by Suzanne Popp
While pumping petrol, the attendant peeked in the window and saw Violet in the back seat. “Aren’t you the mother of Bwalya Leibitsang? I’ve seen your picture at their home and recognized you. Welcome.”
“He was a good man.”
Violet was surprised, and pleased to be greeted in such a way. He pointed out to George the way to their home. “It’s the fifth house on the right, just after you make your way on Rhino Drive. No, I can’t take a payment for the petrol. Not from Bwalya’s mother. Have a nice day.”
Minutes later, Violet and George pulled up in front of what once was a tidy bungalow. In front was a rampant hedge of lilies. A small face peeked out the front window. The child bounded out to greet them, a mass of curls highlighted in the late afternoon sun.
“You are my Grandmother, Mother of Bwalya. You are not as old as I hoped.”
“You must be Lily. You are every bit as beautiful and bright as I imagined. How are you?”
“I am waiting to see if you want me. Until I know that, I am just waiting.”
“Let’s go inside. I have been waiting too. I did not know what to expect.”
“Well, I have been praying and expecting you. No one else is here as Claire had to go and teach today, and my neighbor Alicia is cooking dinner. Come in.”
George raised his eyebrows and looked at Violet. This child was going to give this widow a run for her money. She was radiant with her tendrils of golden brown hair floating in the breeze and the energy of a child of five receiving what she had been waiting for for days. She plopped herself down next to her grandmother on the sofa and pulled her shawl off her shoulders, then she got up to get her a cup of water from the kitchen. Alicia came over, having seen the Toyota pull into the driveway. She had two cups of tea and milk on a tray. “Welcome. I see you have met Lily. She has probably filled you in on the history of the family. I am Alicia and I have known them just a year, since they moved here from the school compound. Karin and I worked on the preschool in town, where Lily and my daughter attended. Now, I am watching her until something permanent takes place. I want you to be very direct in telling me your feelings about the child, as Karin asked me to be her ears and eyes. She wants Lily to be where she is loved and not passed around. I am going to leave you two to get acquainted. I will bring dinner over in an hour, unless you have other plans.”
Violet nodded her agreement and drank the cup of water Lily had brought her. She had put a little flower in the cup.
“My mother couldn’t walk. She had to roll around in a chair which we called the Gollichair.”
“I didn’t know that. What was wrong with her?”
“She had MS. My Dad pushed her to the school and home again. She couldn’t make it through the gravel by herself and I am not strong enough to push her, so I think that is why she went to Holland. They have everything paved over there.”
“Well, we will find out why she went. I think she just went to get well. She never wanted to leave you, she just thought it would be best to get better first.” What am I telling this child? I have no idea why her mother would leave such a precious little girl alone. I had better find out from Alicia or Claire what had happened and what they have told the child.
“Tomorrow I want to take you to town and see some of your Daddy’s art. I have not seen it and they say he was such a good artist.”
“He is. His paintings are in the Museum. And I am an artist too. My daddy said you used to draw.”
“He did? That was so long ago. I used to make sketches of the boys and illustrate little stories for them. I can’t believe he remembered that.”
“He said it is in our blood. We are all artists, even Uncle Dodge. He is a con artist, Dad used to say, then laugh.”
“He had something there, all right. Well, I am going to learn so many things from you. You can ask me questions.”
“Do you believe in keeping promises?”
“Well, yes. We all want to keep our promises. But sometimes we are unable.”
“Grandma, you know what I mean. Are you going to keep me? I need to know.”
“That is why I am here. Look, here comes our dinner. Now, we need to go and wash, and I am going to freshen up my hair. It looks like yours could use a little picking as well.”
“My Mom used to make me braids and poufs. Claire doesn’t know how to plait my hair, so she just pulls it up into a knot.”
“Come here. I can make you poufs.”
Violet pulled the child between her knees and ran her hands through the luxuriant curls. It was a soft and silky as feathers. With a few cuts with the pick, she had organized the mass of tendrils into two poufs, then took the slippery hairs around the hairline and plaited them into a slim braid, which she pinned back with a clip she pulled from her bag. She handed the child a mirror and watched her eyes light up as she saw her new hairstyle.
“Grandma, you are an artist! I knew it.” Violet felt her throat close a little at the words. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt more capable and ready to take on the future. When Alicia brought in the nshima and relish, she waited to hear what else this child would have to say. She reminded Violet of Myrna, the way she jumped from one imaginative idea to the next, and you had to pay attention to catch the progression. They had their dinner and talked, then it was time to sleep. Violet was tired, the night was cool, and when the child asked permission to sleep at her back, Violet nodded.
Now it was morning, and she had never had a better night’s rest. There would be new stories to learn about, but where was Lily Wonder?
Lily was gone. Violet jumped to her feet and looked out the door and there was Lily, feeding the chickens. They circled her and she doled out the grain to them like a schoolmistress giving out papers. Her hair was a halo of light around her head as the morning sun highlighted the tendrils that had loosened in the night. They would go to town today and see the pictures Bwalya had painted. Violet looked forward to hearing how Lily would comment on them. She would call George and they would have breakfast in town then go to the bank where the paintings were being stored. It would be a chance to see the campus where Bwalya and his wife had worked, and she could then report to Karin any greetings or news. Yes, it would be a full day. She drank the remainder of her water with the flower still floating in it, and called to George.
In town, everyone knew Lily. Violet thought she would be showing the child around, but she was the one being featured, as Lily introduced her to the postman, the baker, the policeman, and everyone else they came across. Violet was enjoying being a celebrity and seeing her granddaughter shine. Karin must have been quite the mother to raise a child so friendly and social. She heard many kind things about her son as well, and couldn’t wait to see his art.
The banker was most solicitous, taking the two of them to the enormous vault and opening the storeroom for them. It was air-conditioned, climate controlled, and highly secure. He lowered his voice and spoke of the paintings in a hushed tone that had always signaled money to Violet.
“Take your time, we are honored to have the mother of such a renowned artist paying a call.” She quit listening to the man as he to unveiled one painting after another. The first one was a valley of incredible beauty. She recognized it as Copperfine and wondered when Bwalya had seen that place. There was no mistaking the portrait of his daughter, his wife Karin, and a beautiful woman with a smile that hovered but never really opened up.
“That is Claire. She is my Mom’s best friend.”
Another landscape was eerie in its isolation and the sheer despondency. She turned to the next. They were not chronological. Some were from places she had never seen—the atmosphere, sky, and colors were not those of southern Africa. They were cooler and more ephemeral. She could experience where he had been through his works. His paintings exposed an inner world that she could not interpret, but just feel. In an hour, she was exhausted. They thanked the banker, assured him they appreciated his concern for the works, and they would be back again.
Back on the street, Violet shook off the coldness of the air-conditioning and the humidity controlled air. She signaled to George to pick them up then asked Lily if she was hungry. She was. Violet took her to the bakery where she ate a Welsh pie, and continued on their adventure.
At the college, Mr. Kerala welcomed Violet Leibitsang with a great show of sorrow and consolation. He wrung his long fingers in a display of condolence, then looked down at Lily and asked her if she would like a treat.
“No thank you. My family gives me all the treats I need. My grandmother wants to meet some of the people who were kind to my father and thank them.”
Mr. Kerala knew better than to ask who she considered these to be, as he was sure from the way she had phrased her request, he was not numbered among them. He invited them to feel free to go anywhere on campus, as classes were not in session, and they were most welcome.
The first house they decided to try was that of Mr. Kerala. His wife was in, and she embraced Violet and began to weep. “Of all the tutors at this school, your son was the only one who showed respect to me. And Karin as well. They were a beautiful couple and we learned from them, just as the students did. I am so sorry he is gone. I would never have made him leave.”
She stopped speaking immediately when she realized what she had said. ”I am an ignorant woman who knows nothing of protocols or procedures. But I did love your son.”
Violet hugged her and thanked her, then decided they would go elsewhere. They did. For the first time in her sixty-two years, Violet went on a mini safari. She and her granddaughter climbed in the vehicle and jaunted around a small game park on the edge of Burrisfuro. They drank Fanta and she laughed until her sides hurt at the animals, the bumps, the dust and the roller coaster ride the vehicle was making over the white dusty tracks. When they dismounted, her mind was made up. This girl was for keeps.
Lily saw the fun of having a grandmother who could take some chances, and they made their commitment to each other, before returning to visit Claire and Alicia to announce the decision. George was delighted to hear he would be taking a load of paintings back to Blancville, along with an energized Violet and her granddaughter Lily.
Karin had the flu for the following week, followed by a bout of pain with her MS. It was the following month before she received word back from Violet that they were now living in Blancville, but would be returning to Copperfine to stay for a few weeks with her sister Myrna. The letter said Violet was receiving help from the Myrna’s son in law to handle the paperwork and the inventory of Leibitsang Provisioners. There was an invitation for Karin and her parents to come and visit. Violet and her sister wanted to know what they should send for Karin and her mother and father. Enclosed in the letter was a drawing that Lily Wonder had made of what she thought Holland looked like. There was a dyke, a windmill, a small round house with a palm tree in the yard. She had also included a cooking fire in the front yard with a prominent three legged black cooking pot. Steam was rising up in a spiral of blue blending into the azure sky. Karin felt tears coming down her cheeks as she handed the drawing to her mother.
“Our Lily is also an artist. She has the eyes,” her mother said.
Garrett, Karin’s father, came into the room and reached down to give his daughter a hug. He took the picture they handed him and said, “I wonder what she’s cooking up in her Dutch oven?” Karin laughed, thinking that the child was winning over these grandparents without even having met them. By morning, they had decided that they could make the flight to go and see the child, and the rest of the family. Karin was not sure she could travel that long by plane, but she was silent as they planned this reunion.
It was good to know her child was loved and that the family was gathering to make her life secure. As she climbed into her bed that night, she glanced up at the picture of Clair she had hung on the wall. She needed to let her friend know there would be visitors soon.
A week later, all plans changed. Karin had a spell of being unable to breathe and having small seizures. She was taken to the hospital and the prognosis was that she was in serious condition. Her MS was flaring out of control and pneumonia had attacked her lungs. Her parents were beside her and sent a telegram to Violet. They would wire her the money to come to Holland immediately. Their travel agent would help cut through the red tape, as time was of the essence. Violet should phone them and let them know her flight numbers and when she would arrive. They made it clear that Karin was not expected to live.
CHAPTER 38
VIOLET FLIES TO HOLLAND
Violet reached into her pocket for the fourth time to feel the tickets. She was sweating from the nervousness of never having traveled, as well as meeting people of another country. She was also tasked with the additional pressure of doing right by her granddaughter, who trusted that she could navigate across the world and arrive at the right place at the right time. Again, she felt for the tickets and the passport which she had wrapped in a small cloth to keep it clean and safe. She was wearing it around her waist, along with her large pile of bills and her smaller pile of kroner.
She had a cell phone in her handbag, a sack of food to keep the child healthy, and a bottle of water for the journey. Lily Wonder carried a book, a stuffed toy, and a small drawing pad and pencils, along with her comb, and two bands in a small backpack to help hold her curls away from her face.
The taxi was waiting for them as Violet locked up the house. The servants would be watching the property; the night guard, the cook, and the gardener. There was no need for them to go into the house, as she had distributed the perishable food and turned off the water inside. Violet had no pets, no houseplants, and no electrical appliances that needed attention. She was ready to go, with one suitcase for the two of them, and a small carry-on with gifts. She had packed a second crate with paintings for Karin to sell. The market for such things in Blancville had been very slow. Only one painting had sold in the six months since Bwalya’s death.
The airport was busy with passengers from all over. Violet could recognize those from India and Malawi. Some, she thought, might be from Holland, England, America, or France. She looked down at Lily Wonder and thought these people could also be from her country. It was more mixed than she had been aware. She knew there were so many other countries, but these were ones she was familiar with. There were also a number of Asian people at the airport. Black suits, shining black leather shoes, and always with a flat case that had a keyboard like a typewriter. What these were, she did not know. Something like a large cell phone made into a television, she thought. They did not have to press very hard on the keys and there was no paper in them and no sound of a bell when they finished a line. She concentrated on finding the queue for Holland. Before she went very far, a solid bodied sister in a crisp white habit took her by the arm and asked where she was bound. “I am a Christian. I am going to heaven.”
“No, I mean now. Where are you flying?”
“We are going to Holland. This is my granddaughter. She is Half Holland.” Violet could see her granddaughter roll her eyes and hear her puff of embarrassment.
“I am Sister Bernadette. I will help you locate your flight. Where is your ticket?” Violet pulled the tickets from her pocket. Some of the bills she had stuck there dropped out. Lily Wonder dived down to hand them back to her. Another puff.
Sister Bernadette maneuvered the two of them through the customs line, filled out their forms for them, and put them in the right waiting room for KLM Flight 262. They had a three hour wait before boarding. Violet settled into the plastic chair and put her remaining suitcase between her knees. She had been reluctant to check the bags that held the paintings and their clothing. Now, it was just a matter of waiting. She sighed with relief and was soon nodding off to a brief nap.
Lily Wonder drank some water, checked the drawers of the vending machine, and found money in the return slot. She pocketed it and looked around the waiting room. A few boys from India were climbing over their brother’s str
oller as their mother struggled with the latches on her carryon. Her headscarf dropped into her work, and she would push it back, then try again to get the overstuffed satchel to close and latch. The boys tormented the younger brother until he set up a howl that raised even his mother’s attention. Further down the row, a group of men sat in a queue with briefcases. They were all dressed in black. Lily Wonder thought they looked like undertakers she had seen at her father’s funeral.
When an announcement came on, they all looked around turning their heads back and forth like a pup grabbing at flies around its head. Lily Wonder took out her sketchpad and recorded the gestures. A family of white people poured into the waiting room. The baby was enormous and smelly. His mother plumped him down on a row of seats and proceeded to change his nappies. He was soiled and when she pulled away his diaper, Lily saw him splayed out and laughed at his freedom. He had red hair and white yam-like legs with a pointer in the middle. It was the first time she had seen white boy parts, and she wanted to ask Violet about it. Her grandmother was sleeping, her mouth slightly ajar, and her purse held high on her chest, like she was offering it to someone. Lily Wonder stopped watching the baby as the parents bundled him up again and dropped his diaper into a trash bin. The whole family ate continuously, chips, biscuits, meat rolls, and small circles of something. They laughed and poked at each other. Lily Wonder hoped her Holland family would be like them, they seemed to like each other and be having fun.
On the ramp to the plane, the two travelers tried to remember how many steps, how many windows, how many pilots, how many lights. They weren’t sure what was important or necessary to their surviving this flight in the belly of the 747. At last they were strapped into their seats and it was no longer up to them. Both of them prayed. It was enough that they were in the air. Everything is up in the air, Violet thought. She looked across the aisle at the young couple pulling the magazine out of the rack. She would wait a few minutes, then pull hers out as well. She could learn how to do this traveling. She glanced down at Lily and saw that the child was putting a pretend seat belt around her stuffed dog. She did not seem upset or fidgety, just following the pattern of the other passengers on the flight. Violet let out a deep breath she had been holding since she left the house that morning. All is well, she repeated to herself. All is well.
