by Gaile Parkin
“I’m sure, Auntie.”
Angel was not convinced. “Are you very, very sure, Bosco?”
“Eh, Auntie!” Bosco gave an embarrassed smile. “Okay, I thought for a while of loving Odile. But Odile cannot bear children.”
“Eh? She cannot?” This was something that Angel had suspected, because it explained why Odile had never married. The purpose of marrying was to have children, and a woman who could not bear children was of little use to a man.
“Uh-uh. In the genocide they cut her with a machete in her parts, her woman’s parts. I like Odile very, very much. She is very, very nice. But I want to have babies, so I’m not going to love her. No, Auntie, there is nobody else that I’m going to love. Not yet.”
“That’s good. Because Alice has not gone to America yet, and maybe she won’t go at all. It’s not easy to get a scholarship.”
“I know, Auntie. I’m just trying to plan ahead.”
“Eh, Bosco!” Angel spoke so loudly that Bosco almost swerved the Pajero off the road. She clutched her teapot protectively. “Sorry, Bosco. I forgot to tell you! It’s only now that you’re talking about planning ahead that I remember.”
“What, Auntie?”
“Eh! Captain Calixte proposed marriage to Linda!”
“To Linda?” Bosco stared at Angel with his mouth open. “Is Auntie serious?”
“Watch the road, Bosco! Of course I’m serious! It was less than one week after Linda heard that she was divorced. Eh, news travels very fast here!”
“Very, very fast, Auntie. Please tell me that Linda refused him.”
“Of course she refused him.”
“That is good, Auntie.”
“She’s still sleeping with the CIA.”
“That’s bad, Auntie. Does the CIA’s wife suspect?”
This was a difficult question. As far as Angel knew, Jenna suspected only that her husband worked for the CIA. But Jenna was her customer, so Angel was not at liberty to disclose this to Bosco. Okay, Linda was also Angel’s customer. But Linda had never confided in her about sleeping with Jenna’s husband, so it was fine to talk about that. But Jenna’s suspicions were a different matter.
“I think she might suspect something. But she’s very busy with her literacy class now.”
“Does the CIA suspect?”
“No. He still has no idea of what’s happening in his own apartment every morning.” Angel laughed, and Bosco joined in.
“He’s not a good CIA,” he said, shaking his head.
They drove in silence. Angel ran her hands over the shiny roundness of the teapot in her lap, feeling very happy with her purchase. She was happy, too, that Ken had agreed to let Bosco drive her to the Batwa pottery workshop. And of course she was happy that Bosco was her friend.
“Eh, Auntie!” said Bosco suddenly. “I forgot to tell you! Alice told me that her friend, the one who is the sister of Odile’s brother’s wife, that friend told Alice that Odile has a boyfriend now!”
“A boyfriend? Odile? Are you sure?”
“Very, very sure, Auntie.”
“Eh! Do you know this boyfriend’s name, Bosco?”
“No, Auntie. But Odile’s brother’s wife told her sister, and then her sister told Alice, that he works in a bank.”
A wide smile lit up Angel’s face. She was very happy indeed.
LATER that afternoon, as she finished decorating a cake that had been ordered for a retirement party the following day, Angel received a visit from Jeanne d’Arc. The children had just settled down to do their homework in the living room, so Angel made tea and took her guest down to the compound’s yard, where they sat on kangas spread out in the shade.
Jeanne d’Arc was an extremely beautiful young girl, and it was easy to see why men were attracted to her—even though she dressed much more modestly than many of the other girls in her profession. Today she wore a long maroon skirt over low-heeled black sandals that revealed toenails painted in a dark red colour. The same colour adorned the nails on her long, slim fingers. Draped around her shoulders and secured with a small gold brooch at one shoulder was a thin black shawl that hung in soft folds to her knees. Long, thin extensions fell down her back from neat rows radiating back from her forehead.
“I’m happy that you came to see me, Jeanne d’Arc,” began Angel. “I have something for you.”
“For me, Auntie?” Jeanne d’Arc looked confused.
“Yes.” Angel reached into her brassiere, where she had slipped the money when she had left Jeanne d’Arc in the kitchen to watch that the milk did not boil over. She held the roll of Rwandan francs out to her guest. Jeanne d’Arc looked at the money but did not take it.
With a furrowed brow she said, “What is it that you want me to do, Auntie?”
Angel gave her what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “This is your money, Jeanne d’Arc. I got it for you from the Canadian.”
“Eh?” Jeanne d’Arc still did not take the money.
“Yes. I know that he took back from you the money that he owed you, and also some other money that was already yours. I don’t know how much that was, but this is what I got from him.” Angel took Jeanne d’Arc’s right hand and placed the money in it, closing her fingers around it.
“Oh, Auntie,” said Jeanne d’Arc, “I am so ashamed! I tried to steal from that man. I should not have done that.” She tried to hand the money back to Angel, but Angel raised both her hands with the palms facing forward and would not take it. “Please, Auntie, I cannot have this.”
“Jeanne d’Arc, did you not do sex with the Canadian?”
“Yes, Auntie, I did, but …”
Angel gave her no time to continue. “So did you not earn that money?”
“Yes, Auntie, but …”
“And did he not take from you money that you had already earned?”
“Yes, Auntie, but …”
“But nothing, Jeanne d’Arc! Okay, you tried to steal some money from him. But he took that money back, so that matter is finished. And in fact he stole that money from you. That money is rightfully yours and you must have it. Do you not want the money that you earned? Do you not need it?” “Eh, I need it, Auntie.”
“Then you must have it. I insist. I will not take it back, Jeanne d’Arc.”
Angel sipped at her tea for a while to give the girl time to think, and watched her taking deep breaths and turning the roll of banknotes over and over in her hand. At last she looked up at Angel.
“Thank you, Auntie, I will take it. Thank you for getting it for me.”
“No problem.”
Then Jeanne d’Arc peeled off one of the notes and handed it to Angel. “Auntie, I would like to contribute to the bride-price for Modeste and Leocadie. I was going to contribute only a small amount, but now I can give more.”
Angel accepted the note and tucked it into her brassiere, watching as the girl placed the rest of the notes inside a small black handbag.
“Thank you, Jeanne d’Arc. The herd of cows is becoming big now.”
“I’m glad, Auntie. Eh, I’m happy to have my money; thank you again.” Her beautiful face broke into a smile. “It has saved me from having to pay for our room with sex.”
“Good. You said our room, Jeanne d’Arc. Do you share a room with another girl?”
“No, Auntie, I have my two young sisters and a small boy. I’ve been their mother since ’94.”
“But you look like you still need a mother yourself! How old are you now?”
“I think I’m seventeen, Auntie.”
“Seventeen?”
“Yes, Auntie.”
“So you were eleven when you became their mother?”
“Yes, Auntie.” She shrugged. “I was the oldest one left. Our parents were late, and also our brothers.” She shrugged again.
“And the small boy?”
“After we fled into the forest, we found him there by himself. We couldn’t just leave him, he was very small then.” Another shrug.
“And
how have you been taking care of these children, Jeanne d’Arc?”
“At first—afterwards—we went back to our family’s farm. We grew potatoes and cassava there, and some bananas. But it was very difficult for us because the men that we had seen kill our family, they were still there, they were our neighbours on the other hills. Some people came from an organisation, some Wazungu, and they tried to help us, but they could not find anybody from the boy’s family who was still alive. Really, we could not stay there. Then we all came to Kigali.”
“And have you been prostituting yourself since then?”
“Yes, Auntie. Those men had already violated me. I was already spoiled, so it didn’t matter. But my sisters were not spoiled, so I wouldn’t let them work. My work pays for their schooling and our clothes and food, and also our rent.” She flashed a beautiful, shy smile at Angel.
“Eh, I’m proud of you, Jeanne d’Arc.”
“Thank you, Auntie. Now my first sister, Solange, she’s going for her confirmation in the church, and I want her to have a party with her friends to celebrate. I’ve come to ask Auntie to make a cake for her party.”
“Eh! I will be honoured to make that cake!”
“Thank you, Auntie. Just something small and simple, please.”
“It will be a beautiful confirmation cake, Jeanne d’Arc. I’ll give you a very good price. Tell me, how old is Solange?”
“At her school they say she’s eleven. I think she’s twelve or thirteen, but she’s very small. I think the reason she’s small isn’t because she’s young; I think it’s because she didn’t get enough food for a long time.”
“Is she about the same size as Grace, or as Faith?”
Jeanne d’Arc thought for a while. “Maybe she’s like Faith, but I’m not sure. Maybe she’s smaller.” She shrugged.
“Okay. Both of my girls have already been confirmed. Grace had her own confirmation dress, and then it was altered for Faith. Why don’t you bring Solange to visit us, then we can see if the dress fits her. If it needs altering in any way, you can take it to a place in Biryogo where there are some ladies who are learning to sew. They do good work and they’re very cheap. I’ll tell you where the place is. Solange will have a nice dress for her confirmation. She’ll feel very proud.”
Tears began to well in Jeanne d’Arc’s eyes. “Auntie, you are very kind. It hasn’t been easy for me to be a mother to children who are not my children, and now you are being a mother to me when I’m not your child. You are Leocadie’s mother for the wedding, too. And I know that your children here are not your children but your grandchildren. I’m sorry that your own children are late. They were very lucky to have you as their mother.”
“Eh, Jeanne d’Arc. Eh!” Tears welled in Angel’s eyes, too, now.
“Auntie?”
Angel delved into her brassiere for a tissue. “Eh, I’m sorry, Jeanne d’Arc.” She took off her glasses, put them in her lap and dabbed at her eyes. “It’s only that I wasn’t a good mother to my own daughter.”
Jeanne d’Arc took Angel’s hand that was not busy with the tissue and held it tight. “No, Auntie, I don’t believe that. You were a good mother to her.”
Angel’s sigh was deep as she shook her head. “No, Jeanne d’Arc. A good mother does not let her daughter marry a man who is going to disappoint her, to hurt her.”
Still holding Angel’s hand, Jeanne d’Arc sipped at her tea. “Was she in love with him, Auntie?”
“Eh! Very much!”
“Girls have told me that to be in love is a very nice thing, a happy thing. Did you not want her to be happy, Auntie?” “Well, yes, of course I did.”
“Then I think you were a good mother, because you let her be happy, even if you were not. Now, say you didn’t let her marry him, then you would be happy but she would be unhappy. Does a good mother not put her daughter’s happiness before her own?”
Angel managed a smile despite her tears. “That is true, Jeanne d’Arc. But somehow things were never the same between us after her wedding. She was far from us in Arusha, meanwhile we were in Dar es Salaam. But there was another kind of distance between us, too. We spoke often on the phone, and always she told me that everything was okay, but later I found out that it wasn’t. She had another baby some time after Faith and Daniel, but he was weak, Jeanne d’Arc. Late within some few months.”
“I’m sorry, Auntie.”
“Eh! That was a bad year for all of us, because my son was shot by robbers at his house.”
“Eh! I’m sorry, Auntie.”
“And then my daughter’s husband left her, and she didn’t tell me. It was only by mistake that I heard it from her helper.” Angel clicked the tip of her tongue against the back of her teeth.
“You’re confusing me now, Auntie. First you told me that you were a bad mother. Now I think you’re telling me that she was a bad daughter. Now I’m not sure who it is that Auntie feels she needs to forgive.”
“Now you’re confusing me, Jeanne d’Arc!”
The girl placed her mug of tea on the ground so that the hand that was not holding Angel’s could help her to make her point. “What you have told me is this, Auntie. You think you made a mistake because you let her marry a man who was not good. But that man made her happy for some time. And, Auntie, what we know here, in this country, is that our lives can be short. If we have the chance to be happy, we must take it. Even if it is a short happiness, we are glad to have it. Now your daughter, when she was no longer happy, she kept it secret. Why, Auntie? Because she loved you. She didn’t want you to be more unhappy, you were already unhappy because of your son.”
“Eh, Jeanne d’Arc!” Angel squeezed the girl’s hand, remembering Thérèse’s words about a lie holding truth in its heart. “Part of my head is telling me that you’re right, meanwhile the other part is still confused. That is something that I will think about later. But there’s also another secret that she didn’t tell me, a secret that I haven’t yet told myself …” The same hundred frogs that had leapt, startled, into a still pond at the centre in Biryogo were now in a panic in her stomach, thrashing about desperately. Perhaps the sweetness of her tea would calm them. She put down her wet tissue, picked up her mug and drained it.
“Auntie, in Kinyarwanda we say that a hoe cannot be damaged by a stone that is exposed. I think it means that the truth will hurt us only if it remains hidden.”
“That is a good saying, Jeanne d’Arc, and I’m going to tell you the truth now, because I feel it is time for me to tell it. I will be hearing it for the first time myself as I tell it to you. It is what I’ve come to suspect, and now, right now at this minute, I’m accepting that it’s true.” Feeling one of the frogs trying to scramble up from her stomach into her mouth where it would prevent her from speaking, she swallowed hard. Then she took a deep breath, and spoke rapidly as she exhaled, anxious to say it, to hear it. “My daughter was sick, Jeanne d’Arc. She found out that she was positive when her baby was sick. That’s why their marriage broke up—because AIDS came to their house.” She had no more breath to exhale.
Jeanne d’Arc finished her tea, waiting quietly as Angel gulped in air and swallowed hard.
“But that is just a small secret. It’s not something that I’ll be ashamed to tell others, now that I’ve told myself, even though many of us are still not comfortable to talk about that disease. To catch such a disease does not make a person a sinner. A foolish somebody, yes. A careless somebody, yes. An unfortunate somebody, yes. But a sinner? No.”
Jeanne d’Arc nodded her head to every yes, and shook it to the no.
“That disease is just a small pebble, Jeanne d’Arc, it is not the stone that will break the hoe. You know, I’m going to stop being angry at Vinas for lying to me, because I’ve been lying to myself. I’ve told myself stories about stress, about blood pressure, about headaches. But the hoe has sliced straight through those stories now. I have another story, I have it ready to tell, but I know now that the hoe will not even notice it.
That story is that it was an accident that Vinas took so many pain-killers, that she was confused by her headache, that she failed to count.” The frogs stopped moving, stunned. Nothing could stop Angel now. “Jeanne d’Arc, the stone that I need to dig up, the truth that I need to expose is this. My daughter wanted to die. She took those pills to suicide herself.”
When Angel stopped speaking, she was surprised to notice that she was no longer crying; she realised that she had in fact stopped crying as soon as she had decided to tell the truth. She felt empty of emotion, the way that Françoise had seemed when she had told her own story. Telling it had shifted something in her. Putting her glasses back on, she looked at Jeanne d’Arc and saw that there were tears in her eyes.
“Eh, Jeanne d’Arc! I didn’t mean to upset you. How can you weep for my story when your own is so much worse than mine?”
Jeanne d’Arc let go of Angel’s hand, removed a length of pink toilet paper from her handbag and blew her nose delicately. Then she breathed in deeply before saying, “Auntie, I’m weeping for you, not for your story, because the pain of loss is heavy in your heart.”
“There is a heavier weight than loss in my heart, Jeanne d’Arc. Everybody knows that suicide is a sin, that it sends a soul to Hell. Eh, it’s very hard for me to know that Vinas is there.”
“Yes.” Jeanne d’Arc was silent for a few moments before she continued. “But I think that Vinas chose to do what she did in order to save others, Auntie. When she suicided herself, did she not save her parents from the pain of watching her suffer? Did she not save her children from the pain of watching her die? I think that when a person dies to save others, Hell is not the place for her soul. I think the Bible tells us that such a soul belongs in Heaven.”
Angel looked at Jeanne d’Arc. How could someone so young be so wise? “That is true, Jeanne d’Arc. After all, Jesus died to save others. Do you think that God—”
Angel’s question was interrupted by a thumping sound and a loud eh! echoing in the stairwell, and then Prosper came tumbling out into the yard, landing spread-eagled in the dust.
“Merde!” he shouted, standing up and dusting himself down.
