That night they closed up the shop, and Moses sat on the small bench outside. Mama rushed off in a hurry for something she had to do, and Ali just locked up and walked off. Neither seemed to consider that Moses had nowhere to sleep. Moses sat on the bench and watched the people walking by. All the people going home at the end of the day, women carrying things in plastic bags. He looked at their bags and imagined what was inside each one—sugar, maize-meal, a packet of tea, soap. He watched others ride by on bicycles and small groups of Muslims going to the mosque in their clean white kanzus.
The street activities died down. It was a quieter street, not like those roads where the men sell street food at night and hair salons stay open late. This road got quiet, and soon it was empty except for Moses, who sat on the bench in the dark. He was hungry. He knew where to find food—back around the harbour and other places. But he did not leave. Instead, he curled up on the bench outside Mama’s shop and slept hungry.
He woke for a few hours in the night and lay on his side looking across the road. He fell asleep again and woke in the morning to the sights and sounds of people coming from their homes and going to work or school. Moses watched three children his age in green school uniforms pass him chatting on their way to school. One was holding a book open as they walked, and the other two were leaning over him, looking at it. They did not notice Moses, but he watched them. He looked at one’s watch and the other one’s shoes. And he looked at the book. His eyes followed them until they were out of sight.
When Mama arrived, she looked with surprise at Moses on the bench. It was evident that he had slept there all night. She felt ashamed that she had so easily overlooked the fact that the boy had no place to sleep at night. So from that day on, Mama allowed him to sleep in the storage room behind the shop. It led to the enclosed courtyard area, and when she left, Mama would lock the whole place up with Moses inside. It was safe as could be, and at first he liked it.
He would sit in the open area at night and burn charcoal on the small grill and cook ugali and sing to himself the songs he heard on the radio. He would think about the day and the different customers in the shop, about the kids who played football in the street, about Prosper and Kioso and Ali, and quite often about Grace’s tits. He would wonder what Mama’s tits looked like and then laugh. He would think of the other boys in the ship hull and miss them and go to sleep feeling lonely.
He also thought about Grace’s room and the cross on her wall and the photograph of the people standing in front of a field. Her family. He remembered the fields he ran through when he escaped from the old white man. Those events seemed further away now. The episodes with Prosper and the orange vendor were more recent in his mind. Kioso was there too, but that memory was less sharp.
There was a customer who came to the shop once a week, whom Mama treated like an old friend. His name was George. He was a funny-looking bald man with hair only around his ears, thick glasses and purply-black skin. One time he bought all the footballs in the shop. He blew one up right there and tossed it to Moses and invited him into the street to play. They kicked for a while, then the man laughed and paid Mama and waved and got into his truck and went off.
Moses passed his days this way for some time—helping in the shop during the day, sleeping in the storeroom each night. He had never done anything like this for so long. Like with the orange vendor, it was a routine of sorts, and Moses wasn’t very good at routine. But he continued, because for the time being at least, the security of it all felt good to him.
He also started saving a bit of money. Never before in his life had Moses saved anything. It had never occurred to him, never been an option to consider, but now it was a novelty. Every week, he would take some of the coins Mama gave him and hide them in a jar that he wedged into a small crevice in the storeroom. It was almost like a game. Over time, he saved a fair amount of money, and there was only one way to spend it.
“Ali. You going to Radi’s concert tomorrow?”
“Kabisa. It’s going to be safi.”
“Me too.”
“Ha! How are you going to do that?”
“I got money. Some money. Maybe it is enough to buy a ticket?”
Moses went to the storeroom and returned with his jar of coins.
“You saved all that money?”
“How much do I need?”
Ali looked suspiciously at Moses, then reached for the jar of coins. He held it up.
“I’ll help you count it. Come sit over here.”
They poured the coins out onto the counter, separated the different-sized coins into piles, and counted them.
“Not bad. Seems like enough to get a ticket. Maybe he’ll play Vipi Young Brother for you! Everybody will go crazy when he plays that.”
The next day Ali called Moses over.
“Come on over here, little Radi, little man. You can come with me to the concert. We’ll all go together. You and me and John and Yusuph.”
“Cool. Thanks.” Moses smiled.
Ali looked down at the little kid and his pathetic clothes. He had never really noticed Moses’s clothes before. He was used to seeing streetkids in rags and had gotten used to seeing Moses that way. But at that moment, he looked at him differently, the coins he had saved spread out on the counter, Moses smiling about going to see the concert.
In the late afternoon, the hot air was still heavy on the streets. The shop was stuffy and humid. Ali had gone home and returned to the shop with his two friends. They looked smart in their best clothes, their shoes polished and their hair combed. The smell of Yusuph’s perfume filled the shop as he walked in.
“Hey, kid, take this. Your luck today.”
He handed Moses a shirt, purple with yellow around the collar and wide cuffs and buttons going down the front.
“It’s big, but so is the one you always wear. You’ll look like one of Radi’s guitar players.”
Ali’s friends laughed, and Yusuph reached in the plastic bag by his side and pulled out a pair of trousers.
“And try this, little man.”
Moses dressed and looked into a hand-mirror that Ali held up for him. The clothes were far too large, but he rolled up the pant-legs and the sleeves on the shirt, and looked at himself from the front and then from the side, sticking his chest out and putting on a serious face. He took a comb and fixed his hair and licked his fingers and wiped places on his face. Then he stepped back and looked at himself again, from the side and then from the front.
“And for the girls, a little of this.”
Yusuph sprayed Moses with his perfume, and the three stepped back and judged Moses with approval.
“Look at you. The kid Moses. Now you’re ready, little man.”
The four of them walked to the stadium, strutting slow, ready for the big show. Moses had never had friends like Ali, Yusuph, and John, people dressed up with money to spend.
At the stadium, they pushed through the crowd of people at the front gate trying to get inside. Moses saw other kids his age, going in, dressed up smart, and then other kids from the street just lying on the grass outside, knowing they would never get inside. He looked over at them as he entered, but he didn’t recognise any of them.
Inside, it was big. Concrete steps rose all around a great field, and thousands of people sat or stood, screaming back and forth to each other. Down on the field, equipment was stacked and scattered about, and the people standing down there were pushing up tight against one another.
He and Ali and John and Yusuph climbed high up on the concrete steps, nearly to the top, and looked down over the crowd. Moses heard the sound of the guitars and drums. Twenty or so men and women were poised on the huge black stage, dressed in brilliant, colourful kangas.
Then Radi came out. Moses recognised him by his dreadlocks and his round sunglasses. Radi screamed out to the crowd, and then the musicians and dancers began.
He sang about women and men beating them and how that was bad. Moses heard songs about politicians an
d money and life, and heard him yell out things about Mozambique and Uganda and Kenya, and all sorts of other places he didn’t know about. Radi sang about unity and sadness and poverty and home. And all the time, the men banged loud on drums and the guitars kept playing and the brightly dressed women kept dancing.
The music stopped after a while, and Ali told Moses that it would start again after half an hour.
“Let’s go walk around.”
“Look at some girls, like that one there with the nice wowowo.”
“That’s big. That’s nice.”
“Moses, look at that girl!”
“Cool.”
“Come on, let’s go walk.”
They walked even higher up in the crowded stadium until they stood on the highest step. Then they walked along to the other side of the stadium, Yusuph, John, and Ali talking about girls the whole way. Moses listened, nodding at what they said. He thought of Grace, wondering if she would be at the concert, but then he realised she was probably working on the street for the men.
When the music started again, they descended down further into the crowd, and Radi sang out:
Look over here, child.
I have a message for you.
You are trying to make it,
But you never get it.
You walk here, on this road.
You don’t get money.
You don’t get anything.
Listen to me child.
There is nothing for you in this town.
Yusuph yelled out and whistled and waved his arms, along with the crowd. All the people jumped and danced and screamed, and the crowd got thicker and more people pushed up close to them. Moses strained to see over the other people, so Ali and John lifted him into the air.
And in their arms high up in the air, Moses felt like the biggest man in the stadium. He felt that Radi could see him there. Moses laughed and screamed and raised his arms, and the crowd cheered him on, girls too, pointing and yelling out to him. It was the greatest moment he had ever had.
Then he saw Prosper. When he looked over to his left, he caught sight of Prosper, surrounded by his friends, staring at him. Prosper started to push through the crowd towards him.
Moses slapped Ali and John to let him down. He jumped out of their arms like a squirming cat and squeezed through the dancing bodies. Ali and his friends hardly noticed and kept dancing. Moses ran and pushed through the crowd, with Prosper chasing him.
Prosper lunged for Moses, grabbing his shirt and ripping it. He kept pulling, but Moses wriggled free of the shirt, and then he darted through the crowd and ran. Prosper kept after him, shirt in hand, and then when Moses was too far ahead to catch, Prosper held the shirt up over his head for Moses to see, like a prize.
Moses ran shirtless through the crowd, found his way to the gates and ran out and down the avenue. When he finally stopped running, he was far away, but he could still hear the music, which made him feel too close. He walked on quickly, feeling where Prosper’s fingernails had scraped his back. He thought of what Ali was going to say about him losing his fancy purple shirt.
When he arrived at Mama Tesha’s house, he banged on the door. The husband opened it and stood in the doorway, looking at Moses.
“Why don’t you have a shirt on?”
Moses did not answer, but slipped past the man and went to Mama and told her about the concert. Her husband listened for a few moments and then shut the door and went into the other room. Mama took Moses to the bathroom and ordered one of her children to pour some warm water into a bucket for him. The other kids watched from the door, peering inside at Moses.
“Again? I say, this boy is no good, always beating on you. Where’s Ali?”
“At the stadium.”
“Where were they?”
“I ran.”
“This boy is bad, really. Now, you just stay in here and clean yourself up and I’ll be just outside when you’re finished.”
She closed the door and Moses stood in front of the mirror. He saw himself there and did not move. The bucket of water was at his feet and there was dirt on the floor of Mama’s nice bathroom. He looked in the mirror at his face and chest and pants and sandals. His eyes squinted and his mouth opened and he cried, standing there with his arms hanging down at his sides. His crying was noiseless and breathless. Just his wide-open mouth, tears and twisted face.
Mama opened the door and came inside, closing the door behind her. Her movements were slow. She sat on the toilet seat with her legs pressed together and her elbows resting on her lap. Moses looked at her with his arms dangling, like someone wet and cold, until Mama took a towel and wrapped him in it, and brought him into her arms, and hugged him like nobody had done for a long time.
Chapter 4
When the rainy season began, the streets turned from dust into mud. Ditches grew deep, as if an invisible army were digging its trenches, and giant puddles formed in the road where before only shallow depressions had existed. Cars mostly drove slowly through them, but sometimes a truck would hit one too fast and splash the passersby.
It rained during the day and during the night too, coming down loud on the iron-sheet roof of the shop. People would hang around the shop longer than usual, sitting on the benches by the entrance and looking at the sky with their elbows on their knees and chins resting on hands. Days passed, with less talk than usual. People would think their thoughts looking at the rain in the street and at the sky above. It felt like the time near the end of a long walk, when people keep to themselves, waiting for it to end.
As for Moses, he was still there. He went on working for Mama and staying in the back of the shop. He missed his friends from the harbour a lot, and thought of them more often than before. He thought more often about Kioso too.
The bald man with glasses named George still came to Mama’s shop every week, and every week he would joke with Moses or kick a football around the muddy street with him for a few minutes before driving back to wherever he came from. Moses would wave to him as he drove off, and then sit back down on the bench and watch the rain.
One time when the rain was really strong and blowing sideways, George stayed longer, sitting in the shop with Mama and drinking tea. He and Ali and Mama and Moses all sat there inside on the stools, talking about the noise of the rain hitting the roof and when it was going to stop.
“It’s also raining up in Bangata,” said George. “Good for the farmers, finally. You know they suffered a long dry season. Cattle were dying all over. In the bush, the Maasai were dragging them by their horns to waterholes. Maize all dried up too.”
“Well, they should plant their maize in this road here. Too much water. And even more in my shop from everybody bringing it in on their shoes.”
“What do you think, Moses?”
“Yes?”
“Look at all this rain.”
Moses nodded, but did not respond.
“We need it. Especially up in Bangata.”
Moses didn’t say anything, and George paused to think. He looked down at his boots, hard and leather and waterproof, and at his new pants, and then at his Land Rover outside. It belonged to the school he ran, but only he used it, so it felt more or less like his own car. He looked back at Moses.
“Moses, have you ever been out of Dar?”
Moses looked at him, and then at Mama, and back through the door at the rain coming down.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Don’t know.” He paused. “Just went once.”
“I live out in the country, you know. Well, at least the country when compared to Dar es Salaam. Near a small village. It’s different.” He shifted in his seat. “Have you ever been in school, Moses?”
“No.”
“How old are you?”
“Eleven now.”
“Never been in any school, huh?”
“No.”
“Can you read or write?”
“No.” Moses spoke to the floor.
George leaned back and crossed his arms. “Well, would you want to go to a school?”
Moses looked at him and at Mama and then at Ali, who was busy looking at a cassette he had bought and wasn’t even listening.
“Yes.” He thought it might be what he wanted, but truthfully he did not know. School had never been an option, something to like or dislike, to want or not.
“Did Mama ever tell you I have a school? Up in the country, for kids who have no family. Like you, no? Do you have family?”
Moses did not answer. He did not look away or at the man or at anything. He was frozen in the moment, trying to think of the correct answer.
“I don’t have family.”
The man looked over at Mama Tesha, then hunched down closer to Moses.
“Would you want to come to my school? It’s far from here, but there are other kids like you there, and it’s a nice place. We have classes and we play football too. And maybe you can come back here with me sometimes when I buy my supplies, and you can see Mama.”
“What do you think, Moses?” Mama asked.
Moses did not answer and looked outside, as if he wanted to get away. He thought of the ship hull and his friends there. He thought about the man’s school and his offer, but mainly about his question about Moses’s family. He saw the rain falling more lightly, and people just like them sitting in the shop across the street, also looking out their door. And he thought about all the places he had been in the past few years, and how he had ended up where he was.
Mama spoke. “George, why don’t I talk about it with Moses. And we can discuss it with you next week when you come back to town.”
“Yes, that is a good idea. You can talk about it.”
George stood and looked outside. He put on his hat, and walked over to Moses, putting his hand on the boy’s head.
“Rain’s letting up. Maybe I’ll race to my truck before it starts again. Thank you for the tea, Mama. And Moses, you think about it, talk with Mama Tesha. And we can discuss it again when I come back.”
Kid Moses Page 5