by Tina Athaide
From the back, Akello called out, “He’s not the only one.”
Yesofu squashed even lower, wishing his desk could swallow him.
Asha twisted around. “We’re Ugandans. Just like you.” She clutched the edge of her desk, her hands trembling. “And we’re not going anywhere.”
“You are, Asha,” Akello shot back. “Amin is getting rid of all of you.”
Yesofu looked back and forth between his two friends—Asha and Akello—wondering how he could stop this battle without looking like he was taking sides.
“That’s enough!” Coach shouted.
“I don’t have to listen to you.” Akello jumped up. His chair fell and clattered on the floor.
Everyone stared at Akello. Coach’s jaw tightened. He pushed his way to the back of the class and grabbed Akello’s arm. “I said that’s enough.” His words were thick with anger. “This is a classroom. Not some cricket field.”
“Usiniguse!” Akello wrenched his arm free. “Don’t touch me!” He reached the door in two strides and paused. He locked eyes on Yesofu before walking out. “Goodbye, Indians.”
It was like Akello had sucked all the air out of the room.
Wham! Salim knocked over his chair and walked out.
Wham! Yasid did the same.
Wham! Wham! Wham! Other Africans left. Yesofu sat up straighter. He wanted to join Akello and the others, but he also couldn’t disrespect Coach—or leave Asha and Simon. Yesofu looked at the empty seats on the opposite side of the class. Should he go? Coach moved quickly and shut the door. It was too late. Only Yesofu and one other African remained. He shrank down in his seat.
Coach didn’t say anything more about President Amin or Indians having to leave.
“Open your books and get back to your math and geography.”
Yesofu nudged Asha’s chair with his foot, but she refused to look at him. He stared at his book, the words blurring into thin, black lines. He was wrong thinking he could juggle his two groups of friends.
Indian or African. Friends or family.
It didn’t matter which one he picked. He lost either way.
22
Asha
SCHOOL FINALLY ENDED, and Asha darted outside, desperate to escape the suffocating classroom. After Akello left, she’d tried to concentrate, but couldn’t. Akello had gone, but his words had stayed, hidden in the corners of the classroom like black mold—Amin is getting rid of all of you.
Asha glanced at the banyan tree where she and Yesofu usually met after school. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d walked home together. It had to be right before President Amin announced he wanted Indians to leave Uganda. She missed racing to see who could beat the other home to get first dibs on what Fara had waiting for tea. A group of kids walked by, laughing and talking. She hoisted her backpack onto her shoulder and started home.
Asha slowed as she rounded the corner onto Lugado Street and started counting the growing number of empty homes of Indians who had left. “Five, six, seven . . .” When she got to a dozen, she stopped, worried that the next house would be theirs. Was Akello right . . . was she next?
She thought about the two passports she had hidden inside the leather bag with her carrom game pieces, wondering if Papa’d looked for them after she’d left. Even if he hadn’t today, it was only a matter of time. Asha continued, and stopped when she reached Uma Auntie’s house. Leela and Neela’s aunt, Mr. Gupta’s sister, had lived next door to Asha’s family since Mama and Papa were first married. She’d left last week and gone back to Bombay. It was strange seeing her chair sitting empty on the front porch. Asha heard a rustling from the oleander bushes along the fence. Suddenly Yesofu jumped out and ran at her.
“Aghhhhhhhh!”
Asha yelped and nearly jumped out of her skin. She flung her backpack at him. “What are you doing here?”
Yesofu shrugged. “It’s been a while.”
Asha narrowed her eyes. “And whose fault is that?”
“I get it. You’re mad about Akello, but what did you want me to do?”
“Say something. Make him stop.” Asha paused and looked down. “Stand up for me.”
“How? What’d you want me to say?”
“Tell Akello he’s wrong.”
“It’s not that easy.”
Silence settled between them. Asha bent down to get her backpack, but Yesofu picked it up and swung it over his shoulder. She looked at him and took a deep breath. “I’m just scared that I’m going to have to leave Entebbe. This is my home.”
Yesofu didn’t say a word, but his eyes never left her face as he dropped both backpacks and wrapped his arms around her. It was better than anything he could have said. After a few seconds, he let go.
“What do you think Mamma’s cooked for tea?”
“Vegetable pakoras.” Asha smiled and then took off running. “Race you home,” she shouted over her shoulder.
It didn’t take long for Yesofu to catch up, and they ran into the garden at the same time. A loud bang caught Asha’s attention. “Did you hear that?” she asked.
Yesofu pointed to the servants’ house. “It came from over there.”
“But that door’s always locked.” Asha cautiously approached the shack. A few feet away, she stopped in her tracks. The door was open—just a crack.
Yesofu stumbled into her. “What’s wrong?”
“Look.” Asha pointed. “It’s open. No padlock.” She put her finger to her lips and continued through the dried twigs and leaves, treading carefully to avoid making any noise. Yesofu put his hand on her arm and she stopped.
“Let me go first.” He stepped around her and slowly crept up to the door. She followed closely behind, careful not to step on the backs of his sandals. They crouched outside and listened.
“I don’t hear anything.” Yesofu nudged the wooden door and it creaked open.
Asha peered over his shoulder. The front room was empty, but suddenly a noise—like someone moving around—came from the back room.
“Who’s there?” Yesofu called out.
Silence.
“Now what?” said Asha.
Yesofu gestured with his chin and stepped inside. Asha followed right behind. Light from outside poured through the open door into the empty room. She walked toward the back room.
“We know you’re in there,” said Yesofu. “Come out.”
Asha clasped the doorknob firmly and turned. The door was locked. She twisted again. The knob rattled. A loud crash came from the other side of the door. Asha leapt back. Yesofu reached out and grabbed her hand. They darted out of the shack, running back along the path. Asha struggled to keep up as they scrambled around the side of the house and onto the verandah. They sat on the steps, catching their breath, when a sudden rumble filled the air. The clank and grind of something big and mechanical, unlike any sound Asha’d heard before. She looked up as a military tank ground to a halt right in front of her house.
23
Yesofu
THE TANK RUMBLED and shook, rattling the windows. It was huge, with a long, narrow gun on top, three times the size of a cricket bat. Yesofu had seen tanks driving on the hills surrounding Kampala toward Makindye Prison. But never one in town. Definitely not this close.
Screeching tires swallowed his words. An open pickup truck swerved into the neighbor’s driveway where Leela and Neela’s aunt used to live. Before the truck came to a complete stop, soldiers, with rifles bouncing against their chests, jumped out and rushed up to the house. Yesofu’s heart pounded. Another soldier stepped into Asha’s yard. He wore a fierce expression and clutched the rifle strapped to his chest.
“You there!” He pointed at Asha. “Get your parents.”
Asha stood next to Yesofu staring at the soldier, barely breathing. He nudged her.
“Th-th-they’re not home.” Her voice squeaked like it was about to break.
The soldier took a step forward and pointed at her. “Come here.”
Yesofu went to
put his arm around Asha, but in that second, the soldier grabbed Asha, dragging her away. “Hey! What are you doing?”
“Nyamaza!” Yesofu obeyed and shut up. The soldier pulled Asha onto her tiptoes until his nose was inches from hers. “Where are they?”
“I—I—I don’t know.”
Asha’s voice shook so badly Yesofu could hardly understand her. He stared at the soldier, feeling a mix of hate and fear. He wanted to rush inside and get Mamma, but he was too afraid of what might happen if he looked away. “Mamma!” he shouted. There was no response from inside the house.
Yesofu could see Asha’s lower lip starting to tremble. He had to do something. The soldier had a tight grip on her arm and didn’t look like he was about to release her. Yesofu took a step closer. “Let her go!” He clenched his hands to stop his fingers from trembling. “She hasn’t done anything. You can’t come here and—”
The soldier shoved Asha to the ground. Yesofu rushed toward her. At that same moment, the screen door burst open and Mamma ran out, her springy collection of braids shaking from her haste. As Yesofu looked over at Asha, he felt a hand grab the back of his shirt. He was yanked so hard that his feet lifted right off the ground.
“Why are you helping these Indians?” the soldier demanded, his voice thick with disgust. He spat into the dirt.
“She’s my friend.” Yesofu took a breath and felt his confidence building.
The soldier leaned in, his face so close, Yesofu could smell his breath. It reeked of cigarettes and he almost gagged.
“You need to learn what it means to be African,” snarled the soldier.
Yesofu didn’t need a lesson in patriotism. Not from this guy. Yesofu felt himself being dragged out of the garden. He kicked his legs, digging his heels into the dirt. Twisting. Wriggling. Anything to escape. The soldier squeezed his arm hard. “Do you want me to break it off?”
“Let him go.”
It was Asha, her voice barely more than a whisper. Yesofu thought the soldier hadn’t heard. But then his head snapped in Asha’s direction.
“Shut up!” His eyes narrowed and the vein in his neck pulsed. “You’re a filthy Indian. The sooner you’re gone the better.”
Asha was standing now. Mamma walked over and pulled her closer like she was one of her own children. “You heard the girl. Let my son go.”
Yesofu knew that tone. Mamma meant business, but going up against this soldier was dangerous. Yesofu wriggled to get free, but the hold on him tightened. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash. The soldier had pulled out his gun.
24
Asha
ASHA GULPED AT the air as if each breath would fill her with the strength to rush forward and save Yesofu. Before she could move, the beeping of a horn punctured the tension. A wave of relief washed over her as Esi motored down the road. He’d make the soldiers leave. Esi screeched to a halt, inches from Mama’s roses, and jumped off his motorbike. He looked back and forth between Fara and the soldier holding Yesofu.
“Let him go,” Esi demanded.
“Stay out of this.” The soldier glared at Esi and twisted Yesofu’s arm.
Fara pulled Asha closer. “Go inside and get my bag.”
“I don’t want to leave.”
“Just do it!”
Fara’s face hardened, and Asha knew better than to argue. She ran to the kitchen. She snatched Fara’s woven bag off the nail where it always hung and darted back outside. The soldier still held Yesofu against him and was waving his gun around as he fired words at Esi.
“He’s my brother.” Esi pulled Yesofu out of the soldier’s grip. “Not a traitor.”
Esi and the soldier stood facing one another, their angry words blasting like bullets. Another soldier appeared. In one big stride, he stepped up to Esi and jabbed him in the shoulder.
Asha ran over and gave Fara her bag. She took it and walked straight up to the two soldiers. She said something Asha couldn’t hear and began rummaging in her bag. Fara held out her hand. The yelling stopped. The sun glittered off the shiny coins and bills in her palm. The soldier snatched the money from Fara’s hand and marched away.
“Let’s go!” The soldiers climbed onto the back of the pickup truck. The vehicles growled to life, and they drove off.
Asha hurried over to where Yesofu stood with Fara and Esi.
Before she could say anything, Esi grabbed Yesofu by the shirt collar and shook him. “Are you mad?”
Yesofu looked completely bewildered. “W-w-what do you mean?”
“Putting yourself in danger like that.” Esi glared at Yesofu. “What’s wrong with you?”
Asha stared at Esi. Her temper stirred and she had to bite down on her lips to stop her words from flying out of her mouth. Yesofu was only trying to help. That’s how he was. And Esi was the same way. If anyone should understand why Yesofu had stepped in to help her, she thought it would have been him. He’d done the same thing that day he pulled her out of the crowd in India Street when she got separated from Leela and Neela.
Esi shook Yesofu. “Do you know what could have happened?”
“I had to—” Yesofu swallowed. “He had Asha.”
“Leave him alone,” said Fara.
“No, Mamma!” Esi spoke fiercely. “This isn’t a game. These soldiers won’t think twice about who they kill.”
Fara came over and put her hand on Esi’s arm. “Enough. Let him go,” she said softly. She stood between all of them—Asha, Yesofu, and Esi. Then she sank to the ground, her dark eyes spilling with tears. Asha wanted to wrap her arms around her ayah.
“Usijali,” said Yesofu.
Fara wiped her eyes with the edge of her apron.
“Yesofu’s right. It’s okay.” Asha tried to keep the quiver of uncertainty out of her voice.
“No, we need to listen to Esi.”
“Nasikitika,” Yesofu said softly.
Asha wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to be sorry, but she had no words in her.
Fara pulled Asha and Yesofu to her, hugging them together in her usual way. But today it felt different, as if she might never let go.
30 Days
25
Asha
ASHA RAISED HER face to catch the slight breeze rustling through the branches of the jacaranda tree. It was lunch, and she sat with Simon, Leela, and Neela under the shade of the purple tree out on the school playground. So far Simon’s family hadn’t got their travel papers, but Asha knew it was only a matter of time. Not asking, or not knowing when, meant she could almost pretend he wasn’t leaving.
“Have you seen Yesofu?” Asha asked. She took a bite of her sweet mango slice.
“Yesofu,” sniffed Neela. “He’s just like the rest of them.”
Asha remembered how Yesofu had stood up to the soldier. “You’re wrong,” she snapped. “He’s different.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Leela. “Yesofu has been hanging out more with Yasid and Salim.”
Asha swallowed wrong and coughed—not Leela too.
“He can’t help it,” said Simon. “He has to stick with his own kind.” He popped his last bite in his mouth and licked his fingers. “Especially now.”
It didn’t matter what Simon said. She knew how Yesofu really felt. He wouldn’t have stepped in to help if he wasn’t really her friend. She drifted back into the conversation.
“President Amin isn’t just crazy.” Simon’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s a monster.”
“That’s rubbish,” said Neela, and kicked off her sandals, wriggling her pink polished toes.
Simon shook his head. “He makes people disappear.”
“What do you mean?” Asha leaned in closer.
“Amin arrests anyone he thinks is against him and then . . .” Simon swiped his finger across his neck and let his head fall to the side. “Their bodies are chopped up and fed to the crocodiles.”
“You’re making that up,” said Neela.
“It’s true,” said Simon.
&
nbsp; Asha shivered. It was well known that farther down the river, crocodiles lurked on the edges. Was Amin making people disappear? Was he throwing dead bodies into the lake? The thought made her sick to her stomach.
“But we don’t have to worry. Papa and his friends are sorting things out.” He nudged Asha with his elbow. “Right, Asha?”
“What?”
“You know . . .” Simon leaned closer. “Our dads are working with their friends against Amin, for good.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Neela said to Simon. “Daddy writes for the Uganda Argus. He’s not working against the president or anyone.”
“But he tells it like it is,” said Simon. “That makes the president mad.”
As Neela and Simon argued back and forth, Asha thought more about what Simon said. Papa disagreed with President Amin, but he wouldn’t put himself in danger. Or would he? It was odd he hadn’t said anything about the missing passports, but if he wasn’t thinking about leaving, then he wouldn’t need them. Was Simon right? Too dangerous. The words slammed into her head like a charging rhino.
The warning bell rang and kids started moving toward the school doors. As the crowds cleared, Asha spotted Yesofu walking toward the school with Akello. She hadn’t seen Akello since that day he stormed out. Things had been better between her and Yesofu with Akello not around. Hopefully he hadn’t changed his mind and decided to come back.
“Yesofu!” she called out.
He looked up and she waved. He tossed something in the bin and jogged over. Akello lingered a few feet behind him.
“Habari,” said Simon.
“What’s up?” said Yesofu.
“We’re talking about your president.” Neela tossed back her hair. “And how he’s killing people and chopping them up.”
“Where’d you hear that?” Yesofu glared at her.
“Simon,” said Neela.
“It’s a lie,” said Yesofu. “You make Dada Amin sound like a monster. He’s helping us.”
“You mean you.” Neela shook her head. “He’s not helping Indians. He’s ruining our lives.”