He was treated the same way as the others.
Colonel had a parcel of sugar that he sprinkled all over them. Then he took the keys from their pockets and left.
They weren’t aware at first of what he had done, but they soon found out, as killer ants started arriving and climbing all over their naked bodies, biting them everywhere, until their bodies became red, swollen, and numb. Meanwhile, using their keys, which bore the names of their quarters and room numbers, Colonel crept into their living spaces and set their rooms on fire, burning everything in them.
The men weren’t discovered until morning. People gathered around them until the police came with some armed guards and an ambulance. The local fellow described the boy who had done this, and people were forced to give the name of Colonel. But who was Colonel? Few knew his real name and he was nowhere to be found. And those who did know his name said nothing. As for where he was, only Miller knew, and he certainly told no one.
The rapes ceased and men stopped staying too long at the bar. They also looked around before using unnecessary words to women and girls who walked by.
9
THE END OF THE YEAR
was approaching and all the teachers were desperate. They hadn’t received their “every three months” salaries that they had gotten used to and adjusted their lives around. It was now almost six months without pay, and they were going into the Christmas holiday—and of course nothing could be earned while on holiday. This caused panic among the teachers. They already had to miraculously make their current salaries work, and such miracles lose their effectiveness if stretched out too much. Simultaneously, while the nerves of teachers who had preached the relevance of education to their students were being tightened by burdensome circumstances, the mining company was advertising job openings for clerks, processing operators, mechanics, and security guards.
The teachers decided to hold a meeting with the principal, who was also affected by the lack of salaries. He could no longer afford petrol for his motorcycle, and some days he pushed the thing onto the school grounds sweating right through his suit. Sometimes, the students helped push the motorcycle with him sitting on top. The boys thought it was fun, and since there were many of them they didn’t mind, and the principal would give them a few leones every now and then for lunch. He called the boys his “hybrid engine.”
The meeting ended very quickly, and whatever good spirits had been retained by the teachers were dispelled in an instant. The principal didn’t know when the next pay would be coming, and he tried to plead with his teachers not to abandon their jobs, “which are more than just earning a salary,” he said. But his plea, though genuine, fell on ears that desperation now controlled and that now were able to hear only unpleasantries. Everyone was suspicious of the principal, especially as another secondary school in the nearby district had received salaries before the holiday. What is more, he was finishing a cement house in town that had become the envy of everyone whose eyes saw this simple four-bedroom house.
For the first time, Bockarie started seriously thinking about working for the mining company. He could not see any other way to take care of his family. When he told Benjamin what he was thinking, Benjamin told Bockarie he’d already gotten an interview and hoped to be hired soon. Benjamin also told his friend about something he had been planning and wanted to accomplish before he stopped teaching.
“I am going to steal the principal’s ledger and use it against him, sort of force him to do some good things for the school,” Benjamin said. He wasn’t joking around, as he usually did. He was serious.
“How are you going to do that? Can I help?” After he said that, Bockarie hesitated. He wasn’t sure he should have offered. The thought tormented him, but it also made sense. And, Bockarie thought, perhaps there was a way he could personally benefit from Benjamin’s plan. Perhaps the demands could include using the nonexistent teachers’ salaries to pay for the school fees for all his children. He didn’t mention this to his friend.
“As a matter of fact, I do need your help—for lookout and distraction, if needed, and for some work that we will have to do after. I have studied the principal’s movements and know exactly when to strike. We strike tomorrow at lunchtime.”
He abruptly switched the topic. “Wait for me after school today so we can stop by the company’s site, where you can pick up an application.” He forced a smile, but it quickly departed, as though his face wanted only what was pure from within.
After school, Bockarie told Manawah and Miata to head home without him, that he would see them later on. While Bockarie waited for Benjamin, the principal came by, two boys pushing his motorcycle. He waved to Bockarie with a smile that showed he enjoyed what was happening. The boys took turns making the engine sound of the motorcycle, and the taller of the two honked at Bockarie when the principal waved. Bockarie waved back and smiled at the ability of these young boys to find joy in such a laborious and ridiculous activity.
Why does he bring his motorcycle to school if he has no petrol?
he asked himself, as he had so many times before.
“Sorry, man. I was getting these.” Benjamin’s voice reached Bockarie’s ears. He was slightly in the distance, jogging lightly, grasping two ledgers under his arm. Bockarie surveyed the area, looking worried. “Relax, man, these are blank.” Benjamin laughed. He said that he had stolen them, one at a time, from the storage room a few weeks back. He went on to explain that the following day, he planned to swap one of these in the principal’s bag for the real ledger. That way, the bag would weigh the same and the principal wouldn’t notice the ledger was gone. Then, throughout the night, with Bockarie’s help, Benjamin would copy the contents of the entire ledger into the second blank one. And then, on the next day, the original would be returned with a note attached, reading, “We have the original and here are our demands!”
“So, some plans have changed. I will need you, close to the end of school tomorrow, to snatch the ledger, as this will guarantee that the principal won’t notice overnight, and we can do the swap first thing the next morning during assembly when he is speaking.” Benjamin was quite proud of his plan.
“What if he notices that the real ledger is missing before he goes home?”
“We would still have the ledger. And we would find a way of leaving our demands in his office. I am going to make sure he knows it is me—especially after I get the job at the company.”
Slowly, they approached the site of the mining company, stopping at the entrance to speak to a fellow they knew by the name of Ojuku.
“The teacher men, teachers of knowledge! What brings you to my humble post?” Ojuku asked, even though he suspected why they were there. They shook hands.
“My man Ojuku, we are here to pick up an application,” Bockarie said.
“That is right, and we know you are the man in charge!” Benjamin slapped the hand of Ojuku with another handshake.
“There are no applications for now,” Ojuku said with a laugh, a short laugh that suggested the suspension, from here on, of whatever friendship was between them.
“The applications are right there, man, on the shelf. We can see them.” Benjamin pointed to the papers.
“Those papers are papers. I say they are applications only when I want to. For now they are just papers, plain!” Ojuku played with the baton at his side and held the gate open for a fellow dressed in overalls.
“So give us the plain paper, then,” Bockarie said.
“Those plain papers are under my watch and they are company property. They are not free.” Ojuku went inside the gate, closed it behind him, and spoke to the teachers from the other side. “Those plain papers won’t last long, though. For some reason people love them and shake my hand with notes that make me see the papers aren’t so plain.”
“You know that the applications are free, and yet you still make trouble for your own people.” Bockarie raised his voice a bit.
“I say what is free around here. Can’t you see I am in charge, man?” Ojuku refused to give Bockarie the application for free even though it was free. Bockarie knew it was futile to continue arguing, so he gave him some money and took the papers angrily from Ojuku’s fingers.
“You were right, my brother. They are applications! I was blind but now I see applications and
hmmm.
” Ojuku smelled the notes and laughed again. He told Bockarie that he must remember that they would see each other again when he returned with the completed application. He rubbed his thumb and index finger together as a warning that Bockarie should behave or he would have to pay more money upon his return.
That evening before nightfall, Bockarie paced up and down in confusion on his veranda holding a pen and the application form. He had asked Kula about applying to work for the company.
“If you think it would help the family, then try it, and you can always quit if the work breaks your heart too much.” Her response assured him that she would stand by him no matter what, but he still felt that this wasn’t right. Realistically, though, it was what had to be done. He asked his father, Pa Kainesi, who said nothing for a while, perhaps because he had hidden his voice within him for some time now. Then after a long sigh, which was even more tormenting to hear than his piercing silence, he spoke.
“Yes and No are the same these days in this land of ours. Good luck, my son.” He fell quiet again and left for a walk to see his friends, whom he sat with to observe the goings and comings of the townspeople. Bockarie didn’t understand what his father meant. He decided to fill out the application before night fully embraced the clear blue sky.
It will be temporary and I may not even get the job
, he said to himself, his hands shaking as he began by writing his name on the application. He filled it out carefully, thinking about each word before he wrote it. He had only the one copy and he knew if he made a mistake, he would have to give Ojuku more money. He barely had enough money to get Ojuku to receive the completed application and put it in the box where it would be picked up and looked at. He couldn’t afford another.
Meanwhile, that night, as during many others, the police and armed guards showed up in town looking for Colonel. They even questioned Salimatu about his whereabouts but nothing about what had happened to her. Miller and Ernest took over the wood selling business in the absence of Colonel, and Kula began cooking for them full time, something that apparently Colonel had discussed with her. Salimatu was looked after by Kula, Mama Kadie, Miata, and especially Mahawa, who became a close friend. The two young women were always together everywhere, giggling and taking turns carrying Tornya. Sometimes one couldn’t tell who was the real mother of the child.
* * *
For a week, Bockarie and Benjamin tried unsuccessfully to snatch the principal’s ledger. And every day, after another failed attempt, they would pass by the notice board at the mining site to see if the list of new employees had been posted.
It was a Wednesday, and they were going to check the notice board once again, not hopeful at all. It was just a new routine to delay going home and to play with the possibility of something, anything, happening. A conversation began between them about what would happen if they got employment at the mining company. They spoke about the impact that it would have on the students who wouldn’t have teachers for however long it would take to find their replacements. They also knew that no one was seeking an unpaid teacher’s position and that one of their colleagues would likely be manipulated by the principal to take their places. They were unsettled by the ramifications of their decisions. They got even sadder when they thought about the brilliance of some of their students and the enthusiasm for learning the children had under all sorts of difficult conditions.
Bockarie thought specifically about a boy and a girl who walked eight miles one way every day from the nearby chiefdom to attend school and scored one hundred percent on every subject. The students had told him that they took turns reading their notes aloud to the other while they walked to and from their village. It was the only way they could have ample time to study, as by the time they got home they were too exhausted to study for long. The girl and boy had also convinced the teachers to give them lessons on weekends, when they should be resting from the long walks.
“I think we should still continue to give lessons even when we are no longer teachers,” Bockarie said.
“I agree. Could we still charge, or is it going to be for free?”
“We have to charge. You know our people. If it is local and free they think it is not good. And some students will slack off.” Bockarie’s response made both of them feel slightly better about leaving the school.
“Look—I wasn’t expecting this to happen today.” Benjamin pointed ahead of them and they hastened, nearly running. A crowd of men and young boys—boys whose youthfulness struggled to cling to their desperate faces—stood around the empty notice board. There were more than fifty men and twenty boys, most of them new to the area.
As Bockarie and Benjamin came closer, they could hear the low voices of men wishing one another good luck, their utterances filled with anxiety. Ojuku, they learned, would soon bring the list containing the names of those whom the gods had blessed and cursed at the same time.
While they waited, they chose to look at this possibility of employment as a blessing. It was really a short wait but it felt longer, and Ojuku played with the emotions of the crowd, showing them the small power he had over them. He stood behind the wire fence and pretended to have a phone call while scanning the list of names and raising his head up to survey the faces in the crowd. Having exhausted mocking the crowd, and worried about his foreign bosses catching him in the act, he finally came out of the gate.
The crowd surged around him, their huddled weight pushing him quicker to the board where he pinned the list of twenty names. The crowd, no longer recognizing Ojuku’s importance, almost trampled him on their way to get a look at the list.