Baking Cakes in Kigali (15 page)

Dieudonné thought for a while as he chewed and swallowed another mouthful of cake. “There are ways to father a child even when that child does not have your blood. Father Benedict loved me like the son he—”

“Father
Benedict?”
interrupted Angel.

“What’s wrong, Angel? Do you know him?”

“No, no, I don’t know him. It’s only that you’re telling me about a man called Benedict who fathered you and he was not your father; meanwhile, I’m mothering a son called Benedict and I am not his mother.”

“
Eh?”

“
Eh!”

“Perhaps God has moved in a mysterious way to bring me to meet you and order a cake.”

Angel contemplated this idea. “Perhaps. But what can His purpose be?”

Dieudonné laughed. “God will reveal His purpose only when He is ready!”

“You’re right. Please continue with your story, because so far it sounds like a very big international adventure.”

“Okay. So Father Benedict was helping me by making enquiries to try to find my family, although it was difficult. By then many years had already passed since I’d been with them in Uvira. And at the time we became separated I was still small and I didn’t know my mother’s name. You know we Rwandans don’t have a family name; there can be mother, father and six children, and no two of those eight will share a common name. In fact, by the time Father Benedict began to help me, I could no longer remember the name my parents had given me because the nuns in Lubumbashi had given me a new name: Dieudonné. It means God-given.”

He paused in his story to sip more tea and finish the last of his cake. Angel took his plate into the kitchen and cut another thick slice for him.

“So anyway, Father Benedict got news that two girls who might be my sisters were living in Nairobi. By then he had learned that my father had been called Professor Kayibanda at the university, and that my name had been Tharcisse. So he managed to get papers for me with the name Kayibanda Tharcisse Dieudonné, and through the Church I got a scholarship to go and study accounting in Nairobi. I found those two girls, and they were not in fact my sisters.
Eh
, that was a very sad day for me! Anyway, I stayed in Nairobi for three years until I qualified. In that time I got to know other Rwandans living there, and one of them was convinced that he had met one of my brothers in Dar es Salaam. He said he had even been to my brother’s house in Dar and found him living there with my mother.”

“So of course you had to go to Dar yourself.”

“Exactly. I went to the place where the man who was supposed to be my brother was supposed to be working, but they told me there that he had left some months before. They thought he had gone somewhere inland, but nobody knew exactly where. I went to the place where he was supposed to have lived with my mother, but the people there didn’t know where they had gone.”

“Eh! That was a very difficult time for you.”

“Very.” Dieudonné shook his head. “Anyway, I took a job in Dar doing the accounts for an Indian gentleman’s businesses, and on weekends and holidays I travelled to almost every town in Tanzania. Babati. Tarime. Mbeya. Tunduru. Iringa.” With each town he named, he gestured in the air as if pointing to its location on a large map suspended from the ceiling between them. “Everywhere! I did that for nearly four years, but my family was not there.”

Angel tutted sympathetically as Dieudonné ate some cake and swallowed the last of his tea. She wanted to ask him if he had been to her home town of Bukoba on the shores of Lake Victoria, but she knew it would be wrong to direct his story towards herself.

“Anyway, by that time it was 1995. The genocide here was over, and many Rwandans in exile were coming home. I hoped that maybe my family would be among them, so I came home, too. I went to the UN High Commission for Refugees and gave them all the information I knew. I never heard anything from them until Monday morning this week …” Tears welled up in Dieudonné’s eyes. He reached for a wad of toilet paper from his inside jacket pocket, tore off a length and dabbed at his eyes.

“Forgive me,” he said.

“There is nothing to forgive you for,” assured Angel. “There’s no shame in a man shedding tears. If a man doesn’t
cry when he needs to, those tears that have not been cried out can boil in his body until he explodes like one of the volcanoes in the Virunga Mountains. But I’m going to leave you here to cry the tears that you need to cry while I make some more tea for us.”

When Angel came back from the kitchen she saw that her guest had composed himself enough to finish his second slice of cake. Fortunately the cake from which his two slices had come was on the tray that she now carried in from the kitchen, together with their fresh tea. She cut him another thick slice and he held out his plate to receive it without offers needing to be made or accepted.

“Now,” said Angel, settling herself back in her chair and trying to get comfortable despite the restraints of her tight skirt, “tell me about what happened on Monday morning.”

“A lady from the UNHCR telephoned me at the bank. She told me that they had found my mother and one of my sisters.”

“
Eh!”

“In fact, they had crossed back into Rwanda from DRC at Cyangugu and they were looking for me. The lady told me that they were on their way to Kigali that very day, and would be reporting to the UNHCR offices by that evening. Immediately I went to my boss at the bank and requested compassionate leave because my family was alive.”

Again tears welled, and again Dieudonné dabbed. Angel found herself reaching into her brassiere for a tissue and dabbing at her own eyes. Dieudonné calmed himself with a sip of tea before continuing.

“I went home immediately and prepared my house for their homecoming. I went to Françoise and told her my news, and she agreed to cook tilapia for my family’s dinner and to send someone with it to my house that night. Then I went to the UNHCR offices and waited for my family to come.”

“That must have been a very difficult wait,” said Angel, now extending the use of her tissue to dabbing at some perspiration that was beginning to form on her brow. “After all those years of looking, finally you were going to find them.”

Dieudonné blew his nose. “Yes, it was not easy. They gave me a chair to sit on but I couldn’t sit for more than a few seconds. But when I stood, my legs didn’t want to hold me, and I had to sit. But I couldn’t sit still and I had to stand up.
Eh!
I was up and down like the panty of a prostitute.”

Angel laughed, and Dieudonné laughed with her. “You must have been very happy and excited.”

“In fact, no,” said Dieudonné. “What I felt most was fear. I was afraid that they had made a mistake and that the people would not be my mother and my sister. And I was also afraid that I wouldn’t recognise my mother. I had been such a small boy when I had last seen her. But in fact, as soon as my mother stepped into the UNHCR compound I knew it was her, and she told me that she had seen my father’s face in mine the very minute that she saw me. I was so relieved! Of course my sister and I didn’t know each other, but we couldn’t stop smiling at each other and crying.”

“Eh, Dieudonné, you have told me a very happy story!”

“Yes. And it’s only this week that it became a happy story. Last week my story would still have been a sad one.”

They drank tea and ate cake in silence for a few moments, both of them thinking about how suddenly sadness and happiness can change places. It was Angel who broke the silence.

“And what about your other siblings?”

“My one brother is late and the other is still lost; we will continue to look for him. My other sister was violated by some soldiers and she gave birth, but the baby was ill and then my sister became ill and they’re both late now.”

Angel heard the word that he was not saying.

He finished his third slice of cake. “So, Angel, I’ve come
to order a cake because on Sunday afternoon my friends will come to my house to meet my family and help me to welcome them home. One of my father’s former colleagues from the university will travel here from Butare to attend the party, and he’ll bring his daughter who played with my sister when they were small. That will be a good surprise for both of them.”

“For sure it will be a very happy party. I can make the cake on Saturday and deliver it on Sunday morning on the way to church. If you’re in the same road as Françoise, I’ll find your house easily.”

“You’re very kind, Angel.”

Angel laughed. “You may think that I’m kind; meanwhile, I’m curious! I want to shake the hand of the mother and the sister that you’ve told me about in your story, so it’s not a matter of kindness that I’ll bring the cake to your house.”

“Then I must thank you for your curiosity.” Dieudonné reached into a pocket of his jacket and brought out a piece of paper. “Here, I’ve drawn a picture of the cake that I’d like you to make. Down the left side here it’s red, and down the right side here it’s green, and in the middle it’s yellow.”

“Like the flag of Rwanda.”

“Yes, but our flag has a black R for Rwanda in the middle of the yellow. On the cake that R is still there, but it’s part of the word
KARIBUNI
, which is written going downwards on the yellow.”

“
Eh
, you are a clever somebody, Dieudonné! This will be the perfect cake to say ‘Welcome home’ to your family!”

Just then Titi arrived back from one of her frequent trips to the Lebanese supermarket to buy flour, eggs, sugar and margarine for Angel. She seemed a little agitated and Angel suspected that Titi wanted to speak to her alone, so she declared that Dieudonné had already been away from his family for quite long enough, and that they should complete the formalities of the Cake Order Form as quickly as possible.

As soon as Dieudonné had left the apartment, Angel went into her bedroom to release herself from her tight skirt. When she emerged dressed in a comfortable
kanga
and T-shirt, Titi broke the news that she had just been told by Leocadie: Modeste’s other girlfriend had gone into labour. Modeste would go after work at the end of the day to see if she had delivered yet. Very soon the sex of the baby would be known, and that could determine which of the mothers Modeste would choose.

Angel longed to rush upstairs to share the news with Amina at once, but the children would be home from school very soon, and lunch must be prepared for them. Titi put some water to boil in a big pot on the stove and then began to slice some onions. Angel set a smaller pot of water to boil and started chopping some cassava leaves into very small pieces.

“What do you think will happen?” asked Angel.

“Eh, Auntie, I don’t know,” said Titi. “But of course Leocadie wants the baby to be a girl, then Modeste will choose her.”

“Yes. Then Modeste’s decision will be clear. But if the new baby is also a boy, then he will have two girlfriends, each with a baby boy. He won’t know which one to choose.”

“What if the baby is a boy and Modeste chooses his other girlfriend, not Leocadie? Now how will Leocadie feel to see Modeste here guarding this compound every day? Her shop is near.” Titi scooped the chopped onions into some palm oil that she had heated in a frying pan.

“
Eh
, that will be very hard for Leocadie! Tell me, Titi, have you ever seen this other girlfriend?” Angel put the cassava leaves into the smaller pot of water.

“Yes, Auntie. She came once on a
pikipiki
to see Modeste when I was talking to Leocadie outside the shop.” Titi now joined Angel in chopping tomatoes and adding the pieces to the pan where the onions were frying.

“And how did she look? Was she pretty like Leocadie is when she smiles?”

“I didn’t see her very well, Auntie, and she wasn’t there long. She came on the
pikipiki
and the
pikipiki
driver waited while she spoke to Modeste, then Modeste gave her something.”

“Did you see what it was?
Eh
, the water is going to boil now for the
ugali;
I’ll chop these last tomatoes while you see to that.”

Titi measured maize meal into the boiling water and stirred it vigorously.

“We didn’t see, but Leocadie thought it was money. She was angry. She pinched Beckham’s leg to make him cry, and then he cried and Modeste and his girlfriend had to look at us.”

Angel laughed. She added the last of the tomato to the frying pan and stirred the mixture. Checking on the boiling cassava leaves, she said, “That was a good trick. It reminded Modeste about his baby and it reminded the other girlfriend about Leocadie.”

“Yes.” Titi smiled. “And also it showed that other girlfriend that Leocadie had already given Modeste a baby. That girlfriend’s baby was in her belly then, but she was still not yet big.”

“And what happened next?”

“That girlfriend saw us watching her with Beckham, then she said something quickly to Modeste and got back on the
pikipiki
and left.”

“And Modeste?” Angel sprinkled ground peanut flour over the tomato and onion mixture and stirred it in.

“Modeste went to sit with Gaspard in the shade. He didn’t look at Leocadie again, even though Beckham was still crying.”

“Eh, that is bad! You know, I’m worried for Leocadie. I’m worried that Modeste will simply not choose. Because why should he? If he can have two girlfriends and two babies, why should he choose to have one?”

“Ooh, Auntie.”

“That’s how it is here, Titi. There are more women than men. Many men are late; many men are in prison. There are not enough men for every woman to have a husband. Some women agree to share a husband, because they’ve told themselves that a woman who is without a man is nothing. There are even men who’ve told themselves that, under these circumstances, taking more than one woman is like a service to the community.”

“Ooh, Auntie.”

“But let us not be sad today, Titi. Today I met somebody who told me a very happy story. Come, it’s time for you to go and wait outside for the children’s bus from school. When the cassava leaves are cooked, I’ll add them to the sauce so that it’s ready to have with the
ugali.
While we’re eating our lunch I’ll tell everybody the happy story that I’ve heard today.”