by Lewis, Gill
‘Same as here in Scotland,’ said Euan. ‘My nan had her operation cancelled three times because there weren’t enough beds.’
Rob pulled a face. ‘Uggh! Imagine having to share a bed with your nan.’
Euan shuddered. ‘I think I’d rather die.’
I pushed Euan away to get a better look at the photo of Jeneba. ‘What d’you think happened to her legs?’ I said.
Euan shrugged his shoulders.
‘Crocodile,’ said Rob.
‘What?’
‘I bet she’s been chomped by a crocodile,’ said Rob. He snapped his hands together. ‘It happens all the time out there. I saw it on TV. One minute she’ll have been paddling in the river fetching water, next minute … chomp.’
‘You don’t know that,’ I said.
‘I bet you anything it was a crocodile,’ he said. He leaned over and started writing a message on the computer.
From: Callum, Rob and Euan
Sent: 11th October 18.50 GMT
Subject: Crocodile
Hi Jeneba,
I’m Rob, one of Callum’s friends.
Did your legs get chomped by a crocodile? I saw a TV programme where a man escaped from a crocodile by poking it in the eye with a stick. How did you do it?
Thanks for saving Iris.
From Rob.
‘You can’t send that,’ I said.
Rob pressed send/receive and grinned. ‘I just did.’
CHAPTER 31
From: Jeneba Kah
Sent: 12th October 21.30 GMT
Subject: Iris
Hello Callum
Tell Rob I haven’t been fighting with any crocodiles, but I’ll remember to stick one in the eye if I ever do.
I am in hospital because I was hit by a truck. It skidded in the mud in the rainy season and broke my legs. I am in plaster waiting for them to mend.
I miss my village, but it is not so bad here in the hospital. I make friends with the new children that come into the ward. I pretend I am a doctor and try to guess what is wrong with them. In the evening Max sits on my bed and shows me pictures from his medical text books. He knows I want to be a doctor one day. He says he hopes I won’t be as scary as Mama Binta though.
Mariama brought me some school work and chicken Yassa today, so I am two times lucky. Chicken Yassa is her special recipe, my favourite. Mariama helped to look after me when I was little after my mother died, but she is also our school teacher too. I did an hour of maths with her. It was so much fun. Missing school is the worst thing about being in hospital.
Max has taken some pictures of my village to send to you. I hope you like the one of the fish my little brother caught for Iris.
What is Scotland like? Max said it is cold and wet and people only eat something called haggis. What is haggis anyway?
I will send you news of Iris every day.
Your friend
Jeneba
I showed Rob and Euan the email and photos next day at school.
‘She’s crazy,’ said Rob. ‘I’d go and break my legs just to have time off school.’
‘Now that’s what I call a fish,’ said Euan. ‘Imagine hauling that in.’
The photo showed a young boy no older than seven or eight holding up a long silver fish. The boy had to stand on tiptoes to keep the tail off the floor.
I flicked over the other pictures. Max had taken photos of Jeneba’s village. There were lots of small round huts and red brick buildings set around an open enclosure. The sky looked deep, deep blue, and the earth looked rust-red, dry and dusty. Under a fat-bellied tree sat a group of men hidden by the shade. In the open sunlight, women in brightly patterned clothes laid out fruits and vegetables to sell.
The last one was of Iris in Max’s shed.
‘It explains why we can’t get a signal from Iris,’ said Euan, ‘if she’s in a dark shed.’
‘You can actually see the transmitter on her back and the long aerial poking out,’ said Rob. ‘She’d be dead by now if it wasn’t for that.’
I nodded. ‘She’ll get better now,’ I said, ‘I just know she will.’
‘We could send Jeneba some photos of Scotland,’ said Euan.
‘That’s a great idea. We can take a photo of Iris’s nest,’ I said. ‘I’ll ask Mum to lend us her camera after school.’
Mum was in the kitchen doing the farm accounts at the table. She handed us the small digital camera she kept in her handbag. ‘Make sure you take some of yourselves,’ she said. ‘Jeneba will want to know what you look like.’
Graham leaned across the table and helped himself to another huge piece of chocolate cake. ‘She doesn’t want to see Callum’s ugly mug,’ he said, dropping sticky crumbs over the accounts. ‘It might crash the computer again. I’m surprised they have computers out in Uganda anyway.’
‘The Gambia,’ I said. ‘Everywhere’s got computers now.’
Mum flicked the crumbs from the papers. ‘You’re not doing much at the moment are you, Graham? Make yourself useful and take Callum and his friends out in the Land Rover to take photos of the farm before it gets dark.’
Graham rolled his eyes. ‘Come on then,’ he said. He picked up the Land Rover keys and headed out of the door.
Graham took us all over the farm. We were suddenly rally drivers. I’m sure Mum would’ve had a fit if she’d seen some of his handbrake turns.
But we did get some great photos of the farm. Graham took a picture of us with the mountains in the background and I photographed Iris’s eyrie on the island in the loch. When we got back to the farmhouse, Mum had defrosted a haggis from the freezer for us and we photographed that too.
Later that evening, I downloaded the photos onto the computer and attached them to an email. I pressed the send button and our photos of Scotland went flying through cyberspace in a fraction of a second, all the way to Jeneba and Iris. All the way to Africa.
* * *
Each day after that, Jeneba wrote about Iris and sent more photos that Max had taken. Iris looked stronger as the days went by. Her feathers became shiny and glossy. There was a picture of her standing on a piece of wood, preening. It had to be a good sign. The old wound on her foot looked better too. The first pictures showed a thick lump of red flesh caked in dirt and the skin of her foot had been mottled and dark. But now, nearly two weeks later, the pictures showed the wound had almost healed.
Max had also taken more photos and short video clips of the village and the river. It made me feel as if I was really there. I could almost imagine myself walking down to the wide green river, where the long wooden fishing boats lay on the low tide mud. I could almost feel the hot African sun on my face and hear the sounds of the village, of children playing and women pounding sorghum and millet. I was almost there.
Almost.
That night there was one more email waiting for me.
From: Jeneba Kah
Sent: 25th October 20.40 GMT
Subject: Iris
Hello Callum,
Tomorrow is a very good day. Max has decided to set Iris free. He says she is strong now and needs to go back to the wild. He is going to release her at sunrise so she has the whole day to catch fish.
Doctor Jawara said he is taking the casts off my legs tomorrow, so I will be free too.
I am too excited to sleep. But Mama Binta said if I go to sleep she will let me see Max release Iris tomorrow. I think maybe Mama Binta isn’t as fierce as she pretends to be.
I will write with good news tomorrow night.
Your friend, Jeneba.
CHAPTER 32
I rushed back home from school the next day to check on my emails. But there was nothing. I sat at my computer nearly all evening, but still no news from Jeneba. Not the next day, or the day after that. I sent emails to her but there was no reply.
I sat with Rob and Euan in the ICT suite at school. We were meant to be researching the French revolution.
‘Maybe they’ve got electricity blackout,’ said Euan.
I hadn’t. It hadn’t occurred to me.
Euan kept a look out for our teacher and I tapped in Iris’s code.
Her signal came in strong and clear. It showed she’d flown across the river from Jeneba’s village on Monday morning, and spent the day along a small creek. The next day she’d flown north up the coast near the border of Senegal.
‘They did it,’ said Euan. ‘They set her free then.’
‘But we haven’t heard from Jeneba,’ I said.
Euan peered over my shoulder. ‘We can only wait.’
We had to wait another week before we got an email.
From: Jeneba Kah
Sent: 3rd November 16.00 GMT
Subject: Iris
Hello Callum,
I am sorry I have not written, but I have not been well. I had the casts removed from my legs but the breaks in one leg are too bad, and my bones have not healed. I have a bad infection in it and this has been giving me a fever. Dr Jawara thinks he will have to amputate my leg.
My father visited the marabout last night. The marabout had another vision. This time, he saw me walking high above the world across an ocean of white cloud. My father thinks this means I am going to die. The marabout is never wrong. What scares me most is knowing I will never walk again.
I have sent a photo of Iris the day we set her free. Max let me do it. I was so happy to see her fly away on her big strong wings. I wanted to follow her up into the sky. All the villagers were there and they cheered and clapped. Even Mama Binta’s eyes were red and watery. She said she had some dust in her eye, but Max and I didn’t believe her.
I will write when I can. I think of you and Iris every day.
Your friend, Jeneba.
I opened the attachment. It was a good photo, an action shot of Iris bursting from Jeneba’s hands, huge wings outspread, and intense yellow eyes fixed on the sky above. It was almost an exact copy of the same moment when Iona and I had released Iris all those months ago. I should have felt the same thrill seeing the photo of Iris being released, but I didn’t.
Instead, all I felt was a dull ache deep in my chest. Jeneba was thousands of miles away. She was very sick. And suddenly I felt completely and utterly helpless.
CHAPTER 33
‘I don’t see why they can’t mend her legs,’ said Rob. ‘I mean, those racing drivers get badly smashed up and they have tons of metal in their legs. You see their X-rays in the papers, lots of screws and metal bars holding their bones together.’
‘Maybe her family can’t afford it,’ said Euan.
‘I’ve got four hundred pounds in savings,’ I said. ‘Mum said I wasn’t to use it till I was older, but I’d use it for this.’
‘I’ve got about twenty pounds,’ said Rob. ‘How much d’you think it would cost?’
‘Write and ask,’ said Euan. ‘It’s the only way we’ll find out.’
We did write. Rob and Euan were playing computer games in my bedroom when we got our answer.
From: Max Walker
Sent: 6th November 14.20 GMT
Subject: Jeneba
Hello Callum,
This is Max writing to you. Jeneba is very sick right now. The fever has taken hold and Dr Jawara thinks she may have malaria as well. I am sorry but I can’t show her your emails, it may give her false hope. In your country or America, maybe she could have surgery to mend her leg. But this is Africa. In this hospital I have worked with some of the best doctors and nurses I have ever met. They work hard against all the odds. But they can only work with what is given to them. This is a poor country and the hospitals cannot afford the equipment or the training for such complicated procedures.
But you and your friends are very kind to offer your own money.
Jeneba is a very special person. If there was anything we could do, we would.
Please keep writing to her, I know she likes your news.
Max.
‘So that’s it,’ I said to Rob and Euan. ‘There’s nothing we can do. Iris gets to fly back to Scotland, but Jeneba will never walk again.’
Euan shrugged his shoulders and slumped back on my bed.
But Rob started laughing.
‘What’s so funny?’ I said.
‘Shut up, Rob,’ said Euan giving him a kick.
Rob sat up on the bed, trying to catch his breath. ‘It’s simple isn’t it?’ he said. ‘Jeneba can fly to Scotland, just like Iris.’
‘Shut up, Rob.’ I was angry with him now. ‘That’s not even funny. You’re just sick.’
Rob laughed again and tapped my head. ‘IN A PLANE … DUH-BRAIN!!’
‘What?’ I said.
‘In a plane,’ said Rob. ‘We pay for her flight here, and then she can have treatment here in Scotland.’
‘Brilliant,’ I said.
‘We’ll need more money,’ said Euan.
‘Then we’ll raise some money,’ I said. ‘Like the school fair. I’m sure Mum would bake some cakes.’
‘And I could catch some fish,’ said Euan.
‘How much money would we need?’ asked Rob.
I shrugged my shoulders. I had no idea.
‘Get some paper and pens, Callum,’ said Euan. ‘Let’s figure out how many stalls we need.’
CHAPTER 34
After a week of running around we were ready. Mum and Dad paid for the use of the village hall. Graham and I had driven around the farms and villages with the trailer and collected stuff people didn’t want any more. We had several old TVs, a set of dinner plates, clothes, toys, and a big chicken run with two chickens to sell. Most people were glad to get rid of some things before Christmas.
Rob had printed out posters and leaflets advertising the fair, and he had cycled round all the houses posting them through letter boxes. On the leaflets he’d put a picture of Jeneba in her plaster casts, and in typical Rob style he’d written, ‘Help us save Jeneba’s leg before it gets the chop.’
Euan had gone out really early and managed to catch two fat trout from the river. Mum had baked enough cakes and biscuits to feed a whole army, and Dad put his favourite whisky in the raffle. Hamish added to the raffl e prizes with a year’s free entry to the nature reserve he worked at. It seemed right that on the front of the nature reserve leaflet there was a photo of one of the ospreys that nested there.
It was nearly two o’clock and already I could see a queue of people outside the village hall waiting to come in. Mum fussed about with the tea urn and Euan’s mum and Rob’s mum set out some tables and chairs.
We were just about to open when Rob pushed his way through the back door. He was wheeling his bike with him.
‘Take that out,’ snapped his mum. ‘We don’t want mud in here.’
I looked across at Rob. His bike wasn’t muddy. It wasn’t muddy at all. It was sparkling clean, like new.
‘Put it in the sale,’ said Rob quietly.
‘You’re kidding,’ I said.
He shook his head.
‘It’s got to sell for four hundred, OK? No less,’ he said.
‘You sure?’ I couldn’t believe it.
‘Just do it,’ he said. He ran his hand along the handlebars then turned and fled out of the hall, just as the first customers came into the fair.
* * *
It was hectic at first. People rummaged through piles of clothes and books and DVDs. The teas and coffees did a good trade, and Mum’s cakes went down well. I ran a stall of second-hand CDs and electronic stuff. I even had Rob’s bike next to the stall. There was lots of interest in it, but no one offered to buy it. Mum came over to bring me a drink and a slice of chocolate cake.
‘It’s going well,’ smiled Mum.
‘How much d’you think we’ve raised?’ I asked.
Mum shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t know, but I reckon the teas and coffees alone have taken over a hundred pounds.’
She served the custom
ers while I munched my cake. I wasn’t really taking much notice of the stall until I heard Mum’s voice.
‘Hello, Mr McNair, how are you?’
I looked up. Iona’s grandfather stood at the stall. He seemed smaller than I remembered, more stooped. He fumbled in his coat pocket for his wallet and held it out in his brown, leathery hands. They were shaking badly.
‘I’ll take the bike,’ he said.
Mum smiled. ‘It’s a wee bit expensive, I’m afraid,’ she said.
Mr McNair opened his wallet and pulled out some notes. He laid them on the table counting up in twenties.
‘Mr McNair … ’ protested Mum.
‘It’s all there,’ he said. ‘Four hundred pounds.’
‘It’s a lot of money … you can’t afford it,’ said Mum.
Mr McNair pulled out another ten pound note and slapped it on the table. ‘And I’ll take the two trout on the next stall too.’
He put the fish in a plastic bag, took Rob’s bike by the handlebars, walked out of the hall, and was gone.
Mum picked up the money and stared after him.
I didn’t know how I was going to tell Rob.
CHAPTER 35
By five o’clock the village hall was empty. There were some boxes of books and a bag of old clothes left, but we had sold most of the stuff.
Mum made a fresh pot of tea and we sat down to finish the rest of the cakes and total up the money. There were piles of it, coins stacked up and bags of notes. Rob and his dad joined us right at the end.
‘Well, the grand total is,’ said Hamish with a big grin, ‘one thousand, four hundred and sixty-two pounds and eight pence.’