Bockarie and his family stood by and waited for Benjamin’s uncle, who was supposed to meet them. The place was so crowded it was hard to know where to look. People were going about their business; traders were selling their commodities. Thomas and Oumu came awake with the energy emanating from the boisterous crowd.
“Mother, can we buy some balloons?” Thomas pointed to the fellow who was blowing them up and making figures.
“Another time, children,” she said, holding tightly to the hands of her small ones. Bockarie paced around their luggage, thinking this might have been a mistake. What if the man they were supposed to meet didn’t show up? He, Bockarie, had no other plans.
Oumu saw someone across the street who looked like Colonel. She rubbed her eyes to be sure. He smiled and put his hands on his lips for her not to say anything to her parents, whose attention she was trying to get. Colonel put his hat back on and disappeared in the crowd. He didn’t go far. He was near enough to watch the family; he wanted to know where they would be staying. Oumu’s eyes searched for him, but she gave up after a while.
“Mister, don’t look so nervous. Have a seat here with your family.” One of the traders offered Bockarie and his family a bench. He called a young boy to bring them bottles of cold water and Coca-Cola for the children. Bockarie wanted to say that he didn’t have money for these things, but the man, as if reading Bockarie’s mind, said, “You are my guest until whoever you are waiting for arrives. Do not worry. And don’t thank me; this is what decent people should do for one another. This is how we are and how we all used to be.” He smiled and went back to his business bargaining with a customer.
The family drank quietly, observing the unceasing movement of people. A man went by carrying six bags of rice, fifty kilograms each, stacked on top of one another. “How can his neck withstand that?” Kula asked out loud, as the man stopped a few stalls from them and added even more bags on top of what he was carrying. Their eyes left him at the junction, where he turned off and a group of young women emerged, walking with an ease that was contrary to the rhythm of the crowd at this vehicle stop. A young fellow who was passing the group retraced his steps and tried talking to one of the young women. Their exchange caught the attention of Manawah and Miata more than everyone else. They wanted to immediately start learning the young parlance of the city.
The man said, “Baby girl, ah lek u bo. Ah want for tell you sontin wae ah nor want for leh no wan yeri” (Young woman, I like you and I want to tell you something that I do not want anyone else to hear).
The girl smiled while pretending to ignore him. She was coming from a school function with her friends, and they proudly wore hats from one of the popular secondary schools for girls.
“I don’t have time for idle boys.” She deliberately responded in English either to intimidate or to discourage the young man. She continued on with her friends. The fellow walked faster and slowed down next to her.
“I am a man of words myself and right now my words are looking to please your ears if you will grant me that pleasure, sweet rose of my day.” He managed to impress her with the sentence—but it wasn’t enough.
“You are not M3 material so I don’t want you,” she told the young man, who was now trying to hold her hand. Her friends laughed, smacking their lips with bubble gum. The young man was ashamed but not defeated; something in his eyes said he would try again. He walked backward, and each time any of the girls turned around, he would wave to them.
“In the old days, all you needed was a ripe washed mango to court a girl. Nowadays, they want M3—mobile, money, and motor vehicle. You have to have at least one of these, or the appearance of it, to be eligible for a longer conversation with most girls and women.” The man who spoke, as the family sat laughing, introduced himself as Mr. Saquee, Benjamin’s uncle. He was tall with a face that was constantly jovial, almost beyond his control.
“Welcome to Freetown! It isn’t as free as it used to be, but it is our freedom land nonetheless!” He took a packet of mints and handed some notes to the kind trader.
“Thank you, Mamadou,” he said as he received his change. He then shook hands with Bockarie and acknowledged everyone before offering to carry a bag or two. Abu took the hands of Thomas and Oumu, and the rest of the family carried the remaining bags. They didn’t have much in them; it was a hopeful gesture to arrive with big empty suitcases. “One has to be hopeful in every aspect of your life—your stride, your smile, and laugh when you can find it, even in your breath, to be able to live in Freetown.” These were the last words Bockarie’s father had whispered to him. Bockarie still felt his warm morning breath in his ears.
They followed Mr. Saquee, all of their eyes glued to him so they wouldn’t lose him. Maybe it was a family trait, as he walked as fast as Benjamin had, even with his age. Kula was next to him and Bockarie kept up the rear, with the children in between. Colonel followed at a good enough distance that even Oumu couldn’t detect him.
There were many things their eyes wanted to feast on, but Mr. Saquee’s pace denied them most of it as they hurried between the rows of houses made entirely out of corrugated iron, not just the roofs. There was a remarkable liveliness among these congested houses. It seemed that wherever possible, men and women, girls and boys, returned every night to celebrate whatever little the day had given them. They did so with the vigor of music blaring from their unlivable homes, in passionate conversations about football matches and, inevitably, about politics.
This isn’t Imperi. There may be possibilities here
, Bockarie thought to himself.
They arrived at a cement house that stood at the edge of the town of tin shack houses—
pan bodi
, as they’re called—and the rest of the city. Mr. Saquee showed them the single room he would offer them for free for a month. Other arrangements would be made after the month had passed. His wife brought them some food and water, and after the meal, the children and their mother went to sleep. She took the only bed in the room; the two girls, Miata and Oumu, slept on a mat at the foot of the bed in the small space between the bed and the wall. Manawah, Abu, and Thomas also slept on the floor near the door, which had to be opened carefully at night to avoid hitting the head of whoever lay closest to it.
Their father went to sit on the veranda with Mr. Saquee to thank him for welcoming them and also to get directions for the appointment he had the next day for an interview to teach summer school. He had gotten a contact from one of his old teacher friends at Imperi and had called ahead of time.
“When will Mr. Matturi, Fatu, and family arrive?” Bockarie asked during their conversation.
“He called to tell me to take care of you. He will arrive with everyone when the time fits and said to tell you not to worry.” Mr. Saquee gave a reassuring nod. In that moment, they heard a commotion down the road. A young man came flying past with a group of young men shouting after him, “Catch that thief! Thief man!”
“Well, welcome!” Mr. Saquee said with a laugh. “That should be a way to close the night. Let’s hope they do not catch him.”
Bockarie wanted to ask why Mr. Saquee hoped that a thief would get away, but he didn’t. He was new to Freetown and would discover many things that at first did not make sense.
“Good evening, sirs,” a young fellow greeted them, standing under the stoop of the veranda. They answered with suspicion.
“My name is Pastor Stevens and I am going to pray for your financial success this evening, to ask the lord to open your financial gate.” The man began to pray. When he finished, he put out his hand, asking Bockarie and Mr. Saquee for some money.
“Young man, you should have prayed for your own financial gate to be opened first. Ours has just closed. Thank you, though, and God bless you, too!” Mr. Saquee tried to suppress his laugher. The fellow turned on his heel and walked into the night, leaving them two flyers. The first read, “Come to the national stadium and learn how to invest in next world (life after death).” The second, “Put u money na bank to Jesus” (Put your money in the bank of Jesus).
“Everyone is trying to believe in something these days, and they forget that miracles happen every day when we truly acknowledge the humanity of another or just have a simple, pure conversation with someone else.” Mama Kadie would have said this truth, Bockarie thought, and he knew that his family’s safe arrival in Freetown was nothing short of a miracle, a blessing.
* * *
As he slowly dragged his feet toward the room to search for sleep, Bockarie’s mind was consumed with what the following day would bring. There were questions about life in the city with his family; about his father, whom he had left behind. He wondered how Benjamin’s family was faring. He leaned his back against the door and stared into the dark night with strong eyes, as though wanting to leave his burden outside, then he gave the door a powerful shove. He nearly fell into the room. He heard a thud, followed by groan, a hissing, then a sniffle. He waited a bit to see which of his children he had hit, but the room was too dark to see Manawah, clutching his head and clenching his teeth. In pain, but not wanting his father to feel badly, the boy quietly moved his body closer to his brothers and away from the door, as Bockarie shut it and tiptoed around the children, his hands stretched in front of him to find the bed.
Manawah couldn’t sleep that night. Rolling around on the cold cement floor, he searched for a spot to lay the side of his head that pulsated so badly, but the cool of the floor did nothing to stop the swelling. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. He tightened his lips to hold the crying back, but it made him cough.
Bockarie was sleeping lightly and heard his son’s restlessness. “Are you okay my son?” he whispered, as he got up to open the window to let some air into the hot room. Manawah pretended to sleep, and not hearing any more movements, Bockarie went back to bed.
However, they both lay awake, waiting to hear the other, and as they did they saw in the darkness a long stick making its way into the room from the outside. The stick hooked the handles of the bag that contained the little cash they had. Carefully, the stick started retreating through the window it had come in. Bockarie leapt up, grabbing the bag and pulling the stick as well. He heard someone fall by the window and the person’s heavy footsteps take off into the night. He shut the window, went back to bed, and eventually fell asleep. The next morning the family woke to see that the window had been opened again and a bag of Bockarie’s clothes was missing.
“They call it fishing—that is what the thieves call that technique of lifting things from rooms. You shouldn’t open your window at night. If you must, though, make sure things are far away from the window area.”
Mr. Saquee shook hands with Bockarie to complete their morning greetings. While the men spoke, Manawah rose and his father spied his swollen head. “I am sorry, my son. Why didn’t you tell me last night?” Bockarie held his son’s head gently and examined the wound on his forehead.
“Don’t ever hide something like this from me.” He looked into his child’s eyes with a pleading stare.
“I wanted you to sleep, Father, because of your meeting. This will go away.” Manawah lightly tapped the swelling and went to fetch water at the only pump in the neighborhood. There, the line was so long that people would leave their buckets and jerry cans and go about their morning activities, then return hours later just when it was their turn. This technique unknown to Manawah on the first morning, he stood in line for hours and each time he thought he would be next, as no other person was around, whoever’s bucket was next in line arrived just in time. When he told the story later, deeply frustrated, they found it funny. Manawah didn’t get easily frustrated.
Kula took the cassavas out of the rice bag that they were wrapped in and began peeling them. She had brought some from up-country. She cut them into pieces and hummed a quiet tune as she washed and tossed the pieces in a pot of boiling water. Soon enough she called on everyone to assemble and eat the boiled cassavas she had prepared. Mr. Saquee and his wife shared the meal, and he was ecstatic.
“It has been a while since I tasted fresh cassavas. It makes me miss my village. Thank you, Kula,
hmmm
.” His eyes were closed and the children giggled at how much joy this man expressed for a piece of cassava. They knew their mother was an excellent cook, but this was incredibly funny. Bockarie ate his meal quickly and headed to his meeting, leaving Kula to supervise the family as they unpacked and familiarized themselves with their new environment.
14
BOCKARIE LEFT EARLY IN ORDER TO SAVE MONEY
by walking the several miles to his meeting on the other side of the city center. He clenched and opened his fists, took short breaths and clenched his jaw, and whispered repeatedly, “Grant me luck today.” He looked toward the sky.
He stepped into the main street, and as soon as he started his stroll he realized he had made the right decision not only to save money but to walk as well. The queues for passenger vehicles were so long that he would have been standing there way past his appointment time. However, he had to return home to change into a T-shirt. When he entered the room, Kula froze with the thought that this was not a good sign. She was the only one home, arranging their belongings so they would all fit in the small room. She also had a newspaper on the table and in between folding things was underlining ads for work.
“Is it already over?”
“I just came back because I need a T-shirt so that I don’t sweat in my interview shirt. You are worrying too much.” He patted her shoulder to calm her anxiety. He changed and neatly folded his dress shirt and undershirt. He then placed them gently in a black plastic bag that he carried under his arm as he readied to go out again.
“Did they all run away already?” He kissed his wife and lowered himself on the bed for a bit.
“The boys went to fetch water and Miata took the twins with her to the market and to walk around the neighborhood a bit. They wanted to do all their chores early so that they could ‘discover the city,’ as they put it.” She stopped her work and sat next to her husband.