Only Karate ate nothing.
‘I’m not hungry,’ he croaked. ‘They kept giving me stuff to eat at the hospital. I just want some water.’
He sat propped up between Million and Dani, swathed in the grey blanket. Looking down at him in the leaping firelight, Dani saw that he was breathing fast, with his mouth open, and that the dark corkscrews of hair were damp against his coppery forehead.
‘You said you knew stories, Dani,’ Getachew said. ‘Go on, then. Tell us one.’
The others turned to him. Dani felt a twinge of anxiety. He’d forgotten about the stories.
‘All right,’ he said slowly. ‘Wait a minute.’
He shut his eyes. There was one about a bird and an elephant, but it was too short and, anyway, he’d never liked the ending. And that one about the king and the flute – no, he couldn’t remember the middle bit. But there was a good one about a brother and a sister that Zeni had often told to Meseret. He could probably remember most of it, and it was one she liked hearing again and again.
He opened his eyes. The boys were sitting in expectant silence, looking at him.
‘OK,’ said Dani. ‘This one’s about a brother and sister.’
He heard Karate beside him sigh with satisfaction. ‘Once upon a time,’ he began, ‘there was a boy and a girl, and their mum and dad died and they were all on their own. They still lived in their parents’ house, though.’
‘Was it in Addis?’ asked Mamo.
‘I don’t know. No, in the country. Anyway, this hyena came and cooked food for them and left it out for them to eat but they never saw it.’
‘A hyena?’ said Getachew. ‘Even if it was a hyena, it was still being kind giving them food.’
‘No, it wasn’t, because it just wanted to trick them and eat them.’
‘How did they know?’ said Shoes.
Buffalo pushed at him, making him almost topple over.
‘Shut up and let him tell the story.’
‘The kids wanted to know who was feeding them,’ Dani went on, ‘so one day the girl took the cattle down to the river instead of the boy, while the boy hid and watched. The hyena came and started to cook. She kept using magic, like if she wanted a spoon she just called out, ‘‘Spoon! Come to me!’’ and the spoon flew through the air right into her hand so the boy knew she was a magic hyena, like a witch.’
He looked round at the ring of faces. They were listening with rapt attention.
‘The hyena saw him and made him come out of his hiding place. He was really scared but she was nice to him and said she wanted to marry him and told him to tell his sister. So when his sister came home he told her about the hyena and said he was going to marry her but not to worry, because she was nice and would feed them and look after them.’
Beside him, Karate had stiffened with excitement.
‘His sister said, was he crazy? You can’t trust a witch! And she made him agree to run away. So they did. They ran off into the forest with all their cattle. And there were other kids in the forest like them and they all got to be friends.’
‘Like us,’ murmured Karate.
‘But the hyena was furious, and she hunted them out and found them, and turned herself into a really beautiful woman. The boy didn’t know it was the hyena, and he fell in love with her and married her and he and his sister went home with her.
But one night the girl went to stay at a friend’s house, and the hyena woman saw that she’d got the boy alone at last and it was her chance to eat him. So she killed him and hid him in the field outside ready to eat the next day.’
Karate coughed. He lifted his head away from Million’s arm and began to lean against Dani’s shoulder. One thumb was in his mouth and his other hand was clutching a corner of the elephant shirt, holding it to his lower lip.
‘When the girl came home,’ Dani went on, ‘she couldn’t find her brother and she guessed what had happened.’ He stopped. ‘I can’t remember the next bit very well, but anyway, she ran outside and met a rat and a monkey, and they couldn’t help her, and then she got really upset and began to pray. And God came down and she told him what had happened and took him to where her brother was. And God stuck all his bones together and made him come alive again.’
‘He can do that?’ Karate said, looking surprised.
‘And then the hyena chased them both and fell into a gorge and died.’
‘Is that the end?’ said Million, who had been trying not to look as interested as the others.
‘Yes,’ said Dani, ‘except that the boy and girl went home and lived happily ever after. I didn’t tell it very well. I haven’t told it before and I missed out lots of bits. I can remember it better now.’
‘I think it was lovely,’ Karate said. ‘Tell it again. Put in all the other bits this time.’
Dani looked round, expecting that the others would be bored, but they were watching him, their mouths slightly open, like an audience at the cinema.
So he began again, and as he told the story, something happened to him that had never happened before. His voice deepened, his imagination took fire, words rolled out of him, and the brother and sister, the hyena witch, the band of boys in the forest, seemed to leap into the circle of firelight, drawn there by the magic of his telling.
It was warmer than it had been for the last few nights, when the chill had been so severe that Dani had shivered on the ground until his teeth chattered. The cracked concrete paving stones on their old pitch still held some of the sun’s heat, and they were dry, unlike the bare earth on which they’d had to sleep down the hill. Then, too, the last embers of the fire glowed red, warming the boys’ minds as much as their bodies.
Yawning, they were shaking out their shammas and blankets ready to settle down and sleep. Karate lay with his eyes shut as if he had dozed off already, but as Dani went to lie down he turned his head and said, ‘Sleep beside me, Dani. I want to ask you something.’
Dani sat down beside him. He was getting used to sleeping on the hard ground but he still delayed lying down as long as he could.
‘I think that boy in the story was silly,’ said Karate. His voice was weak and thick with phlegm. ‘Why did he marry the hyena woman? He should have run away with his sister. I would have.’
‘Yes, but he thought she was nice. She tricked him,’ Dani said, smiling. Karate was like Meseret. The story was obviously as real to him as everyday life.
‘Do you think it hurt when he got killed?’
‘Maybe, but not for long. She must have done it quickly because he’d have started fighting back.’
‘When he actually died it must have hurt.’
‘No,’ said Mamo, from a little way away. ‘It doesn’t hurt. It’s nice. Your soul just floats away and goes to God.’
‘I know what God looks like,’ said Karate. ‘I looked in through the church door. There’s a picture on the wall there and it’s an old man with a white beard.’
Dani said nothing.
‘God’s your father,’ said Mamo. ‘He looks after you.’
‘Like Million,’ Karate said, and closed his eyes again.
Dani lay down. He had a sudden urge to pick Karate up and cradle him in his arms but he didn’t want to disturb him or offend Million, who was lying on the little boy’s other side. Instead he reached for Karate’s hand and squeezed it.
‘Good night,’ he said. ‘Sleep well. You’ll feel better in the morning.’
Karate must have died just before dawn because when the other boys got up his body was still warm, although his hands were quite cold.
Dani had woken with a start at first light. Million was sitting up, holding Karate’s hands in his and crying. Dani stared down at the small still face. Karate looked peaceful, happy almost, but smaller somehow, as if death had shrunk him down. Dani’s throat started to feel tight. He thought he might choke.
‘It’s not right! He was only a baby! No one should have to die like that!’
Million gently unwrapped Karate
from the grey blanket and began to take off the hospital pyjamas. Dani stared at him, appalled.
‘What are you doing?’
Million prised the elephant shirt out of Karate’s tight fist, eased it over his head and pulled it down to cover the still, thin chest.
‘He wouldn’t want to go in that thing,’ he said, throwing the pyjama jacket aside.
He laid Karate down again on the pavement. The shirt, far too big, engulfed the little body. The sight of it was too much for Million. He picked Karate up and held him against his chest, and a high wail began to come from deep inside his throat. The others squatted round him, crying too.
‘But it’s all wrong!’ Dani cried. ‘We should have done something! I didn’t realize!’
‘What? What should we have done?’ said Mamo, turning on him. ‘His soul flew away. It’s free. You couldn’t stop it.’
Dani’s anger died way. The others were right. There was nothing they could have done. Karate’s soul had flown. That was all there was to it.
Like them, he began to cry.
None of them heard the two policemen approach. Million was the first to look up. He flinched at the sight of the khaki uniforms and black peaked caps.
Dani shrank into himself, his heart suddenly pounding, but the policemen had no eyes for him. They were looking only at the body of the little boy in Million’s arms.
‘He passed away in the night,’ Million said. ‘He’s been very sick, for a long time. He was in hospital but he didn’t like it there and he ran away.’
The older policeman bent down to look more closely, and clicked his tongue sympathetically.
‘I know him. He’s been hanging around here with you lot for ages.’
‘He was our brother,’ Buffalo burst out.
The man straightened up.
‘Better send for the municipal,’ he said to the younger policeman. He turned back to Million. ‘What was his name? Who was he?’
‘He was just Karate,’ muttered Getachew.
‘His mothers called him Wondemu,’ Million said. ‘He didn’t have a family. He’s lived with us for years. We looked after him. He didn’t know anyone else.’
‘Father’s name?’
The boys looked round at each other.
‘Million,’ Dani said loudly, looking up. In spite of the risk of being seen, he couldn’t stay silent. ‘His father’s name was Million.’
14
Tiggist had never known anything like this new feeling that had possessed her. It had taken hold the very next day after she’d first seen Salma’s brother, Yacob, at the gate. He’d come back while she was giving Yasmin her lunch and she’d met him properly, shaking hands with him and everything.
It had started right away, a sort of warm happiness, making her feel as if she was expanding inside. A smile was growing, spreading across her whole face without her even realizing it. Then she’d seen the same sort of smile on Yacob’s face, and had suddenly felt dreadfully shy. She’d dropped her eyes and covered her mouth with her hand, and had turned back to Yasmin who was waiting for her next mouthful like a baby bird in a nest with its beak wide open.
It was lucky that Salma was out, running an errand for Mrs Faridah. She’d have laughed and teased Tiggist, and then Tiggist would have clammed up completely and been unable to say a word. As it was, she found she could answer Yacob’s questions quite easily, if she kept her eyes on Yasmin and didn’t actually look at him.
His voice was low and gentle. You couldn’t imagine it ever sounding angry. He asked her about her parents. She told him that her father had died in the northern campaign. It was what Ma had said sometimes, and it might have been true, though she’d wondered sometimes if Ma had been quite sure who her father was.
She couldn’t help feeling just a little bit relieved that Ma had died. She wasn’t the sort of person Yacob would have liked. She couldn’t imagine him hanging round bars and drinking all the time, like all Ma’s old men friends, and if he’d seen Ma drunk, and in one of her rages, she would have died of shame.
Yacob didn’t seem to mind that she didn’t have a family, except for Mamo, and she explained that she’d lost touch with him. He only seemed to be interested in her. Did she like being in Awassa? Was it nicer than Addis? Had she ever walked along by the lake in the evening, when the birds were flying in to roost, or been up to the top of the hill to watch the sun set over the water?
His questions opened up vistas in front of her. She’d seen nothing of Awassa. She’d never had the time, and even if Mrs Faridah had let her go out, she wouldn’t have known where to go. She hardly knew how to answer him. She’d have liked to ask him questions too, but she didn’t dare.
Salma came back just as her brother was going. She began laughing loudly, seeing the two of them together, just as Tiggist had feared she would, but then she looked from Yacob’s face to Tiggist’s and back again, stopped laughing and shook her head.
‘Wow,’ was all she said.
Yacob came every day after that. Tiggist was afraid that Mrs Faridah would notice and forbid him to come, but Yacob kept himself tactfully out of sight. Anyway, Mrs Faridah was completely occupied with her husband, who was sicker than ever.
Mr Hamid died a couple of weeks later. Tiggist had hardly ever seen him, except for occasional small glimpses through a half-open door, and she couldn’t pretend to be sad, though she felt a bit sorry for Yasmin and Mrs Faridah. Instead she was worried. What if Mrs Faridah decided to go back to Addis and take Tiggist with her? She might never see Yacob again!
Mrs Faridah was upset at the funeral, of course, crying a lot and accepting everyone’s sympathy with heavy sighs and shakes of the head, but Tiggist could see that she was relieved too. Mr Hamid had been sick for such a long time, and even before he fell ill he hadn’t been much of a husband, by all accounts. It was Mrs Faridah who’d kept everything together, running the shop in Addis and bringing Yasmin up single-handed.
The blow fell a week after Mr Hamid’s body had been laid to rest in the cemetery up the hill.
‘We’re going back to Addis, Tiggist,’ Mrs Faridah said, tying back her hair in a black headscarf, and looking energetic and determined.
‘When?’ asked Tiggist. Her heart was sinking down and down, as if it was tied to a lead weight.
‘As soon as possible.’ Mrs Faridah was smiling at her in the old friendly way. ‘Aren’t you pleased? You must have missed it, being stuck down here in this sleepy hollow.’
‘Oh no,’ Tiggist said, biting her lip. ‘I like it here.’
Mrs Faridah pinched her chin.
‘Well, you’d better start liking Addis again. Get Yasmin’s clothes washed this morning. We’ll be off the day after tomorrow.’
For the first time since she’d met him, Yacob failed to come that day. Tiggist was on tenterhooks, hovering in sight of the compound gates and looking up at every footstep.
Salma rolled her eyes at her.
‘You’ve got it really bad, haven’t you? I can’t believe anyone could get so soft over poor old Yacob. He’s so boring! He’s not even handsome!’
‘Not handsome?’ said Tiggist, firing up at once. ‘How can you say that? He’s – he’s got the most beautiful eyes.’
She stopped. Salma had let out a shout of laughter.
‘Yacob! Beautiful eyes! I don’t believe I’m hearing this!’
Reluctantly, Tiggist smiled too.
‘Yes, but what’s the use?’ she said, her smile fading at once. ‘I’m going back to Addis. I might never see him again.’
‘Oh, you will,’ Salma said comfortably. ‘He may be a bit of a slowcoach, our Yacob, but he’s persistent. I think he’s really gone on you. He won’t give up easily.’
That was the only comfort Tiggist had that day, and she nursed Salma’s words as she went about her work. She’d begun to allow herself to paint rosy pictures of her future, of the shop Yacob would one day have, and the sort of house they might live in. She’d even dared to imagine w
hat their children might look like, and what names they’d give them.
I must have been mad, she kept telling herself. He’ll forget all about me once I’ve gone. Why would he want to marry me – a man like him? I’m from nowhere.
The house was in turmoil now. The funeral visits were over, but Mrs Faridah was sorting and packing, washing and organizing, giving orders and countermanding them, watched listlessly by Mr Hamid’s old mother, who had come in from the country, and who sat hour after hour in a corner of the compound, the only person, it seemed to Tiggist, who really mourned Mr Hamid’s death.
Yacob came earlier than usual the next day. His slightly pockmarked forehead was furrowed.
‘You’re going back to Addis, then?’ he said to Tiggist. ‘I heard from the egg seller. I expect you’re pleased.’
‘Oh no! No! I love it here. I don’t want to go at all!’
His frown cleared.
‘I wanted to ask you—’ he began.
Her heart started to pound.
‘What?’
‘I can’t. I’m not ready yet. I still don’t earn much money. Not enough, anyway. We couldn’t – you know – until I’ve got my shop.’
‘Oh, but I’ll wait,’ she said, daring to read his meaning. ‘For as long as you like.’
‘Will you?’
He took hold of her hand and she was amazed to feel that his was trembling. She felt calmer and more confident, almost powerful.
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Tiggist!’ Mrs Faridah was calling urgently from inside the house. ‘What are you doing? Come here and take Yasmin outside. She’s been under my feet all morning.’
Yacob and Tiggist jumped apart.
‘I’ve got to go,’ Tiggist said. She wasn’t too shy now to look into his eyes. She was gazing into them in fact, unable to drag her own away.
He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper.
‘Our neighbour’s got a telephone,’ he said. ‘If you need me, call this number and leave a message. I’ll come and see you, anyway, as soon as I can raise the money for the bus fare.’
The Garbage King Page 19
