Buffalo muttered now when Dani, who had stayed behind at the pitch all afternoon while the others went off and begged, was given a share of the food, and several times Getachew made a sharp comment under his breath. He caught Million looking at him too, with a considering frown. Only Shoes, lost in his own dream world, didn’t seem to care.
Mamo was doing his best for him, Dani could see, shielding him from the group’s growing irritation and standing up for him whenever an argument broke out. But there was no doubt about it. Dani could tell he was a burden. He wasn’t pulling his weight. The clothes he’d brought into the group at the beginning had been paid for long ago, by weeks of food and protection. He’d have to start begging soon, and make his contribution, or he’d be out.
But I can’t beg, thought Dani. I’d see someone who knows me. I’d get caught. And I’m still too fat, a bit. Anyway, I could never do it. I just couldn’t.
Like he always did with worries, he tried to push the thought aside.
He was sitting as usual one morning, slumped against the wall while the others were out begging, idly watching Suri who had been left once more in his care. The puppy, who was growing almost visibly now, was tussling with an old root which was sticking up out of a rough patch of ground beyond the pitch, no doubt under the impression that it was a bone.
Her vigorous scrabblings were dislodging bits of earth and small sharp stones, but as Dani watched, something else, something long and thin with a blue end caught the sunlight.
He stood up and went across to look. Suri had dug up a biro. Dani picked it up. It was dusty, but still full of ink.
I wonder if it works, he thought.
He was still carrying the notebook he’d found at the dump. It was in the inner pocket of his now filthy bomber jacket. He wasn’t sure why he’d kept it. The pages were bent and crumpled, with dogeared corners, but he’d never quite wanted to throw it away.
He took it out, rubbed the dust off the pen, and tried it out. It didn’t work at first but he scribbled hard for a moment or two and suddenly there they were, circles of blue scrawled across the page.
Dani sat down again. It had been so long since he’d written anything he almost wondered if he’d forgotten how to shape the letters, but he balanced the book on his knee, smoothed out the cover and wrote Daniel Paulos across it in his best handwriting. Then, almost without realizing what he was doing, he opened it to the first blank page and wrote, ‘The Wicked Hyena’. He underlined it.
He could remember exactly how it had been the evening before Karate had died, when he’d told the story for the second time. He’d had the group right there, in the palm of his hand. They’d hung on every word. He’d told it right. Brilliantly, in fact.
He shut his eyes for a moment, blocking out the sounds of the street all around him. Then he began to write.
He wrote for hours, covering page after page with his large untidy handwriting. It felt wonderful! He was doing something he could do, and doing it well.
He’d almost finished when the others came back. They looked tired and irritable.
‘Where’s Suri?’ asked Mamo.
Dani looked round vaguely.
‘She was here a minute ago.’
He realized guiltily that he hadn’t seen Suri for hours. Mamo looked anxious and went off to hunt for her. Million gave Buffalo a small handful of coins.
‘Get some bread,’ he said. ‘That’s all we’ve got. It won’t buy much.’
Buffalo came back after a few minutes with three small rolls. Million broke them in pieces and gave some to Getachew, then to Buffalo and Shoes, keeping one back. Dani closed his notebook and went to squat with the others but they took no notice of him. Dani held out his hand to Million. Buffalo nudged him sharply, making him almost fall over.
‘Why should you have any?’ he said.
Dani bit his lip and edged backwards.
Mamo came back looking hot and annoyed.
‘She was miles away, right down near the butcher’s,’ he said accusingly to Dani. ‘She might have got hurt.’
‘Sorry,’ mumbled Dani.
‘You’ve got nothing else to do all day. You could at least have looked after her.’
‘Nothing else?’ said Getachew jeeringly. ‘He’s been hard at work, our little prince, writing in that notebook of his.’ He leaned over and snatched it out of Dani’s hand, opened the book and frowned down at the writing. ‘What’s all this rubbish, then?’
He put his finger under the title Dani had written and pointed to the letters one by one, slowly spelling out, ‘The Wicked Hyena’.
‘It was good, that story,’ Shoes said dreamily. ‘I liked it.’
‘What’s the use of this?’ Million said, taking the book out of Getachew’s hand. ‘We don’t run around all day getting money to feed you, just so you can sit and write stories.’
He held the book up, about to tear it in half.
‘No! Stop!’ cried Dani. An idea had come to him, a stupid one probably, but it was all he could think of to save his story. ‘You could tear out the pages and sell them. Sell the story, I mean.’
Million was gripping the book tightly, his hands already poised to rip it, but he stopped.
‘No one would buy a thing like that.’
‘You could try.’ Dani’s toes were curling with tension inside his shoes. ‘Please, Million, why not just try?’
Million stared at him, then he laughed shortly and flung the book back to Dani. Carefully, Dani tore out the written pages.
‘Buffalo can do it,’ Million said.
Buffalo scowled. Dani closed his eyes. Buffalo would mess it up, he knew that. He’d deliberately fail to sell it, and then sneer at Dani, and things would be worse than ever.
‘Give it to me,’ Mamo said. ‘I’ll give it a go.’
He was still annoyed with Dani, and didn’t look at him, but he took the pages out of Dani’s hands and disappeared once more into the darkness.
Dani moved away from the others. He was taut with nerves. He realized that a crisis had suddenly come. Make or break. In the gang or out of it. He was sweating. He wanted to stand up and walk about but he made himself sit still, holding on to Suri, determined this time not to let Mamo down.
Mamo came back after only twenty minutes. He thrust some money into Million’s hands and grinned across at Dani.
‘Two birr,’ he said. ‘Look at that, Million. Two whole birr.’
Tiggist hated being back in Addis Ababa. All day long, as she went about her duties in the shop, or kept Yasmin happy and out of mischief, she thought about Awassa. In Awassa, everything was lovely. People went about smiling there. The flowers on the trees were brighter, the streets were cleaner, the air fresher. Even the food tasted better. In her memory the town was bathed in a permanent golden light, as if the sun was perpetually rising.
But what was there for her here in Addis? Only a mat to sleep on at the back of the shop. Only a small shelf to put her things on, in a place where anyone could interfere with them. Only work, work, work, from morning till night.
There was no snug little room to share with Salma. There was no Salma, either, no friend, no one to talk to and laugh with, no one who knew about Yacob.
Things were different in the shop now. Mrs Faridah’s brother-in-law, who had been left to run the business while Mrs Faridah was away in Awassa, was still trying to be in charge, keeping a sharp eye on everyone and finding fault all the time.
In spite of it all, though, Tiggist couldn’t be unhappy. She was warmed all day and every night, when she lay on her mat and stared up into the darkness, by the thought of Yacob. She replayed in her mind again and again their last conversation, trying to conjure up exactly how she’d felt when they’d exchanged those long passionate looks.
‘I wanted to ask you,’ he’d said. ‘We couldn’t – you know – until I’ve got my shop.’
He’d never actually said they’d get married, but she’d known what he meant. She was quite, quite sure
about it.
The scrap of paper with his neighbour’s phone number on it was almost illegible now, she’d handled it so much. It didn’t matter. She’d read it again and again until she knew it off by heart. She chanted it to herself whenever she felt the slightest bit anxious or lonely. It was like a charm. It lifted her spirits as if by magic.
She tried not to daydream too realistically about what might happen in the future in case it never did. It might even be unlucky to make too many plans. But she couldn’t stop herself. Rosy visions kept popping into her head: being with Yacob; being looked after by someone kind and strong; being in her own little house, with her own nice things.
She was too busy for the first few days, back in Addis Ababa, to think about looking for Mamo, but as soon as she could get permission for a few hours off she slipped away to visit Mrs Hannah.
‘No, dear, I haven’t seen sight nor sound of him,’ Mrs Hannah said. ‘Now why don’t you come in for a bit, and tell me all your news?’
Tiggist had spent a lovely afternoon with Mrs Hannah, and while she’d talked on about Awassa, and hinted blushingly at the existence of Yacob, she’d forgotten all about Mamo. But on the way back to the shop she thought about him again.
Where could he have got to? It was so strange, the way he’d disappeared, on the very day she’d gone to work with Mrs Faridah, without leaving the slightest trace behind.
She was passing the street corner where he used to hang out with a crowd of boys. A new bunch of kids was hanging around there now. She didn’t know any of them except for one, an undersized boy with sawdust in his tufty hair. He was standing outside a paint supplier’s shop, waiting for a group of people to come out so that he could go in.
She went up to him.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘It’s Worku, isn’t it?’
He looked at her blankly.
‘I’m Mamo’s sister.’
‘Oh.’
‘I’ve been down in Awassa.’ She’d picked up the flicker of disdain in his eyes at the mention of Mamo’s name, and was alarmed. ‘I’ve lost touch with him. Do you know where he is?’
‘Mamo?’ He shrugged. ‘He was away for ages, but he’s back now. He’s on the street. I don’t see him and his lot much. I’ve got a job. In a furniture place with my dad.’ He waited, as if he expected her to congratulate him. ‘My dad says I’ve got to stop going around with people like that. Mamo hangs out down there.’ He pointed down the hill with his chin. ‘He’s in Million’s gang.’
In a gang! Tiggist’s eyes flew open. Surely Mamo hadn’t become a criminal?
The boy was looking into the shop, eager to get away.
‘If you see Mamo,’ Tiggist said quickly, ‘can you tell him that his sister’s back in Addis? Tell him it’s Tiggist. I’m at Mrs Faridah’s.’
‘OK,’ the boy said. ‘If I see him.’
He saw his chance, darted into the crowded shop, and began to worm his way up to the counter.
Slowly, Tiggist walked back to Mrs Faridah’s. So Mamo was on the street! A godana! The lowest of the low!
She felt guilty, although she hardly knew why. There was nothing she could have done for him. If he’d wanted her to help him he shouldn’t have run away.
Mohammed, Mrs Faridah’s brother-in-law, was standing at the door of the shop when she got back.
‘Where have you been all this time?’ he said.
‘To visit my old neighbour,’ Tiggist said meekly, not wanting to get into trouble. ‘Mrs Faridah said I could.’
‘Go on inside,’ he said. ‘The floor needs sweeping.’
He didn’t move out of the doorway and Tiggist had to squeeze past him to get inside. She shrank away, trying not to touch him. Even though he spoke to her roughly he’d been giving her funny looks since she’d come back. He kept following her with his eyes. She’d have to watch her step.
She sighed as she fetched the broom and started sweeping the floor. Everything was so complicated here in Addis. If only she was back in Awassa.
Getachew, who had bumped into Worku on one of his forays into the centre of town, gave Mamo his message as they went off together to a church where a forty days ceremony was rumoured to be taking place.
‘I nearly forgot,’ he said. ‘I saw Worku yesterday. He says your sister’s around again. She’s been down in Awassa.’
‘Tiggist? In Awassa?’ Mamo stared at him, astonished. ‘What’s she been doing down there?’
‘How should I know? She’s back, anyway, working in someone’s shop. He didn’t say which one.’
‘She’ll be at Mrs Faridah’s, I bet,’ said Mamo.
He’d almost forgotten about Tiggist. He’d felt, in an illogical kind of way, that she’d let him down, going off like that, and he’d put her out of his mind. But suddenly here she was again, real and close by. His head buzzed with excitement at the thought.
‘You go on alone,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you later.’
It was a long way to Mrs Faridah’s. Mamo started off fast, running along the edge of the road, darting between people and donkeys and bicycles. But as he came nearer to the shop, he began to slow down, and when he came round the last corner and saw it there, with its smart green awning pulled down over the front, and the lame boy in his starched overall leaning against the fruit stand outside the door, he stopped altogether.
What would it be like, seeing Tiggist again, after all this time had passed, and everything that had happened? She’d made a success of herself, with her job and everything. But he was nothing but a ragged, dirty beggar boy.
She’ll think I’m scum, he thought.
He nearly turned round and walked away, but then he remembered that last morning, when they’d been together in the old shack, and she’d got up and had given him some breakfast.
‘She’s still my big sister,’ he thought. ‘She always did look after me.’
Slowly, his heart beating fast, he crossed the road and covered the last two hundred yards to the shop.
The boy in the overall was still leaning against the fruit stand.
‘Yes? What?’ he said, jerking his chin up as Mamo approached.
‘Is Tiggist here? Someone told me she’s come back.’
Mamo spoke quietly, afraid that the angry man who’d sent him packing last time would come out and shout at him again.
‘In there,’ the boy said, pointing into the shop.
Mamo didn’t move. He didn’t have the courage to go inside. The shop was too smart and clean.
The boy seemed to understand. He levered himself away from the stand and hauled himself up the steps.
‘Tiggist!’ he called out. ‘Someone here for you.’
Tiggist came flying out of the shop, her face alight with joyous expectation. When she saw Mamo, she looked disappointed for a moment, and then, as she recognized her brother in the tall, ragged boy in front of her, she gasped with astonishment.
‘Mamo!’
She looked quickly over her shoulder, then grabbed his arm and pulled him round the side of the building. They stood staring at each other.
‘What’s the matter? What is it? Where have you been all this time?’ said Tiggist.
Her voice was full of the rough love he’d known so well. It cut into him. He’d relied on it once but it had let him down.
‘Where have I been?’ he said bitterly. ‘I’ll tell you where I’ve been.’
He told her some of it, in fits and starts. It was harder telling Tiggist. He kept wanting to cry, and he had to break off from time to time to pinch the tears out of his eyes and wipe his nose on his sleeve. She listened, horrified, asking questions and shaking her head, but Mamo knew she’d never understand even half of the loneliness and terror and misery he had suffered.
‘I couldn’t have known where you’d got to, could I?’ she said defensively, when he’d finished. ‘And I couldn’t have done anything about it, anyway.’
They stared at each other, both feeling helpless and miles apart.
/> ‘Worku said you were in a gang now,’ Tiggist said at last, and Mamo bristled at the disapproval in her voice.
‘Not like that. It’s just some friends. We look out for each other.’
‘You’ve got a place, then? Where you sleep.’
He hesitated. He couldn’t bear to tell her the truth.
‘Yes.’
‘But you haven’t got a job or anything. How do you manage?’
‘We get by.’
She didn’t seem to have heard.
‘Look at the state you’re in!’ she said, touching his dirty sleeve.
‘I’ll clean myself up.’
He looked down, as if noticing the wreckage of his clothes for the first time.
‘I’ve got some money,’ she said. ‘Savings. From my wages. I could give you some if you’re desperate.’
He felt prickly with pride and shame.
‘I told you. I do all right.’
The vegetable boy’s head suddenly appeared round the corner of the house.
‘She’s looking for you,’ he said. ‘Mrs Faridah is.’
‘I’ve got to go,’ said Tiggist. She leaned forward and gave Mamo a quick hug.
‘Mamo, it’s amazing, seeing you. I’m so glad. I’ve been really, really worried. Don’t disappear again. Where can I get hold of you?’
‘You can’t. Not easily,’ he said awkwardly. ‘I’m round and about. You don’t have to worry about me any more. I’m doing fine. And I’ll come again soon, I promise.’
16
Dani’s position in the gang had changed since Mamo had sold his story. Million had grasped the potential of the new idea at once. When the others had set out the next morning on their usual round of scavenging and begging, Million had stayed behind. He had hovered round Dani, watching as he settled himself down with the remains of the notebook on his knee and the biro in his hand, poised to begin writing another story. Then he’d stood guard over him, looking after Suri, peering over Dani’s shoulder from time to time to see how much he’d written, and asking him encouragingly how he was getting on.
The Garbage King Page 21
