Yefon: The Red Necklace (24 page)

I remembered that Kadoh had told me that those people were sold as slaves, and transported to lands far away to work there forever without pay. I looked at my older sister crying, cradling her child in her arms, and not knowing where to go from here. She had aged so much in these past few years that I thought she could pass for a lighter version of Ma.

She should have waited for Vernso I thought to myself. He was now studying at the teacher’s training college and would soon graduate as a teacher. He would not want anything to do with a mother whose bride price was returned.

As I looked around at the confused faces that surrounded me in the all so familiar courtyard of our compound, I tasted the unpleasant air of hopelessness. It tasted like rotten maggots, and I didn’t like it. From the bleak expression of the once strong Fai, already blinded by a case of cataracts, to the hopeless smirk on Ma’s weathered face and the salty tears coming from Yenla’s eyes, I couldn’t take it anymore. My
sha
η
g
was burning so much that without knowing why, I began walking towards them.

Suddenly, I decided to stand up for Yenla again. Last time I tried to help her out, it cost me our father’s life, but now, what was there to lose? I could lose my sorry life, but it didn’t really matter to me.

“Hey,” I called out.

Every one turned around. I don’t think they were too surprised by me by now. I might get some disapproving smirks, but that was the story of my life.

“How much are we talking about?” I asked.

Sneering and looking a little confused, Sabo replied curtly, “Four pounds worth.”

“And you would leave my sister and her baby alone?” Heads shifted from me to him.

“Yes.”

My heart began to beat fast. Tears formed in my eyes. Four pounds? That was all I had in this world. My dream was so close. The city was so close, yet so far. I had to choose fast, and I did.

“Well, all I have is two pounds. You can add that to all the food and services that she has offered you all these years.” Those words almost felt like they didn’t come from me, yet it was my mouth saying them.

Yenla’s head shot up. Her eyes spoke to me. She seemed like she was about to say no, but I didn’t listen to her. I couldn’t. That is what Pa would have done if he were here, and I owed him that.

My logic seemed fair, even for a cow like Sabo, and his squirrel face twisted into a questioning smirk, then a final, “I’ll take three. No less!”

With tears running down my face, my heart in a strong knot, I counted out the money from my raffia bag and dropped it on the floor before him, my hands trembling as I did. A simultaneous sigh of relief moved across the crowd.

“Now get out of my father’s compound and never ever come back,” I heard myself say in a manner so assertive that everyone looked at me.

That is how I lost all my savings again. Once more, I was stuck here! I often wondered why I gave up my money and dream but over the years I have come to terms with what was hidden somewhere deep inside of me—I was afraid.

What if the city was not as marvelous as I heard it was? What if it was a black hole like this village? What if I never married? What if I was alone for the rest of my life? What if I never did leave? All these thoughts paralyzed me with fear. My fear kept me up at night and no matter how much I tried to hold on to the dream, it seemed to seep through my hands every passing day.

Yenla never really spoke much after her divorce. She did thank me briefly as if she was almost ashamed about what her little sister did for her.

“
Beri wo
,” she said, looking at the floor quietly.

Asheri was sleeping on her back, and I planted a kiss on her cheek.

“I don’t know what I would have done without...” Yenla started to say.

I stopped her from finishing the sentence. It was too hard for her to say it, and it was as equally hard for me to hear it. She wept in my arms and I empathized with her, and most of all, I loved her little angel. She was so adorable.

“You both are now my responsibility,” I assured her, and as much as she denied it, she had no choice. I had a job and I could take care of the household.

I have memories of Asheri toddling among our
bvey
s and falling. She wasn’t afraid of animals and I loved her little fiery spirit. I carried her whenever she cried.

It would start as if she were smiling and her face would slowly start to twist and her mouth would open but no sound would come out, then in a moment a cry like the whistling of Father Anthony’s kettle pot would come out and I would sing for her.

“
Chu
.” I used to say extending my hand to her as I spoke. She would pretend to spit into it. My heart thawed looking at her huge eyes and long eyelashes. She was the most beautiful baby in the world and her hair had the richness of a forest lion’s mane.

“I beat who?”

She would point at her mother, and sometimes even me. Then I would pretend to hit the person and she would laugh. Sometimes she was just hungry. I would feed her with
kiban
and okra soup. If she were sleepy, I would sing to her.

“yo yo yo o ka

wan tong nyo’nyong
,

mo wo’ tong ka”
.

I would often carry her on my back while sweeping the veranda and she would fall asleep. African babies loved to be tied onto a person’s back with a wrapper while the person carrying them goes about their duties. This process is often called “
baba a baby”
.

I would carry her gently through the compound to our bed, and watch her sleep, breathing softly, little beads of sweat on her curly baby hair.

When she was awake, no one could sleep. She was full of energy and had the most vibrant laugh. If it were modern times, I could picture Asheri in a Gerber baby commercial. She loved to laugh and her infant squeals always filled our compound.

Asheri was our therapy. Yenla was getting better and our relationship was becoming closer. Whenever I came back from work, dinner was waiting for me. Asheri’s little fingers always seemed to be in my food, and she loved climbing on my back and going for a tour of the meadows after supper.

“
Yen
” she would squeal, meaning “see” and I would call out the name of whatever animal it was. She was afraid of
ngwv
∂
v
s, and I didn’t blame her.

“Kuku
!” She would shout, her short feet waddling towards me, and I carried her quickly, and kissed her fear away.

I had never been happier with my blood sister and we shared many memories in that short period of time. Perhaps the most poignant and indelible memory was one day when we were at the barn after the corn season was over.

It was Saturday and I only worked a half-day at the parish. Asheri had recently overcome her fear of
ngwv
∂
v
s and she ran in between the
ngwv
∂
v
s bullying them with overexcited shrieks. The poor birds flapped their wings and squawked loudly, running away from her path, and she would not give up on them.

“Careful,” Yenla cautioned and we laughed at the cuteness of it all. As we lay there, we joked about how
ngwv
∂
v
s slept with one leg up, as if they were night watch men.

“Maybe their leg is where the sleep gas is,” Yenla said, and I laughed so hard that my head hurt. After Asheri fell asleep, we drank palm wine and told stories until we were drunk. Yenla was not a belligerent drunk, but she was loud. She burped every five minutes as well and I thought it was hilarious. It was the first time in my life that we had ever had so much fun together, and the drunker I got, the more the wine tasted like a liquid massage.

“I hated having relations with my husband” she blurted out loudly.

Not sure how to respond, I only stared back.

“He smelled like a pig, and he was too rough,” she said laughing then she burped. “I thought of Vernso each time.”

She fell asleep moments later, her mouth open, snoring
deeply. I covered her gently and walked outside the barn. I had never seen Yenla that playful. And for that one moment, leaving Nso didn’t matter.

Money was hard to save in those days. Baby Asheri was always hungry and Yenla had to nurse her, so I was spending most of my income taking care of the baby. It didn’t matter. My family seemed more important, and my
sha
η
g
burned every time I saw the baby. I promised myself that she would never live the type of life that we did. She would not be cut or scarified, and she would be more innovative than the rest of us.

Sola joined the parish staff by the end of the summer and I would have thought it was to spite me but I had not seen her for many years now. Even after all this time, she hadn’t changed one bit. She was still competitive and spiteful, and again, I asked myself how a man like Pa could have fathered a girl like Sola. She was scaly and bitter, and pa was sweet. She was still obsessed with being married to royalty and I overheard her speaking about it to some of the other maids. She was telling them some of the favors she would offer them when she became queen.

I remember the first day I saw her in the parish. Yuyun had asked me to go to the parish tailor to pick up new aprons for the employees that would start work on Monday.

I was back in less than thirty minutes, and as I ironed them with Keafon, we saw a group of heads walking through the parish accompanied by Yuyun. I smiled to myself, remembering the first day I did my tour with Yuyun. How far I had come!

I could hear Yuyun’s voice telling them about the food store. She was the only one to open and close it, and I imagined the newbies’ faces. Were they as amazed as I had once been? Had they tried the light switches yet? What about the toilet? This time, I would be the one to go rescue a frightened new employee out of the toilet.

“
I hate new worka
.” I looked at Keafon, realizing that I had been daydreaming, and that she had been speaking to me. What else had she said?

“Why?” I asked, hoping that it was an appropriate answer.

She shrugged, and hung one of the aprons on a hanger.

“
I no know. We teach them everything all over
.”

I laughed, hitting her shoulder playfully. “It can’t be that
bad. They are just hungry, and we can help them, right?”

She smiled and shrugged, folding some of Big Father’s clothes.

I carefully carried the now-ironed aprons down a small flight of stairs to the holding room where Yuyun was teaching the girls the parish rules. I smiled to myself, mimicking her before I walked through the brown door.

“Call Big Father.” Yuyun told the new workers.

How time flies! Yuyun still used the exact same monologue she had used when I was new. I walked into the room and delivered the aprons.

Yuyun smiled at me gracefully and before I could leave said,
“Ladies, this is Yefon. She one of best employee in parish.”

I smiled shyly, a warm feeling of pride resurging through my chest.

“
Yefon, why don’t you tell girls something?”

I smiled nervously, rubbing my fingers against each other. What to say? What to say? Do I tell them about Big Father’s friend Tansela? Maybe that would break the ice? Or maybe not. I could probably say something boring, and simple; something that Yuyun would like. Let’s see, work hard. No theft. No gossiping. Something like that would work.

“My sisters, I greet you all,” I started, a big smile on my face. The girls smiled back, and my eyes quickly swept through the room of about six girls. My eyes quickly returned to a graceful long neck and eyes that I couldn’t miss even in the dark. Could it be her?

“My name is Yefon, and I....” Suddenly, I couldn’t speak. After all these years, she hadn’t changed. Her face was still effortlessly put in place, and for the first time in a long time, a feeling of insecurity came over me. Suddenly, I was the frog-eyed seven-year-old again. This was my place. Every one here liked me. Every one thought I was smart and headed somewhere.

Sola’s presence cancelled all those validations, and I could not breathe. I wish I could blame it on my
sha
η
g
, but she had nothing to do with it.

I quickly excused myself, ignoring the blank stare on Yuyun’s face, the confused ones on the other girls’ faces and the smug expression on Sola’s face. She knew her power over me and
she still enjoyed it, years after.

I tried to avoid her and I can recall countless moments when I caught her staring at me in the parish courtyard with her meanest look. What was her problem?

I was never able to figure it out. Thankfully, we hardly worked on the same shift, so I didn’t have to deal with her often. I repeated to myself over and over that we were both adults and deserved to work wherever we wanted. The parish building was a big place, and as long as I didn’t have to work with her in the same place, I could manage it.

The worst thing that ever happened to us happened during the end of the dry season. Little Asheri died from a high fever.

On my way back from the parish one weekend after I had just been paid, I saw a little girl wearing red scraps of cloth bundled in a
te’
. She was pushing around a small noisy toy car.

“
Muttu muttu
,” she squealed, as she rolled the cyclic toy round and round. I watched her for a while. She reminded me so much of little Asheri. How I was going to pull those fat cheeks when I got home. I decided to stop at the T Junction to buy some bonbons for her. I would use this as bait to teach her how to hunt, I thought gleefully as I walked home.

Loud wails welcomed me at the front of our compound. And Yenla was just sitting quietly in front of Ma’s
taav
. Tears were running down her face and mucus was running down her nose. Ma’s loud lamentation added a sense of desperation in the air. I did not need to ask what happened.

Little Asheri had died of a high fever. But how? She had been perfectly well when I left for work in the morning, jumping around, as I got dressed for work. I had kissed her on her fluffy cheeks and promised to take her to the meadows after work. How could she have fallen ill and die on the same day?