The Country of Ice Cream Star (21 page)

Here his thinking pause. Eyes narrow, and he reach behind and find the flask of booze. Uncork and drink, still watching on me. ‘So, what the roos will gain?’

I try to make my spirit think. Mamadou watching me with hate, with interest. Drink booze and watch me past his knife.

I catch my breath and say, ‘I trade this news. You let these Christings–’

‘Shee.’ He sit back cold. ‘My trade be this. I feel too lazy tired to kill you. Be tired with this discussion and your knives and nonsense talk. Going to tell you what will be. Can be my queen now, Sengle, this the final time I give this chance. Then you
tell
me what I ask, because you
doing
what I ask. Or you be a slave like any. Can try your luck at fighting feathers, will be cherry entertainment. But you never leaving here. Must know this be the end, when you come running to this camp.’

I chill in my blood. ‘Choice of worm and cockroach. Ain’t no different to my mind.’

‘You see the difference when I let my feathers take your precieuse self. You feel some difference then.’

‘Fool, you got a nothing brain, same as you got a nothing heart. Be no death I fear. Go kill me, ya.’

‘Got no killing mood. Nor I ain’t mention no third choice.’

Then we staring, hate to hate. Can see the muscles tensen in his neck.

I say, ‘Prefer to be a simper. Will be bone variety.’

He raise his arm behind, and bring it down with all his force. My head ring false, can feel my teeth. Sight go in hurting blur.

He say in weaken breath, ‘Ain’t want no girl I got to beat. Ain’t like sad work, been told you this.’

‘Go kill me, fool. Ain’t slap me like an eight.’ But I be trembling, cannot tell if this be fear or rage.

Then something come, be stranger than no blows. Mamadou’s face go stark. He put his palm flat to my cheek and hold the place he hit. Ain’t stroke nor press, he only feel me, like he ain’t certain it be me.

And tears shine in his eyes.

My heart beat uncanny. I reach up to his face, but he push hard, rise up and stalk away. A moment he only stand, his back move with his angry breath. Then he fling the knife back to myself. It land beside my knee. I ain’t look to it, I watch the NewKing with all beating fear.

‘Goddamn.’ He wipe his eyes hard, like he want to tear them out. Walk to the wall, look at the rifle like this thing ain’t recognize. Yo, when he speak, he speak toward the gun.

‘Ain’t let you go, should know. Nor my feathers accept this weakness. Come running here, you going to be my queen, if I must keep you bound. For truth, I never leave you to them. You ain’t for that.’

He put one hand up on that gun. His jaw go gritting, shoulders tense. ‘I know the things you say, you talk to me like … damn, I ain’t no fool. Know well this roo ain’t honest. Got any roos behind, I know they ain’t want nothing good for me.’

I catch breath to this. ‘Nay, what he promise you, your Deema?’

‘Now you asking questions.’ He look at me feroce. ‘Tell you this, ain’t going to be no Sengles or no diggers here. People be mine or took by roos. What you thought was happening, if you even do no thinking?’ He turn by and hook some jeans down from the wall, begin to pull these on. I watch, feel how I never seen him do this normal task before. Resent my own insisting love, and I say, ‘So, roos help you to this power, you think?’

Mamadou finish with his jeans and look back at me cold. ‘Nay, I know. I helping them. But cannot see how power can hurt me. You going to fight them with that knife, I guess.’

‘Can leave. Ain’t got to stay by them.’

He make his scorning face. ‘Thought you been smarter. Leave, they find me in my weakness. Then it be no promises from them, be other stories. Think you going to flee from them, you need to find another world.’

‘Better chance in this. You let me go, we see who living longest.’

‘Nay, you heed. You going to be my queen, because I want you, all it is. Fight me if you like my beatings. Guess you prefer to be some
rooish keep. Talk like you knowing something. You ain’t even knowing what you be.’

‘I be some goods, I guess.’

‘To Deema? Yo, can meet him, you begin to comprehend.’ His face change into different hatreds. ‘Tell you this, some chance become, we war against these roos. And sure, if war be made, mine be the people gain this war. They digger rabbits die in easy blood without myself. Your Sengles, sure be enfants, going to die.’

He shake his head, reach up and lift the gun off of its hook. Cross to the magazine and fix it on. Then he look back with measuring eyes. ‘You bone? Ain’t hurt too much?’

‘How you meaning? Sure, ain’t nothing.’

His face go easier. ‘Yo be right. I going to fetch this Deema. Best he understanding who you be, before he do no grossness. And heed, you ask him on the fire. Deema stay behind at Tophet, but he never spoke of fire. Be truth, this interest myself. And be easy with your knife. Deema ain’t so soft with noisy females, like I be.’

I watch his eyes, and my heart waste in hurt. I say without no thought, ‘Ain’t wish to kill you, for yourself. Sure you know.’

He swear some filth beneath his breath. Show his tired grin and say, ‘You be a year of misery, Sengle.’

Then he duck outside the hut. Can hear him swearing as he go.

24

OF DEEMA ROO

Belief be food to courage. Yo, never been my courage hungrier than on this day. I crave for any madness hope, so it be hope and not despair.

So it become that I resolve to be the Army queen. Will beg the Christings’ freedom for my love, all I can do. Then I make war against the roos with Mamadou the NewKing. Can fight the rooish cure from them, my Driver healing quick.

This endure for wishful minutes. It last while I put on my filthen silver dress, inspect its ruin. Yo my strange belief continue while I drink the last of my rat booze. Cut a hiding for the knife into the silver skirt, can hold it ready by my thigh – and I believe. Believe while Mamadou return, and yo I wish to speak, to tell him that I stay. Ain’t no love been like what I desire, while he come watchful in. His rifle slung upon, it hanging careless at his naked chest. He say, ‘Is coming. Mind my word,’ and every shame be gold.

But when Deema come, this madness die.

He come with arm around a feather who bear up his drunkenness. Roo wear only whitey underpants and mudden boots. Paunch show sweaten hairy, and his face be pink as ugliness. Ruin ear look like melt wax. Got a knife himself, thrust in these underpants, the lastic hold it sloppy to. Yo ain’t this grossness spoil my faith.

The bearing feather be Karim. He got his greenish feathers, loose
untie and straggle down. And his face can recognize, though I ain’t thought that I will know his face.

Be handsome made, but low in height. This height mark Crow’s Karim, and how his beard be shapen on his chin. Eyes is careful nervy, like he struggle with his patience. He look at me with knowledge, and I look at him with hate.

Then everything I feel be nothing in this visible sight. Cannot go the sinking path of Crow.

And here it recognize how I be caught. I been a hundred fools that I come here. Even if someone guess I be here, all they Armies wearing guns. Ain’t nothing Sengles do against. Mamadou said,
You never leaving here
, he spoken with true meaning. Been my stupid pride that I ain’t heard this seriose.

I feel the world be shrunken to this hut, these men in flickering dark. Ain’t no future out of this. No Ice Cream ever be beyond. Sure is almost pleasure when the roo distract with his bad noise.

‘Mamadou! My king!’ call Deema Roo in slushen voice. Then he laugh like this been enfant joke. Hunt his hands around himself, surprise when he find only skin. Mamadou understand this, reach the rat flask out.

‘I thank gratty,’ Deema say. Grab the flask and put it to his mouth, try drinking through the cork. Then he look annoyance. Pull the cork out, drop it on the floor. Drinking go in pulses down his neck.

Mamadou look intention at me, like he show some point. Yo Pasha’s speech of Deema remind:
Be fool soldat. Ain’t bone for nothing
. Now I struggle in thinking all this
fool soldat
can mean.

Deema finish his drink and hand the flask to green Karim. In this, he notice me. Come toward sway-foot and stop at talking distance. Ain’t so tall as Pasha, but is grandy size enough. Yo his fattish sides make weight.

And close, I see his face be ruin queer. Got creases in his brow and cheek, the skin bag loose below. Pink color in his cheeks ain’t regular. Be tender lines of purple branch along his cheeks and nose. Be like a face in sleeper pictures, looking all disease.

He say, ‘This girl I never saw. Where you hide this one? A good take, almost good as mine. I think–’ He point up at my face, scribble the air before my mouth. ‘Think she was hurt. No, this girl you use yourself, I see what happen now.’

Mamadou say in careless voice, ‘Told you of Army queens. This my queen, you heed. She got a question to you.’

‘Queen?’ Karim say sudden. Look to Mamadou, and his hand touch his feathers finicky. He glance at me with spitting face.

‘Queen,’ say Deema. ‘Queen I know, is like you say before. But questions is the wrong time. Bad time. Children, I drank.’

Now my love be cold, and all I feel is how I can escape. But I say in shaken voice, ‘Ain’t trouble you with much, but just one question.’

Deema blear his eye at me. ‘Got pretty breasts,’ he say. ‘But too black.’

I feel the hating eyes of green Karim inspect myself. He pick at his feathers, say low-voice, ‘Queen ain’t insult.’

‘Truth,’ say Mamadou cold, ‘quit your familiar games, my brother. Myself ain’t slept one hour this night.’

‘Bad,’ say Deema. ‘You must sleep. We all sleep! You with Karim, I take this girl.’ He laugh high in his voice.

Karim swear underbreath. Look back at Mamadou with pleading, like a cheaten little.

Roo drink from the flask again. A shadow rise up grandy on the wall beside, snake there in firelight. When he lower his arm, the shadow drop, like it suck back into himself. And I recall again, I never leave this place. Myself be by.

I take a feary breath, and my hand gather on the knife. ‘My question this. Why you burn their house at Tophet?’

The roo turn sudden, leave his back to me. ‘Got more rat? I go to find more rat.’

‘Got more,’ say Mamadou. ‘Sure this wait. Queen been ask a question.’

‘Question?’

Mamadou say like carelessness, ‘She ask about some fire.’

Roo seem to wake alert. ‘Fire! Ya, I light a cigarette. Match go down. Comprehend? This wooden house, it go–’ He raise his hands up overhead. ‘Never to make a house with wood, my king. In my country, we make stone material. Many houses, very high. No fire.’

I force my voice. ‘No fire beginning so. In snowy morning, I ain’t think.’

‘Begin,’ say Deema with back to me. ‘Wooden house.’

‘Yo littles inside this house.’ I say up harsher, ‘It been killing work.’

Karim go swear again, and look at me with new intention. I feel my boldness spark, I say to him, ‘You hear, Karim, was littles there. Been an eightish girl the Armies’ own, your child.’

‘No,’ Deema say, but I say through this harsh, ‘Yo, Deema kill them all.’

Mamadou flinch. His eye look wary at me.

Roo stand and scratch his face. Karim watch on him now, got trembling looks. Then the roo say, sour in temper, ‘Cigarette. Can give me?’

‘Be sure,’ say Mamadou. He pass along the wall toward me, holding sharp onto his rifle. Reach a pouch above, retrieve a fold of Lowell cigarettes. As he turn, his eye look at me warning.

He handen Deema Roo a cigarette and zippo. Roo light, make noise as he draw in the smoke. Muttern to himself, ‘Talking. Bore from this.’

Then Mamadou say, ‘You burn this house, my Deema? Ain’t no harm to me.’

‘Is politics.’ Deema turn to him with injure face. ‘Ain’t burn no children. Politics to burn a house, you see. Be fear to others, you keep this fear. They come like … for slave to you. You know this politics.’

‘Sure, cleverish thought,’ say Mamadou. ‘Only wonder be, why you ain’t spoke of this.’

Karim look at the roo, look back at NewKing cautieuse. Bite his lip in mally attention.

Deema point his finger at Mamadou, then swing it by. He shake
this finger, saying, ‘You must learn by me. Ain’t only guns. Going to give you learn. Can rule like–’

‘Rule like science, sure you said.’ The NewKing fish a cigarette, shape it in his hand. Look at it considering, then narrow eyes back at the roo. ‘But how I going to learn, if you ain’t tell me what you do?’

‘Ain’t listen to your girls, I learn you this. Ain’t take this talk.’

I say cold, ‘My only wonder be, why you will do this act. You try to win these Armies to your use. Then burn their eightish child.’

Roo turn to me with painful face. ‘Was no child. No person in this house. Girl lying, fire was small.’

‘Ain’t believe she lie,’ Karim say nervy. ‘Chosen queen ain’t lie.’

‘Expect that I can lie,’ I say. ‘And sure I like this lie above the truth that all these enfants dead.’

Now can see this Deema’s mood gone stank. Is drunken riling. And in my corner-eye, I see the NewKing watching disapproval. Put cigarette in his mouth and shake his head.

I look away. ‘Nay, roo. Be honor that they kill yourself.’

Deema turn toward me squaring. My hand brighten on my knife.

He say, ‘Be pretty to look, but this bitch lie. This allow?’

Mamadou staring on me hard. ‘She going to learn some honesty. And you can learn respect, my Deema.’

‘No,’ Deema say, his eyes on me. ‘Was no enfants. Girl be filth.’

I say in frighten hate, ‘You lying. I seen these children dead.’

Deema’s face twist up. Then, like some despair I magine, his hand go to his knife. Karim swear underbreath, and Mamadou say, ‘We finish now, be done.’ His voice be angry cold, and Deema’s face flinch insult at this. Yo my burning fear be on my knife and Deema’s knife.

Then Deema yank his head back sharp and spit into my face. I startle back, raise my free hand and wipe my face off rough. Mamadou saying hard, ‘Can leave your knife,’ and Deema yell some rooish drunkenness, at Mamadou or anyone. Look at me, and I can see how I become an object to him, like a cup a little throw in tantrum. And in one rearing motion, Deema punch me in my breast.