Uncle T saw Karl standing and turned around. Took Karl’s hand, grabbed the backpack with his other, and started to walk, pulling Karl along.
‘Why is he not coming over here?’ Karl asked. ‘He doesn’t look like he wants to see me.’
‘Karl.’ Uncle T stopped before they reached the now smiling man with two rows of very evenly formed if not oversized teeth.
‘Karl … This is not your father.’ He paused for a second, his assuredness wavering for the tiniest bit. You could have missed it, Uncle T was that good, but it was there. Worry.
‘This is John, your father’s driver and assistant.’
In the way he said it, the way he had stopped walking and held Karl’s hand, looking away slightly, it was already clear. Something was off here. If Karl hadn’t sweated so much at immigration, he probably would have smelled it all along.
‘Where is he then? At home?’ His voice was croaky. The words hurt when they forced themselves out of his mouth.
John was walking towards them, dragging Uncle T’s supersized rolling suitcase behind him, squashing the protective space between them. Soon there wasn’t anything left, no buffer whatsoever. Karl felt like turning back, running back through security, telling them to not worry, he would not upset dress codes any longer. Instead he would be sitting in the plane, waiting for it to refuel, then straight back to London. To King’s Cross. To Abu.
John extended his hand, his lips par ted, the smile overwhelming. Those teeth, wow! They came forward in one coordinated long jump.
‘Welcome Karl. I am John. I am a distant cousin of your Uncle Tunde’s wife.’
Uncle T was nodding. Yes, family, distant, but still. Without thinking, Karl took the hand, like a robot, and shook. His eyes full of questions, the shoulders so low now they could have mopped the floor.
‘Your father couldn’t be here.’ John shot a quick look at Uncle T, then smiled again.
Panic rose in Karl, making his feet itch. He needed to clear his head ASAP or he would explode.
Uncle T put his arm around his shoulders. ‘My friend.’ He drew him in. ‘Nephew. Ah ah, the new addition to our family!’
He smiled here, waited for a second to cement his sincerity. Impart it on to Karl. The you are welcome here. I will take care of you. I promised.
‘Don’t worry, it is well.’ And he looked at John. ‘Your father had to take care of a few things unexpectedly and could not be here. But you are welcome. Very welcome! Now the two of us will have time to get to know each other even better.’
The smile became a laugh now, meant to snap them all out of the awkwardness that had descended so suddenly it popped your ears. His hand patted Karl’s shoulder.
‘Don’t worry. It is well. We should be moving on. You must be hungry. And tired.’
Karl nodded absentmindedly. He should have stayed home. King’s Cross. Safe. Take some out-of-control youths any day.
His mobile beeped and buzzed. A text. His hand went for the phone in his jeans, fingers automatically unlocking it, pressing view. You could think they were born that way, the young’uns, movements coordinated in response to the latest tech in their front pockets.
so whats he like? Abu.
Karl stared at the screen, then at John, who was smiling, taking him in, somehow already down with Karl, already sure that theirs would be a good connection. Karl thought about the father who was MIA. And his mother. Had the father done a runner on her as well?
‘Please let me take that.’ John took the backpack from Uncle T, swung it on to the giant suitcase, and smiled at them both.
‘Let us go. The car is over there.’
And walked off. Uncle T pushed. Karl’s legs responded, unconsciously, obedient.
And now it was here. The Nigeria. With Karl in it.
The heat slapped him. He felt like holding on to something and grabbed at Uncle T’s shirtsleeve, but the well-dressed man’s stride was too quick and Karl missed him. And there was the noise again, like a swarm of bees on steroids. Miced up to the max. All was quick and slow at the same time. Loud and muted. The walk to the car, through the crowds of people, unorganised but all on a mission and not shy of explaining so, in raised voices and accents and languages Karl didn’t understand, meeting their relatives who were waiting, or their friends who were overjoyed to see them, past the porters who rushed over and tried to grab their bags but who both John and Uncle T waved away, past the only people who were not rushing or loud or purposeful: the airport personnel – they stood or leaned or sat in slowed timing, dragging out every second leisurely to make it meet the end of their shift sooner. People were staring at Karl and smiling and saying things he couldn’t hear because his ears were not cooperating. He couldn’t make out individual sounds, then it faded away, and he saw moving mouths in slo-mo, the volume turned off.
They pushed through the exit door, past the taxi drivers who offered their services, offering all sorts of rates and making all sorts of promises. Karl shook his head and shook off hands that were grabbing him and kept himself upright. Here. He. Was.
Finally they entered the vehicle. Karl in the back. John driving, Uncle T chatting away from the front seat.
This is the airport road. This is this. This is another this. And this info belongs to this another this. It is related to that (story etc.) and ah you will understand later. You see here? Another this.
Karl couldn’t hear his words properly, brain racing so hard there was no space for them to enter, but he tried to take in the scenes, the sound the crickets made in the fading light. Chirping, charging the air that started to feel less heavy, as it was cooling now. The people, the noises, the roads they bumped over, the holes they tried to avoid and sometimes proper rattled over. The houses that looked like they were shedding skin, like they needed moisturiser, TLC. A lick of paint.
There were low-level buildings that looked like shacks, set back from the road, large puddles in the dirt in front. Rusty cars parked aside. Then some real shacks with aluminium roofs. A few high-rise buildings in grey with no windows or doors, or anything at all once Karl looked closer, nothing but its cement shell. Blocks of missed opportunities, some wood scaffolding still attached. Flats to be.
The traffic put King’s Cross in the shade like proper. They were moving but Karl could see other large streets with several rows of cars in one lane. Completely chock-a-block, complete standstill. No movement whatsoever.
Uncle T was commentating on everything. The first images of Nigeria. All Karl could see of him was the back of his head, turning when explaining why the roads were so bad, which area this was. The wind that entered through the car windows was soft and lukewarm. It patted Karl’s face like the gentle caress his aunt would give him when she visited his mother and found him in the flat, in his room for once. That was, of course, before Piers, her proper lovely proper asshole husband, spoiled things for them, aunt–nephew-wise.
When they arrived at the gated estate, it was completely dark. A security guard sat in the small booth that flanked the large iron gates, which had to be opened in the middle. A candle was flickering, casting shadows through the window opening. Was all a bit suspense thriller. You could hear the music. It would be proper slow, creepy.
The other guard had his foot on the cement step to the booth. His arm was leaning on the narrow wooden plank drilled into its wall. You could hear the piano banging on the same note now. Ti-ng ti-ng. Still slow though.
Both guards had been looking at a magazine. One turned and walked towards the window. John had already opened it. The guard pointed his flashlight inside the car, waving it around as if he was saying something with it. Now the music would be getting ready for some real tempo. Ting ting ting. Some sonic landscaping ambience shit in the background.
‘Good evening sah.’ He nodded towards Uncle T.
‘Good evening.’
‘Sah no dey?’
‘He no dey.’ Uncle T replied. Ting ting ting ting ting.
John took the guar
d’s hand and started shaking it while his stare was planted firmly on Karl’s face. He was saying something to John in a low voice, chuckling.
‘Na so.’
Then the hands left each other and he stepped back. Sound would drop out here, completely. Danger averted. Although it seemed that no one but Karl had felt any anyway.
‘Good evening.’ The guard tipped the rim of his cap and John pressed the button at the front panel. The window glided back up until there was just a little slit at the top. They pulled up at another set of smaller gates, only for the house, not the whole street. A young man jumped up and ran to unlock the metal chain that kept it closed. John drove into the space next to the house. It was completely dark. You couldn’t even see your own thoughts.
‘NEPA. Dis country!’ John muttered with disappointment.
‘Our electricity company. NEPA. Karl. That is the name. We used to call it Never Ever Power At All.’
Like I’m supposed to know what you mean. Went over his head, like most of Uncle T’s comments since their arrival. Uncle T slammed the door shut, cursing. All one swift action. Bang. Door shut. Body in absolute darkness. Frustration exploding now. The young man disappeared to the back and then a motor started and light flickered into action, showing them all where they were. John opened the door at Karl’s side.
‘Come.’ His hand briefly met Karl’s T-shirt sleeve. Karl flinched. ‘Please. This is your father’s house.’
There wasn’t much to see yet. It looked more like a bungalow than a house. One storey, a front yard that had a terraced entrance with large sliding doors, a regular-sized wooden door at the side. Plants in tiled squares flanked both edges of the house. Uncle T was talking to the young man. Karl could now see his washed-out trousers. The grey had patches of dust and dark marks on them. His once-white shirt was now a grey/beige/brownish affair, unbuttoned.
Uncle T waited for John, who had got the large bag out of the trunk. He nodded a greeting to the guard and quickly strode up to the tiled terrace to the wooden door. He took a key out and opened it.
‘Karl, come.’
Uncle T waved him closer. Karl took a step, then another. Time stood still. It was partly the thick air, the loud crickets, the arrival, the tiredness. The body dragged across an ocean, from one continent to another. Dragged because Karl hadn’t slept the night before, but spent it talking with Abu. Abu would have been at school today, last two weeks before the summer break. Jealous that Karl got holiday early.
‘Is only ’cause Uncle T can’t come back again before the winter innit.’
‘Still. I will have to sit through the whole thing when I could be checking the Nigerian ladies.’
Karl rolled on the mattress, laughing. ‘And since when do you speak to the ladies? You, who never shuts up, as soon as a girl comes your way, you’re pissing yourself, or off into the sunset. By your bloody self.’
Abu let that one slide. Was true, no point dwelling on the fact. They imagined how this Nigeria would be. How Karl’s father would be. There was no getting around that this is where Karl was at, metaphorically speaking, and would be at, physically speaking, so Abu just had to get on with it. Get over himself. Enjoy the whole thing. Like they did. Even when they were not together. Sharing.
What should Karl ask him, what should he look out for? They had laughed, moving from their backs, their eyes staring into the dark room, at the ceiling. Abu on his single bed, Karl on the guest mattress. At the exact same moment, they both turned to lean on their forearms. They giggled even more.
‘Oh my days. Imitating me, are we? Got none of your own impulses?’
‘I was first.’
‘What are you looking up for anyway? Too dark.’
‘Why are you?’
‘You keep talking. I’m awake.’
‘No point sleeping now. Not long till you have to get up, bruv.’
Karl had gone to see Rebecca early. Had told her what they had all told her over the past weeks, minus Mama Abu, who said: ‘Leave me out of it; I won’t lie to her.’
‘So, I’ll be off, mum. Text me any time. I will be in touch anyway but probably not call. Just to be away like proper. Really immerse myself, you understand?’
Rebecca looked at Godfrey with that same this makes no sense whatsoever look that Mama Abu had about the whole thing. Only Mama Abu had not told her either. She just avoided her altogether. Still called, but didn’t drop in that often. That morning, Godfrey busied himself in a cheerful manner. Smiled his fake smile and left with Karl as quickly as they could.
Uncle T was still outside. Karl could hear him talking with the guard in the courtyard. He was standing in the spacious lounge, unsure. The smells were different. The crickets were still at it, proper concert.
‘You need anything? Water, food? There are things in the freezer. The cook was here the day before yesterday. Let me get something for you. Please sit. Sit.’
‘No, water is fine, thank you.’ He was here. How mad was that?
John sat with him.
‘You work with my father?’
John turned towards him. ‘Yes. For many years now.’
‘What’s he like?’
Uncle T came back before John could reply. He was all business mode, nodding, already starting on a new phone call, which he left to take inside the bungalow somewhere. Karl was on a white leather couch that faced the large flat-screen TV on the wall. John handed the water to Karl, switched on the TV and left him sitting alone.
‘Has John shown you the guest room yet? I will be sleeping next door to you. We share the bathroom. Your father’s room is at the other end. John showed you everything?’
‘No.’ Karl sank into the cushions. His feet a couple of centimetres off the floor. It was good to have some space after the cramped flight. ‘He went to do something at the back.’
‘Ah yes, he is checking the generator. Whether there’s enough fuel.’
‘What for?’
‘Light.’ Uncle T looked like he didn’t quite get it, then a light switched on in his brain. ‘The electricity, it goes off. Often. The people who can afford it use generators.’
‘Makes sense now. The noise.’
‘Yes, that noise,’ Uncle T seemed to be relaxing now. ‘You will get used to it.’ And with his confident stride he marched to the kitchen to get water for himself. ‘Or not.’ He laughed. ‘It’s just one of those things.’
Karl nodded although Uncle T couldn’t see him.
‘And all the security?’
‘That’s another of the things. You will get used to it as well. A lot of problems in this country, a lot of security is needed. If you can afford it.’
‘I see.’ Although Karl didn’t get shit. Gates to lock off the whole bloody street?
‘This is a gated community. Only employees and their families of the oil company your father works for live here.’
‘My father …’
‘Don’t worry about that now. It is well! We will take care of everything. Do you want to eat? Are you ready to try our food?’
‘I still have the sandwich from the plane. I probably just need to lie down soon. Very long day.’ Karl looked around. ‘Is he coming tonight?’
‘No, not tonight. I will explain. Don’t worry, trust me. It has been a long day.’ Uncle T nodded. ‘Come, I’ll show you the room.’
There wasn’t anything spectacular to it. A small landing led to a door left, a door right, and a door ahead. The bathroom was ahead. The bedrooms either side. His room was covered with a mosaic pattern made from stone and had a wall-to-wall built-in wardrobe. The bed was in the middle, pushed against the wall, facing the window, which had proper heavy curtains. Keeping shit out curtains. No peeping here whatsoever. A small desk on the side. Uncle T picked up a remote from the table and pointed it to the air conditioner at the wall.
‘The two rooms are for when his …’ He broke off.
‘His children?’
Karl had already seen the toys stacked neatly
at the bottom of the right side of the wardrobe. A cardboard box with a remote-controlled car pictured on it. There were other things. A football, some PlayStation games, a children’s encyclopaedia (a matter of seven books). Uncle T followed Karl’s look.
‘I don’t think he plays with them any more. Maybe the football. He’s much too old for that toy car.’
Karl nodded. There was a gap, another one, between the bringing him all the way here, and finding what was here. Those were two bloody different things.
‘If you need anything please knock on the door. I don’t sleep very much. I will hear you. Don’t be shy. OK?’
Karl nodded. ‘Thanks.’
‘The bed, all is fresh. The house help came yesterday.’
More nodding.
‘The soap, towels: in the bathroom. Everything you need should be there.’
Karl smiled; there wasn’t really anything else to do. It was bloody awkward.
‘Thank you for everything.’
‘I’m sorry Karl. This is not how you imagined your welcome in your country.’
‘No, it’s fine. Thank you for bringing me. Three months ago I didn’t even know that there was such a thing as my country. Obviously it’s not my country, I just mean …’
‘I understand.’ He paused and sought out Karl’s eyes. ‘Try to rest. I will do anything to make your visit here as perfect as it can be.’ His face changed. This was a dangerous thing. What he had just said. You shouldn’t set out to fail like that, to drop all the way from perfection to reality. It had already flopped in less than twenty-four hours.
‘Karl, I will be at your every service, as they say. ‘
The pause megaphoned their thoughts; it was all very obvious. The tension. Bloody hell. Uncle T patted his back again. Karl cringed. It had already become a rather unwelcome habit, this play-hitting. However gentle Uncle thought it was, it was also proper strong. Like in hurting you a bit.
‘Good night.’ Uncle T’s good-trouser-cladded legs carried him out of the room. That was defo close to perfection. His walk. Idris Elba as Stringer Bell had nothing on him. He turned one last time and smiled before closing the door.
When We Speak of Nothing Page 7
