Tamsin Janu

  Copyright

  CHAPTER 1

  THE PRESIDENT

  I was surprised when Nana first told me that when he grows up he wants to be the President of Ghana. We were sitting in the rain, our heads tipped back and our mouths open. I knew Grandma Ama would eventually find us and call us silly children and tell us to go inside and have a wash. But we were enjoying sitting in the rain while we could.

  I poked Nana’s arm. ‘Why do you want to be the President?’

  He scrambled on to his knees. ‘Why wouldn’t I want to be the President? Presidents can have as much food as they like, give to the good people and take from the bad ones, see The World and meet important people …’

  Like Nana, I love food. And good people. And I really want to travel around The World. Going to another country, one outside of Ghana, is my second-greatest wish. Second to getting a new eye. My left eye was ruined when I was a baby.

  But I know that eating and travelling aren’t the only things presidents do. Every time I walk past the television stall near our house, the President of Ghana’s face is on one of the televisions. He always has lots of microphones pointed at him and his expression is serious, so I am sure he is talking about important things.

  ‘Doesn’t the President have lots of responsibilities?’ I said.

  Nana shrugged and wiped the raindrops running down his face. ‘I can be responsible.’

  I giggled. Nana is not responsible at all. My cousin Perpetua, who is a year younger than me, is the responsible one. ‘That time you were supposed to be looking after Esi, she almost fell into a drain. And yesterday when Grandma Ama told you to make sure no chickens got into the house, you –’

  ‘I said I can be responsible.’ Nana stuck his nose in the air. ‘Sometimes I just choose not to be.’

  I giggled again. The thought of skinny little Nana being in charge of Ghana was funny.

  I met Nana about two years ago, when I was travelling to the United States of America to find medicine for Grandma Ama. Nana had run away from his bad papa, and then had escaped from an orphanage, so he was all alone and had lots of time to spare. We never got to America. Instead we found medicine for Grandma Ama in Ghana’s biggest city, Accra. Nana lives with us now, and Grandma Ama tells people he is her grandson even though he isn’t really. Nana loves it when she says that.

  Nana spoke louder, because of my giggling. ‘And as the President I will have to make speeches, which I will be excellent at.’ I stopped giggling, because I agreed – Nana is a great talker. ‘And I love being the centre of attention. Which is good, because when I am the President people will always look at me and talk to me and ask me questions. Like whether we should bomb things. Of course I will say we shouldn’t, because bombing things is never a good idea.’

  ‘Sometimes I can’t think of smart things to say at school,’ I said. ‘Saying smart things about bombs would be even harder.’

  Nana patted my shoulder. ‘Don’t worry. I’m sure there’s another job you would be good at.’ He lay on his back and linked his hands behind his head. ‘You don’t have to think about it yet anyway. You’re only a little kid. It’s when you hit my age that things become serious.’

  I tried not to be insulted. I was only one year younger than Nana. I was hardly a ‘little kid’.

  ‘You have to start thinking about jobs when you’re eleven?’

  Nana nodded. ‘It’s important to be mindful of where your future is going.’

  Eleven seemed young to me, but Nana knows nearly everything and I know very little, so I trust what he says. Most of the time. And I know how important it is to have a successful career. Grandma Ama says that a good job and good family are the keys to a good life.

  ‘Figgy and Nana!’

  Grandma Ama was standing in the doorway of our house, an apron tied around her big belly. Her wooden cane was clutched in one hand and a fish bone in the other. ‘Come inside.’ She pointed at us with the fish bone. ‘Or I will cane you.’

  Grandma Ama would never cane anyone. When she threatens to cane us she really means, ‘I will talk at you for a long time in a cross voice then I will make you scrub the floor and I will send you to bed early’.

  Grandma Ama is a school teacher. She doesn’t put up with nonsense.

  We jumped to our feet. As Nana passed Grandma Ama she grumbled about the mud we would get through the house and how she really would cane us one day.

  Nana sighed dramatically. ‘Oh, Grandma Ama,’ he said, ‘you would never cane us. You are such a lovely woman.’ Nana stood on his tippy toes, pecked Grandma Ama on the cheek, and bounced into the house.

  Grandma Ama rolled her eyes but her lips were twitching. They do that when she is trying not to smile.

  Before I could follow Nana inside, Grandma Ama blocked the doorway. She reached out to stroke my cheek. ‘What is wrong, my Figgy? You look worried. Have you been thinking about the black hole again?’

  My friend Ridwan thinks that one day The World will become so heavy it will collapse into a black hole. He heard it from a magic man with strange eyes at the markets. The thought of falling into a hole had given me nightmares.

  I shook my head.

  ‘Then why are you frowning? I will not have frowning children.’

  ‘I am not frowning, Grandma Ama. Just thinking.’

  Grandma Ama pointed at me with the fish bone. ‘Tell me what you are thinking about.’

  I rubbed my forehead, which was wet from the rain. ‘I need to make some big decisions. About my career.’

  That night Nana, Perpetua and my littlest cousins Kwesi and Esi sat with me on the floor in a circle to talk about the jobs I might be good at.

  Grandma Ama had gone outside to do the washing. My friend Osagyefo’s papa, Eddie, lives in Accra, and he has a washing machine that cleans clothes for him. But we have to do it ourselves, using our hands and big blocks of soap. We wash the clothes in three buckets – the first is used for hard scrubbing, the second for another scrub and the last one for rinsing. Then we hang the clothes out to dry on a piece of strong string that stretches alongside our house.

  We usually help Grandma Ama with the washing, but at night she likes to do it by herself. She uses the time to look at the moon and think about things. Maybe that night she was thinking about my career.

  But I doubt she was – earlier in the day she had not taken my worries very seriously. She had just kissed my head and said I was ‘a funny girl’.

  She didn’t understand. As Nana said, planning for your future is important.

  I asked Perpetua to write down the jobs we came up with. Her writing is much neater than mine or Nana’s.

  ‘How about being a doctor?’ Perpetua said, the pencil in her hand in mid air. �
��You are very caring.’

  ‘And you are smart,’ Esi said.

  Esi thinks everyone is smart, because she is only five years old.

  ‘And you would be a better doctor than The Doctor of our village,’ Nana said.

  That was true. The Doctor of our village is terrible. He never does anything useful. And I still haven’t forgiven him for the time he told Grandma Ama I was pretending to have a sore tummy so I wouldn’t have to go to school. He was right – I was pretending, but it was mean and sneaky of him to tell Grandma Ama that I was. I only wanted one day off so I wouldn’t have to do my mathematics test.

  When I told Nana what The Doctor had done, he became angry, and told me all about the importance of confidentiality between a patient and a professional and lots of other adult-sounding stuff. I didn’t know what Nana was talking about but I didn’t care. It only mattered that he was on my side.

  But did I want to be a doctor? I thought of the disgusting things doctors have to look at every day and made a face.

  ‘No. Doctors see too much blood.’

  ‘You’ll get used to that,’ Nana said. He told Perpetua to write ‘doctor’ down as a possibility.

  ‘When I’m older I’m going to be a really tall soccer player and play for Ghana in the World Cup,’ Kwesi said.

  Even Kwesi knew what job he would have when he grew up! I was really behind.

  ‘You can’t plan to be tall,’ Perpetua snapped. She was taking ages to write down ‘doctor’. She is obsessed with doing everything perfectly. ‘You are either tall or you aren’t.’

  Kwesi pouted. ‘I can at least try to be tall.’

  ‘Of course you can,’ Nana said, patting Kwesi on the head. ‘What do you want to be when you’re older, Perpetua?’

  ‘I’ll be a teacher, like Grandma Ama.’ Perpetua had finally finished writing. She sat back and admired her work. ‘Because I like helping people to learn.’

  ‘You mean you’re a big, bossy show off,’ Kwesi said, glaring at her.

  Perpetua started to say something but Nana cut in. ‘Perpetua isn’t such a big show off. I’m a much bigger show off than her. Aren’t I, Figgy?’

  I nodded. He definitely was.

  Esi clambered on to Nana’s lap. ‘If everyone else is a show off, can I be one too?’

  Esi listened intently while Nana explained how to become a show off, her arm draped around his shoulders.

  A few of the jobs we wrote down sounded good, like being a circus clown. But then Esi began practising her writing on a corner of the piece of paper and Perpetua got upset because she thought the list had become messy and was ruined, and Grandma Ama heard the arguing and told us to go to bed.

  I wasn’t any closer to deciding on a job. And I was getting older every second. What if I never found work? I wouldn’t have any money. So I would have to live on the street! And search through gutters for food scraps like the poor people living around my village.

  I was so worried that I hardly slept that night.

  CHAPTER 2

  OBRUNIS WITH A CAMERA

  After school the next day Nana and I went to the markets. Our friend Jeffenick walked around with us, a bucket filled with oranges balanced on his head. Carrying the bucket should have been a struggle for Jeffenick. He is the same age as me but is much smaller because he never gets enough to eat. His head is supported by his skinny little neck, which is attached to his skinny little body, which is held up by his skinny little legs. But he rarely stumbles under the weight.

  Jeffenick doesn’t go to school any more. He has a big family and they are very poor, so he has to work. Grandma Ama goes to Jeffenick’s house on Friday afternoons to teach the older kids of the family writing and reading. Sometimes Perpetua, Nana and I go along to help. Grandma Ama’s Friday lessons are Jeffenick’s favourite time of the week.

  Grandma Ama says we must only speak to Jeffenick’s family in English. Not in Twi, our native dialect. (Twi is not Nana’s native dialect, because he was born in a different region of Ghana. But when he came to live with us, he learned how to speak Twi very quickly.) Because Jeffenick’s family don’t go to school, they don’t get to practise their English much. And Grandma Ama says you have to speak good English to have success in Ghana, and in The World.

  Jeffenick’s English is good but he sometimes gets words mixed up or has to ask us to explain things. He gets particularly confused when Nana says foreign words. Nana knows words from many languages – he has since I met him. And he learns new words every day. I’m not sure where he picks them up. Grandma Ama says he is a natural linguist.

  I waited with Jeffenick when he stopped to sell an orange. Nana yelled ‘Viens!’ from up ahead. Jeffenick screwed up his face as he pocketed the change.

  ‘Viens? What word is Viens, Figgy?’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘It’s French. I think it means he wants us to go to him.’

  ‘I like how Nana can speak lots of languages. It makes him interesting.’ Jeffenick scraped at the dirt with his toe. ‘I wish there was something interesting about me.’

  I grabbed Jeffenick’s hand so that he would look at me. ‘You are interesting!’ I said. ‘You make beautiful drawings.’

  Jeffenick bit his bottom lip. ‘I do?’

  I nodded. ‘Your picture of Kwame is the most beautiful drawing I have ever seen. It’s still taped to our bedroom wall.’

  Kwame was my goat. He died a couple of years ago and I loved him very much. Jeffenick’s drawing is becoming a bit tattered but Grandma Ama says I can keep it on the wall for as long as I like. She loved Kwame too.

  Nana pushed through the people in front of us, breathing hard. ‘Did you hear me calling? You need to come!’

  Nana pulled my hand but I didn’t move.

  ‘Jeffenick thinks there is nothing interesting about him, and I was –’

  ‘What about his drawings?’ Nana said, releasing my hand and bounding over to Jeffenick. ‘His drawings are magnifico, aren’t they, Figgy?’

  I grinned and nodded, even though I didn’t know what magnifico meant.

  ‘I predict you will be a famous artist one day,’ Nana said, tapping his nose with a finger. ‘And people will pay millions of cedis to buy your pictures and hang them in their houses.’

  Once Nana had disappeared into the crowd again, yelling for us to follow him, Jeffenick looked at me with sparkling eyes.

  ‘Do you think I can do that, Figgy? That I’ll be able to draw as my job?’

  I put an arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze.

  ‘I’m sure of it.’

  I was happy for Jeffenick. But I couldn’t help feeling a bit jealous too. Jeffenick didn’t go to school, and even he knew what his career would be! Was I the only kid in The World who hadn’t found a job yet? What if all the jobs were filled up by the time I decided on one?

  We spotted Nana once we had weaved our way through the crowds. He was standing at the edge of the markets with a few Obrunis (that is what Ghanaians call white people).

  I moved closer, Jeffenick following at a distance, and saw that one of the Obrunis was holding a camera. His camera was big, shiny and new-looking. From what I’ve heard, Obrunis can afford to spend lots of money on things like cameras. It’s unfair. Ghanaians have to save their money to buy boring things like food and clothes.

  Nana was talking so enthusiastically to the group of Obrunis that he didn’t notice Jeffenick and I were standing next to him. Until I tapped him on the shoulder.

  ‘Figgy!’ Nana said. ‘These Obrunis are making a movie!’

  I looked up at the Obrunis. The one closest to us had long, reddish hair. I would have thought he was a girl if he hadn’t had a beard. The man next to him had a big belly and bright red cheeks. A woman with shiny hair was standing behind them. She kept wiping her forehead with a piece of cloth and waving her hand in front of her face like a fan.

  The long-haired man grinned. His teeth were very white and straight. He spoke in English, but had a funny
accent that made him difficult to understand. Nana kept interrupting and saying, ‘Please speak more clearly.’

  ‘Did Nana say your name is Figgy?’ the man said. ‘What a funny little name that is! I think –’

  ‘Don’t tease her about her name,’ Nana said, his hands on his hips. ‘It’s the best name I have ever heard.’

  ‘And please don’t ask where my eye has gone,’ I added. ‘It was burned when I was two, and it had to be taken out.’

  The long-haired man looked a bit shocked, and his fat friend raised his eyebrows. But then they introduced themselves – the long-haired man was Joel, the other man was David, and the shiny-haired woman was Melanie. David asked if he could buy six oranges from Jeffenick. That made Jeffenick happy, and he stepped out from behind me, where he had been hiding.

  Joel was looking at me while the others were talking. Finally he said, ‘Can you read, Figgy?’

  I was a bit offended by his question. I was about to say, ‘Of course I can read! I am ten years old!’ But then I remembered that Jeffenick is ten, and he can’t even read a book for babies. So I just nodded.

  Joel scratched his beard. ‘We’re looking for a girl your age to be in our film. It’s a small production, so we can’t pay you. But if you get the part you will have the opportunity to see yourself on a big screen.’

  Nana gasped.

  ‘I’ll give you some lines to learn. Then you’ll need to say them at an audition, where you’ll compete with other little girls for the role. Could you do that?’

  I nodded again. Of course I could! I might be in a movie? On a big screen?

  Nana clasped his hands over his heart. He was looking at me with his mouth slightly open. ‘A movie!’ he whispered. ‘A real movie! And you might be in it! My Figgy might be in a movie! This is already the best day of my life, and that includes the day –’

  The fat man, David, was chuckling. ‘Hold on, matey,’ he said. ‘She doesn’t have the role yet.’

  Nana glared at him. ‘She will.’

  I wished Nana would be more respectful. But David didn’t seem to mind. He continued chuckling while he peeled one of Jeffenick’s oranges.