Figgy and the President

by Janu,Tamsin

  Jeffenick grinned. ‘My little sister was ugly when she was born too. She had ears that stuck out so much my papa was scared she might use them to fly away.’ He stuck his hands out on either side of his head and flapped them this way and that. ‘Her ears were like wings. But she was only ugly for a little while. She grew up to be very pretty.’

  That was a relief. The new baby was my brother, so I would love him no matter what he looked like. But I would feel sorry for him if he grew up looking as squashed and wrinkly as he had that evening.

  For a while we dug holes in the sand. Then, under the moonlight, Jeffenick drew some impressive, and very large, pictures using a stick. When we grew tired we took turns to sleep.

  The sun was rising when Jeffenick shook me awake, and whispered in my ear.

  ‘The fishermen are coming.’

  CHAPTER 15

  HIDING

  Floods of men and boys were walking down to the shore. Big nets and other fishing equipment hung over their shoulders or were balanced on their heads.

  I scrambled to my feet and shook Kwaku awake. He mumbled and stretched his legs straight into the air.

  ‘We need to hide,’ I said, taking hold of Kwaku’s arm and pulling him towards a clump of spiky bushes. He, Jeffenick and I lay behind the bushes on our tummies, moving the branches aside with our hands so we could peek through.

  The fishermen were all different sizes and shapes. There were so many people it was difficult to tell them apart. But I knew who I was looking for. A skinny boy who might be cartwheeling (or at least skipping) across the sand.

  It was Jeffenick who spotted Nana. On seeing him my heart leaped. I was getting up to go over to him when Jeffenick touched my arm. ‘You can’t talk to Nana with so many people around. You will get him into trouble.’

  Nana was wearing the same clothes as the day he left – his favourite brown shorts and a too-small blue teeshirt. He was not cartwheeling or skipping but was walking slowly, like a soldier, his mouth unsmiling. Nana had one half of a big net draped over his shoulder, the other end carried by a taller boy. On reaching the shore they dumped the net into a boat and walked back up the sand to get more supplies.

  I had to act quickly if I was going to speak to Nana. But I had to be smart. Like Jeffenick said, I might get Nana into trouble.

  ‘I’m getting on Nana’s boat,’ I said, sitting up and dusting the sand off the front of my tunic.

  Jeffenick shook his head. ‘That’s a bad idea.’

  ‘You two should go back to Kwaku’s taxi and get help. I have to make sure Nana is safe. I can’t leave him alone now that I know where he is. What if he drowns when he is untangling a net from the rocks, deep down in the ocean?’

  I wrenched my arm from Jeffenick’s grip and ran out into the open, towards Nana’s boat.

  The sun was just coming up, and amongst all the activity none of the fishermen took notice of me. I lifted myself up on to the side of the boat, my arms shaking with the effort, and hoisted my legs over the top. The floor of the boat was a sticky, dirty mess. Perpetua would have been disgusted if she had seen it. Everything stank of fish.

  I needed a place to hide. If the fishermen saw me on board – an unfamiliar, one-eyed girl – they would be suspicious. I spied a wooden crate with a lid. It was in a nook at the boat’s bow and held a few sponges, some washcloths and the head of a mop. The sponges and cloths were obviously not used much, so the crate was a perfect hiding spot. After making sure no one was looking, I jumped into the crate and pulled the lid down after me. I had to bunch myself up into a ball to fit.

  The boat had left the shore by the time the sun was up. I began shaking when I felt the movement of the sea beneath me.

  When Grandma Ama had left for the hospital, she told me to be sensible. Hiding in a crate on a fishing boat was not sensible behaviour. Grandma Ama would be angry when she found out what I had done. I could imagine what her face would look like, all puffed up. She would wave her cane around to emphasise her disapproval. And she would tell me how disappointed she was in me. I don’t like disappointing Grandma Ama.

  But Nana was on the boat, alone, and I couldn’t leave him. I’m sure he wouldn’t have left me.

  There was a crack along the side of the crate that I could peek through, to see what was going on outside. For a while the only things in my line of sight were the bare feet and shoes of the fishermen sitting in front of me who were rowing the boat out to sea. But once oars were put down and people began moving around the boat, Nana came into view. He was helping to throw a net into the water. I closed my eye and prayed he would come over to my crate.

  My legs, arms and neck grew more and more stiff. I was waiting for what felt like many hours, watching the fishermen walking to and fro. Occasionally someone sat on top of my crate, squashing me even more. There were some heavy, and very smelly, men on the boat.

  I had to restrain my scream of relief when Nana finally, finally, walked over to my crate. He sat right in front of me, on one of the wooden seats. He was working to free a metal hook from a tangled fishing line, which was balanced on his knee.

  ‘Bonjour,’ I whispered. That means hello in French. Nana said it to me soon after we met, and I thought he was a strange boy for knowing so many foreign languages.

  I could only see the back of Nana’s head, but his gasp showed that he was surprised. ‘Figgy?’ His voice sounded gravelly, as if he had a throat cold. ‘Figgy, is that you? Where are you?’

  ‘In the crate, behind you.’ Nana looked at my crate. ‘Don’t look at me though.’ He looked down at his tangled fishing line again.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Nana said. ‘It’s not safe.’

  ‘I needed to tell you that we know you are here. Jeffenick and Kwaku are finding help. When we get back to the shore I’m sure there will be people waiting for us. And we will give the bad fishermen some money so they will let us take you home.’

  Nana shook his head. ‘I can’t go home.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Grandma Ama might have enough money to save me. But she doesn’t have enough to save my friends who work on this boat. They have been here longer than me. And if I leave they will be punished.’

  ‘Well, in a few more days maybe Kofi can find the money to save all the boys, then –’

  ‘No,’ Nana interrupted. ‘These men are bad and they will hurt us and you. You cannot do anything. Once we are back on the shore you must go home without me.’

  Of course I wouldn’t do that. I was angry that Nana was trying to tell me what to do.

  ‘You are not in charge of me,’ I said, whacking my fist against the crate. ‘I will do what I want.’

  ‘You are younger than me, Figgy, so –’

  ‘We are the same age. We are both eleven.’

  ‘I’m still older,’ he said, ‘and more mature.’ I grinned – this was the Nana I remembered. ‘I would never do something as silly as you are doing now. When you are training to be a President, you learn –’

  Voices came close and Nana scrambled to his feet.

  ‘What’re you doing?’ one voice growled. ‘Going on about being the President again? I’m sick of your constant chatter – it gives me a headache.’

  Another voice piped up. ‘He was talking to himself, probably in weird languages. He’s crazy, this kid.’

  I saw Nana’s feet move and a weight pressed on top of me. Nana had sat on the lid of the crate.

  ‘Are you just going to sit there?’ the first voice said. ‘There’s more work to do.’ Nana stayed silent. ‘Come on!’

  ‘I’m still untangling this line,’ Nana said. ‘I need a few more minutes.’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ the first voice said. ‘Get up!’

  Nana didn’t move from on top of the crate.

  ‘What are you hiding?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Nana said. ‘I have nothing to hide.’

  ‘Then GET UP!’ the man said. His big boots stomped over to us. Nana cried out in pain
and the weight was lifted from the top of the crate. Then the lid was yanked open and I was squinting into the sunlight at a man with long hair and a big scar along his collarbone. He grabbed under my arms and pulled me out of the crate, holding me in the air and so close to his face that my nose was almost touching his.

  ‘Who are you?’ he said. ‘And what are you doing on my boat?’

  Nana grabbed the fisherman’s arm and yelled for him to leave me alone. The man pushed him away while more fishermen gathered around, some laughing and others echoing Nana’s wish for the scarred man to put me down.

  Until a different voice came from close by, louder than everyone else’s.

  ‘Release the children.’

  I would recognise that voice anywhere. It was Grandma Ama’s.

  CHAPTER 16

  THE RESCUE

  The scarred man dropped me. I scrambled to my feet. The fishermen were staring at the small fishing boat being rowed towards us. Grandma Ama was standing in the middle of it, her feet spread apart. She held a megaphone in her hands, like the ones teachers use to make announcements when we play soccer tournaments at school. Next to Grandma Ama stood Kwaku, who was holding Grandma Ama’s cane and had his chest puffed out proudly. And on either side of them were three police officers, all dressed in navy blue and with their hands resting on the guns in their belts. Nana moved next to me and gripped my arm.

  ‘I don’t like guns,’ he whispered.

  The silence was broken by the sounds of someone on our boat hauling up an anchor. Then the scarred man yelled out instructions. ‘Everyone sit down, find your oars, pull in the nets! We are leaving.’

  The fishermen scrambled to obey his orders. Until a policeman yelled, ‘Don’t move! Or we will shoot!’

  The fishermen froze as the policemen lifted their guns to shoulder height and pointed them at our boat. Nana squeaked and I grabbed his hand in both of mine.

  The scarred man threw his oar down. ‘What do you want from us?’

  Grandma Ama spoke through the megaphone, calmly and firmly. ‘You must give us the children.’

  The man snorted. ‘The children work for us, woman. You have no right to ask that. Come on!’ He whacked one of the fishermen on his back. ‘Let’s get away from this nonsense.’

  But none of the fishermen moved. They were looking at the guns still pointed at them.

  ‘We have every right to order their release,’ Grandma Ama said. ‘How much do you pay these children?’

  The scarred man stumbled over his words. ‘I don’t – we – we paid for them!’

  Grandma Ama nodded. ‘And that is slavery. We do not tolerate slavery in Ghana. Children cannot be bought or sold. You must hand them over.’

  There was mumbling amongst the fishermen. The scarred man looked around at them. ‘Don’t listen to her!’

  A fisherman curled his arms around my waist and picked me up off the ground. I screamed and looked over at Nana, who was being lifted as well.

  ‘We need to let them go!’ the fisherman holding Nana said, speaking fast. ‘Everyone let them go!’

  And just like that I was flung into the ocean.

  Boys plopped into the water around me. They swam strongly to Grandma Ama’s boat. I tried to copy what they did with their arms and legs, but it wasn’t long until I could no longer keep my head above the water. I thrashed around, swallowing water and choking as the waves billowed around me.

  I was sinking when there was a huge splash and a body landed nearby. I clung to the body desperately and it pulled me through the water. Then someone from above gripped my arms, and I was pulled on to a deck. I lay on my back, the boat rocking gently beneath me.

  It was only after coughing up a lot of seawater that I sat up. And I saw that it was Grandma Ama who had saved me.

  The policemen were leaning over the side of the boat, struggling to pull Grandma Ama out of the water. The boat tipped dangerously, but Grandma Ama was eventually on board. She wiped her hair out of her face, coughed a couple of times and sat on one of the wooden benches. She poked Kwaku’s leg with a finger. ‘Give those boys the food and water we brought.’

  Kwaku rushed to get a bag full of food that had been stuffed under a seat. The four fishermen boys gathered around him as he handed out the goods. The scarred man’s shouts grew fainter as the fishing boat rowed away from us, at great speed.

  ‘Figgy. Nana.’ Grandma Ama gestured for us to come to her. She placed an arm around each of us, and kissed our foreheads. ‘Nana, I will not let anyone, even your father, take you away again,’ she said. ‘And Figgy, you are very, very silly.’

  I knew that I would be in a lot of trouble when we got home. But I didn’t care. I had Nana back, and Grandma Ama was with me.

  Grandma Ama let Kwaku explain all the exciting things that had happened after I left him and Jeffenick at the beach. They had driven back to our village in Kwaku’s taxi to tell everyone that Nana and I needed help. (Kwaku said it was the fastest he had driven in his life. I am sure Jeffenick was terrified.) Grandma Ama was already worried because she had just returned from the hospital – Mama’s health had improved – and she had been given my letter by Perpetua, who had taken it from Esi while she was asleep. Grandma Ama used Kwaku’s family’s telephone to call Kofi, and Kofi called the police and helped to organise everything so they could find me and Nana. And Kwaku was so excited by it all that he felt like he might collapse at any minute.

  ‘Where’s Jeffenick?’ I said.

  Grandma Ama patted my shoulder. ‘He doesn’t like boats. He is waiting on the beach with the other policemen.’

  Nana took the hunk of bread Grandma Ama offered him. ‘There are other policemen?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Grandma Ama. ‘They are waiting for the bad men in charge of your boat to reach the shore. They must not be allowed to make children work without paying them money.’

  ‘That is good.’ Nana took a nibble from his bread, then looked up at Grandma Ama. ‘But our boat isn’t the only one that forced kids to work. What about the others?’

  The only female police officer put down her oar and sat beside Nana. He shuffled away from her on his bottom, huddling closer to Grandma Ama. I was wondering why until I saw that attached to the policewoman’s belt, on the side closest to Nana, was her gun.

  ‘We know there are other bad fishermen, but our police department cannot afford to investigate and arrest them all,’ she said. ‘We could only come today because your friend Kofi paid our expenses.’

  ‘Money which we will return to Kofi as quickly as we can, of course,’ Grandma Ama said.

  I knew Kofi would not let Grandma Ama pay him back. But I didn’t tell her that. Grandma Ama can be sensitive about the subject of money. I didn’t have a chance to say anything about it anyway. Nana got in first.

  ‘Kofi won’t let you pay him back,’ Nana said. ‘He helped because he is passionate about doing what is right.’

  Grandma Ama’s forehead creased, and she whacked Nana lightly on his chest. ‘Of course I will pay him. I am a respectable woman.’

  Nana waved his hand in the air. ‘I wouldn’t worry about it. I’ll thank him once I’m the President, by giving him a position in my government.’

  Grandma Ama was scowling, the face she often wears when she is about to tell us that we are naughty children. So I spoke quickly before she had the chance to.

  ‘Can’t you find more money, so that you can save the other children?’ I said to the policewoman.

  The policewoman moved closer to Nana and put her hand on his shoulder.

  Nana’s body went stiff – the woman’s gun was pressing against his thigh. ‘Maybe you and the other boys could help us.’

  ‘Nana would be good at that,’ I said. ‘He is a great speech maker, or – Nana, what’s that fancy English word you use?’

  ‘Orator,’ Nana said.

  ‘He is a great orator, and he will be the President of Ghana one day.’

  ‘Will he?’ the policewoman sai
d, smiling. ‘Then Nana, you sound like our man.’

  ‘Figgy can help too!’ Nana said, his eyes still focused on the policewoman’s gun. ‘She is very caring and hasn’t even thought of a career yet.’

  Grandma Ama shook her head. ‘You can both save Ghana’s children after you have had some food and rest.’

  That was a sensible idea. Nana looked like he needed a few good meals.

  As we rowed closer to the shore I spotted Jeffenick. He was jumping up and down and waving his arms in the air. He had drawn my name and Nana’s in big letters on the sand, decorating them with rocks and seaweed.

  He had spelled Figgy wrong, with only one ‘g’. But I appreciated the effort he had put in.

  EPILOGUE

  I had never been to a big movie theatre. Accra is the only Ghanaian city with such an impressive one. We spent the first few minutes after our arrival screaming and running up and down the aisles. Until Grandma Ama told us to sit down and be quiet or she would put us in the seats at the back of the theatre where we wouldn’t be able to see anything.

  Nana had gone to a lot of effort to ensure Kofi and Grandma Ama sat next to each other (including pushing Perpetua quite roughly out of her seat, then telling Kofi that Nana needed to swap places with him because Nana didn’t like watching movies from the left side of a room). He kept catching my eye, pointing at Kofi and Grandma Ama and making kissy faces.

  Nana tells me that if Kofi and Grandma Ama are not married within five years he will eat Esi.

  Kofi had found a place for the boys from Nana’s boat at a good orphanage in Accra, but we had managed to get them tickets to the movie. They had decided to stand instead of sit on their seats. Kwesi was using his new watch to time how long they could last before their legs got tired. Esi stood on her seat to copy the boys but Perpetua pulled her down and told her to be sensible. So Esi sat on Uncle Philmond’s lap instead, her arms crossed and bottom lip jutting out.

  Mama leaned over to speak to me; she was wearing a new green dress, which she had bought specially for the movie. She looked beautiful.