Where Women are Kings (13 page)

‘OK,’ said Elijah. He spotted a thrush darting under a hedge and paused to watch it. Granddad tugged his ear and Elijah looked up at him. ‘Thank you for my antlers.’

‘Of course!’ said Granddad. He smiled and they moved on. ‘I’ll look out for other things for your collection,’ he said. ‘It’s amazing what you can get on eBay these days.’

Elijah didn’t know what eBay was but he nodded anyway. They turned into a large park with a big hill, and he imagined running down it, arms out.

‘So you met Jasmin, then.’ Granddad walked quickly. ‘She’s a real character.’

‘She poked her tongue out,’ said Elijah.

Granddad laughed. ‘Yes, that’s Jasmin.’ He was a very old man but his legs went as quick as a young man’s. The air was cool and Elijah’s own legs felt strong. He liked how the cold air felt on his nose, and how the trees looked.

‘The Greenwich planetarium is not far and we’re free for an hour,’ said Granddad. ‘Let’s go in.’ He walked ahead. Elijah watched Granddad’s back, and kept his legs moving fast so he wouldn’t get lost. It was a long climb upwards in Greenwich Park and Elijah’s breath was quick. He tried to count the steps but there were too many. Lots of people on the way were smiling and taking photographs of each other. Lots of families. His heart bit him inside.

Finally, they came to a shining dome, glittering in the sunshine. Elijah looked down at the whole of Greenwich and saw the shining tower blocks in the distance.

‘Canary Wharf,’ Granddad said. ‘You can see nearly the whole of London from up here.’ He took Elijah’s hand and they walked through the gate.

Inside, there were photos of space rockets and everywhere was suddenly dark. It felt like he was inside a dream. A good one. He looked for the wizard but couldn’t feel it. Granddad bought some tickets for a short show and his eyes twinkled in the low light. They sat down together in the darkness. ‘This is one of my favourite places,’ he said. ‘I like to come here and see the Nigerian stars. London is so full of dirt and pollution that you can’t actually see the night sky. I miss the sky most of all.’ He whispered towards Elijah’s ear but the words spilled out everywhere, and someone behind them coughed. ‘I miss everything, living in exile like this.’

Elijah could only see Granddad’s outline, the softness of his white hair. Elijah suddenly thought of his schoolbag, sitting by the door, waiting for Monday. Of Nikki holding his hand too tightly. Of Ricardo talking to Nikki and Obi. Of Mama.

There was music and a blanket of stars fell on top of them.

‘This is like Nigeria,’ whispered Granddad. He looked up with Elijah and they listened to a man tell them about all of the stars and planets and Elijah felt very, very small, like an ant. He thought about sitting in Nigeria with Granddad, and how hot they would feel and how many stars they’d see. The stars seemed to fall inside Elijah’s body and fill in the empty spaces. The wizard was nowhere inside him. He was full of Nigerian stars. Granddad put his arm around Elijah’s shoulder
and they watched and watched, and for a few minutes, Elijah felt as though his Mama was very, very near. He closed his eyes tightly and let himself remember her voice, her smell, her love – bigger than the sky.

*

‘Obi usually takes only a few minutes for lunch,’ said Nikki as she pressed the door buzzer to his office. ‘But I’ve talked him into taking the whole hour with us.’

They stood on a busy street with lots of cars and people rushing by. Obi’s office had a cluster of women outside who were wearing long black sheets and only the eyeholes cut out. Elijah tried to look at their eyes but the women were too busy moving their heads and talking loudly in a language that sounded like coughing. He wondered if the women had come to get help from Obi. Obi’s job was all about helping people. He took care of human rights, which was the rights of humans, like Nikki took care of dog rights. Humans had lots of rights and Obi had told him some of them.

Nikki buzzed again and smiled down at Elijah. Obi’s head appeared. He threw the door open, swooping Elijah into his arms and carrying him into the building, with Nikki grinning at Elijah from behind Obi’s wide shoulders. The room was not at all what he expected. Fola’s favourite show was
Crime Scene Investigation
and he couldn’t remember much about it, because it was so long since he lived with Fola, but he did remember the lawyers’ offices, all sparkling and full of white-skinned blonde women wearing high heels. Obi’s office had lots of old Blu-tack on the walls and there was only one white-skinned blonde woman sitting behind a small desk, but she didn’t look like the ones in
C.S.I
.: she wore a T-shirt that had an orange stain on the front.

‘Pauline, this is Elijah,’ said Obi, and he spun Elijah around in the air before setting him down in front of the woman.

‘You’re all he talks about,’ said Pauline. She held out her hand. ‘It’s so nice to finally meet you.’

Elijah shook her hand. Her fingers were sticky.

Obi turned to Nikki. ‘I just have one phone call to make, then I’m all yours.’ He kissed her cheek then went into another room and shut the door behind him.

Nikki squeezed Elijah’s shoulder. Pauline reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a tub filled with sweets. ‘Flying Saucers are my favourites,’ she said, and opened the tub towards Elijah.

Elijah looked at Nikki. She nodded. ‘One won’t hurt.’

Elijah could hear Obi talking on the phone in a loud voice. He sounded cross.

‘In fact, I might steal one myself.’ Nikki put her hand in and took a round purple sweet.

Elijah took a sweet for himself and popped it in his mouth. Obi’s voice was saying, ‘She will be deported. It’s as simple as that. We will be sending her to …’

Elijah wondered what ‘deported’ meant.

‘I think we’ll wait outside,’ said Nikki.

Elijah took her hand. ‘Thanks for the sweet,’ he said.

Pauline reached over the desk and pinched his cheek with her sticky fingers. ‘Any time,’ she said.

It was sunny outside and there was a traffic jam, lots of cars honking and people with their arms dangling out of rolled-down windows. He would have liked to stay inside to get a proper look around but, when they got outside, the women wearing sheets were still there, so it was just as interesting. He tried to look at all of their eyes, so he could guess what kind
of people they were underneath the sheets. They carried on talking with their coughing language, one of them making big round gestures with her hands.

Nikki leant against the wall and pulled Elijah closer, running her fingers over his hair. ‘Who knew hair could grow so fast?’ she said. He closed his eyes so he could concentrate on the feeling of her fingers on his scalp, so gentle.

The office door opened and Obi came out. He looked at Nikki and shrugged. ‘I’m so sorry guys, but I’m not going to be able to come and have fun with you.’ He bent down and waggled his head at Elijah. ‘I’m sorry to miss out, but it’s really, really important.’ He kissed Nikki on the cheek and patted Elijah’s head. ‘I want you to save some cake for me, OK? And I’ll have it at home tonight.’

Nikki sighed. ‘But we were really looking forward to it.’

‘I’m sorry – I can’t afford the time.’ He reached out to run his thumb across her cheek. ‘Do you remember the case I told you about? Amira and Youssef?’

She nodded.

He shook his head, slowly.

Nikki winced and bit her lip. ‘Of course,’ she said, reaching up to squeeze Obi’s arm, but she pulled a sad face.

‘I really can’t.’

‘OK, no, I understand,’ she said. ‘We might just have to eat your cake, though.’

Obi laughed. ‘Elijah, can I trust you to keep an eye on Nikki? Make sure she doesn’t eat my cake?’

Elijah looked up at Nikki, who shook her head and rubbed her belly. ‘Probably not,’ said Elijah. Nikki and Obi laughed as Nikki pulled Elijah away. As they walked up the street, Elijah looked back to see Obi talking to the women outside.
They followed him into his offices. He wondered if Pauline would give them a Flying Saucer and, if she did, how would they eat it? There was no hole for their mouths. How did they even speak?

My little son, my love, my heart,

You were born at Lewisham Hospital in a room that had too many men and not enough women, and cold metal instruments pulling you out of me. Elijah, childbirth is a lie that women tell each other and themselves. I will not lie to the only one who was there with me, because, as bad as it was for me, so it was for you.

It is the worst of all things. But mine was even worse than any other childbirth, and I’m not just saying that in the way of all first-time mothers. It was worse. You must remember. They ripped you out from inside me, and your first few hours were spent shaking softly like an autumn leaf about to fall.

The cracking came first. There was no stretching and no waves getting stormier and stormier, only sudden cracking and breaking and splitting. I had seen babies being born to aunties and cousins, of course, back home where women gathered around and held each other, and sang and cried and laughed. Those women helped the labouring woman stretch out, pull and swell and become wider, wide enough to be a doorway for a baby into this world. My body did not stretch at Lewisham Hospital. Instead, I smashed. Every crack of metal brought you closer and every crack took me further.
Both of us could not survive, I thought. For a few seconds after you left my body, we remained one person.

And that, Elijah, is the centre of everything.

And then we were separate. We did not scream, but the world screamed around us.

Akpan sang and whispered and prayed next to me – us – and did his best, but even the best of men is not a woman in that situation. I would have given anything for my mummy, or a sister or two. ‘You are beautiful,’ said Akpan as I sweated and vomited and shit and pissed, everything but you coming from inside me. But he meant it, Elijah. His eyes were filled with happy tears the entire time. He rubbed my back and my feet and my stomach and he held my hand and I squeezed his hand until I heard crunching, yet he never once complained.

Finally there was an emptying. Hot stickiness. I shook – shakes on top of shakes. I had no centre; my centre was you, and you were gone.

‘Congratulations!’ A voice flew into my popped brain. ‘You have a son.’

A son, I thought. Akpan kissed me on the mouth and kissed you on your mouth and his face was bloody but he didn’t care at all. I’d never seen such a happy man.

You looked straight at me and frowned. Your nose was pressed flat against you, and your head coned upwards, lips soft and pink. I picked my shaking hand up and touched your cheek with my thumb. I was the thumb and I was the cheek. You cried suddenly and I cried with you.

Gradually your face took shape, your little eyes closed, your body uncurled, and when I pressed my thumb to your cheek, all I felt was my thumb. You were real and alive, and I had made you, created you. All other things in my life were
nothing. Those few moments when I held you were the happiest minutes of my life, and the pain was worth it.

I was in the place where women are kings.

It’s true, Elijah. There are three places where women are kings. One is in that moment after birth, when generations of women stir up inside a woman’s body and the whole world shakes and nature reminds us who is king. The second place is Nigeria, where – you remember – a woman, a prostitute even, was so respected she was made king. And in Heaven women must be kings, for in Heaven all the wrongs of earth are righted. Nigeria, and Childbirth, and Heaven: these are the places where anything is possible for women.

Akpan leant towards me – us. ‘Look what we have done,’ he said. ‘God is truly blessing us.’

In the moments after you were born, the other mothers held their new babies to their breast and lay back and closed their eyes, but not me. I lifted you up right in front of my eyes to see Nigeria looking back at me. You were born in Lewisham, England, but your face belonged in Nigeria. I prayed so hard that night, Elijah, to thank God for such a gift as you. I remember Akpan and I walking you over to the window and showing you the night filled with Nigerian stars and the fullest moon I’d ever seen, swelling in the sky like a heart in love. ‘My little son, Elijah,’ whispered Akpan. ‘Look, now. Even the moon loves you.’

‘How many dogs are there?’ Elijah asked.

‘Hundreds!’ Nikki couldn’t wait to see his face; sometimes she found him in the living room, looking at photos of her with the dogs. ‘But remember what I told you. We can’t take any home, OK? Maybe in a few years’ time.’

It was Sunday morning and raining, but that wasn’t going to spoil her mood. She was finally going in to Battersea for a ‘keeping in touch’ day, and to show Elijah around. Also, she was planning to speak to her line manager about her return-to-work date. Elijah was doing so well, there was really no reason to delay once he started school. The summer holidays were whizzing by and she knew September would come quickly. They walked hand in hand towards the entrance, past the long, high wall. A couple passed them excitedly – obviously talking about a dog they’d seen. The woman linked her arm with the man. They looked at each other. ‘He’s adorable,’ the woman said.

Elijah looked at Nikki. ‘Have they got a dog?’

She nodded. ‘I think so.’ They came to the heavy gate and Pete, a thickset security guard, who sometimes fostered the dogs if they were going kennel-crazy, opened the door. He looked at Elijah with one eyebrow raised.

‘Hi Pete,’ said Nikki, smiling. ‘We’ve come to visit. This is the famous Elijah.’

Pete smiled back, winked at Nikki. ‘Hello there,’ he said.

‘Can we see the dogs?’ asked Elijah, excitement making his voice squeak.

Pete laughed and opened the door. ‘Go on. Have fun,’ he said.

Elijah almost ran. There were two large dog-statues outside the reception doors, and a few people were walking dogs in front of them. Nikki picked up Elijah’s hand and led him towards reception where she was greeted with hugs and kisses from all her colleagues who came out to see Elijah, patting his head, making a fuss of him. He didn’t seem to mind. How far they had come, Nikki thought, in a matter of weeks.