They immediately asked where I was from. ‘I work for the King.’
I was pleased when the younger boy looked scared. ‘The King?’
‘Yes,’ I replied. Hoping the less I said the more unsettling it would seem.
‘As what?’
‘Nurse.’
The older one smirked. ‘A nurse? What does a god need with a nurse?’
His young friend giggled and I felt a childish rage in my belly. Children have a way of levelling you, reminding you that even though you’re an old woman, once upon a time you cried in the playground in agonising sobs after being tormented by boys; once you were a frightened wife beaten by her bullying husband. Those old feelings live on.
Taking the fruit from my bag, I asked, ‘Want a guava?’
They looked at one another, quickly checking each other’s reaction, before the older boy shrugged, ‘Sure.’
These skinny boys were not the sort to say no to food. He took a bite and the younger boy had the rest. For a moment we sat and listened to the crickets, until I said, ‘You’re obviously brave boys.’
‘Yes,’ said the big one automatically, before adding, ‘But how do you know?’
‘Because not many boys would dare come here. To this tree.’
‘Why?’ said the younger boy, wiping juice from his mouth.
‘This is a witch’s tree,’ I said. The young boy stopped chewing. ‘Don’t you see the scratch marks?’
The young boy’s eyes flared but the big boy snorted. ‘Those are animal marks.’
I knew I was fine because he hadn’t said, ‘There’s no such thing as witches.’
Although these boys went to school in town and were brought up Christians, maybe seen computers, maybe even been to the cinema, I knew they still had a living, breathing, fear of witches in their hearts. I knew their mother warned them about certain women. I knew I had them when he questioned the origin of the marks, not the fact of witches. Now on solid ground, I said, ‘So you say. Well, I’m glad you’re so . . . confident. I wouldn’t be. I’m not nearly so brave as you boys.’
‘Why aren’t you scared?’ the big boy asked with the fast intelligence of a bully.
‘Well, the witch and I, we have an understanding,’ I said quickly, convincingly, leaving the remark in the air between us, hanging, before adding to it. ‘But she loves little boys, their hair, teeth, toes, earlobes.’ And I stared at them for some time before saying, ‘She uses guava to drug them, trap them, slice off their . . .’ The young boy was up and sprinting as if the devil himself were at his heels. The bully took a moment longer, he made a brash exit, spitting near me before jogging away, not too fast, he didn’t want me to think he was running scared. Watching them weave through the maize, bare feet nimble through the corn, limbs shining in the sun, spitting out guava, I knew they’d never return. When I finished eating I placed the bag into the hole in the tree, my arm dipped in coolness, deep in the living thing. I carved another line down the bark, wiped the blade on my top, then made my way back to the palace.
Charlie
The pool was already packed with people. The right side was lined with celebrities, all wearing big shades and sun hats, and also lots of dancers with their long licorice bodies. The left side was lined with blotchy white-and-pink locals, sunburnt hippos, hiding behind shredded magazines, trying to catch glimpses of celebrities across the water. I went to the bar and asked Alias if he had seen Aaron anywhere. Alias pointed up to one of the hotel balconies and said, ‘He was helping Ed carry cases for Mr Truth.’
I walked past the pool, up the stairs to the balcony. Truth was staying in the Tafumo Suite, which was more of a house than a room really; it was by far the fanciest part of the hotel. I wasn’t allowed to just go inside but I could see that the door was open a bit and, thinking that Aaron and Ed might be in there, I peered through the crack and I saw something amazing. Since Truth had stepped off the plane, he had been constantly surrounded by bodyguards and assistants who whizzed around him like a cloud of midges. But this time it was just Truth and only one bodyguard, the one that was always by his side. I could only see a slither of what was happening and it seemed like Truth was just looking down at his hands, but when I moved to get a better view I saw that Truth was holding hands with his bodyguard, like boyfriend and girlfriend, only this was boyfriend and boyfriend. Then the big bodyguard tilted his head towards Truth and they kissed. I had to cover my mouth to stop myself making a noise. I should have run right then, but for just a second I couldn’t move. I’d never seen two men kissing. It looked really weird. Dad said in Bwalo no man is allowed to love another man, but in other parts of the world it is allowed. That makes no sense. How can you stop loving someone just because you move to a new country? When I asked Mum she explained that the only man that Bwalo men were allowed to love was Tafumo. That Tafumo does not want all their love for him diluted. Like love was some sort of liquid, like adding water to Fanta to make it less sweet. Solomon knows nearly as much as anyone about Bwalo laws because his dad works in the government and drives a Mercedes. So when I asked Sol about men kissing other men he said very seriously, gayness is against the law, Charlie!
Finally the bodyguard stopped kissing Truth and they smiled at one another, and before I realised it I’d touched the door and it creaked. They both glanced at me. It was funny in a way because for a second they both still had that goofy love-look all over their faces, then a second later they were so mad, so angry. But I was already off; running down the corridor hoping the bodyguard wouldn’t chase after me and blow me to bits with his gun.
I didn’t look back and the closest place I could find to hide was a room down the hall that was used for meetings and conferences and was always empty. It had a Please Do Not Disturb sign on it but I knew it was empty as usual, so I quickly ran inside and waited, my back up against the door, wondering if the bodyguard was going to get me.
I was thinking about how much trouble I was in: if the bodyguard didn’t kill me then Mum and Dad would do it for him, because one of Dad’s main rules was that guests always have complete privacy. Between Dad’s rules and Tafumo’s rules, it was like you couldn’t get away with anything around here. I heard footsteps outside the door and in a panic I got on to my knees and slid under the huge conference table, lying flat and still as a snake as the door creaked open and I watched the feet of two men enter.
I knew immediately that it wasn’t Truth or his bodyguard, though. Truth wore box-fresh white Nike trainers that were the coolest shoes I’d ever seen and his bodyguard wore black boots that were a little like army boots. But these men had different shoes. One had on snake boots, the footwear of the UWA, and wool socks pulled up to his knees and the other wore slightly scruffy Bata Bata shoes, the sort a teacher might own. They didn’t talk at first, they moved around the room, and one of them checked outside of the window and then there was a funny silence, the sort that makes you itchy, before the man in Bata Batas whispered, ‘What the hell do you think you are doing?’
‘I’m telling you it’s all under control, so calm down,’ said the man in the wool socks and as soon as he spoke, I knew it was Willem, his voice smoky and angry.
‘It’s not under control,’ said the Bata Bata man, who was definitely a local Bwalo man. ‘They have a tourist at the airport under interrogation. And you’re telling me it’s all under control . . . Why did you use this man?’
‘Well why didn’t you let the army bring it in like I suggested in the first place?’
‘Because,’ said the Bata Bata man, in a furious voice. ‘I have been over this before. We don’t have anyone that we could trust, the army is tiny and also nothing about this can come back to us. This has to be an external job. This is why we hired you.’
‘Well I could hardly sling that thing through in my hand luggage; I was coming from Scotland, for fuck’s sake. And this man I used is the best . . .’
‘He is not the best if he has been caught and we are all about to get into . . .
I can’t believe . . .’ The Bata Bata man was sort of telling Willem off and I could hear that Willem was furious about this as he hissed back, ‘Listen here, you. I needed a real . . . real equipment brought in. I can’t use a peashooter for this. I know what I’m doing.’
They spoke in whispers and hisses, like their sentences were under pressure; they spoke like Mum and Dad spoke when I was in bed and they were trying to argue without me hearing, speaking in codes and spelling words so I wouldn’t understand.
The Bata Bata man said, ‘I expected something more professional. You nearly had all of us . . . I had to see to this man myself. I can’t believe . . . Why didn’t you tell the man to go over the border, the bush, he was caught trying to take a plane out of here with nothing but a pocketful of cash, I mean . . .’
There was another moment of sharp silence, then Willem said in a tired voice, ‘Just deal with him and let me get on with my job. You are in control here, you deal with that shit. This is your country. These details are nothing to do with me. I have what I need for the job you have paid me to do. I’m only here to do my job. Now leave me the fuck alone and sort out your problems and I’ll sort out mine.’ Then Willem stormed out and slammed the door behind him.
My heart was racing so fast that I thought I might be sick as I watched the man’s Bata Batas pace up and down the carpet for a moment. Then he made a strange noise, like he was clearing his throat, and he walked towards the door. Just before he slammed it shut behind him, I looked up from under the table and caught the back of him, a bald man in a funny old suit and cheap Bata Bata shoes.
I stayed under for a while, wondering what I’d just heard. It was very unusual for a local Bwalo man to shout at a white man like that, so I knew that this was something bad. Part of me wanted to tell Mum and Dad that I’d seen Truth kissing and that I had heard something strange between Willem and this Bata Bata man.
But although they always told me to come to them with questions, whenever I had lately they ended up shouting at me. And I knew that the trouble I’d get into for snooping and spying on guests was far too big for me to handle. I would be grounded for life. And also what would Mum and Dad do if they knew about Truth kissing a man? Mum told me that, although it was against the law to be in love with a man, the heart has its own law, and that is what we all abide by. I still didn’t know what that meant but I think it meant that Mum didn’t mind men kissing men. And when I tried to figure out how I would tell them what Willem said, it was like untying a plate of spaghetti, it just made no sense to me, no matter how long I tried to straighten it all out.
So I decided that I should tell Aaron and Solomon everything first and then see what they said about it. I ran out of the room, checking to ensure that Truth and his bodyguard were nowhere near, were not waiting for me. Then I quietly tiptoed down the stairs and went to the kitchen out the back of the hotel.
In the kitchen courtyard Alias was slicing up the buffalo, slopping the meat into a bucket reeking of salt and vinegar. When I asked if he’d seen Aaron he told me Solomon and Aaron were playing near the house. Which was weird because Solomon didn’t like Aaron, and it was only when I was there that the two played together.
We lived at the far end of the golf course in a concrete house Mum called the nineteenth hole. As I crossed the fairway, Mum caught up, gave me a kiss and said, ‘Hi, sweetheart, the hotel is out of butter already, I pray to God we’ve got some spare in our fridge. What have you been up to? You look like you’ve been running around, do you have a fever? Come here and let me check your temperature . . .’
Her voice was so concerned and gentle that I nearly told her everything. I was just trying to figure out where to start, and also just how honest I should be about the fact I was spying, but before I could get it all straight in my head, Mum spotted that our front door had been left open, and she started to scold me. ‘Why didn’t you lock it, Charlie! How many times have I told you about this! Christ. That’s the last thing we need . . .’
‘I did,’ I said and that was when we noticed one of the windows was smashed.
Mum pushed me back. ‘Run, Charlie, run and get your dad and Ed.’
Last time someone broke in they poisoned our dog, hurt Innocence, took everything, and when the police came they just drank tea and kept muttering, ‘Ah yes, but it is such a shame.’
So I ran as fast as I could and when we returned, Mum whispered, ‘They’re still in there!’ and Dad shouted, ‘Come out! Come out with your hands up in the air. We’re armed!’ and Ed picked up a broom that was leaning against the wall and held it up like it was a sword.
We heard whispering, then we saw a child coming out of the door: it was Aaron, and behind him, Solomon.
‘Quick, you boys,’ Dad shouted. ‘Get out of the house, someone has broken in.’
Solomon and Aaron looked at Dad strangely and then Mum said, ‘Um, no, Stu, I think they’re the ones that broke in.’
Dad said, ‘Oh,’ really slowly as if he was figuring it all out, Ooooh.
Mum grabbed Aaron, ‘Aaron? What’s going on here? What’s happening?’ as Dad asked, ‘What are you doing in the house, Solomon?’
At first, Aaron and Solomon were completely silent.
Then Solomon looked straight at Dad, he looked mad as hell as he said, ‘We were just playing with Charlie.’
‘No you were not!’ I squealed. ‘I was at the hotel looking for you guys. He’s lying, Dad! He is lying!’
Dad raised his hand. ‘OK. OK. Everyone just calm down. Let’s see what’s going on. Charlie, come with me.’
I followed Dad into the house and we went to my bedroom. My mattress was overturned. My window was open and all of my special toys from the UK had been thrown out, scattered across the garden. It looked like Aaron and Solomon had realised they were caught. They must have heard Mum and I return and then flung everything out of the window, hoping to climb out and run away, but the white steel bars bent over the window meant they couldn’t slide through them. I looked out at all my toys on the lawn.
Dad leaned out of the window and asked, ‘Everything there?’
I checked: one Batman comic; one toy car, a red Ferrari; my cool wristwatch, which was transparent and showed all the ticking bits; and my Spiderman action figure, which was missing one arm that I’d lost a while back. ‘Everything is there except the Dictaphone Sean gave me.’
Dad checked the other rooms and nothing else was gone. Back at the khondi, Dad told Mum what had happened and she said, ‘How could you, Aaron? This isn’t like you.’
Ed had run off to get Innocence, who now came across the golf course with a face so fierce even I was scared. She flip-flopped across the fairway right up to Aaron, and before anyone could say anything she slapped him hard across the face.
Then she grabbed his cheek and he started to cry as Innocence yanked his ear, stretching it like rubber. ‘Say sorry to Charlie! Sorry to master and to missus-master too.’
Aaron cried so hard snot ropes fell out of his nose as he said he was sorry again and again until Mum said, ‘OK, stop, Aaron, stop, stop.’ Innocence and Mum whispered something to each other, before Innocence dragged Aaron off across the golf course by his ear.
Once they were gone, I turned back to the action, crossed my arms and waited for everyone to start shouting at Solomon. But when no one did, I shouted, ‘Solomon! You have my Dictaphone and I want it back right now! Now! That’s the coolest toy I own! I want it back! Give it!’
No one seemed to want to talk, so I stepped back a bit, giving Mum room to really scream at Solomon. I waited, wondering when Mum was going to start giving Solomon one hell of a telling-off. But Mum just said, ‘Charlie, go get a Fanta from the bar, we’ll deal with this.’
I shouted, ‘But he stole! He took it!’ and Solomon looked at me like he was trying to kill me with his eyes. Then everyone just stood around looking at one another until I screamed, ‘How come Aaron gets told off but Solomon is just . . .’
Mum gave me the
eye and Ed gently led me back to the hotel. ‘Let’s get you a Fanta, bwana.’
I was crying now because I’d lost my Dictaphone but also because it was so unfair that no one was telling Solomon off. None of it made any sense. As we walked away, I looked back and Solomon was standing there with arms crossed tight as a knot, Mum wasn’t saying anything, and Dad was on the phone talking really fast.
Josef
When I woke up my body wouldn’t move. I stared at the ceiling, fearing that exhaustion had finally paralysed me. Using all my strength, I reached to pull the penknife from under my pillow, placed the blade on my forearm by the rows of healing cuts. Skin bunched around the blade and, when it bit, blood ran down the sides like lips kissing the steel. Muffling my scream, I rose off the bed and got dressed. Ezekiel was dozing at the gate but roused when he heard the car crunching over the gravel. He pushed open the gates and saluted. As I drove to the office – endlessly checking the rear-view mirror – David called. Soon as he started to speak, I knew he had something for me, his voice pitch high with excitement. ‘Morning, minister. We detained a man who says he is a tourist, trying to take lots of money out of the country.’
Tourism was part of my portfolio and I was responsible for potentially delicate situations. Anything involving white tourists was considered ‘potentially delicate’.
So I said, ‘I’m sure it’s nothing but I’ll check it out,’ and over the static line I heard David waiting, waiting for some sort of compliment about his good work. I left him waiting.
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