Figgy and the President

by Janu,Tamsin

  Melanie and David came to the second rehearsal too. Melanie complained about the heat a lot, and kept walking away to sit in front of the fan. After she had walked off five times, David threw his hands in the air and said a very rude word. I gazed at him, my mouth open. He begged me not to tell anyone what he had said and gave me lots and lots of candy.

  By the time my eleventh birthday came around, I almost felt like a real actress.

  We can’t afford to give big presents in my family, but I love my birthday. Not only am I a whole year older, but for a few weeks I am the same age as Nana. That annoys him a lot.

  For my birthday Uncle Philmond, Grandma Ama and Adwoa put their money together to buy me a chicken. Her feathers were an orangey brown and she laid eggs. I named her Penny, an Obruni name I had seen in a book at school, and I tied a long string around her tummy so she could walk around with me.

  Mama gave me a beaded bracelet. It must have taken her a long time to make, because Mama’s hands were very unsteady; a few days beforehand she had tried to drink her tea without help and her hands shook so much she dropped the cup in her lap and burned her thighs. After Grandma Ama had tied the bracelet around my wrist I kissed Mama for the first time, on her cheek.

  Perhaps the best present I received was from Kofi. He couldn’t come to celebrate my birthday because he was working, but he had rented a tro tro for the day, to take my family and friends to the beach. Kofi is the businessman who helped me and Nana two years ago, when Grandma Ama was sick and we were trying to find medicine to make her better. Kofi lives far away, in Tamale, but Nana and I write him letters and he sometimes comes to visit.

  I used to be the only Figgy I knew but Kofi’s daughter Mia named her baby Figgy, after me. Kofi sometimes sends me pictures of the other Figgy. They make me feel very proud.

  When Grandma Ama told us about the tro tro and the beach we bounced around, squealing. Until Grandma Ama said we were giving her an earache and if we were not quiet she would cane us all.

  ‘We know you won’t cane us,’ Nana said, patting Grandma Ama on her head, ‘especially not on Figgy’s birthday. But we will be quiet anyway, because we love you.’

  Grandma Ama muttered that Nana was a ‘cheeky boy’ as she got to her feet. I followed her into the kitchen. It smelled strongly of spicy jollof rice, which was cooking in a big pot on the stove. I pulled a knife from the drawer and began cutting up the bread.

  ‘Grandma Ama?’

  ‘Yes, Figgy.’

  ‘Can Mama come to the beach with us?’

  Grandma Ama stopped stirring to look at me. She was wearing her bright orange dress with blue swirls, my favourite one, and her hair was wrapped in a turban. She sighed. ‘Your mama is very sick. We have to be careful not to harm her or the baby.’

  ‘But she has hardly moved since she got here! She must be very bored.’

  Mama got up when she had to use the bathroom, and she had walked around the courtyard a few times, leaning heavily on Adwoa. Other than that she spent all day in bed. Living like that would be very dull. I can’t stay inside for more than two hours without getting grumpy.

  Grandma Ama went back to her stirring. ‘We will see how she feels.’

  Mama insisted that she was well enough to come. I thought she would – Grandma Ama says that Mama is very stubborn, like me.

  Grandma Ama was not happy about it. She came out of the house wearing a big frown, with a bag of food under each arm and her turban tilted. She snapped at Perpetua when she tried to help her with the bags and told Kwesi and Nana that if they were not quiet she would leave them at home and make them scrub the floors. I had to punch Nana in the arm, three times, to stop him from talking and getting himself into more trouble. I didn’t want him to stay at home. A birthday trip without Nana would be very sad and quiet.

  We drove around the village to pick up my friends. Even Jeffenick was allowed to come – his mama and papa had given him a day off work. Once everyone was on the tro tro Nana stood on his seat and faced our passengers.

  During the past few weeks Nana had been making speeches about everything. As practice for when he becomes the President. Every time he said a speech he made big gestures with his arms, waving them this way and that. He tells me that big hand movements help to persuade your audience to support your ideas.

  Nana opened his arms wide. ‘Good morning, dear friends,’ he said. Perpetua groaned – she always complains about Nana’s speeches. ‘Thank you for choosing to celebrate this special day with Figgy.’ He whirled his arm dramatically before pointing at me. I lowered my head. I was embarrassed. ‘When I first met Figgy she was only eight years old, a little girl in …’

  The speech went on for a long time. Nana obviously hadn’t listened to Grandma Ama’s advice that the best speeches are short and snappy. I was distracted by Grandma Ama and Adwoa, who were sitting in the row in front of us and whispering urgently to one another. They kept glancing at Mama, who was smiling but whose head was resting against the window. I was worried that they were worried.

  As soon as we got off the tro tro we ran down to the water and splashed around. Nana and my friend Felicia went out much deeper than the rest of us. In my family only Grandma Ama and Nana can swim well, because they were born in coastal villages. Esi clung to my hand and whimpered every time a wave washed over her. When she started crying, because of the water in her eyes, I took her back to the shore to sit with Grandma Ama, Adwoa and Mama.

  We moved to the rocks. My friend Ridwan untangled a reel of fishing twine that someone had left in a rock pool. ‘I’m going to catch dinner for my papa,’ he said. We ran around to find something he could use as bait.

  I was having an argument with Nana over whether or not he was telling the truth about having just seen an octopus, when Jeffenick pointed at the big fishing boats in the distance. They were being pulled on to the shore with thick ropes. Floods of men and boys hopped on and off the boats, carrying buckets and nets.

  ‘My cousin worked on one of those boats,’ Jeffenick said. ‘His papa sold him to a fisherman.’

  I was shocked. ‘Can you sell a person?’

  ‘You can, but it is against the law,’ Nana said. ‘In my old village, Duma, there was a man who bought kids to work for him. But he was sent to gaol.’

  It didn’t sound right to sell and buy people, like they were a bag of rice. The people who did such things must be very bad.

  ‘Fishing looks like hard work,’ I said.

  Jeffenick nodded. ‘And it is dangerous for kids. The nets used to catch the fish can get caught on rocks at the bottom of the sea. And the fishermen make boys dive down and untangle them. That is how my cousin died.’ Jeffenick rubbed the back of his neck. ‘He got caught in a net when he was trying to untangle it from the rocks. And he drowned.’

  I couldn’t imagine swimming to the bottom of the deep, dark sea. Poor Jeffenick, and his poor cousin. Jeffenick’s family had the worst luck.

  Nana slung an arm over Jeffenick’s shoulder. ‘When I’m the President of Ghana, no kid will have to work. They will all go to school and be happy.’

  ‘Kids like me have to work, or we’ll have nothing to eat,’ Jeffenick said.

  Nana grinned. ‘I’ll fix that when I’m the President. You’ll see.’

  Jeffenick shrugged Nana’s arm off his shoulder. ‘You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,’ he said. Then he walked off to join the rest of the group.

  Nana looked like he might cry. I didn’t know what to say to him. So I took his hand and pulled him back to the others.

  Ridwan hadn’t caught any fish yet, Perpetua and Kwesi were arguing, and my friend Rhodaline had cut her hand on a rock and was soaking up the blood with her tunic. And when I looked to the shore I saw Esi jumping up and down and waving her hands in the air, signalling that we should come back.

  Mama wasn’t feeling well, so Grandma Ama decided that we should go home. I took Grandma Ama’s arm as we walked across the sand – she seemed even more
unsteady on her feet than usual.

  The tro tro ride was quick and Mama was soon tucked into her bed at Adwoa’s house. I found Grandma Ama in the kitchen, drinking a cup of tea with a shaky hand and gazing out of Adwoa’s grubby kitchen window.

  ‘If Mama is so sick, shouldn’t we take her to the hospital?’ I said.

  Grandma Ama looked at me, her eyes droopy and sad. ‘No. The Doctor is coming. Your mama will be well.’

  That made me angry. ‘But I hate The Doctor! He will make Mama worse!’

  ‘That is not nice, Figgy.’

  ‘You need to take her to the hospital!’

  Grandma Ama slammed down her cup. ‘She cannot go.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Grandma Ama walked away from me, to the stove. I followed her, tears welling up in my eye. I didn’t understand. Taking Mama to the hospital would be expensive, but we would find a way to pay for it. We had managed to when Grandma Ama was sick two years ago.

  I tugged on the back of Grandma Ama’s dress until she turned to face me. She was crying, and she took my hands.

  ‘I love your mama very much, Figgy. But we cannot take her to the hospital.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘If we do, she will be sent to gaol.’

  CHAPTER 7

  A BAD MAMA

  Grandma Ama didn’t tell me why Mama would be sent to gaol. She said I didn’t need to know. That the bad things Mama had done were in the past, and she was making better choices now. But how could Grandma Ama be sure?

  I didn’t like that my mama had done bad things.

  The Doctor from my village came to examine Mama. I glared at him, like I always do. He just laughed, and patted me on the head. Which made me angry, because it was not the right time or place to be laughing or patting. He told Grandma Ama and Adwoa that the most important thing was to keep the baby in Mama’s belly for as long as possible.

  Mama was tired when I said goodnight. She whispered that she was sorry she had ruined my birthday. I didn’t say anything back.

  I took Penny along to school the next day, as a reward for laying a special double-yolked egg that morning. I carried her when she refused to walk beside me. Nana and I trailed behind my cousins; Nana was thinking of ways he could apologise to Jeffenick for upsetting him at the beach. He had been talking about it all morning.

  ‘… I could pick him some flowers, you know the ones he likes that grow in the field next to the markets? Or I could give him the candy Uncle Philmond left with us. I have eaten all of mine, but don’t you have some left over from your birthday?’

  Nana waited for my response, which didn’t come. So he stopped walking and looked at me with his head cocked to the side. ‘Figgy, have I been talking to myself? Or are you too worried about your mama to listen?’

  Nana had said before that I could tell him anything. Even the sad stuff. So I told him about my conversation with Grandma Ama the previous night. I was expecting him to be as shocked and disappointed as I was that my mama had done bad things.

  But he just shrugged and said, ‘It is sad she cannot go to the hospital because of that.’

  I scrunched my hands into fists. ‘Don’t you see what this means? My mama is bad!’

  ‘My papa is bad,’ Nana said. ‘That doesn’t mean I’m bad too. You always tell me that.’

  He was right. I did always tell him that. But it was hard to take my own advice when the one with the bad parent was me.

  I looked down at Nana’s scuffed shoes as he continued speaking.

  ‘But I don’t know if your mama really is bad. She is poor, and being poor can make good people do bad things. Do you remember my friend Chicken, from the orphanage?’

  I nodded. Nana and I had visited his former orphanage a couple of years ago. Chicken was a tall and quiet girl who was kind to us.

  ‘Chicken was very poor before she went to the orphanage. Once, when she hadn’t eaten for a long time, she climbed through the window of someone’s house and stole a loaf of bread, a pineapple and a block of chocolate. She always felt very guilty about it, even though she didn’t get caught. Did stealing the food make Chicken a bad person?’

  ‘Of course not,’ I said. ‘Without that food she might have starved.’

  ‘Well, maybe your mama was like Chicken, and she had to do something bad to stay alive. You can’t be upset at her for that.’ Nana started walking again and I fell into step beside him, my eyes still on the ground. I realised that Nana’s ankles were showing; he was becoming too tall for his pants. ‘And sometimes you love people even when they have done bad things.’

  It was true that no matter what Mama had done, Grandma Ama still loved her. And Grandma Ama is very sensible and has the most good in her of anyone I know. So I supposed I could love Mama as well.

  I curled my arm around Nana’s waist and hugged him to my side. ‘Thanks, Nana.’

  He grinned. ‘That’s okay. Now please turn your brain on. You must help me decide how I can apologise to Jeffenick.’

  Jeffenick lives in a hut made out of mud bricks. It has only two rooms. He says it becomes crowded, especially when it is raining and his whole family has to stay inside.

  Jeffenick was home late from work so Nana and Penny and I sat on the ground outside his house while we waited for him. A couple of Jeffenick’s siblings played with us. Jeffenick’s baby sister was trying to walk. She could do it when I held her hands, but when I let go she toppled over. And every time she fell, she giggled and rolled on to her back. She was really cute. It made me excited about my brother or sister in Mama’s tummy. The baby would be coming soon.

  Jeffenick walked up behind us. We heard his voice before we saw him.

  ‘How is your Mama, Figgy?’

  I turned to tell him she was feeling better. Nana leaped to his feet and dashed over to Jeffenick, bending into a deep bow. Jeffenick looked from Nana to me, his eyes wide with alarm, as he lifted the bucket from his head and put it on the ground. I noticed there were only a few oranges left. That was good. It meant Jeffenick had had a good day at the markets. Nana finally stood up straight and grabbed Jeffenick’s shoulder. ‘I am sorry I upset you at the beach,’ he said. ‘My words were careless and rude. I know you may never forgive me –’

  ‘I have already forgiven you,’ Jeffenick interrupted. ‘I was tired and you were trying to be kind.’

  Nana’s mouth dropped open. ‘Danke!’

  ‘That means thank you in German,’ I said. I didn’t want Jeffenick to get confused.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting you to forgive me so quickly!’ Nana said. ‘I had so many things planned that I could do to make you like me again!’

  Nana pulled the long list out of his pocket. He had written it at school, when he was supposed to be doing mathematics.

  Jeffenick shrugged, grinned, and invited us to come with him to play with the working kids of our village. On the walk over Nana was extra nice to Jeffenick, complimenting him whenever he could and whacking him on the back a lot.

  Nana was a good person – he had made a mistake and said sorry. He would be an excellent President of Ghana.

  CHAPTER 8

  FILMING

  ‘Action!’

  Filming at the markets was difficult. It seemed like everyone in the village had come to have a look.

  At first, whenever Joel shouted ‘action,’ the people watching would giggle and say ‘action!’ over and over again, imitating Joel’s accent. No one listened to Joel when he explained how important it was for everyone to be quiet during filming. The giggling only ended when David threatened to send everyone away if they didn’t stop talking.

  I was glad that David couldn’t understand Twi. Because after his yelling and rude words everyone was talking about the ‘Fat Obruni’ and his wobbly tummy.

  There were so many things to think about while we were filming. Like where the camera was. Sometimes it was to my right, sometimes to my left. There were times the camera was filming a close-up on my face, and other times w
hen it was filming from far away. I tried my hardest to listen to Joel’s instructions, but it was difficult to understand his accent when he was shouting over the noise of the crowd.

  For my first scene I was stacking different coloured pieces of material on a market stall. Then I would drop some material (I would do it on purpose, but I would make it look like it was an accident), and Melanie would help me to pick it up. Then we would talk.

  Joel kept telling me to speak louder. I tried, but I was nervous. Melanie wasn’t helping to increase my confidence; after our fourth try she threw up her hands and walked away, mumbling about needing water. David rolled his eyes, and whispered something rude about Melanie to Joel. Joel slapped David’s arm and the crowd cheered, shouting, ‘He hit the Fat Obruni!’ in Twi.

  I was scared that Joel was going to tell me I wasn’t good enough to be in the movie. That he would put another girl in the role, probably the girl with the pink, sparkly dress from the audition. I flinched as he bent down and rubbed my shoulder.

  ‘I’m going to try something,’ he said. ‘It might help you.’

  He turned to the crowd and yelled, ‘Nana! Will you come here?’

  Nana, who was watching with my cousins and friends, pushed though the bodies in front of him. And, it being the perfect opportunity to show off because so many people were watching, he did a front flip on his way over to us. Only he didn’t do it very well, and landed on his bottom. The crowd laughed but Nana didn’t mind – he just stood quickly, dusted the dirt off his pants and bowed.

  Grandma Ama, who was sitting on a chair next to the cameraman, crossed her arms and glared at Nana. He is always putting holes in his clothes by doing silly things like that, and Grandma Ama is the one who has to mend them.

  Joel was laughing so much when Nana fell over that his face went red and his breath came out raspy. We had to wait for him to calm down before he could speak to us. He told me to practise saying my lines with Nana, pretending that Nana was Melanie. It wasn’t difficult. I had practised with Nana many times. Once we had run through the scene twice, Joel grinned at me.