Ancestor Stones (35 page)

Outside I heard my neighbour calling. I didn't answer. I stayed where I was. Let her think I wasn't at home. She'd only be coming to bother me for the four cups of rice I borrowed from her the week before. Let her wait. She had plenty of rice. I had seen inside her storeroom myself. It was full of food. The Government had
warned against people who hoarded food, driving up the prices so everybody suffered.

While I waited for her to clear off, I searched for my umbrella and when the coast was clear I stepped out of the house.

I walked to town. I didn't have the money for transport. The rain was gone, replaced by the sun. I walked the whole way, carrying my umbrella aloft. When Lansana gave it to me I told him it was the widest one I had ever seen, and it was true. It provided me with a pool of shade to walk in.

With each step I felt the earrings swing against my face. Every so often I lifted my hand to my face to feel them again. I wished I'd brought the mirror with me so I could stop and look at them.

A tune came into my head and I hummed for a while as I walked. Then I remembered it was something my first husband used to whistle and I stopped. Both my first and second sons lived with him now, working in the butcher's trade. They didn't visit their mother as often as they should; I suspected him of turning them against me. But then they were as soft and foolish as him. Still, you can't throw away a bad child. They were my sons. I would always be their mother. The rest of it is up to God. Now Lansana, my Okurgba, my warrior — he'd made me proud. Followed my brother into the Army, where he had been promoted I don't know how many times. He wore stars on his shoulders and sent me gifts he paid for with his salary.

Outside the Contehs' house the awning had yet to be dismantled, though the chairs were gone. The opening of the house had been Wednesday past. I hadn't been invited. I could have gone anyway, but I chose not to. The Contehs didn't know it but I knew they whispered about me behind my back. That morning I would have liked them to see me pass, but the house was quiet. In fact, the street was empty. A thought came to me. I glanced around. I lowered the umbrella and rolled it up. I veered towards the front of the house. The thatch of banana leaves on top of the awning was already fading, the green bamboo poles that held it up had begun to blanch. Still nobody looking. I reached out and hooked the handle of the umbrella around the pole nearest to me, gave it a good yank.
I walked on. Behind me the awning lurched violently as one corner collapsed. Never looking over my shoulder, I raised the umbrella over my head, and walked on to the end of the street.

There was the petrol station where the bicycle taxis waited. I hadn't travelled that way in many months now. It wasn't such a comfortable way to travel but it was better than being on foot. Anything else was unaffordable. The price of petrol was always going up. Always going up. Nothing ever became cheaper. None of the boys leaning on their bicycles looked up as I passed. Well, I wasn't young any more.

In front of the covered market I slowed my pace a little, just to see what was on offer. I had a few things to buy, but that would have to wait until the end of the day, when the traders were willing to drop their prices just to be rid of the stuff. Other times I went to market in the early morning. The stall holders liked to treat their first customer well. Not for the customer's benefit, I should add, only because they thought it boded well for the rest of the day.

Ahead of me two women entered Asana's fabric store. I wondered whether she was in town or travelling. Who would choose such a life? No husband, no time to talk even. Always busy, working herself into the ground. Well, I suppose she didn't have any brothers. But really, she should have had more sons. I bought the cloth for my dress there the last time she was out of town. Seven yards of brocade. The girl in the shop — who did she think she was? — looked as though she was about to refuse me credit until I reminded her I was family. I passed by on the other side of the road, deciding against going in. Wait until Lansana was home and then we'd go in together.

I imagined us walking down the street. Him so broad shouldered and handsome. Many months had passed since he'd been given leave. In all that time I had not heard from him, I could only imagine what duties he was undertaking. Who knew where in the country he might be, some place without a post office. And you know, sometimes they didn't allow them to write, especially when the mission was important or secret.

Rain was threatening, a dark cloud rose up behind the mosque,
though the sun still shone. The light shimmered, catching the white robes of the men gathered at the front of the building after midday prayers. Women, dressed in all manner of colours, made their way from the back door. Some people were waiting to cross the road by the roundabout, others stood about in clutches exchanging greetings at the same time as they eyed one another up and down. I slipped into the crowd, mingling, nodding to this person and that person, enjoying the looks that came my way. And sure enough presently I saw somebody I did know: the woman who was once my mother-in-law, in a manner of speaking. Remember Khalil? The one who betrayed me? His mother.

Well, I'm telling you now — it couldn't have been better. I turned away and strolled on a short distance. When I felt her close behind me, I swung around like I had suddenly remembered something.

‘Aunty!' I said, as though she was the last person on earth I expected to see there.

‘Hawa,' she nodded. She would have liked to move on, but I was blocking her path.

‘I hope you are well?' Or some such irrelevance.

‘As you see me, by God's grace.'

‘And the family?' I persisted, though I noticed she made no enquiry as to my own health.

‘They are all well.' She glanced over my shoulder, wanting to get away. But I was not finished yet. The thing about niceties is that there is no end to them. I asked after every member of the family by name. She took no care to elaborate on her replies. Then I mentioned Khalil's name. She looked at me directly, then. Suspicious eyes flickered over my face for a moment, until she caught sight of the earrings. I smiled and put my hand up to touch them.

‘A gift from my son,' I told her.

‘Very nice.' Thin lips stretched tight into a smile, a mouth like a rubber band.

‘Solid gold. Twenty-four carat.' She was silent. ‘Bought with his salary, you know. He is in the Army. A Major. A promotion, another one.' I wasn't sure if that was correct, but it didn't matter.
And maybe I should have stopped there. ‘He'll be coming home soon. On leave.'

‘Well, I am glad to see you are so well. Until next time, Hawa.' And she stepped around me, which was annoying because I had wanted to be the first one to walk away. Still, the victory was mine.

I moved off in the other direction. There were still a good number of people outside the mosque, the imam among them in a long purple coat over his robes. I raised my umbrella over my head as I turned down a side street, passing the stalls selling second-hand electrical goods and suchlike, to where the Syrian traders — Lebanese, they were called now — had their shops. Looking about me I ducked into the nearest entrance.

The man behind the counter, shouting at somebody at the back of the shop, stopped the instant he saw a finely dressed woman enter and smiled at me.

‘Good day, madam,' he said. That was how impressive I looked. I moved closer to the counter, underneath the dusty glass of which lay many pieces of jewellery, mostly gold.

‘How much for the gold?' I asked.

‘To buy?'

‘No, to sell.'

‘What carat?'

‘Twenty-four,' I told him. He raised his eyebrows.

‘Show me.'

I slipped my earrings off and dropped them into his outstretched hand. Oh, it was a difficult thing for me to do. He weighed them in his hand, scratched the surface with a dirty thumbnail and shook his head.

‘This is not twenty-four carat.'

I looked back at him. ‘Eighteen then,' I said confidently. Still good.

He shook his head at that, and dropped them into a small set of scales. ‘Where did these come from?'

I decided not to mention my son. Not because I had anything to hide, but because these days too many people were saying bad things about soldiers, about the things they were doing. He would
try to pretend they had been looted and use that to offer me an even poorer price.

‘Left to me by my mother,' I replied.

Nine carat! Can you believe it? Of course he was taking advantage, but what was I to do? I didn't bother to thank him. I took the money and put it in my purse. As soon as Lansana came home we would come back here and give that thief back his money. Redeem my earrings for the measly sum he gave me.

Outside the shop I stepped into a doorway for a few moments to adjust my headdress so that it covered my ears. A few people were still standing around by the mosque. I kept my chin high as I walked by. I could feel their eyes upon me. I looked neither to one side nor the other, but straight ahead, to the bicycle stand, and gave one of the fellows there my address. In full view of the lot of them I climbed on behind him and we rode away.

I felt the wind in my face. I sat sideways on the parcel shelf with my ankles crossed, feeling as demure as a girl out with a suitor. I felt something I had not felt for a long time.

I remembered the last time Lansana had come home, bringing with him a cassette player. He liked to listen to it all day, morning, noon and night. He took baths and changed his clothes, sometimes several times a day. Then sat back down, tapping his fingers or his foot on the floor, turning the cassette over every time one side finished. To tell the truth the noise got on my nerves: the repetitive sound of some man's voice. One evening I asked him to turn it down. I had to raise my voice over the sound of the music, if that is what you could call it. I repeated myself once, twice. The third time Lansana suddenly swung around and faced me. For a moment he looked furious, I wondered if he had been asleep, dreaming, and I had woken him up. But then his face softened and he smiled. He stood up and grasped both my hands and swung me around, and had me dance with him to that terrible music. Yes, I really did. I danced.

I would not have that feeling of joy again for years to come. After that day when I was forced to sell my earrings, I waited for Lansana as long as I could. By then the girl had gone, I saw the
people fleeing all around me, I was too afraid to wait any longer. I pushed three of my dresses into a plastic bag, that was all, there was no food in the house. We followed the footpaths to the main road, passing villages emptied of people. I saw a lad I knew, a salt seller, walking in the other direction. ‘Be careful, Ma,' he warned me. They were shooting northerners at the checkpoints.

When I reached there I listened carefully to the answers people ahead of me gave. My turn came, I bowed my head, I muttered the name of the same town in the South. The soldier demanded the name of the headman, he narrowed his eyes: yellow eyes, dark at the core. I supplied it, giving the name I had just overheard, and passed through. My son is a soldier, I wanted to tell him. He's in the Army. Perhaps you know him. But I dared not, I kept my head down and carried on walking.

There were no lorries. But there were more checkpoints, each time we passed through another the risk grew. So we left the road and walked through the trees, standing in the shadows whenever we heard people on the path. We were close enough to hear them, to smell them. It was impossible to tell one side from the other, soldiers from rebels, they all looked the same.

Once, a long time later, in the displacement camp, a consignment of food had arrived. All the women gathered around holding their plastic cups and measures, waiting to be given their own share. We had waited a long time for this food. But when the crates were opened there was none. A mix-up. The boxes were full of lipsticks, hundreds of them, in their gold coloured cases. The men in blue helmets immediately surrounded the vehicle and prepared for a riot. All of us had such hunger in our bellies. But a moment later they pushed back their helmets and lowered their sunglasses, to make sure what they were seeing was really true. The women rushed forward, myself among them, to snatch up these shining lipsticks. The many miles between us and our lost homes, our rotting feet, the grass and leaves with which we had tried to line our stomachs, the emptiness of the future: for a short while all was forgotten. We stood in the sun, laughing and ribbing each other, painting our mouths in vivid colours.

But all that was yet to come. For a few moments more I lifted my head up and savoured the sensation of riding on the bicycle, of people watching me from the sides of the street. We freewheeled down the main road, swerving to avoid the potholes, which somehow made it all the more enjoyable. And once we were around the corner and out of sight I tapped the fellow on the shoulder and got off the bicycle. Told him I had changed my mind and walked the rest of the way home.

When I reached the house the girl was there waiting for me, leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed. She smiled at me, lips closed — and did not stir herself to come help with my packages, but watched me as I walked towards her. She didn't move even when I was inches from her, practically nose to nose. She was grinning openly by that time. Turning my body slightly sideways, I was forced to squeeze past her.

As I did so I reached for the box of sugar cubes in my bag. I dropped it into her hand. And watched the smile fall off her face.

Some people say he is living in America, that lots of soldier boys went there. To the land that created the blue jeans and trainers and rapper singers they love so much. I must confess though, I have a daydream about him, a new one. That perhaps one day he will read my story, there will be a knock on the door and there he will be, in his uniform, with white gloves and shining buttons as smart as the day I went to see him on parade. His eyes will glow with happiness, not glitter with the unfathomable anger that seemed to possess him towards the end. And I will hold out my arms: ‘Lansana,' I will say. Perhaps I will cry, I won't be able to help myself, it has been so long. And he will hug me and say something, anything, in the teasing way he did whenever he wanted to make me smile. And there I'll be, laughing and crying at the same time, as I step aside to let him in.