The Garbage King

by Elizabeth Laird

  The yellow shirt was at the top and Million handed it straight to Mamo. After that came a blue T-shirt, which went to Getachew, then a pair of black cotton trousers which Million put aside for himself.

  A small hand crept into Dani’s. It was Karate’s, who was watching the share-out with painful anxiety, sucking in his breath with longing and admiration as each item came into view. But when first one white trainer and then another emerged, he dropped Dani’s hand.

  ‘Shoes! Shoes!’ he crowed, and clapped.

  Shoes solemnly took the trainers and forced his bare calloused feet into them.

  ‘They fit me,’ he said, and delight filled his eyes, overflowing into his whole face.

  Dani had hated seeing his things being given away, and had been praying silently for Million to stop and hand his bag back to him, but he couldn’t resist the happiness in the skinny boy’s face. A new feeling, joyful, generous and reckless, was growing inside him.

  ‘There’s a sweater in there that would fit him,’ he said, lifting his chin towards Buffalo, ‘and please can Karate have the short-sleeved shirt?’ He smiled down at the little boy. ‘You’ll really like that one. It’s got pictures of elephants all over it.’

  Mamo lay awake for a long time that night, looking up at the stars as they slowly wheeled across the black sky. Suri, tucked into the crook of his arm, stirred and snuffled from time to time, gripped in a doggy dream, and her little movements sent waves of warmth and tenderness coursing up Mamo’s arm.

  Mamo couldn’t believe how everything had changed in two short days. Only forty-eight hours ago he’d been running like a hunted animal through the vast dark countryside. His feet and shins still smarted from the cuts and bruises of his escape. In spite of Yohannes’s mother’s nursing, he was still feeling, too, the after-effects of the poison. Every now and then a wave of nausea and dizziness came over him and he had to stop and wait until it passed.

  But he’d made it! He’d done it! He was free!

  Sometimes, during the past day, he’d been so overwhelmed with joy, with the relief of being rid of his hated master, that he’d almost wanted to leap about. But his mood had a funny way of swinging down again whenever he thought about the future.

  He’d lost Tiggist. He had no family. He was alone in the world with no one to care if he lived or died, no one to feed him or look after him if he was sick. At least, I was alone, he thought, turning his head to look along the row of dark heads, at the formless shapes wrapped in a dusty collection of old blankets and shammas. But I won’t be any more if they let me stay with them.

  The thought should have cheered him up, but it didn’t.

  What are they? Only godana. Street kids, he thought contemptuously.

  He’d never imagined it would come to this. This was as low as you could go. There was nowhere to fall to from here.

  And I’m lucky, he told himself, to have met up with Getachew on my very first day back, and to get in with Million, too.

  He’d watched Million carefully all afternoon and evening, trying to understand him. Million was up and down a bit, frowning sternly one minute, as if he felt a sudden need to show he was boss, then just being one of the others the next. There’d been almost a party atmosphere when Dani had shared the stuff out of his bag. Everyone had tried on the clothes and preened themselves, looking over their shoulders to get the effect from the back, stroking the clean expensive material, pointing and laughing at each other and looking gratefully at Dani, who, after his first reluctance, had suddenly seemed not to care any more but had given away everything, right down to his socks.

  Mamo, inspired by his new yellow shirt, had pulled Dani’s baseball cap down over his eyes, struck a pose, and sung his favourite song.

  ‘We’re the survivors! Yes!

  The black survivors!’

  ‘Black survivors,’ Dani had said in Amharic, with a twisted smile.

  ‘Why do you say that?’ Mamo asked. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s what you said. The words of the song are in English. That’s what it means in Amharic, ‘‘black survivors’’. Didn’t you know?’

  Mamo stared at him.

  ‘I just copied them. I never knew what they meant.

  Can you really do English?’ Dani shrugged.

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Read it and everything?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Million had been listening, eyes a little narrowed. Mamo could see he was impressed, that he was thinking out how Dani could be useful.

  But then Getachew had started prancing about.

  ‘Look at me! I’m like a black American. Hey, Rasta! Give me five!’

  He held up his hand and Shoes obligingly slapped it.

  ‘Go on singing, Mamo,’ Karate said. ‘I really like it.’

  After dark, Million had left Buffalo on their pitch to guard their blankets and had led the others to a restaurant further down the road. They’d planned to spend the evening in front of it, begging from the customers and offering to guard their cars for a few cents, but another group of boys had got there first, and they had to move away, settling like a row of dusty grey crows on a wall a little way further on. Much later, they’d gone round to the restaurant’s back entrance.

  Mamo had been amazed. Food, good food was being thrown away! Fine injera, and fried lamb, and beef bones with meat still clinging to them! They’d all had some, and Million had taken a share back to Buffalo too.

  Dani had been strange and silent all evening. Mamo had watched him. He’d held back from the others while they were waiting at the side of the restaurant, not joining them on the wall, but standing apart in the shadows, looking hunched and miserable. When the cooks had come out with the spare food, and put it in the bins, he’d followed at a distance, and when Mamo had looked back at him over his shoulder, he’d thought Dani was going to be sick. Then Getachew had turned and offered him a handful of injera, and he’d suddenly lunged forwards, grabbed it and bolted it in one gulp, like a dog or a hyena. After that, he’d been like the rest of them, scrabbling for what he could get.

  Karate, who was lying on the other side of Dani, started coughing. None of the others stirred. Even Dani, who was next to Mamo and who had been shifting around restlessly for a long time, didn’t move.

  The coughing fit lasted for ages, racking the little boy, who levered himself up on one elbow through the worst of it, then lay back, exhausted.

  Mamo’s mind was slowing down at last, moving towards sleep, but then he heard Dani’s low voice, speaking to Karate.

  ‘Are you OK, Karate?’

  ‘Yes.’ The voice was no more than a croak.

  ‘That’s a bad cough.’

  ‘I know. It’s got worse. Million’s going to get me some medicine.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘What’s your name, your real name?’ Mamo heard Dani whisper.

  ‘I don’t know. My mother probably told me, but she died before I could talk properly and I can’t remember.’

  ‘Who looked after you?’

  ‘Some other mothers. They were godana too. They picked me up when the van came to take my mother away to the cemetery. They called me Wondemu, but they said it wasn’t my real name.’

  ‘Where are they now, those mothers?’

  ‘Gone. One of them, the nicest one, got sick. She died. She had a bad cough, like me. The others just left. I got really sick then. I was on my own. Then Million found me. He took me to the clinic. He said I could stay with him. I’m really useful, Million says. I’m a good beggar. People like little kids. They give me more than the others.’

  Mamo smiled at the pride in his voice.

  ‘You like Million, don’t you?’ whispered Dani.

  ‘He’s the best,’ Karate said, ‘except when he gets drunk. I thought he was going to buy tej this evening, after you gave us all your clothes, but he didn’t. It’s nice at first when he drinks, but then he gets angry and I get scared. He doesn’t usually let me drin
k tej. He will when I’m older. But I have a bit sometimes. I really like tej. It warms you all the way through. They made me drink a lot once, just for a laugh, and I got really drunk. I can’t remember but they said I was so funny. They tried to make me dance but I just fell over.’

  He giggled, but his giggle turned to a cough. When he stopped at last he said, ‘I like you a lot, Dani. And my shirt. It’s my best thing I’ve ever had.’

  A little later, just as he was drifting at last into sleep, Mamo was aware that beside him Dani was silently crying.

  Long after Mamo had fallen asleep, Dani lay awake. The row of other boys, sleeping peacefully on the hard pavement, seemed inured to the discomfort. He couldn’t understand why they weren’t shivering with cold, like he was, and how they could relax against the brutal hardness of the ground, which was making him ache all over.

  He couldn’t get Karate’s story out of his mind. His mother had died right there on the street with her baby clinging to her. How long had it been before someone had noticed, and taken Karate away? Had he sat there on his own for hours and hours?

  Karate had snuggled up against him, and Dani saw that he’d put his thumb in his mouth. In spite of the awful germs that must be streaming out of the child’s mouth with every breath he exhaled, Dani was too grateful for the warmth of the skinny little body to draw himself away. He was warmed also by Karate’s friendliness.

  He wasn’t so sure about any of the others. Million was unpredictable. He might accept Dani into the group, or turn him out at any minute. Getachew seemed OK, though he wasn’t sure if he could trust him. There was something strange about Shoes. He’d been almost hysterical when he’d got Dani’s trainers, dancing and leaping as if he was possessed, but later he’d withdrawn, and become silent and distant, as if he was miles away. There was a funny smell about Shoes too, like petrol. He had a rag in his pocket, and every now and then he took it out and sniffed it.

  Buffalo was scary. He was thin, like all of them, but built like a bull, with heavy shoulders and a low brow. He still had some growing to do, but he’d be a big man one day, a strong man. He exuded a sullen anger which only lifted when he spoke to Million. The acquisition of a sweater from Dani’s bag had drawn a brief smile from him, but it hadn’t lasted long.

  I’ll have to be careful, thought Dani. I’d better not get on the wrong side of him.

  He shut his eyes and tried once more to go to sleep but Karate’s story was in his head again. Only now it wasn’t little Wondemu who was clinging to the dead mother, it was little Dani. Dani was the one now who was wandering through the streets, abandoned by all the mothers, glad to be taken in under the wing of a ragged tribe of godana.

  12

  Having fallen deeply asleep only a couple of hours before dawn, Dani could hardly open his eyes when the others started to get up, to fold into a pile their thin coverings, and begin to yawn and stretch. Even lying on the hard cold ground seemed at that moment more attractive than sitting up and facing whatever new horrors the day would bring.

  He had no choice, however. The rest of the group was moving closely all round him, threatening to tread on him, and Karate was tugging at his shoulder.

  ‘You’ve got to wake up, Dani. The police will be out soon.’

  Dani sat up with a jerk. He felt terrible, with a thick head and a sour taste in his mouth, but at least his mind was working again.

  The other boys were squatting in a line on the kerbstone above the gutter, down which a thin stream of water was trickling. It was coming from a bar nearby, where the owner was sluicing out his floor. The boys were scooping the water up in their hands to wash their faces.

  No, thought Dani. I can’t. Not in the gutter.

  But Mamo was looking round at him, surprised, and Karate was beckoning to him.

  ‘Hurry up, Dani. It’ll all be gone in minute.’

  Dani stood up slowly, shaking out his stiff limbs. He brushed at his clothes with his hands, trying to shift the worst of the dust, then walked slowly towards the row of boys. As he’d hoped, the water had stopped running.

  I’ll get a proper wash later, he promised himself. I’ll slip away from the others and find somewhere. They can’t expect me to wash in street water like that. People like me don’t.

  The group seemed in no hurry to start the day. They ambled back towards the wall and sat down against it, getting up one by one to disappear round the corner to the patch of rough ground they used as a toilet. Dani had to steel himself before he went there, but this morning, somehow, it was easier than last night.

  At least warmth was beginning to flow back into his cramped arms and legs. The sun was rising over the city streets and its rays were already deliciously hot.

  Million shared out a hoard of bread rolls that he’d kept back from the restaurant bins the night before, and sent Shoes off to the bar to beg for some clean water. He came back with two old plastic bottles.

  Dani felt a little better after he’d eaten some bread and drunk some water. At least now he knew to wait his turn, not to drink more than his share, or bolt his bread down. He was pleased with himself too, for avoiding a wash in the gutter.

  I won’t beg, whatever Million says, he told himself. I just won’t. I don’t care what any of them do to me. He felt indignation stirring him. Who is Million, anyway? Just an ignorant, illiterate tramp. Why should he tell me what to do?

  Surreptitiously, he poured a bit of the drinking water from the bottle into the palm of one hand and splashed it on his face. It didn’t wash it much, but the coldness made him more alert.

  ‘What are we doing today, Million?’ Karate asked, picking at a scab on his knee. He looked tired and heavy-eyed this morning, and was resting his head on his hands.

  Million pursed his lips.

  ‘It’s a public holiday today. No point in begging downtown. Too few people about.’ He fished in his pocket and pulled out a couple of Dani’s coins. ‘Mamo, go and buy some soap. There’s a kiosk just round the corner. Two small bars. We’ll go down to the river and wash. Do our clothes as well.’

  Karate shivered.

  ‘It’ll be cold by the river. I’m freezing already.’

  ‘Not you,’ Million said. ‘Buffalo’s taking you to the clinic.’

  Dani was too relieved about not having to beg, and pleased at the idea of a wash, to think about what the river would be like, but when he’d followed the others down a steep path and found himself standing on a broad flat stone, with the water gurgling sluggishly past his feet, he was astonished. He’d often driven across the bridges that spanned the many gulleys in Addis Ababa without even realizing that streams ran beneath them.

  The others were already stripping off their clothes, down to their underpants. Reluctantly, Dani did the same. He’d always hated being undressed in public, at school, for sports, or at the swimming pool. He knew everyone was secretly laughing at his round shoulders, big tummy and unmuscular legs. He looked sideways at the others. They were all thin, their shoulder blades sticking out as sharp as fins from their backs, but they were wiry too, their flesh lean and hard with muscle.

  To his relief none of them were looking at him. They were politely keeping their eyes away from each other’s nakedness.

  The water was icy and made Dani gasp aloud. The others were squatting down, scooping up water in their cupped hands and dousing their heads and bodies, then soaping themselves all over. Dani forced himself to do the same. To his surprise, after the initial shock, the water didn’t seem so cold. He’d never cared much about washing before, and Zeni had even had to bully him sometimes to take a shower, but then he’d never been really dirty. It was a pleasure to get the grit out of his hair, the stickiness off his hands and face, and the itchy sweatiness off his body. Although his teeth were chattering, he soaped and rinsed himself twice all over.

  The others, who had put the new clothes they’d got from Dani to one side, were already dousing their old shirts and trousers in the water and rubbing at them wi
th the soap. Dani had never washed clothes before, but he copied them, soaping, rinsing and squeezing like they did. Then, like them, he spread his things out on nearby bushes to dry.

  The job done, they all squatted down on the stones near the water’s edge, shivering less as the sun began to dry them.

  Dani had been trying to ignore the rank, fetid, rotten smell that was wafting down from a huge pile of garbage at the top of the bank, but Million stood up after a while and began to climb up towards it. Getachew, Mamo and Shoes, only half dressed, followed him.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Dani called out to Getachew, who was the last to go.

  ‘To look for stuff. You’ll see,’ Getachew said over his shoulder.

  Disgusted, Dani saw that they had stopped at the rubbish pile and were poking around in it. Million had been bending over, but he stood up and was frowning down at Dani.

  Resentfully, Dani stood up and walked slowly up towards the garbage pile. The smell was worse here, really disgusting. There were old bones mixed up with cabbage stalks and fruit and all kinds of other sludgy stuff, but in the drier bits there were piles of what looked like rags and old tins, the rusty springs of a mattress, broken boxes and pieces of plastic.

  The others were already working efficiently. Shoes had picked up a plastic bag and was putting bruised bananas into it. Now he was turning over a pile of rags.

  In spite of himself, Dani started to be interested. What was that blue thing over there? Part of a broken bucket? A punctured ball? A lamp shade? He went across and picked it up. It was only a plastic jug, its sides split right down to the base. But underneath it was an exercise book. The cover was smeared with ash and dirt, but when he picked it up and leafed through it, he saw that only a few leaves had been used. There was page after page of empty lined paper.

  He looked round. Mamo’s bag was already half full. Getachew had found an old sock. Million was peering into a large green bottle. Shoes didn’t seem to have got very far. He was looking down dreamily into his plastic bag.