by Jan Michael
Joshua ducked before her advancing hand could reach his cheek a second time. He jumped across the fruit into the aisle, grinned and took the money, along with the promised paw paw. He put the money in one pocket and the paw paw in the other. ‘Come on, Robert.’
‘Come back and help me tomorrow!’ Mama Calla screeched after them as they squeezed down the busy aisle. ‘Mangoes and bananas,’ she cried hoarsely, settling herself, ‘Tamarinds, juicy tamarinds.’ Her cries joined the hubbub of other calls and were swallowed up behind them.
It was just as they were leaving the market that Joshua saw him.
He gripped Robert’s arm. ‘Look,’ he said.
Robert followed the direction of Joshua’s gaze. A man was standing a little distance away at the edge of the market, not quite in the shade. He was on his own. People were taking a wide berth around him. No one stopped.
Berries were piled up in a mound on a makeshift table in front of the man: red, golden and black berries, jumbled up together and gleaming. Trickles of juice ran off the wooden board and into the earth, staining it. Joshua stared. It was very like the stain made by the pig’s blood earlier that morning.
Despite the sun’s heat, the man wore a blanket around his shoulders. It was striped red and green with a black crocodile woven down the back. He stood perfectly still behind his berries, impassive, indifferent, eyes on the ground.
Joshua and Robert came a little nearer.
The man did not raise his head.
They drew closer still. Joshua crossed himself quickly against bad luck. Robert copied him. As he did so, he stubbed his foot on a stone and sent it flying. The man looked up and almost instinctively reached his arms out over the berries, as if trying to protect them. Sweat was pouring down his face.
‘Mountain man,’ Robert whispered to Joshua out of the side of his mouth.
Joshua nodded, not taking his eyes off the man. Men from the mountains were rarely seen in their village. They lived high up where it was cool, at least one day’s walk away, where the earth was as hard and cracked as this man’s skin. Mountain people had their own customs and spoke a dialect that the village people found hard to understand. They kept to themselves and ignored the government, which was down at the coast. Their mountains loomed over the village, as if they were trying to push it off the narrow coastal strip and into the ocean. Perhaps that was why the fishermen distrusted them. They made no secret of their dislike for the mountain people. Joshua hadn’t needed Robert to tell him what the man was.
He took twenty precious millis from his right pocket and held the coins out as carefully as if he had been holding out food to a wild dog, his eyes not leaving the man for a moment.
Surprise flashed across the man’s face. It passed so quickly that Joshua wondered if he had seen it at all. The man accepted the coins. From the folds of his clothes, he took out a stone scoop and a bag made of newspaper, which he unfolded as if it were a treasure. Slowly and deliberately he dug the scoop into the mound of berries, three, four times, until the fruit filled the bag. He put the scoop back in his pocket, folded over the top of the bag, and handed it to Joshua in both hands, bowing slightly as he did so.
Startled, Joshua bowed back. He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that Robert was doing the same.
The boys turned and walked away, not speaking. When they had gone about eight metres they stopped and looked back. The mountain man hadn’t moved. There he stood, still as a statue, eyes downcast, passive and alone. If it wasn’t for the bag of berries in Joshua’s hands, their transaction might never have happened.
Joshua unfolded the top of the bag and sniffed. Robert took a berry, put it to his lips and hesitated. Joshua took one out too. He popped it straight in his mouth and squashed it with his tongue. Strange, sharp, sweet juice spurted into his mouth. He decided that he liked the taste.
The boys walked on till they were out of sight of the man, then perched on stones by the roadside to eat the berries, first in twos and threes, then in small fistfuls.
But the fruit was too ripe for the heat of the coast. They were only halfway down the paper bag when, soaked by the juice, it gave out in Joshua’s hands. What was left of the berries plopped to the ground between his feet and lay there, a mushy mess. Joshua and Robert watched in dismay as small red and black ants advanced at once from all sides, as if this was what they had been waiting for all morning. Then larger soldier ants marched purposefully through their smaller cousins to the front of the feast.
Joshua screwed up the bag and licked his fingers clean. ‘Let’s go and help Dad build the shop,’ he said. ‘He asked if you would come.’
Robert brightened. He enjoyed himself at Joshua’s. There would be just him and Joshua and Joshua’s father. It made a change from being at home with his big family and having to help his mother by looking after the smaller children.
‘Well, you two,’ Joshua’s father greeted them. ‘Took your time, didn’t you?’
Joshua grinned. His father might sound gruff but he knew he didn’t really mean it. ‘We were at the market.’ He remembered the paw paw in his pocket and took it round to the house, where he left it in the shade.
‘Now, where do you want us to start, Dad?’
‘I’ll go on spreading the mortar, you two put on the stones. Use the ones in that pile over there.’ He jutted his chin towards a large heap of stones, then turned back to the wall and slapped on some more mortar.
At first Joshua and Robert were slow at finding suitable stones, but they soon speeded up and got into a rhythm where one would be at the pile picking up a stone while the other was putting one down on the growing wall.
‘Butcher.’
They all turned. A woman was standing there, basket on arm. ‘How about some meat?’
‘Of course.’ His father hesitated, then passed the mortar board to Robert. ‘Here. You say you want to be a builder when you grow up. See what you can do. The secret is not too little and not too much.’
The boys felt him watching them for a moment before he turned away to serve the woman.
Another customer arrived and stood there, talking. Then the butcher was back. He rolled a cigarette and sat down by the wall.
They paused, looked at him. ‘No, no, you carry on,’ he said. ‘I like watching you work. You’re doing fine.’ He waved the cigarette at them, then lit it. ‘Half the pig’s gone to the hotel.’ He was speaking more to himself than to them, but they caught the satisfaction in his voice. ‘And half of what’s left is sold already.’
Eventually they stopped and went to squat beside him.
‘Here.’ Joshua took the coins from his pocket and gave them to his father. ‘We helped Mama Calla,’ he explained.
‘Again?’ His father seemed amused. ‘Well done.’ He pocketed the 1.30 korias. ‘Was this all?’
Joshua shook his head. ‘She gave us 1.50 each, and a paw paw. But we saw a mountain man, Dad. He was just outside the market. He was selling berries. A pile of them – this big.’ He got to his feet and demonstrated. Then he squatted again. ‘So I bought some.’
His father looked startled. Then he pulled a face. ‘Sour things, those wild mountain berries. I never …’ He stopped suddenly. ‘You didn’t like them, did you?’
CHAPTER THREE
A coconut thudded to the ground, narrowly missing a chicken, which jumped in the air and scuttled away, squawking. Joshua’s father, spreading mortar on stones, didn’t even look up at the sound.
Joshua appeared on the top step of the house, yawning. He scratched his arm absent-mindedly then wandered down the steps and round to the front of the house.
‘Can I help?’
Slap went the mortar. His father picked up a stone from the heap and put it down, aligning it carefully. He had almost finished the top of the fourth and final wall.
He paused, took off his hat to wipe the sweat from his forehead, and put the hat on again. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘After you’ve made us breakfast. And after you’ve d
one the laundry.’
‘Oh, Dad.’
‘Don’t whine, Josh. One of us has to do it, and you can see I’m busy.’
After breakfast, Joshua wrapped the washing inside one of his father’s shirts, put the bundle on his head and walked to the bend in the river where the water was shallow. This was where the villagers did their washing. One of the younger women spotted him coming and nudged her companion, giggling. Robert’s mother looked up and saw him. ‘Hello, Joshua,’ she called out to him. ‘Come over here.’
He was relieved to see her. She wouldn’t make fun of him. He waded in beside her.
She watched him wet the clothes, spread soap on them and rub them hard, pushing and kneading against a nearby rock as he had seen his father do. Then he stood up straight, preparing to beat them. This was the bit he had been looking forward to. He lifted a shirt above his head.
‘Wait.’ Robert’s mother put out a hand. ‘Look, like this. Stand with your legs further apart.’ She tucked her dress inside her knickers in order to demonstrate. She squeezed out a shirt, whirled it above her head and thwacked it down on the rock, whirled and thwacked, whirled and thwacked. ‘All right?’
He nodded.
‘Now you.’
She stood back and watched him critically. ‘That’s it. Not bad at all. Well done.’
He thwacked away, no longer caring that he was the only boy among the women.
A hand in the small of his back sent him headlong into the water. He coughed and spluttered, rescued the shirt that was starting to drift away, and turned round to see who had pushed him.
Tom and Millie darted behind a rock, laughing. He waded after them as fast as he could, whirling the shirt above his head. They dodged the shirt but he managed to grab hold of Millie. He dragged her, protesting, right into the river and ducked her under.
She came up spluttering, her hands held palm outwards in surrender.
‘Wouldn’t catch me doing the washing,’ Tom teased.
‘That’s because you wouldn’t know how,’ Robert’s mother retorted, before Joshua could say a word. She reached out and trapped Tom as he scurried past. ‘Here.’ She put a skirt in his hand and began to teach him.
Joshua and a dripping Millie laughed as they watched Tom’s efforts.
‘Finish your washing then,’ Robert’s mother ordered Joshua, and winked. ‘Millie, you help him. Tom’s helping me.’
She began to sing. The other women took up the tune. Joshua, Millie and Tom joined in, pounding the clothes against the rocks, beating time.
When Joshua got back, his father wasn’t there. The fourth wall was finished and there was a small heap of mud at the side, still damp, so he couldn’t have been gone long. The shop was almost ready; a stone shell. There were still some cracks between the stones that needed to be smoothed over. Joshua scooped some mud up in the trowel and slapped it over the gaps, smoothing it as his father had done. But he soon got restless and wandered off.
At the side of the road he saw Swabber with a rat in its mouth, a large, plump rat of the local sort, which rarely came above ground. The dog shook it hard, his whole body wriggling with the effort, for the rat was about nine inches long.
Swabber dropped his prey, sniffed, licked his lips, then picked the creature up again by its neck, pawing it. At Joshua’s approach, the dog growled deep in his throat and glared, trying to be fierce. But when Joshua just squatted in front of him, making no move to take the rat away, he went back to his shaking and pawing.
Suddenly Swabber tired of his game. He abandoned the rat in the dust at Joshua’s feet and lumbered off. Joshua noted the dulling, dead eyes, the small pointed ears, the strong claws for digging holes in earth. He picked up a stick and prodded the body to make absolutely sure that it wouldn’t spring to life and bite him. When it didn’t, he began to unbutton his shirt, but then thought better of it. There was a banana tree nearby and he tore off part of a leaf. Using the stick, he rolled the corpse on to the leaf, folded the ends together and got up, balancing it carefully.
Millie appeared and fell into step at his side. ‘Hello, Josh.’
He didn’t answer, not wanting to lose concentration and drop the rat.
‘What’ve you got in there, Josh?’ she asked.
‘A rat.’
Millie gasped in admiration. He should have known it wouldn’t put her off.
‘Great,’ she said. ‘Is it alive?’
He shook his head.
‘What are you doing with it?’
Since Joshua hadn’t yet decided, he didn’t answer.
‘Josh? What are you going to do with the rat?’
Joshua was still thinking about it.
‘Where are you taking it, Josh? Josh? Why won’t you answer me?’
Joshua stopped. He had had an idea. He grinned at her. ‘I’m going to cut it up. Do you want to help me?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ Millie said. She was always game for anything.
‘You can wear my other shorts and shirt if you like,’ Joshua offered.
‘Ooh, yes,’ she said eagerly.
He had noticed that her dress was starting to tear at the seams. Millie hated dresses, but her mother made her wear them so that it would be easier to tell her apart from Tom, her identical twin brother. She seemed to be constantly growing out of them. Even though she was a year younger than Joshua, she was as tall as he was.
When they got to Joshua’s place his father was still missing. The butcher’s table was empty, scrubbed clean. Joshua considered using it, but decided that it might not be wise, so he put his package down on the smaller table.
‘Ready?’ he asked her.
She nodded. ‘Your shorts,’ she reminded him.
‘They’re on my shelf,’ he said. ‘You get them.’
While she was gone, he slid the banana leaf out from under the rat and studied it, first from one side, then the other.
Millie reappeared, dressed in his clothes.
‘Hold the rat steady.’
She didn’t hesitate.
‘First I’m going to cut off its ears,’ he announced.
‘Why?’
He opened his mouth to explain the ritual. ‘So that …’ His voice trailed away as he realised that it didn’t count. This was a rat, it was already dead, and he hadn’t killed it in the first place. Besides, when villagers killed their chickens there was no ritual; they just wrung their necks. The ritual was only for pigs, only for his father.
‘Cut off the tail,’ Millie ordered, taking advantage of his hesitation. ‘I don’t like it.’
‘Okay. Stand back,’ he told her. He brought down the knife with a blow his father would be proud of and cut through the tail an inch from the body – not quite where he’d intended, but almost. With the tip of the knife he flicked it off the table. They squatted down and looked at the wiry, snake-like thing.
‘Yuck,’ Millie said. ‘What do we do next?’
The same as with pigs, Joshua supposed. He turned the rat on its back.
‘Hold that leg,’ he said and pointed.
Millie gripped the back leg.
‘Hold it out from the body.’
Thud!
Down came the knife. Leg split from body. Millie didn’t flinch. ‘And now the other one?’ she asked.
He nodded.
He raised the knife a second time.
His fist was held in an iron grip and the knife pulled from it.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Two hands shook him hard. ‘That knife’s not a toy. It’s dangerous. This table isn’t for games; it’s for butchering. What if that rat had diseases? I thought I could trust you, Joshua. Have you learned nothing? His father drew breath and went on. ‘Go inside and stay there till I call for you.’ He shoved Joshua from him. ‘And you, Tom, go home.’
‘Millie,’ Joshua heard Millie protest. ‘I’m Millie.’ But she didn’t push the point. Joshua’s father’s face was set hard in anger.
Joshua waited for him to
go past the window, then threw Millie her dress. He grinned at her, pretending that he didn’t care.
‘I’ll come back later,’ she whispered loudly and scampered off.
Once she was gone he sat down on the floor by his bed. He was in real trouble; it wasn’t often that his father was this angry with him. He wondered what he would do and how long his father intended to keep him indoors. He reached under his bed for his fruit book. He slid it out and opened it, turning the pages till he got to the spread on berries, looking to see if he could find the mountain man’s berries.
‘Bilberries,’ he read silently, his lips moving, ‘blueberries.’ None of the pictures looked right, but still he read, enjoying the words. ‘Cloudberries.’ He took the book on to his bed where the light was better. ‘Strawberries.’
He glanced up at the windowsill. A beetle was squatting there. It was bright green and shone in the sunlight like a glittering jewel. He put his head on the sill and examined it from the side. He bent down and blew at it gently. It stayed there, sparkling. He pushed it with his finger, wanting to see it fly.
It flew all right, but when it did it released a stench stronger than rotting fish, worse than the smelliest lavatory pit.
‘Was that you?’ his father said, appearing below the window. ‘Was it a stink beetle? Did you touch it?’
‘Oh,’ said Joshua. ‘I didn’t know. I wanted to see it fly.’ It seemed as if he could do nothing right today. His voice faltered, unsure whether his father was still angry. ‘It looked so beautiful.’
‘Fool.’ His father reached up through the window and ruffled his hair.
That was a good sign. Joshua picked up the book quickly. ‘Dad. I can’t find those berries the mountain man was selling. What are they?’
‘They’re called …’ His father’s voice died away. ‘Look, I’m thirsty,’ he changed the subject. ‘Make us some tea, will you? Then you can help me finish off the walls. Go on then,’ as Joshua hesitated. ‘Hurry up.’
‘And no more rats!’ Joshua heard him shout as he went to fill the kettle.