We get off the road and on to a hilly tract of land. We carry on like this for some time, then we are stopped by another group of soldiers. Reza is looking more and more worried, though he’s trying not to show it. He’s good at it too, and if I didn’t know him I wouldn’t’ve guessed he’s worried.
But, among other little things, he’s not smoking. And he don’t smoke only when he’s upset. Otherwise he loves to lie back or lean back – depending on where he is – and light a smoke. Also he’s smiling a lot, and talking a lot. That’s not him either.
More surprising, the officer with us don’t seem too happy to be stopped. I can tell even though I don’t know him well. Don’t know him at all really, you know.
Anyhow, this group of soldiers let us pass on, and everyone seems like saved from a falling boulder.
We carry on. We pass some more soldiers, but they cheerfully smile at us and wave their hands and we wave our hands and no more than that. By now I am getting more worried. For no particular reason I can tell. Except perhaps that Matt looks strange.
When we’d started he was laughing and telling jokes and pulling our legs like he used to when we were kids, all excited about going home to our village. But now he’s tense again, like he is most of the time these days.
I can’t dare to ask him as whatever it is, if it is anything at all, no one seems to want to talk about it. And I am surely not going to be the one to open my mouth and fall into it.
Golam is the only one not seeming too bothered about anything.
We go up and down the bumpy hillside till we are on a sort of a flattish land. On one side is a high mountain, and on the other is a low valley.
It is all black now, especially under the shadow of the mountain.
Suddenly it is pitch black, like Grandma Toughtits’ silk scarf.
I can’t see the palms of my hands, nor the whites of Golam’s eyes. Also it sounds peculiar.
‘Don’t be frightened lads,’ I hear Reza’s voice, sleepy again now, ‘we’re in a tunnel.’
After that we hear nothing except the rumbling sound of the jeeps closing in on us from all sides.
And we see nothing. Except a flash of light and then the red end of a cigarette.
Reza’s worries seem to be over.
The tunnel don’t end.
I miss Hena. I, who spent a lot of my life wanting to be rid of her, I miss Hena.
We are out of the tunnel; and in trouble.
We’ve been kidnapped.
The officer and the two soldiers who brought us here are not real Government Army people, but guerrilla fighters dressed up. It seems Reza works for them.
They are thinking of demanding hundreds of thousands of American dollars for our ‘release’.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
I mean, who’d pay five dollars for us?
Mam and Dada would, but they haven’t got five dollars.
I mean, ‘It’s not like we are real people even,’ I say out loud.
‘What d’you mean, “real people”?’ asks Golam.
‘Real people… You know… Proper people. People other people care for I don’t know… Smart sort of people…’ I am having difficulty in saying what I mean when I get this idea: ‘Like in Dallas. Y’know. Proper people.’
‘What do you think we are then?’ Matt says in sudden anger. ‘Spirits of Shit?’
‘You tell me. You’re the smart-ass,’ I shout back at him.
‘None of your squabbling,’ says Reza. ‘We know someone who will pay for you lot to be free. Fatso Jak.’
Reza thinks he’ll pay on account of Hena.
Hena would want to pay, says Reza, not only because of us, but also because she’ll sympathise with their ‘cause’, seeing as she’s so concerned with the hungry people.
And if Hena wants to pay, as she will, then she’ll make Jak pay.
Reza says Hena can make him do anything. He says he don’t know how that little Miss Bones can do it, but she can do it. He says. He says Jak oughtn’t to mind much as it isn’t his money anyway. It is part of the money which some countries send to our country to help our people, but which never gets to our people. It is used by people like Jak and the Government for buying guns and bullets and bombs and fighter planes to keep the people down. Instead of feeding them, as it is meant to do. So the people have a right to it.
We ask him what they’ll be doing with the money.
He says they’ll be buying guns and bullets and bombs and fighter planes to fight the Government.
We look at each other on account we don’t understand. Leastwise I don’t.
‘You want to take their money – sorry, the people’s money – so Jak and the Government don’t buy guns and things with it. Then you want to buy guns and things with it. Don’t make sense,’ says Matt.
‘But these guns are to support the people, not suppress them. Surely you can see the difference,’ says Reza.
‘No, to tell the truth, we can’t,’ says Matt.
Golam just shakes his head from side to side.
I think I am beginning to understand, but I’m not altogether sure.
‘You are too young to understand, perhaps,’ says Reza, ‘but you should start. The sooner the better. It is your world and you have to change it. And you can change nothing by sitting on your backside hoping. By the time you grow up it may be too late. Now is the time to do something about it. Let me tell you that…’
‘Don’t tell them anything. They are bad news.’ I hear a voice.
A voice I think I’ve heard, but I can’t remember.
I look up. I remember. I remember the face that goes with the voice. It is the man in blue jeans who took us to and from the caves near our village. When the white folk were taken. When Kabir was killed.
He had a smiling voice then. It is a hard voice now.
I think he thinks we are to blame for Kabir’s death.
I think we are in more trouble than I think.
Two
The Miracle
It is our third night in the mountain hide-out of the guerrillas; and the second after Reza is roughed up a bit, drugged a bit, and left as close to the power station as possible with a ransom note pinned to his shirt.
The guerrillas – they call themselves RAFFs which is short for Revolutionary African Freedom Fighters – are hoping that Reza will soon be spotted by the soldiers and taken to Jak, along with the ransom note.
Reza’s story will be short and simple: while driving us through the hills he stopped when he saw a man lying across the road; he got out, was hit from behind, and remembers nothing after that.
There is a risk that Jak might suspect him; but then it is a risky business and risks have to be taken.
Leastwise that’s how Jabbar sees it. That’s how Reza see it too.
With the lives of their people in danger, they’re not afraid to put their own lives in danger.
We’re all waiting to see if Jak shits out the money or not.
Golam can’t make up his mind. One minute he thinks Jak will, and the next he thinks Jak won’t.
I think he will on account I believe, same as Reza, that our Hena can make him do it.
‘I think Jak will give the money,’ says Matt. ‘I hope Hena won’t pay it out.’
We don’t get a chance to learn what happens. Not now at least.
We don’t even find out if Jak gets to see the ransom note or not.
We are all in this large kraal between the rocks. It has the bum of the squatting mountain as its sky and the thighs and feet of the squatting mountain as its boundaries.
There is a big enough crack in the bum to let good enough light through. The opening between the legs runs into a tunnel at the one end, and expands to a wide bush covered entrance at the other.
Boulders and trees help to hide it from sight. There is water from a trickly waterfall, which keeps animals and unwanted human beings out as well. To make sure of this a particularly thorny kind of bush ha
s been specially planted by the RAFFs. It looks quite natural and stops anybody from straying in by accident.
Inside, the area has been divided into two halves. One half has three sleeping areas and a cooking area. The other half is a large meeting area. Hidden behind this is another large area used for storing guns and bullets and bombs. Most of these are in huge wooden boxes covered with hessian and straw mats to keep them dry as well as to hide them.
This part, and the entrance, are always well guarded; so is the tunnel.
It is in the tunnel that we first hear the commotion.
Leastwise that’s what Matt says, on account he was the only one awake at the time. The only one among us there, that is.
Soon everyone is awake.
Someone says to put the lamp on to see what’s going on. Someone says to put the lamp out for Heaven’s sake.
We all sit huddled close, not knowing what to say or think.
Jabbar holds on to his big gun with the bullet belt, tenses up like a cat ready for the kill, and moves forward in quick soft steps to see what it’s all about.
Jabbar is Kabir’s friend, the man in blue jeans from the caves near our village; the one with the smiling voice turned hard.
Some follow him; some hide between rocks, ready to attack any unwelcome visitor.
Soon three of the guards come in, bringing a struggling man along with them.
Jabbar is behind them, big gun held in the right position, ready to fire.
We hear a deep sleepy voice. ‘It’s only me, for God’s sake.’
We see Reza, still struggling to free himself from the guards.
Everyone relaxes. Their shoulders go down and they breathe easy.
Jabbar’s eyes are still hard and his gun is still held up.
‘What are you doing back here?’ he says more than asks.
Reza says the Tabiris are in great danger and he’s come to warn us.
The Tabiris are a tribe that live in clusters of straw huts a little to the north, where the mountains and the desert and the bush country meet.
They are supposed to be great friends of the Freedom Fighters.
They hide their men when necessary and generally give them every kind of help possible.
They once owned a whole tract of land to the south, in the greener part of the country, and were ruled by their own Chiefs.
The new Government under General Tako took their fertile land and their cattle, drove them north to the bush country, and killed or arrested their Chiefs. Now they are ruled by the Government.
But the Tabiris are hard working, and with a little bit of luck plus a little bit of water and a little bit of good soil from the mountains they manage to survive.
They learn to hate Tako and his soldiers, and make friends with the guerrillas.
I didn’t know all this before, but I know it now.
Reza’s story goes like this.
He’s been lying around waiting to be found, hoping it’s going to happen soon as it’s getting cold and he’s feeling bored and miserable.
Although he really hasn’t been beaten up, not much anyway, his limbs are aching and getting stiffer by the minute. The wind is sharpening up and cutting right through his bones.
Jabbar tells him to cut the poetry and get to the point. He says he don’t believe in playing violins. Wouldn’t know how even if he wanted to.
I’m not sure what he means, but I don’t reckon it’s of much importance.
Reza looks a bit hurt. I mean in the mind, his body’s hurting anyway.
He comes to the point.
‘The Tabiris are going to be wiped out by the BASTOs,’ he says.
BASTOs stands for the Bloody Awful Soldiers of Tako.
‘When?’ asks Jaffar.
‘Tomorrow night. At least the BASTOs plan to start out of here tomorrow, just past the midnight hour. They’ll get to the Tabiri settlement some time after dawn, in their jeeps.’
‘How do you know all this?’ Jabbar carries on, still in a harsh-ish voice.
Reza says that while he’s waiting – he don’t go into any details now – he sees this group of soldiers come towards where he is. He is pleased. Pleased but scared.
The soldiers don’t see him. He is about to groan a little to attract their attention, but stops dead when he hears what they are saying. They are talking about their planned raid on the Tabiri settlement.
They think the Tabiris are storing arms and ammunition for the RAFFs. Perhaps even actually buying arms on their behalf from the white traders.
They – the BASTOs – think it is high time the Tabiris were ‘permanently’ stopped from doing this. In the process they also hope to grab a great deal of welcome ‘material’ which the Tabiris are keeping for the RAFFs. According to the BASTOs, that is.
When Reza hears this he prays the opposite of what he was praying before. He prays they don’t see him.
They don’t.
He unpins the ransom note and ties it with a string round a small stone. While crawling back here, as quietly and carefully as possible, he leaves the stone with the note in one of the Army jeeps scattered around the power station.
He hopes the stone will keep it from flying away, and someone will notice when it is daytime.
There is a lot of loud talking and discussion after Reza has finished speaking.
They think the ‘only possible course of action’ is to attack the soldiers first. Before they can get to the Tabiris.
To wait for them at the lower end of the upper mountains and charge when they get there on their way to the Tabiri settlement.
‘On the positive side,’ says Jabbar, ‘we’ll have the advantage of surprise.
‘On the negative side, we’ll be on the BASTOs’ home ground. If they can get quick reinforcements, we’ll be surrounded and could be in a very difficult situation indeed.’
‘We all know the hills better than the BASTOs,’ says Reza. ‘They are all from different parts of the country. Some are even foreigners.
‘Most of us were born and bred here. If necessary, we will be able to spread out and hide. Especially at night.’
‘On the other hand, if they follow us here, they could get hold of all our ammunition,’ says one RAFF. ‘It’s losing that that worries me more than losing my life.’
‘If only the good Lord made a miracle,’ says Reza in his deep sleepy voice, ‘and our stock of arms was increased manifold, we could wipe out the entire colony of BASTOs.’
‘If only we could get some money for those skelly boys, that would help more than your Lord can,’ says Jabbar.
‘I know Kabir, may peace be upon him, thought of you as his right arm, and I also know we could well do with the money, but I do wish you hadn’t spoken like that – ’ Reza’s voice is more awake than we’ve ever heard before – ‘of the boys, or of the Lord.’
Jabbar is quiet for a long time, then says, ‘You are right. I shouldn’t have.
‘And I promise if your Lord can work this miracle, I’ll join you in your faith.’ He says this with a smile in his voice. This is the first time I hear a smile in his voice since that time long ago when Kabir was alive.
‘I’ll say Amen to that,’ says Reza.
‘Amen,’ say some others, a few seriously, a few jokingly.
‘Amen my foot,’ says one RAFF. ‘Say Amen to the God who allows half of mankind to die in pain and shame just because they happen to be black, when it is He who is supposed to have made them black in the first place! You must be joking, and joking in very bad taste.’
‘Here, here,’ say quite a few.
‘Down with tyranny,’ says Jabbar.
‘Down with tyranny,’ say all.
‘Down with Tako,’ says Jabbar.
‘Down with Tako,’ say all.
‘Down with BASTOs,’ says Jabbar.
‘Down with BASTOs,’ say all.
‘Long live the people,’ says Jabbar.
‘Long live the people,’ say all.
This goes on for some time.
Everyone is so excited and worried about the situation that they forget to send anyone to guard us in our sleeping area.
‘Now is the time to run away,’ I say, nearly as excited as the RAFFs.
‘Now is the time not to run away,’ says Matt, more excited than the RAFFs.
We don’t sleep much that night.
Well, to tell the truth, I do. But from what I hear most others don’t. Even though Jabbar orders everyone to their straw mats to sleep and rest as much as they can in order to be fresh the next morning to prepare for the attack.
When I say Jabbar orders everyone to their straw mats to sleep and rest, I don’t mean absolutely everyone.
There are some he sends out under cover of the night to gather together as many men as they possibly and safely can. He says those living in and around Bader can, with any luck, be here before tomorrow night, before the planned attack on the BASTOs, before their planned attack on the Tabiris.
The next day is worse than school. Everyone is being told not to do this but to do that. Or this and that while preparing for the other as well.
Men are coming and men are going. Women too.
Orders are being given, and changed.
Plans are being drawn, and redrawn.
‘Vantage points’ and ‘strategic points’ and ‘collision points’ are being thrown around so fast that everybody is full of points.
All are tense and nervous, which I can understand. Afraid and unafraid at the same time, which I can also understand.
What I can’t understand is that they seem almost happy.
After everything has been organised to the satisfaction of most – at least to Jabbar’s satisfaction – it is time to ‘launch the attack’.
It is planned to sneak out in twos and threes; and to crouch, creep or crawl up to the craggy rocks where it is agreed they will ambush the BASTOs.
As the final and most important act, Jabbar takes a few of his trusted men to the rear cave where the gun boxes are kept, to share out the guns and things.
He comes out looking like a white man.
It looks like he’s seen his gun boxes multiply in front of his very eyes.
My Friend Matt and Hena The Whore Page 19