The Star of Simbako

by PJ Skinner

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

  ‘Excuse me a minute,’ said Adanna and she took the tray back inside.

  ‘What’s Fergus’s private chat about?’ said Sam, who already knew.

  ‘The Chief has requirements.’

  ‘Meaning we have to bribe him?’

  ‘I wouldn’t call it a bribe.’

  ‘What would you call it?’

  Ned shifted in his seat. Unwilling to alienate him, Sam changed the subject.

  ‘Is Adanna the chief’s only child?’

  ‘Yes, she’s the heir to the kingdom.’

  ‘Isn’t that unusual? I understood it was customary to have many wives and lots of children?’

  ‘Joseph married his childhood sweetheart when he got back here after his military service.’

  ‘Where did he serve?’

  ‘In Northern Ireland – that’s where he met Alex.’

  ‘Where’s her mother now?’

  ‘She died giving birth to Adanna. The loss devastated him and he never married again.’

  ‘What do the tribal elders think?’

  ‘About him marrying only once?’

  ‘About him only having one heir.’

  ‘There are complications.’

  ‘Because she’s a woman?’

  Adanna came back outside. Ned shook his head and put his finger to his lips. Sam experienced both frustration and fascination. There was more to this story.

  ‘Please come back inside,’ said Adanna.

  ***

  After the visitors had left, Tamba sulked and muttered. The Chief was used to his ways, but still found them irritating.

  ‘What now?’ he said.

  ‘I don’t like it. Why are you letting them mine for diamonds in your kingdom? Colonial days are long gone.’

  ‘Alex is a good friend of mine. He saved my life when we were in the army. He has my trust.’

  ‘But why give them that terrace? We already know it contains diamonds. Why not give them one that hasn’t been tested?’

  ‘I have my reasons.’

  ‘I don’t agree.’

  ‘Tamba, it is not your place to decide. I know you’ve had a rough time, but you might learn something from Sam.’

  ‘She’s a woman. What could she know about mining?’

  ‘Is there some reason you don’t want them mining there? You haven’t been digging by yourself again, have you?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Buck up and stop being a pain. I need your eyes and ears on this project.’

  ‘Sorry, Chief. I’ll do your bidding.’

  ‘Good man. Tell the cook to prepare me something to eat.’

  ***

  Later that evening, Sam lay in a hammock outside on the veranda, swinging by pushing off against a post with her foot. She listened to her Walkman and was singing along in her head to some Latino music given to her by Gloria when she left Sierramar. The sky was bright with starlight, dazzling constellations twinkling in the black night. Sam frowned as she tried to remember which of them corresponded to the names in her head. As she always did, she vowed to look them up and remember them for next time.

  She was thinking back to the meeting at the chief’s house. She had a great deal in common with Adanna as they were both women trying to get along in men’s worlds. She planned to get time alone with her to talk about their mutual struggles. Fergus was ploughing his own furrow for Alex Simmonds and was not interested in her projects. Ned came outside and stood with his hands in his pockets gazing at the sky.

  ‘Penny for your thoughts,’ said Sam.

  Ned jumped. ‘I didn’t see you there. You gave me a fright.’

  ‘Any result from Fergus’s chat with the Chief?’

  ‘The Chief has agreed to let us explore a terrace on the outside of town. He’ll send a team of men there tomorrow to clear it for you.’

  Sam sighed. Ned moved nearer.

  ‘What’s up? Isn’t that good news?’

  ‘To tell you the truth, Ned, I’m pissed off. Geology is a science. I would’ve liked to explore the river and chosen the best terrace myself, not have a random terrace assigned by people who know nothing about mining.’

  ‘It’s not that bad. I guarantee they understand a lot more than you imagine. If you discover diamonds, everyone will be happy. You can do scouting for another terrace meanwhile, in case you don’t.’

  ‘I suppose so, but I don’t want to disappoint Alex. He is paying me.’

  ‘Don’t you worry about him. He isn’t worried about small scale production, he is going after bigger prey.’

  ‘How so?’

  Ned shifted on his feet. Sam got the impression he had said more than he intended. She waited. He stalled.

  ‘What are you listening to?’ he said, changing the subject.

  ‘Music from Latin America; salsa and merengue.’

  ‘Can I listen?’ He gesticulated at the hammock. ‘Budge up.’

  Sam swung her legs aside and he plonked himself down beside her. The ropes holding the hammock up squeaked in protest as they bounced together. She handed him one of the earphones and they lay back against the rough material. Sam could feel a hot flush creeping up her side as she absorbed the heat from Ned’s body. She bit her lip to distract herself. They swung back and forwards in the still night, pretending to listen to the music. Sam turned her head towards him and opened her eyes. She found him gazing at her and she held his look, trying to peer into his soul. He stared down at her mouth. It was clear what he wanted.

  ‘Oh, this is cosy,’ said Fergus, sarcasm filling the air.

  How long had he been standing there? Sam was furious and embarrassed. Ned rolled away, yanking the earphone out of his ear and pulled himself up using the balcony fencing.

  ‘Sam’s got great music,’ said Ned.

  ‘Can you drag yourself away for a minute? I need to talk to you.’

  ‘Okay.’

  He followed Fergus inside. Sam couldn’t comprehend what had just happened, or rather, failed to happen. Ned had infected her with a virus. No amount of rationalisation would cure it. Not even thoughts of Simon could cure this strange affliction. Trust Fergus to arrive when things were coming to a head, or mouth even. She strained to hear what they were saying. It wasn’t difficult, Fergus had a voice like a foghorn and discretion was not his strong point. She soon regretted it.

  ‘I want you to go to Njahili tomorrow to get your new passport.’

  ‘Okay. Do you need anything while I’m there?’

  ‘No, and keep your hands off Sam. You are being unprofessional.’

  ‘Come on. I’m only having fun. It’s not like I’m serious about her. Don’t be such a killjoy.’

  ‘I mean it Ned. Cut it out now.’

  Blood flooded to her cheeks. She waited until she heard them go into their rooms. When the doors slammed, she stood up too quickly and almost fainted. Steadying herself, she headed for the room that Fatou had prepared for her. As she passed Ned’s room, he emerged and grabbed her arm. She glared at him.

  ‘Well, you can fuck off for a start,’ she hissed.

  ‘Sam, don’t be like that.’

  ‘Like what? I heard what you said.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake! Do you imagine I’d tell Fergus the truth?’

  ‘The truth? And what’s that?’

  ‘I’m falling for you.’

  Sam was stunned into silence. Life had taken an unexpected turn.

  Fergus poked his head out of his bedroom door. He showed no sign of having heard their conversation.

  ‘Ah, there you are, Sam. Be ready to go at seven tomorrow morning. We’ll investigate the terrace the Chief has given us. Do you need anything from Njahili? Ned’s going.’

  ‘Um, no thank you. I’ll be ready. I can’t wait.’

  She stumbled to the next door and let herself in. The room was bare and clean. Fatou had made up the bed an
d her bag stood against the wall. She went over to the bed and sat on the mattress without moving for about ten minutes, trying to process this revelation while her heart hammered. This was a new sensation for her. She had been with Simon for so long she had forgotten the thrill of a new attraction, the brushing of bare arms in a passageway, the frisson of the shared smile. It made her dizzy with longing and she wished he wasn’t going in the morning just when they needed to be together to explore these new feelings.

  After she had calmed down, she pulled back the covers to make sure the sheets were clean. One pillow fell onto the floor. As she bent to put it back on the bed, she noticed a tiny bag made of sisal had fallen out of the cover. She picked it up and squeezed it between her fingers. It was crunchy as if it contained grains of sand or sugar. She tugged at the string tied at the top. Some white crystals fell out onto the sheets mixed with a black powder and small grains of something that resembled pepper. She wet her finger, picked up one crystal and licked it. Salt. The black powder was a mystery. She sniffed it, but she couldn’t smell anything.

  Shrugging, she retied the bag and crossed the room to put it in a pocket of her work rucksack. Adanna would know what it was. It would be a good excuse to chat about the customs of Simbako and how involved she needed to be as the daughter of the Paramount Chief.

  Chapter VII

  The next morning, Ned left for the capital before Sam got to the breakfast table. Fergus noticed her glancing around and sniffed.

  ‘He’s gone to Njahili to get a new passport.’

  ‘I was wondering how you get a cup of tea around here.’

  ‘You don’t fool me. I saw you spooning in the hammock.’

  ‘We weren’t spooning! We were listening to music.’

  ‘So that’s what they call it these days? Anyway, don’t waste your time there, he’s still trying to get back with his wife. Unless you’d like to be a diversion?’

  ‘It’s none of your business what I feel about Ned,’ said Sam, but she suspected there was at least a grain of truth in what Fergus said. ‘Pass me the bread.’

  He raised an eyebrow and pushed the rolls over to her. Sam wanted a change of subject.

  ‘How are we getting to the terrace today?’ she said, before Fergus mentioned Ned again.

  ‘I’ve hired an ancient vehicle we’ve used before. It’s not much to look at, but it works fine. Can you drive?’

  ‘Yes, but rarely because I live in London and I don’t have a car.’

  ‘Okay, you can drive home once you learn the route. It’ll be good practice for you.’

  ‘I’m not sure about this terrace. Is it any good?’

  ‘Isn't that your job?’

  ‘Well, yes, but normally –’

  ‘Forget normal. We’re in Africa. Just go with the flow. You’re a bright girl, I’m sure you’ll think of something.’

  ***

  After breakfast, they stood outside on the veranda waiting for the car. The sound of flightless wings being flapped broke the silence and a large grey macaw came scuttling around the corner, its beak open, furious squawking sounds emitting from its throat. Fergus’s eyes widened and he jumped indoors, shutting Sam outside at the mercy of this hysterical creature. The macaw came to a halt right in front of her, his attacked stalled due to an attack of coughing.

  The show of fury did not faze her though, having dealt with macaws before. Her maternal grandmother had a pair of vicious old brutes who stalked the corridors of her country cottage terrorising the dogs and any small children who ventured indoors. She reached into her rucksack and extracted a cashew from her lunch bag which she dropped on the floor in front of her. She waited. The macaw poked at it with his purple tongue and almost squeaked with excitement. The cashew disappeared.

  Before Sam could extract another nut from her bag, Fatou emerged from the house and aimed a kick at the bird which turned tail and removed itself from the range of her large flip-flops.

  ‘That parrot will have your finger. He likes no one, not even Mr Fergus,’ as if that proved its nasty character. The bird was more discerning than it looked. Sam liked a project. She would get on its good side by hook or by crook, or by cashew. No snack for her then. She considered grabbing something else.

  ‘What’s he called?’ she said.

  ‘Dembo, but he doesn’t answer to that. He just bites people.’

  Just then, an ancient jalopy shuddered into the yard, driven by a cheerful-looking young man who seemed to wrestle with the steering wheel. He pulled to a halt in front of the house and leaned out of the window.

  ‘Mr Fergus! Let’s go!’ he shouted. Fergus poked his head through the door, checking left and right. He tiptoed over the veranda, looking absurd and vulnerable. Sam tried not to laugh.

  ‘You need to watch that parrot. Fatimata teases it with food all the time. It’s vicious. Come on then,’ he said to Sam. ‘Your carriage awaits. This is Sahr.’

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ said Sam.

  They both got into the Toyota jeep, Fergus took the front seat and Sam sat in the back. She would have liked to go in front to view the town better, but she didn't want to ask. There would be opportunities on other days. Also, Fergus acted as if he was coming with her. She hoped he didn’t intend to supervise her. Maybe only the first day.

  They lurched out of the yard and turned left onto the main street through town. The shock absorber under Sam’s bottom had expired and each bump and pothole resulted in the body of the car hitting the chassis and reverberating through her frame. She hoped the terrace was close.

  Passing the chief’s compound, they drove on for another kilometre until they emerged from the town straight into the bush. The heat was already building and the ground became dust under the sun.

  They approached a ribbon of vegetation which grew on the banks of a chocolate-coloured river and emerged onto a flat plain. On the other side of the river, Sam could see terracing containing banded strata of differing stone sizes standing out in the morning sunlight. Anticipation flooded her system with adrenaline. Leaving the car, they walked down a steep path to the river through the cool shade of the trees growing in the rich soil. The high watermarks on their trunks were up to two metres above the ground.

  A group of men stood around smoking and coughing at the edge of the glade. They raised their heads as Sam came towards them, carnal interest rising at the approach of an athletic young woman. Among them sat Tamba. He had a smug look on his face that telegraphed his intentions. Sam’s heart dropped. She had hoped to do more regional geology in the area to investigate if their terrace was typical of the area, but the Chief must have sent Tamba to monitor her work. He wouldn't let her roam around the territory without permission, but, as always, the best form of defence was attack. She stuck out her hand and approached him, beaming.

  ‘Ah, Tamba! I’m so glad you’re here. That’ll make my job so much easier. Your local knowledge will be key.’

  Tamba hesitated, surprised, embarrassed even, and took her hand as if it might conceal a trap. ‘I’ll do my best,’ he muttered.

  Sam caught Fergus’s eye. He winked at her, complicit, admiration sneaking onto his face.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it then,’ he said, ‘If you’ve got Tamba, you don’t need me. I’ll send the driver to pick you up at five.’

  ‘That’ll be great thanks. Let’s go then,’ said Sam, desperate to explore.

  Tamba did not move. ‘We can’t start work yet. The libation ceremony has not taken place,’ he said.

  ‘Jesus, Tamba, why didn’t you mention this before?’ said Fergus.

  ‘Everyone knows about this,’ said Tamba, ‘we must perform the ritual to placate the spirits.’

  ‘Get on with it then,’ said Fergus.

  ‘I need a bottle of alcohol.’

  ‘I don’t have one. Can’t we do this later? I can bring one when I come to pick up Sam.’

  ‘The men won’t work if we haven’t communed w
ith the ancestors.’

  Fergus sighed. He stood for a moment searching for a comeback but, finding none, he returned to the car shaking his head. Tamba’s smug expression had returned and he bathed in self-satisfaction. Sam sat down on her poncho and pretended to be relaxed about the delay, determined not to get drawn into his games.

  Fergus' trip into town took longer than Sam had expected. By the time he appeared in the clearing carrying a bottle of palm wine, ants had invaded her poncho and bitten her exposed skin. Only vigorous shaking persuaded them to leave. The men dozed and chatted, content to get paid for sitting in the shade. The appearance of alcohol reanimated them and they stood up in anticipation.

  Tamba took the bottle and approached a large tree, beckoning the team to draw close to him. He unscrewed the top and poured liquid into it. Wine splashed onto his feet in their ancient sandals and they gleamed black. Muttering incantations in Krio, he tipped the contents of the lid into the roots of the tree. Several of the workers joined in, appearing to be chatting to a mysterious third party. He filled the bottle top with wine over and over and gave it to individual workers or poured on the ground until the bottle was empty.

  ‘The ancestors are satisfied,’ said Tamba, ‘we can start work now.’

  ‘Right, I'm off,’ said Fergus. ‘See you later.’

  ‘You’re not staying?’ said Tamba.

  ‘Sam’s got the matter under control. I’ve got things to do.’ And with that he was gone.

  Tamba had the air of a child being deprived of his favourite toy. Sam took a deep breath.

  ‘Please can you tell me why you poured alcohol on the ground?’

  ‘This ceremony creates harmony between man and spirits by awakening the ancestors,’ said Tamba. ‘We need to build a relationship between them and us before we start work or we might bring bad juju on the project.’

  Was he teasing her or not? To her, it seemed inconceivable that people would still believe this in 1990, but he seemed sincere. She played the dumb foreigner.

  ‘We wouldn’t want that. Well done, Tamba. Let’s get started then.’

  ***

  To Sam’s surprise, they accomplished a lot on the first day, despite the late start and having a limited supply of ancient equipment.