Say You’re One Of Them (32 page)

But that last night, alone in the room, he lay awake. While he still accepted that his hand should be cut off and prayed loud and clear that Allah’s will be done, he found himself many times, to his embarrassment, shaking hands with himself in the dark. He performed many types of handshakes and even pretended to shake hands with another person. For the last time, he used his right hand to feel the different parts of his body. He stood up and wandered around the cell, feeling the wall and the floor. He moved the fingers among themselves like a flutist or guitarist. He said good-bye to that part of him he had already sacrificed to theft, knowing that when day broke he would be wafted away by anesthesia.

THE
REFUGEES
,
SEEING
JUBRIL
unnerved and uncoordinated, believed that the soldier had charmed him. They appealed to the chief to ask his fellow idol worshipper, Colonel Usenetok, to remove his spell from the boy. Chief Ukongo did not say anything, though he watched the soldier with calculating eyes. The people murmured as Jubril continued to act strangely.

“It’s jou Christians and Muslims who’ve charmed Khamfi with jour evil politics!” Colonel Usenetok said gleefully, putting down Nduese in his excitement. His eyes were like two points of light. “Jour faiths are interlopers on this continent!”

“All soldier people are tieves . . .
ole!
” Tega said, and others booed him.

“Hey, lady,” the soldier said, “I fought in Sierra Leone without pay. Government still hasn’t paid me for a jear now. . . . I didn’t steal jour oil money!”

“And you
dey
call yourself army colonel?” Monica said. “You be
yeye
man
o!
Why you no steal? You no be good colonel at all, at all.”

“Why are you saying this?” Madam Aniema asked.

“Saying what?” Monica said.

“My sister, what has this got to do with idol worship?” Madam Aniema said. “Stealing cannot be a good thing.”

“But why de soldiers from our place always
dey
stupid?” Monica said, then turned to the soldier: “You, tell us, soldierman,
wetin
you
dey
retire to now?”

“To dignity . . . conscience!” the soldier replied.

Tega was the first to break the silence. She stood up and let out a guffaw. She laughed as if someone were tickling her. Emeka joined in, and then the whole bus sounded like a room full of giggling adolescent girls. Even the police, who peered into the bus after hearing the soldier’s reply, joined in the laughter. The chief sat there, looking at the soldier with an impish grin, shaking his head very slowly. It was as if the soldier were no longer a threat to the bus but a source of comic relief.

“Soldierman, listen,” Monica said, motioning with her hands to the people to stop laughing. “Soldierman, you go eat dignity and drink conscience,
abi?
Your wife and children go
dey
happy well well to receive you from Sierra Leone empty-handed.”

“No problem,” the soldier said.

“No
wahala,
huh?” she taunted him. “We no tell you before? You be madman. . . .
Na
only crazeman who go reach colonel for army and no steal money for dis country.”

“Jou’re the mad people!” he said, and pulled his dog closer to himself. “I’m going back home to farm as my ancestors did before oil was discovered in my village!”

“Which farm?” Monica said. “Farmland no
dey
again for delta
o!
Mobil, Shell, Exxon, Elf. . . . All of dem done pollute every grain of sand.”

“I’ll fish, then.”

“Fish
ke?
Dem done destroy de rivers . . . no fish.”

At this point, Monica gave up, melting into laughter. She laughed long and hard until she lost her breath. Others started talking about the pollution of the delta, about how they must make sure all the oil companies moved away from there, and how the democratic government must be driven out of the area. They said the delta must secede from the country, so they would have the right to manage their resources. In time, they all stopped talking and were overcome by laughter, like laborers dropping off to sleep at the end of the day. It robbed their plans of the earlier bitterness and was no threat to the police.

Only the soldier and Jubril kept straight faces. Jubril was disappointed and sided with the
ECOMOG
soldier. He thought the soldier deserved the best, having gone out to serve the country gallantly, as the chief had said. The fact that the chief was laughing too only made matters worse for the boy. Jubril began to realize that he did not understand the old man. He wondered when the driver would wake up so they could begin their journey.

EMEKA
SAID
FINALLY
, “
IT’S
like you don’t understand us, Colonel. We’re not saying you should’ve stolen . . . as in stealing. Remember, it’s your oil. It comes from your villages, by the grace of God! You should’ve made enough money out there to bid for an exploration license.”

“I’ve no interest or expertise in oil business,” the soldier said.

“You don’t
need
expertise,” Madam Aniema said. “Just money!”

“Jou civilians can bid for licenses if jou like.”

“Foolich talk!” Tega said. “Nobody back home get dat kind money . . . except
your
superrish soldiers from oder parts of dis country . . .”

“I served this country within and abroad for thirty-two years. If not for my minority tribe, I would’ve been a yeneral by now!”

“Are you saying since you’re not a general you didn’t get a piece of the billions of dollars the country pumped into ECOMOG?”

“
Kai,
leave the generals out of this!” the chief said suddenly. “It’s people like this madman we should probe . . . not generals!”

At this, Colonel Usenetok lost it. He untied the rope from his waist and wanted to flog the chief, but the people blocked him. They told him they were free to question him because they were in a democracy. The soldier was so angry he seemed delirious and started to hop and shove people all over the aisle, like a bad spirit. Without the rope, the ragged camouflage garment flared along with his temper. More talismans were exposed. He jumped over the heads of people sitting in the aisle.

“Dis no be de savannah of Sierra Leone
o!
” a refugee said.

“You think we
dey
urban warfare for Liberia?”

“We must eject this madman.”

The more they yelled at him, the more erratic his behavior became. He pulled out his hands like two machine guns and fired at people, his mouth producing the rat-a-tat. He shot at the ceiling and announced that he had brought down helicopters. He fired into the window and claimed he was keeping the
RUF
rebels at bay. The people called the police to come and deliver them, but they were nowhere to be found. When the colonel got to the front of the bus he stopped suddenly and said: “The government hasn’t paid my arrears. I come here and you’re robbing me of my seat—after six years at the war front, in the service of the fatherland? And you’re talking democracy? No stupid chief talks for anyone in a true democracy!”

“No, my people,” the chief said, and stood up. “This madman’s worship is not the true religion of our ancestors! I know the religion of my ancestors. We don’t know what mad juju he brought back from his travels. . . . We must throw the soldier out before it’s too late! I repeat: Gabriel shall not surrender his seat!” Then he turned to the soldier: “As our ancestors say, you can’t quarrel with God and then scale the palm tree with a broken rope. If you insist, I shall leave this bus! And this whole bus must face the consequence once you reach
my
delta! My people will ask you what you did with me . . .”

“Then
jou
shall not travel on this bus!” the soldier shouted, punching the air. “I’ve suffered too much for freedom in this country . . . in Africa. And jou want to eyect me from the bus because of my reliyion?”

“You must go,” the chief said.

“Let me tell all of jou in this bus, none of these white countries, which brought us Christianity and democracy, came to die for the Liberians. Did any of these Arab countries peddling militant Islam in Africa send troops to Sierra Leone? I say jou all are mad, to kill each other for two foreign reliyions. We wretched
ECOMOG
soldiers went out there to die for democracy while the little democracy in this country is being scuttled by yenerals and politicians and chiefs . . . rogues. We saved Liberia . . . Sierra Leone. Hooray to the West African soldier! I shall kill somebody before I leave this bus today. Try me. I have learned so much from where I have been.”

“My people, see what I mean?” the chief laughed. “My son, making sense doesn’t depend on how many places you have visited. As our people say, if winning a race depended on one’s number of legs, the millipede would beat the dog hands down . . .”

“Chief, you
dey
talk sense!” the refugees said.

“Yet get wisdom well well!”

“May you live forever
o!
”

Chief Ukongo chuckled and fanned away the sweat that was beginning to collect on his face. He thudded his stick and looked around the bus as if it were his parlor. “As I was saying, my people, we’re not safe with his mad juju. . . . We must
vote
him out of this bus, since we’re in a democracy. Colonel, you said you have learned democracy abroad, right? OK, let’s practice it. . . . We have come to the end of campaigns and endless talk.”

“But my quarrel is with this boy who has my space!” the soldier said. “And he’s ready to give me my seat . . .”

“You’ve charmed the boy!” the chief interjected. “I’m his royal father and must protect him!”

The soldier began to shout at the top of his lungs. He was telling the bus about the rebels of Liberia and the child soldiers of Sierra Leone. He rattled on about how ruthless the child soldiers were and how he had killed many of them, how he would not spare any child who carried a gun. He talked about how he had to start taking cocaine to march at the pace of cocaine madness exhibited by the child soldiers.

The chief said his stories and boundless energy were a ploy to disrupt free and fair elections. He said his people would never be intimidated by a soldier ever again.

MADAM
ANIEMA
REMOVED
HER
thick glasses, squinting her eyes and looking around the bus as if she had finally found a solution to the soldier menace. Then she brought out the little water bottle from which the sick man had drunk. She announced to everyone that she was carrying holy water. She made a sign of the cross, stood up hastily, and went about sprinkling the place with the water, to neutralize the soldier’s charms. People made way for her lean frame.

“Saint Joseph, Terror of the Devil!” she said faintly.

“Pray for us!” the bus responded.

“Sacred Heart of Jesus!”

“Have mercy on us!”

She rolled out a litany of saints to come to their aid, and gently she sprinkled the water on the colonel, who was still fuming and ranting about being cheated, and commanded the devil to leave them. The soldier calmed down, looking on in disbelief.

“Once the Church has blessed the water,” she said, “the spirit of God fills that water. Now we can travel with the soldier even to Moscow.” She turned to the soldier: “You find a place and sit down. You are OK. Thanks for what you have given to the country.”

“I will sit down,” the soldier said.

The passengers thanked her profusely, and some even asked her to preach to them. Monica begged her to sprinkle some of the water on her baby, which she did. They asked her why she did not sprinkle it on the sick man. She said that there was no need, since he had taken the pills with the holy water, and that the man would be fine wherever he was.

“We no be like all dis
nyama-nyama
churches!” one Catholic man said from the back.

“We know how to deal wid Satan!” another said.

“Because we’ve been in this church business for two thousand years now!”

“Colonel,” Madam Aniema said, “you will be given a place—”

“You’ve got the real thing, woman!” the chief cut in with his congratulations. He stood up again and smiled at everybody, like a headmaster whose student has just triumphed at a debate. “Your holy water is as powerful as what those bearded Irishmen sprinkled on our ancestors to make them instant Catholics. Then, the Church didn’t waste time dipping you into a river before you got the Spirit . . .”

“
Yesss!
” the Catholics cheered.

“Just three drops of water and you knew Latin like the pope,” the chief said.

“
Of courssse!
”

“I’m going to personally tell Rome to ordain you a priest . . .”

“No, no, no. . . . That’s not our church!”

“Chief, we no
dey
ordain women for our church!”

A light murmur went through the bus. Some said Madam Aniema should be exempted from church tradition, while the Catholics said it was impossible to ordain women and warned outsiders to mind their own business. The soldier stood there, watching, surprised he was no longer the focus of attention. He looked at Madam Aniema intently, as if expecting her to offer him a seat.

“My Catholic children, I am sorry,” the chief said. “I wasn’t trying to destroy your faith, OK . . . ah . . . ah . . . but as you can see this woman’s water bottle is too small for our trip. If this soldier’s six years’ madness returns on the way, we will run out of holy water.”

“I no be against Catholic Shursh
o,
” Tega said. “But Shief
dey
talk sense.”

“Yes, make we
dey
look at dis situation well well,” Monica said.

Madam Aniema said, “We can all find a space on this bus . . .”

“I insist he must be
voted
out, and I am speaking as a royal father!” the chief concluded.

At this, they began to contribute money for the voting, which meant bribing the police. The chief whispered something into Jubril’s ear, and the boy quickly paid for both of them.