Africa39 (14 page)

Why had he not come outside more often? He wondered? But as quickly as the question had been asked, he decided that it was the wrong one. He rephrased it: Why have I spent my whole life indoors? But still he could come up with no answer.

The clouds had a shiny silver grey lining against the backdrop of the blue skies, giving the birds a domain in which they played freely. On the ground below, the trees were big enough to compete with the grandiosity of the mountains. The intricate details of nature’s beauty made him feel he was at one with his surroundings.

His neighbour’s house, directly in front of his own, was a large dwelling surrounded by a picket fence. Matching the white of the fence was the paint of the metallic doors of the house, as well as its white walls, rising up to a bright red roof that consummated it all like a burning flame. The roof made the house stand out. Presently there was one large bird contentedly perched on the satellite ball that was on the rooftop.

For the seven days that he had now been coming out, Kamoto had not seen anyone come in or out of the house across from his. He had not even heard so much as a ruffle or whisper to signify that the house was inhabited. Perhaps that’s why he had not really noticed it there. Perhaps this explained why he had not noticed all the other houses, for he now saw that there were several. But with all the trees in the area, the other houses would have been impossible to see from indoors.

By now the sun was beginning to dip beyond the mountains, so Kamoto decided to get on with taking stock of his surroundings. He got up from his chair, stretched his limbs and neck to relax his muscles, and came down the steps of his front porch to get a better view of his house. He walked further out from the facade, far enough to get as wide a view of his roof as possible. And his expectation of a touch of uniqueness in the design of his house was quickly disappointed. His roof was as red as his neighbours’, his house was just as large, and a large satellite ball, similar to that of his neighbour, sat on the rooftop. Electric bulbs lit the sides of his roof, bright enough to give light to all sides of the house. He followed the illuminated path to the back of the house where a surprisingly wide yard welcomed him, with neatly cut grass flanked by a colourful array of flowers growing on all sides.

Two birds chased each other in excitement around this pristine garden, taking off from and landing on one branch after another. While his eyes followed them on their random trail, his sight was led to the back wall of his house and he was shocked to find that there were neither doors nor windows on that entire wall. As the birds flew further out towards the edges of his fence, he noticed rocks, big boulders sculpted and arranged in a pattern of deliberate design, with one boulder shaped like a canoe. The rock structure was coming out of the ground. There was a water pipe which ran across the surface of the rock, drawing water from some source beneath and continuously pouring the water out again into the fountain that bubbled in front of the rock.

Further out into the very back of the yard, he saw more large trees, good for shade. He would have examined his house further, but the darkness that was quickly descending around him made him think better of the idea.

Tina had been watching Kamoto with keen interest the whole time. The oversized dark-green leaves of the trees in front of the picket fence of the house across the road afforded Tina a perfect spot from which to observe everything Kamoto was doing without being seen herself. Tina was sure that Kamoto had seen her when he got up from his chair and started down the front steps of his house and walked towards his fence. She had no choice but to stay put until she was sure that Kamoto had not seen her, hoping against hope that her cover had not been blown. She was just about to resign herself to the prospect of getting caught when Kamoto reached the fence and turned around to admire his house. What she felt after that was more than relief. It was gratitude.

As Kamoto strolled towards the side of his house to go into the back yard, Tina became more curious about him. Seeing an Occupant outside was enough of a shock, but seeing one acting as freely outdoors as they were indoors was unimaginable. Maybe Kamoto had been doing this for a long time, she thought, perhaps at night when everyone was asleep. But she decided that was mere guess work. So she just continued to watch.

While Kamoto was surveying the back of his house, there was not much for Tina to see. She dipped her hand into the left side pocket of the small green bag that hung securely across her shoulder. After fingering the inside of the pocket for a few seconds, she pulled out a small metal device and a glass pad. She proceeded to attach the device on the tip of her forefinger. The thought of taking notes of the observations she was making of Kamoto made her feel in control, but just as she was about to turn to a blank screen on the glass pad, that sense of control gave way to alarm. She quickly pulled off the writing device, and put it back in her purse, together with the pad. She was feeling the beginnings of a sneeze, and as numb as her legs had started feeling from squatting behind the tree for so long, she knew she could trust one hand to steady her and another to cover her mouth and nose in the now-more-than-likely event.

As she waited for Kamoto to emerge from behind the house, Tina turned her thoughts and questions inward. Was it right for her to be stalking him this way? Didn’t Occupants, like all the subjects in Azotus’ kingdom, have the freedom and right to wander around outdoors even if no one else found it worth the bother? Tina pondered these questions briefly, but concluded that if Kamoto had the right to wander around outside his home, then she likewise had the right to watch him from her stake-out spot, even if for no other reason than to satisfy her curiosity. She finally sneezed. It was loud enough not only to break the trail of her thoughts, but also to be heard across the street. She knew that what little camouflage she got from the leaves was about to be undone by the sneeze. She looked up to see if there was any movement at Kamoto’s house, only to find that he was now back on the front porch, about to enter. And, as if startled by a sudden noise from behind him, Kamoto turned abruptly and Tina feared the worst. The panic returned, but was gone just as quickly, for Kamoto looked down when he turned, examining the leg of his chair, which had apparently snapped with a cracking sound, giving Kamoto reason to pick it up and carry it the rest of the way. Tina knew it had been another close call, perhaps a signal for her to go home.

Tina looked at the front door of Kamoto’s house and noted the house number, G8. She was about to pull out her glass pad again to record the number but immediately thought better of the idea after an unpleasant memory flashed before the screen of her mind. She had once written down the number of another house, AC52, because she heard music coming from inside while she passed by; music she had never heard before and she thought she could use the house number on her TC to identify what the music was. But she was amazed when her supervisor had quizzed her about it.

‘I was on duty distributing food to Occupants, and I wrote down the house number so that I could know where to pick up from the next day.’ She had difficulty convincing the supervisor with this excuse, and he did not seem to buy it, but it was the best she could come up with. It wasn’t necessary for Room Service personnel to write down the numbers of the houses where they had distributed food. No one went to any house for any reason without being given instructions to do so from their superiors. It was Azotus’ way of running an efficient system so that every Occupant would have everything they needed at exactly the time and in exactly the way they needed it. Tina knew that she should have come up with a better answer.

Tina rose up and briskly walked back to the gravity mobile she used to run errands and carry out her usual Room Service duties. She had parked far away from Kamoto’s house. She had not noticed it becoming dark. This was not surprising, as the lights in the streets were bright enough to make one forget when the real light of the sun had ended and the artificial light of the streets began.

The Central Square, especially, located right in the mid region of the kingdom, was known to have the brightest lights. It was there that Tina reported for work at the Department of Room Service, and it was from there that she and other Room Service workers received their instructions and directions about what items needed to be delivered to which homes.

She drove off, exhilarated by the thoughts that her stakeout had sparked in her mind. She did not know anything about Kamoto, and this left her with more questions than answers. She was anxious to get home and she thought of flying her gravity mobile but decided against it for fear of attracting attention. One had to have a good reason to fly. She chose to drive faster instead, but not enough to put her at risk. She drove through the woodland that was at the end of Kamoto’s neighbourhood and joined the road that went uphill. There were a few cars. Right after going uphill, the road descended steeply, requiring one to have a foot on the brake pedal all the way down into the valley below. She turned east and joined the highway, speeding towards the woodlands that lay beyond the glistening lights of the high rising scrapers that formed the luring skyline of the City Square.

When she reached home she went straight to her TC, opened the file for House No. G8. The file provided live video footage of Kamoto’s house. Kamoto himself was sitting quietly on the couch in his living room, watching a video on the TC that dominated the northern wall of the room. He looked tired, with his legs stretched in front of him, resting on the coffee table that matched the couch and the drapes. In his hands he held an object which Tina could not identify as she watched him on the video feed. She knew better than to jump to conclusions about what the object was, because things on the curtain did not always appear the way they were in real life. So she was not surprised that Kamoto’s black beard, which she had just earlier seen to be neatly shaved to a single-lined sideburn running down and around his chin, now appeared grey. His face, compact and sturdy and full of life, now looked slightly elongated and sickly. Even his complexion, a smooth and natural dark brown, looked slightly pale.

Tina tried to be even more observant of Kamoto on the curtain than she had been when she saw him in person earlier that afternoon. But there was nothing interesting about what Kamoto was doing; he was simply slouched on a sofa, staring blankly at the screen on the wall. Tina found this frustrating, especially since the camera that enabled her to view Kamoto was facing away from the screen, making it impossible for her to see what he was watching. The cameras had been positioned in this way so that no one could see what another citizen was watching for personal entertainment. Not even the Super Curtain that ran the Central Square could access such intimate details about the activities of the Occupants.

She switched off the TC and headed for the kitchen to make herself a meal, a privilege that she had as a Room Service agent. Tina made herself soup and a sandwich, then she sat down in the kitchen to sift through the events of the day. All she could wonder about was what Kamoto was looking for when he went for a walk around the premises of his house. But was it right for her to be spying on an Occupant like that? At that moment, it occurred to her that subjects of the kingdom, especially Citizens, had taken their freedom for granted for so long that they no longer felt the need to exercise it or the need to explore why freedom should be exercised. In fact, she realised that most of them did not even think of themselves as free, because even though they were free, they did not know enough about bondage to go beyond
being
free, to reach the place of
feeling
free. Freedom had become commonplace, and therefore meaningless.

The Professor

Edwige-Renée Dro

The marquee was set. Waiters and waitresses wearing the blue and white colours of our uniforms weaved around, carrying hors d’oeuvres and champagne flutes on trays. Here and there, I spotted an old teacher and waved from a distance before making out that I needed to speak to someone else. But there was only one person I was waiting for and that was you. I wouldn’t have come otherwise. Ever since the reunion was advertised on Facebook, I had known it was just an exer­cise in boasting. Reunions always were, and one where even old teachers and headmistresses were invited was taking the art of boasting to another level. Yes, mention was made of the fact that funds would be raised to bring the library of our
lycée
up to the standard of a library of a
lycée
of Excellence . . . but still. So I came, because I would then be able to share my suspicions about the reunion with you. A few times I had thought about calling you and then decided that the element of surprise would work best. But for an hour I’d been participating in conversations I had no interest in and you were nowhere in sight. So I decided to mingle. Parties were not your thing anyway so perhaps you had decided not to turn up. And if that were the case, I would visit you at home.

‘Ah, Essien! There you are.’

‘I hope you’re not about to give me a job, chieftain,’ I groaned inwardly but managed to keep a smile plastered on my face.

Chantal has always been the bossy one of us girls and I had been trying to avoid her lest she roped me in on some task. Apparently the reunion was her idea. But then again, only Chantal had the persuasive power to gather together 120 girls living on at least three different continents.

‘Well, it’s not really a job. By the way, how’s you, Mrs Professor?’ she planted a kiss on my cheek. ‘And don’t fear,’ she waved her hand as if swatting away a fly, ‘my lippie doesn’t stain. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for a lippie that doesn’t . . .’