Indigo (15 page)

Jerry had been very hungry and his mouth was full, but when he said that he would, Smart continued. “I visited Harlem and Watts and Philadelphia, which were all fine, but an interesting thing happened when I was there. Though I was in America for six long months I did not have a single conversation with a white man. Not one conversation. Doesn't that seem strange?”

“Yes it does,” said Jerry. He had swallowed hard and was looking around for something to drink. “Why didn't you want to speak with white men?” he asked.

“It was their decision, not mine,” Smart said. “In the beginning I had no idea that I would not be speaking to white men, but after a time I realized that white men were not speaking to me. And when I began to pay attention to it I came to the decision that I would not speak first, that I would wait and see what happened. That was my American experiment, to see how long such a thing could go on.”

“But if you were in Harlem and Watts maybe there weren't many white men around,” Jerry said, and Pamela agreed. “When I was there I spoke to white people all the time,” she said.

Smart looked at Pamela pleasantly. “I stayed in Harlem and Watts but I was not confined to those places. And when I say white people did not speak to me I am, of course, referring to conversation. White officials spoke to me at airports. I sometimes purchased tickets from white people at museums and such.”

Louis had gone away with Elwood, but Parker had been listening to the conversation and he nodded, leaning in. “I just now realize dat dis man here is de firs' white man I spoke to in a conversational way.” He was pointing at Jerry and he added, “We are not countin' hellos and de like, are we, Smart?”

Jerry looked at Parker, but then Pamela said, “I'm sure it's all a matter of circumstance, Smart—I don't think it means a thing.”

“But of course it means something,” said Smart. “It means that it is possible for men to avoid each other. If for six months, then surely for any amount of time. If in America, then why not here?”

Jerry wanted to get back to his own situation again, but instead he said, “Americans come in many colors. And they have conversations all the time.”

He had tried to give his voice a tone of finality, but the others were engaged by then.

“Maybe so,” said Parker, “but de Africans in America was slaves and de real Africans is free people over here. Maybe de used-to-be slaves don't know how to have conversations with a white man. Maybe dey only think dey are having conversations. And if dat's de case it don't comply with de rules of conversation. It is only answering questions, or something like that.”

Elwood and Louis had come back and Jerry stood up, looking at Parker. “Do you think, then, that Lee Logar doesn't have conversations with me?” he asked. “Does your experience with Lee tell you that he doesn't converse with white men well, that he only answers questions and by doing so thinks he is conversing?” He was irritated but he was also trying to use the moment to find out how much Parker was willing to say about Lee. It was absurd, but he still had no idea at all whether or not Parker even knew the man.

But Parker was careful again and only said, “Maybe Lee de exception which proves de rule. And who knows, maybe Lee is fooling his own self. I know from my years in de confidence game that if a man don' fool his own self once in a while he can' be fool by another.”

Parker's answer was cool and it made the others smile. After that Smart said, “I brought it up only to say that you are the first white American with whom I have spoken in such a conversational and personal way. I thought it was strange since I have been to America, that is all.”

It was after one p.m. by the time the meal was done, and when Elwood cleared the plates away he and Louis and Parker took Nurudeen out into the market for a walk. It was at that moment that Jerry first felt startled in another way. A comment had returned to him, something Pamela had said during the meal, an echo that would not fade away. “I'm sure it's all a matter of circumstance, Smart. I don't think it means a thing.”

If Pamela had not met the man before, then why had she spoken to him in that way? Why was she being so familiar?

Smart was watching Jerry carefully and had leaned forward in his chair. Jerry felt sure that Smart had guessed his thoughts and would speak of Pamela himself, but instead Smart asked, “Have you ever noticed how most of Nigeria is broken down? I mean systematically—the banking system, the power authority, the government ministries. Is the breakdown of this country something you have noticed during your time with us?”

“Of course it is,” said Jerry. “My problems all started with the Ministry of Internal Affairs….”

But Smart interrupted him, waving a hand. “For the moment let's not talk about your problems,” he said. “I am trying to ask you something else. Have you ever noticed what great trouble Nigeria is in?”

Jerry was surprised by the shortness in Smart's tone and he said, “It might be better if I left now. I want to go to my embassy and try to find my way with them.”

But Smart only laughed, saying, “It amazes me, my friend, to realize that you still do not understand that the activity you've blundered into isn't criminal, not some plot hatched by the powers that be. Open your eyes, take a look at the country in which you've chosen to live and make your fortune.”

Jerry's lips were thick, his tongue too numb to answer. He could only manage to say, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Then I will spell it out for you,” Smart said softly. “The current government is about to come down. Everyone knows it, and many people also know that there are at least two military factions planning coups. But for all its ineptitude and corruption, this current government is still a civilian one, which means it was elected, and since there is definitely going to be a change, the people you are with how hope that the change itself will be a civilian one. What I mean to say is this: if we get there first, and do it correctly, perhaps we will have a chance of holding the military at bay for a while, of trying civilian rule again.”

While Smart had been speaking Pamela had moved away, taking up only a small space on the enamel bench, but when Jerry said, “What has any of this got to do with me?” Smart lost his patience, sighing deeply. “I'm sorry, Pam,” he said, “but you tell him. I'm not having a lot of luck here.”

For a moment Jerry was indignant. Did Smart think that Pamela understood things any better than he did? But when Pamela said, “You
are
a bastard, Smart,” he stopped thinking that.

Pamela put a hand on his arm. “I'm sorry, Jerry, but I do know a little something more than I have said. If you'd care to listen there will be no more secrets after this.”

Jerry wrapped his knuckles around the edge of the bench, bitterly upset, but very quickly it was Pamela's turn to put a little edge in her voice.

“Stop that now,” she said. “We are fighting for our country here and in the end you'll be fine. Just listen for a while. Don't make one of those famous decisions of yours without understanding all the facts.”

“What about your son?” Jerry asked. “What about Parker and Louis? Is everybody in on this?”

Pamela held up a hand. “Nurudeen's role in this is finished,” she said, “but though the part about his father and I being estranged is true, our estrangement has not hindered my dedication to this project of his, the one that you are now beginning to understand. Nurudeen's father, as a matter of fact, is at the heart of it.”

Jerry was speechless yet at the same time he was telling himself that he had known it all along. He wanted to protest, he wanted to shout, but he simply sat there like a tongue-tied dummy, catatonic amid the swirl of images in his head. After a long moment had passed, Smart sighed and said that since Jerry wasn't speaking he'd try to help things along by taking Jerry's part. He then looked at Pamela and said, “But why are you doing this? Why are you going to all the trouble of involving me?” He tried using an American accent, but Pamela didn't welcome his humor so he dropped it.

“You can't seriously not know why,” said Pamela, touching Jerry's sleeve as if it had been he who'd spoken. “The plot against you is so transparent that we were sure the truth would come out in court no matter what idiot you got for a judge. You would be easily acquitted but it would look like the government was behind it, don't you see? And as this government's credibility crumbled one last and very public time, the leaders of our group would stage their coup. You were chosen because you provided us with good timing and because we had access to the school. All we needed was a widely publicized last straw and you were it. Your Mr. Biko, by the way, was beginning to get wind of us. That's another reason we thought you might try to run away.”

“But what about the military?” Smart asked. “How would you keep them at bay?” This time he had pulled a hand inside his sleeve and moved it in the air as if it were the mouth of a puppet.

“That is the beauty of it,” Pamela said. “We have already extracted the promise of a year from the senior officers, some of whom believe in civilian rule too. If, after a year, Nigeria is not on the road to prosperity and unity, and if corruption isn't curbed, then the military can come in and we will step aside.”

Though Jerry had been unresponsive, he had been listening and he suddenly sat up straight. “So when Lee and I decided that I should run away it messed everything up. For me to run meant my innocence couldn't be proved and you wouldn't have your last straw.”

“Bravo!” said Smart, and Pamela said, “With you out of the country we could only be sure of adjournment after adjournment. All our planning would have gone for naught. Luckily enough we have the sympathy of Lee Logar's driver, so we knew what he was up to all along.”

So this was it, the final truth. Pamela and Smart were in cahoots with Nurudeen's dad, and Lee Logar, who had no clear idea of any of it, had not been involved with his escape plan at all.

“But if the current government is so bad, then why not catch them up on something they have actually done?” Jerry said. “It seems to me that they aren't the guilty ones here, you are!”

“It is a bit ironic,” said Smart, “I'll give you that. But the government's corruption is so deep that to catch them up on something they have not done adds a little poetic justice, and we want justice of all kinds.”

“Who's in charge?” Jerry asked. “Who's the boss of all of this? Surely not Nurudeen's dad.”

“It's a coalition,” said Pamela, “but as I've said I'm afraid my ex-husband is at the head of it. If anyone in Nigeria can pull this off, he can.”

Jerry thought of Nurudeen's dad standing so regally in his office. He could not abide the man but he simply said, “I don't even know his name.”

“It's a name that will launch a thousand ships,” Smart said, but Pamela waved her hand. “His family name is Abubakar,” she said. “His given name, however, is such a travesty that everyone calls him Beany.”

Jerry said, “Beany Abubakar,” then said, “It's a stupid-sounding name.” He had meant to be insulting but he only succeeded in making Smart laugh. “I know what you mean,” Smart said, “but I've always thought it sounded rather American.”

By the time they finished talking it was late afternoon. The others had come back, passing in and out of the room in quiet embarrassment, knowing that Jerry now knew everything. Everyone ate again at six, and after that Smart told Jerry to rest, that they would be going out that night and that it would be necessary for him to go along. Parker and Louis were sent to sleep up at the tops of the two tunnels, like guards, and Smart retired to his private room. Since Parker and Louis had taken Nurudeen home, only Jerry and Pamela remained in the main room, and they stretched out on mattresses, a little distance from each other, on the hard tin floor.

Jerry really understood, then, that anything was possible in this world. It even occurred to him that he might be dying soon, joining Charlotte on her perch, sitting up there. And it was then that he did the strangest thing. At the moment that the image of Charlotte came to him, when her face was most clearly in mind, he reached across the short expanse between them and put his hand on Pamela's cheek. He did it without premeditation, yet the completed act of it froze him, distressing him more, even, than the events of the day had done. How could he still want her after all she had done?

Pamela turned her head toward him, and when she did so he removed his hand. That was all. He wanted to speak then, but he hadn't the slightest idea what to say. He felt moved but he did not know why. Pamela's interest in him was purely a matter of her dedication to her ex-husband's plan, any fool could see that, yet Jerry understood that he wasn't any fool, but a very specific kind.

Miraculously, however, though it was far earlier than usual for him, Jerry slept. And while he slept he dreamed that Charlotte was there, sitting on that enamel washing-machine bench in Smart's main room.

“I didn't see you come in,” Jerry said to her.

Charlotte was wearing shorts and the printed top of an old favorite dress, and that made Jerry pause. Either she had cut the dress off, or she had tucked it down into those shorts, a situation that would account for the unsightly bulkiness of her hips and thighs.

“I've been here all along,” Charlotte said. “Things are certainly more interesting than they used to be.”

Jerry felt a tightness in his chest. All these years his longing for Charlotte had been great, but however much he'd wished it, he had rarely dreamed of her. Now that she was here, however, the awful countenance of her dress made him keep his distance.

“Wait a second,” he said. “Who are you really? Tell the truth now, I'm tired of lies.”