Gently, he shut the door in his parents’ faces.
Mamo was waiting for him outside the pastry shop where, months earlier, they had glimpsed each other for the first time. He was wearing a nearly-new sweatshirt and there were shoes on his feet. He smiled almost shyly as Dani came up to him.
‘What’s in that?’ he said, looking at the bag that Dani was carrying over his shoulder. ‘Not running away again, are you?’
‘Course not.’ Dani led the way into the shop. ‘Come on. I’ll tell you later.’
They spent a long time choosing cakes at the counter, hovering luxuriously between the brightly coloured confections, and when Dani had paid they sat down at a table in the corner with a bottle of Coke and a plateful of cakes in front of each of them.
Mamo sat on the edge of his chair, looking round at the noisy Sunday afternoon customers.
‘I never thought I’d actually come in here,’ he said.
Dani felt self-conscious. He could see that Mamo was uneasy. Perhaps the pastry shop hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
They were both relieved when they stepped outside again into the hot sunshine.
‘Are you getting on all right, then?’ Mamo said, ‘at your school and everything?’
Dani grimaced.
‘It’s OK. I’m doing the year over again. I get by.’
‘Your pa going on at you still?’
‘When he does,’ Dani said, laughing, ‘all I’ve got to do is say I’ll run away again and he lays off me. It works every time.’
‘You wouldn’t though, would you, run off again, I mean?’
‘No.’ Dani shuddered. ‘He doesn’t know that, though.’
They walked on without speaking, their feet taking them by silent agreement towards their old pitch.
‘How about you?’ said Dani. ‘Are you OK? I haven’t seen you for weeks. I thought your sister sounded a bit edgy when I called into the shop.’
‘She is. She’s going to have a baby. Keeps going off to be sick. Yacob’s making such a fuss about it you’d have thought he was having the baby himself.’
‘Wow,’ Dani said, impressed. ‘You’re going to be an uncle.’
‘Not for ages. Not till after Easter. I’ll have learned to read by then. Yacob’s started paying for me to go to night school.’
He looked sideways at Dani, hoping to impress him.
‘Do you like it? Night school?’
‘Not much. It’s really hard work.’
‘Don’t I know it,’ said Dani with feeling.
The pitch was ahead of them now. There was the old street corner, the patch of ground behind the pavement, the wall against which they had so often slept. It was achingly familiar and yet strange to both of them, as if it belonged to another life.
‘They’re not here,’ Dani said, not sure if he was relieved or disappointed.
‘They don’t sleep here all the time now,’ said Mamo. ‘Million’s being working on getting a better pitch, down near the station. They might be back later. Let’s see if their stuff’s here.’
They walked over to the cleft in the wall where the gang had always hidden their bedding during the day. Some ancient blankets and Dani’s old bag, battered now beyond recognition, were piled up neatly, and lying on top of them, her nose twitching as she slept, was a little yellow dog.
‘Suri!’ Mamo cried.
Suri woke at once, leaped up and launched herself at Mamo, whining and barking in ecstasy.
Mamo crouched down to pet her.
‘Oh Suri, I miss you, all the time,’ he murmured.
‘I thought you’d taken her with you to your sister’s place,’ Dani said, surprised.
‘Tiggist wouldn’t have her.’ Mamo was scratching Suri’s favourite place under her chin. ‘She’s scared of dogs. I had to bring her back and leave her with Million. He looks after her all right, though. It’s why I visit him, really, to check on Suri and make sure she’s OK.’
Dani put his bag down, squatted down beside Mamo and pulled one of Suri’s ears. She gave his fingers a swift lick and turned her adoring attention back to Mamo.
‘You didn’t tell me,’ Mamo said at last, ‘what’s in the bag.’
Dani unzipped it.
‘It’s just some more stuff for them,’ he said, ‘a few clothes, and a new pair of shoes for Shoes. There’s a bit of money too. It’s not much. My father won’t give me any more. I suppose I’ll have to take it all home again, since they’re not here.’
‘No you won’t,’ said Mamo. ‘Leave it with the blankets. Suri’ll guard it. It’s getting late, anyway. They’ll be back soon.’
Dani pushed his presents out of sight between the blankets. Mamo gave Suri one last pat and stood up.
‘Stay, Suri. On guard,’ he said.
Whining, Suri climbed reluctantly back on to the pile and lay down, her head cocked, watching Mamo’s every move.
Behind the boys, the cars were slowing down for the traffic lights. Two ragged children had appeared as if from nowhere. They were darting from car to car, their small hands tapping on the closed windows.
‘No father, no mother,’ they were chorusing. ‘Very hungry. Stomach zero.’
They caught sight of Dani, and seeing his expensive clothes and the flash of a watch on his wrist, scampered across to him.
‘No fa—’ one of them began, tugging at Dani’s sleeve.
‘Who’s your joviro?’ Mamo said, interrupting him.
The boy’s eyes widened.
‘What’s that to you?’
‘It’s Million,’ the little one said proudly, pushing himself forward. ‘We’re with Million.’
‘Look after your stuff,’ Mamo said. ‘We’ve left some things for Million. Suri’s guarding it.’
‘Who are you?’ the older boy said, frowning at him suspiciously.
‘Million will know,’ said Mamo. ‘Say hi to him from us.’
He smiled awkwardly at Dani.
‘I suppose I’d better go home,’ he said.
‘Me too,’ said Dani.
They shook hands with a kind of formality. Dani punched Mamo lightly on the shoulder, and Mamo buffeted Dani back.
‘I’ll see you around,’ said Dani.
‘Yes,’ said Mamo, and he turned and walked quickly away, whistling between his teeth as he went.
AFTERWORD
I have known many boys (and some girls) who have lived on the streets of Addis Ababa. One in particular helped me to write this story. He gave me a message for you, the reader, and here it is:
What I want to say (because I think many people might read this book) is to the children who want to run away, because you might think that life on the street is easy and sort of exciting. But I’m telling you, it isn’t. It isn’t. And before you run away, think about your life, and be happy with it.
And if you’re out there already, living out in the city, you’ve got to be brave. I know you’re hungry and cold, but one day God will give you a chance, and until he does you’ve got to be patient. It’s so hard to live on the street. You’ll get really sad, but you can be happy too sometimes, and what I want to say to you is, don’t be tempted to kill yourself. Don’t try to die. The power of God will come some day to visit you.
With thanks I finish my story.
Praise for The Garbage King
‘This is an engrossing story of interweaving lives and of the capacity of children to help each other when adults fail them’
Books for Keeps
‘A piece of fiction grounded firmly in real life . . . the characters are alive and three-dimensional, and the texture of life in Ethiopia, the after-effects of years of war, the Christian traditions, the food and details of place are conveyed in a way that makes them almost instantly recognizable, no matter how unfamiliar the reader may be with the country itself’
Guardian
‘The boys’ adventures are recounted with the author’s deep knowledge of their environment and culture and a sure hand
for a compelling story’
Observer
‘This book is not just a compelling read but also an eye-opener, vividly describing the harsh reality of life on the streets’
Mail on Sunday
‘Elizabeth Laird has used her considerable talents as a story-teller to great effect in this compassionate story . . . the writing has a real sense of authenticity and is deeply moving’
Carousel
‘It is written very much from the heart and consequently thoroughly engages the reader’
Times Educational Supplement
‘Laird’s novel is extremely moving’
Primary Times
‘The clarity of prose and quality of the story-telling make this an utterly compelling read. With its convincing descriptions Laird’s writing evokes a strong sense of place and characters the reader really cares about’
Western Mail
Elizabeth Laird is the multi-award-winning author of several much-loved children’s books. She has been shortlisted for the prestigious Carnegie Medal six times. She lives in Britain now, but still likes to travel as much as she can.
Books by Elizabeth Laird published by Macmillan Children’s Books
Dindy and the Elephant
The Fastest Boy in the World
The Prince Who Walked with Lions
The Witching Hour
Lost Riders
Crusade
Oranges in No Man’s Land
Paradise End
Secrets of the Fearless
A Little Piece of Ground
The Garbage King
Jake’s Tower
Red Sky in the Morning
Kiss the Dust
First published 2003 by Macmillan Children’s Books
This edition published 2016 by Macmillan Children’s Books
This electronic edition published 2016 by Macmillan Children’s Books
an imprint of Pan Macmillan
20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN 978-0-330-47802-1
Text copyright © Elizabeth Laird 2003
Illustrations copyright © Yosef Kebede 2003
Cover images © Shutterstock
The right of Elizabeth Laird and Yosef Kebede to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Lyrics by Bob Marley reproduced by kind permission of The Marley Estate
You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Phototypeset by Intype Libra Ltd
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