“What do you think?” Kula asked.
“It is the water from this morning,” her neighbor said.
Together, the women began going from house to house, examining one another’s ruined washed clothes and the sediment settling at the bottom of their buckets and drums.
Their gathering got the attention of the men, whose immediate reactions were deep sighs, as it was plain they would now have to buy new uniforms for their children, especially if the river remained this way.
“We should have the men find out what has caused this,” Fatu said loudly enough so that the men lurking about heard. They nodded in agreement.
A few, including Bockarie, volunteered to walk along the river to explore the banks. Miller was among them, there to gather information for Colonel. It wasn’t long before they found the source of the problem. Several artificial dams had been created for the mining of rutile, but the dams were overflowing, spilling into and destroying the roads the company needed for its vehicles. So the company had begun draining excess water directly into the river, thereby contaminating it.
“The river was our only source of clean, drinkable water,” said the men. “Why did they not direct the water somewhere else?”
The farmers among them were livid. Their lands for planting next season had been dug up and flooded without any consultation. “This means that our rice fields have also been contaminated,” one of the farmers added, as he dipped a hand in the water and smelled it.
Among the gathering were men who had laid the very pipes that now spilled dirty mining water into their collective river. They had operated the very machines that dug up the land and flooded it. But they said nothing. Though they were ashamed and realized what their work had done, they had needed the job.
All the men began walking back to town, but Miller lagged behind to inspect whether there was a way to prevent the spillage. He knew Colonel would ask him about that.
He could see it would be impossible to fix quickly just using human hands. He ran after the men.
From that day on, clean, drinkable water became a highly sought-after commodity in town. Pipes bearing good water passed through Imperi directly to the mining company’s living quarters, but nothing was done to provide some of that water to the townspeople. It would have been a simple matter of laying a few more pipes, but it was not done.
On their way back to town to report what they had found, the men encountered Benjamin. He jumped at the sight of so many men on the path and stopped in his tracks.
“There is a problem with the river,” Bockarie said to his friend.
“I know,” said Benjamin. “Look at these fish I caught.” Benjamin opened his fishing sack.
“Ya ya ya ya, you have to show this to everybody.” Bockarie’s reaction brought all the men to peer in the sack.
Benjamin put the fish on the ground for proper view. The men gasped in unison when they saw what he’d caught. One fish had only one eye. Others had one fin or no tail.
No one had ever seen such deformities on fish. The men refused to believe what their eyes saw, and they kept staring as if doing so would eventually lead them to realize their eyes hadn’t deceived them. Benjamin gave three of the worst ones to the men to take with them to the town meeting that was now being called. He ran home to give his wife the other fish that were in slightly better condition to fry for his lunch. He had nothing else to eat and thought the hot oil should be able to kill whatever bacteria the fish contained.
Most of the townspeople gathered at the town hall, an open building covered with an old tin roof held up by four iron pillars. Miller had fed the ears of Colonel with what he heard and saw, and they were present, sitting within earshot in the nearby guava tree.
The elders—Mama Kadie, Pa Kainesi, and Pa Moiwa—explained to the crowd what the women had experienced at the river and what the men had found. And then they added their own wisdom.
“When I was a boy, my father told me that there are three important things one’s heart must be satisfied with before choosing the location of a village—now a town, but this still applies,” Pa Kainesi said, his voice trembling terribly. It had been a while since he had spoken in public. He had been quiet since Wonde had humiliated them. “There must be a good source of water, good land for growing crops, and a suitable place for burying the dead. We are losing the first two, and this is tormenting my old spirit.” He ended there.
There were murmurs in the crowd. Then arguments began to burst out. Some argued that matters should be taken up with the paramount chief, who likely did not know what was taking place. Others, who knew what would happen to their jobs if the company’s work were threatened, cautioned that perhaps everyone was overreacting.
“The water may finish draining by the end of the day, and there may be no need to make a problem out of it,” one man said, still holding his work helmet.
Some nodded in agreement; others took issue, with shouts directed at the fellow. “You heard what the elders said, we are losing what makes us people of this land. What is next after our water source has been destroyed?”
“You are a fool to think something will happen,” another shouted. “Accept what is going to always be.”
One man threw a punch. Another followed. But the fight didn’t escalate, because Mama Kadie’s voice rang out above the commotion.
“My children, why do we fight among ourselves over what someone else has done to us? Have you all lost every ounce of your natural intelligence? We the elders have decided to take the case to the paramount chief early tomorrow morning. We will need some young boys or men to carry the buckets of water and the fish to show the chief. Offer to use your strength for a purpose other than fighting.”
The gathering was quiet. The children were amazed at Mama Kadie’s ability to keep an entire town silent. Most had never witnessed a woman do such a thing. Colonel, too, was impressed and signaled with his eyes that Miller and Ernest should volunteer to carry the load. They raised their hands and the elders called them over to whisper in their ears where they would meet the following morning. Murmurs started rising again in the crowd when the elders said with these two boys, they had enough for the task.
Mama Kadie stilled the crowd by letting them know she was as angry as any of them. “My feet are already on the road as my heart remains on fire and I would like to cool it down.” She ended the gathering. She hadn’t accompanied the men last time they went to see the paramount chief. She hoped that this time, having the ears and eyes of another woman would make them more successful—that she would be able to make the paramount chief hear the past and therefore be able to have eyes for the future.
As people were dispersing, Benjamin’s wife, Fatu, entered the gathering holding a cooking pot. “Look. I tried frying the fish that my husband brought, the ones that were in good condition. This is what happened.” All that remained in the pot were bones lying in cooking oil. The flesh of the fish had completely dissolved.
One by one people lined up to look in Fatu’s pot, their minds and countenances burdened by what they had seen. Those who had money bought bottled water to drink that night; the rest—the majority—boiled the rusty water and cooled it before drinking it or cooking with it.
“If whatever bacteria that is in this water can survive after that boiling, then it deserves to infect me,” Bockarie joked to his family. His father sat on the veranda talking to himself, asking questions into the darkness as though there were answers within its crevasses, or at least a breeze that might calm the anxious blood flowing in his old veins. Eventually, the night found the appropriate air that seduced his old eyes with sleep.
* * *
They left early in the morning while night was handing over the troubles of the living to day. They walked on paths that were now interrupted by the wide roads that had been cut deep into the backbone of the earth. Hazardous trucks with tires higher than humans sped down the road at all times. They had to watch both ways before crossing and on the other side had to search for where the path continued. Whenever they arrived at a crossing, Ernest and Miller would walk ahead, remove the loads from their heads, and stand facing opposite directions. They would survey the distance, and when they were sure that no truck was in sight, they would signal for the elders to come across.
“My side is clear, and yours?” Miller would say to Ernest.
“Nothing here,” he would say, but they would keep watch and repeatedly check in with each other. When they’d safely gotten the elders across, they would return to pick up the loads and follow behind.
Before the sun finished its negotiations with the clouds and took over the sky, they had reached the village of the paramount chief. As they made their way along the potholed street leading to the chief’s compound, people came out of their houses to wave to them and greet them. Gradually, as if they’d been told why the elders had come, they followed, and soon there was a crowd accompanying them. The chief knew about their arrival, too, and even before they had the chance to sit down had made it clear she had eyes and ears everywhere in the chiefdom.
Nothing had changed in the paramount chief’s village except that her house had just been painted bright green and it had a new tin roof. The surrounding dwindling and decaying houses now looked even sadder in comparison. And its unnaturally green color seemed to make the trees turn their backs away from the village and dance to the wind in a different direction. The chief, however, seemed quite pleased with it, and she offered her guests cold water in bottles, which they drank thirstily. After they set the bottles down, the chief offered them soft drinks, which could have come only from the coffers of the mining company.
Mama Kadie would not permit such a ploy to distract them. She took the hand of the chief. “We thank you for the water and these other offerings, but we must now employ your ears and heart, and tell of occurrences that are breaking the spine of our town—” Before Mama Kadie could finish, the chief’s mobile phone rang:
the city is getting hot and the youth dem ah get so co oh oh old …
The ringtone was the chorus from a popular reggae song that one would expect on the phone of someone younger. A young person had probably set it up for her and she had no idea what the song was. Such things happened these days.
She removed her hand from Mama Kadie’s, flipped opened the phone, and brought it to her ear. After a series of
yes, okay, yes
, she snapped it shut, turned her eyes to the visitors, and spoke.
“I heard you, but we must wait for the police to get here before we can start this meeting.”
“Why do we need the police to discuss matters of our land?” Mama Kadie asked, a bit confused and irritated.
“You must tell me what has happened in front of them and they must take the names of those who saw these occurrences that you speak of,” the paramount chief said.
“We didn’t come here to report those people who saw what happened. We came to discuss what you, as our representative to the government, can do to stop what is happening to this land, to make decisions that benefit how this land and its people are treated.” Mama Kadie, now clearly exasperated, her face rigid with disbelief, her hands shaking, tried to find calm in her tone.
“Kadie, let us show her what we have brought with us.” Pa Kainesi called on Miller and Ernest to bring forward the bucket of water, the rusty clothes, and the deformed fish.
“Please wipe away whatever cloth has been set on your eyes and look at these things,” Pa Moiwa implored.
The crowd that had gathered around the chief’s compound began to murmur of similar things occurring even in this village and how they had tried but failed to get an audience with the chief. Finally, Mama Kadie could no longer take it, so she told her friends they must depart. She directed the boys to pour the water into an empty bucket in the chief’s compound and to place the fish and clothes on the ground next to it.
Without saying goodbye or performing the traditional rituals for leave-taking, they began to quietly make their way out of the village, when they heard vehicles approaching. From where the elders stood, they could see the dust rising in the distance. Most of the crowd ran away and the visitors seemed a bit confused. A talkative little girl who was standing near the wall of a mud-brick house told the elders that some people had been beaten by the police for raising concerns about their land. When their eyes could finally make out the vehicles, they were all the mining company’s Toyota Hiluxes, and they were filled with policemen with guns and armed security guards. They surrounded the visitors and commanded them to return to the chief’s compound.
Ernest and Miller, heaving with anger, reached into their pockets, possibly for knives. Mama Kadie laid her hands on their shoulders and her eyes told them to calm down. They removed their hands from their pockets but still carefully watched the armed men, who shoved the elders, Ernest, and Miller back to the compound. There, the elders were asked to repeat their concerns so that the police could take their statements.
Once more, Mama Kadie spoke for the group. “We came here this morning to have the ears of our chief and not to report anything to men with guns. We have done what we came here to do even though not to our heart’s satisfaction. We have nothing to say to you. The chief has our report, and if she wants to tell it to you, then she would at least be performing a duty for her people for a change.”
“Mother, you have to tell it to us again.” The chief of police tried to hold her hand while begging.
She pushed his hand away. “Don’t let your tongue falsely call me Mother. Would you use guns to get your mother to speak to you? I am done here and I am leaving.” She rose from her bench, and Pa Kainesi, Pa Moiwa, Ernest, and Miller followed her.
“You cannot leave here without telling your lies against the company to the police!” shouted the paramount chief. It was behavior that people with such roles are not supposed to exhibit in public. “Tell them about the water you and your people have mixed with rust and the fish you have deformed just to start problems! Can’t you see the company is helping provide jobs for our people?”