Seeds of Plenty (10 page)

SYLVIA

Chapter 13

A few months later in the summer of 1976, Sylvia went to the market to buy some fruit and eggs. A line of white and brown goats ate from a trough, fattened until the end. Customers dragged their purchased goats with leashes of rough string. Slabs of raw meat lay on a wooden table, the blood darkening the wood. She could smell the sour stench of the meat already spoiling in the hot sun.

The crowd pushed her, and Sylvia started to feel a kind of hostility. She stopped at one stall, picking through the pineapples and oranges. Suddenly, a man grabbed her by the arm. He pulled her roughly into the dark, makeshift wood, and blue tarp stall. He was an old man with yellowed eyes and clear skin.

“You Winston Soong’s wife?” he said menacingly.

“Yes.” She nodded. She wanted to scream, but who would hear her above the din of the crowded marketplace?

“Tell your husband to stay away, eh?” he said, still holding her arm tightly.

She didn’t understand what this man was talking about.

“Tell your husband, he go stay away from Simeon’s village,” he repeated. “I go give him juju. It go kill him, you hear, eh?”

She nodded. She was too afraid to say anything. Did she hear the word juju? She knew spells were associated with juju magic. Was Winston’s life at risk? She didn’t understand, she thought he was helping Simeon and the villagers.

The old man shoved her out of the stall, and she fell onto the ground, the orange dirt staining her dress. She got up and pushed her way through the crowd. When she got back to her car, she noticed a small pickup truck parked next to her. It was crammed full of several brown bulls piled on top of each other, their horns jutting out. Were they still alive? They were hardly moving, but when she looked into their eyes, she saw a skittish fear. She knew what she really saw was her own fear reflected in the eyes of the cattle. Next to her, a man pushed a wheelbarrow of freshly slaughtered beef, large bones of bloody meat piled high.

As she drove out of the market, she saw the old man with yellowed eyes. He was shouting out to her,
I go give him spell. I go kill him.
He was standing under the baobab tree at the center of the market, a variety of animal skulls used as fetishes for juju spells were spread out on his mat. She had heard that witches placed offerings under this baobab tree at the Ibadan market because they believed it was a spirit tree.

Spirits were known to live inside the hollowed-out trunk of baobab trees, water spirits swam in its interior lake. She had heard of a dying baobab tree exploding from a cigarette stub, its rotting trunk full of methane.

As she drove off, she saw the haunting image of the man in her rearview mirror. She pressed on the accelerator. But along the road back to the compound, she got stuck in the usual traffic. There was a loud bang on her window. She jumped and looked over. A small boy pressed his face to her window, offering drinking water tied up in clear plastic bags—fatal, unboiled water. A man walked by, balancing on his head, a large basin with the macabre, sun-bleached skull of a cow. The empty eye sockets stared at her.

When she reached the royal palms and white gatehouse, for once she felt relieved. Luckily, Winston was home. It was Saturday, and he was playing golf with his colleagues on the compound golf course. Winston had taken up golfing with surprising interest. It was the only sport he played. As with everything, he did it with obsessive perfectionism.

Sylvia didn’t know if she could find him, but still in a panic, she went straight to the course and parked in front of the golf clubhouse. A few men were drinking beers on the terrace overlooking the green golf course and small lake. She found Winston at hole seventeen. Her husband saw her running towards him, and he looked worried.

“Sylvia, what is it? Is Thomas?” he said, running up to her.

“No…” She stopped, trying to catch her breath. Sweat dripped down the sides of her face, but she didn’t notice.

They stood apart from his colleagues, and he signaled them to head back to the clubhouse without him. The palm leaves waved wildly in the wind. The skies had darkened, and she could feel the increasing humidity of the approaching thunderstorm.

“What is it then?” he said, impatiently.

“A man grabbed me at the market,” she said, explaining everything the man had said to her.

“What did…what did he look like?” Winston said, his face clouding over.

“I don’t know. Old man, clear skin, yellow eyes.”

She thought she saw Winston shudder, but if he did, he didn’t say anything about being afraid.

“Don’t worry about this. It’s all mumbo jumbo, nothing will come of it,” Winston said. She couldn’t believe he was trying to reassure her. Mumbo jumbo? That sounded like something his colleague Richard would say.

“You know what I’m talking about. I know you do,” she said, knowing he had been raised on the same Chinese superstitions as her, no matter how modern he thought he was.

But he ignored her, turning to hand his golf club to his caddy.

“The black magic here, it’s strong. Don’t ignore it, Winston,” she continued. “You can’t go back to Simeon’s village. It’s not worth risking your life.”

He whipped around. “My life? My life is worth nothing compared to the many lives I might save.”

“What about us? If something happens to you? What about us?” A multitude of lightning bolts streaked across the sky behind them.

“We’d better head back,” Winston said.

They walked quickly back to the clubhouse. His caddy followed, pulling Winston’s heavy golf bag.

“Look, Sylvia, I’m not going to get all worried about this. And neither should you. I came here to do my work, and I’m going to do it.”

When they reached the parking lot, the rain was coming down hard. She quickly got into her car. As he was about to close her door, he shouted to her above the crashing rain, “From now on, I don’t want you going to the market by yourself. Have Ige drive you and accompany you, understand? And don’t take the children.”

It was then she realized he
did believe
the juju spell was real. Of course he did. He just didn’t seem to value his life. Somehow they—his family—didn’t anchor him to this life. She felt a coldness descend on her. She started the ignition. Winston still stood there, the rain coming down hard on him. He didn’t run to take cover with his colleagues at the clubhouse but simply stood rooted to the spot, his clothes and hair wet, watching her drive off.

***

 

When Winston returned home from the golf course, the rain had stopped, and a rainbow splashed its colors across the sky. The children were in the garden, chasing butterflies. Winston came into the garden, but this time, he stood back, not rushing to hold or carry Thomas like he usually did. He was drawing lines around his son too, she thought, becoming angry now at her husband.

Winston watched Thomas, now one and half year, chase thousands of turquoise butterflies swirling in the sky—blue-green wings shimmering in the sunlight. Thomas was so busy chasing the butterflies that he didn’t notice his father standing there. Why did Winston do this? Was he trying to protect his son from the possibility of his death by distancing himself so Thomas would not miss him when he was gone? She felt the pain in advance, the pain that her son would feel one day from his father.

She walked over to her husband, full of words she didn’t or couldn’t say.

“You’re home,” she said instead, disapprovingly.

***

 

That evening, she didn’t cook her usual elaborate Chinese meal. Instead, she let Energy cook his English menu of chicken pot pie and over-boiled broccoli.

Winston sat down to dinner, and Energy served the meal. Winston didn’t say anything, but she knew he would not like it. The pot pie was too creamy for his taste.

“It’s not all your responsibility,” she said, digging into him. “You can leave. We can leave this place. Go somewhere safe.

“I’m not leaving.”

“But you’re leaving us, by doing this.”

He didn’t say anything but seemed genuinely conflicted.

“I have life insurance,” he said.

“Life insurance?” How callous, she thought. “How’s that going to help when Thomas wakes up and finds he has no father?”

He winced at her words, but then said, “We have to win. At all costs.”

“Win?” She didn’t realize this was a game or battle of some sort.

“Win, yes. Against famine, against hunger. No one should die of starvation in this day and age.”

“Of course not, but why you? Why risk your life for this?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand.”

But he was upset now. His face had reddened, and his hands were shaking. She had never seen him this angry. He got up from the table, barely touching his chicken pot pie, and went to his study. Through the crack in the door, she saw him poring over his beloved rocks, rearranging them in their glass cases. She felt as if there were something larger, deeper that drove her husband, but he refused to let her in.

 

Chapter 14

A few months later in the fall of 1976, Sylvia sent Patience and Ige to buy some fruit and vegetables at the market in town. Then she took Lila, now three years old, and one-year old Thomas to the clubhouse and swimming pool after lunch for a swim. On the way home from the pool, both children fell asleep in the back seat of the car. Relieved that both toddlers were asleep for once at the same time, she didn’t dare transfer them. She got out of the car but left the ignition on so that the air conditioner could keep going. It was humid and ninety-five degrees outside. She lay down on the couch in the living room, but she left the door to the garage open.

When she woke up, she realized she had drifted into a deep sleep. How long had she been asleep? She looked at her watch. It was four o’clock now. A full hour had passed. There was no sound from the garage. She was surprised the children weren’t screaming by now. The silence was deceptive and a sign of trouble. She got up and rushed to the garage. The Peugeot sedan was gone. She looked around in a panic. What had happened? She ran around the outside of the house, searching frantically.

Had someone stolen the car with the children in it? Was it the juju doctor with yellowed eyes? Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. The round-the-clock security guards on the compound gave the residents a false sense of security. Many local workers came in and out of the compound during the day to work on the experimental fields, cut the grass, or work at the clubhouse. Maintenance of the compound required hundreds of workers to keep it going. How could she leave a valuable car with keys in it? It was pure temptation, how stupid of her.

She fumbled with the phone, dialing the gatehouse. The robber would have driven out of the gatehouse, she reasoned, even though she was panicking. Surely the guards would have caught them? Each car and license plate was registered to its owner on the compound.

“My car…it was stolen…my children are asleep inside.” She told the security guard over the phone.

“Mrs. Soong, your car. We not seen it. Dat means it’s still inside the compound. Don’t worry, we will find it, madam.” The chief of security got on the phone to try to reassure her. “I will come over myself and drive you around de compound looking.” But she didn’t feel reassured.

Her mind and body were overtaken by a kind of paralysis. Everything had been against them from the start—the spirits’ incursion on Lila’s life and now the juju doctor’s spell. It was more than she could handle.

The security officer drove her around the compound, searching for her children. Another hour had passed, and now, many of the compound residents also pitched in, including Ayo and his Scottish friend. It was five o’clock. They only had one more hour before dark. The compound was large, about a thousand hectares. Aside from residential areas, it included farm land where the scientists of the ADA grew experimental crops, trying to breed hybrid “miracle” seeds with native crops like cassava. There was also a reservoir for water supply and at the far end of the compound, plenty of unused bush and forest.

By now, Sylvia had gone into a state of shock, and she sat in the security chief’s jeep, looking frantic and wild-eyed. If the car had not left the compound through the gatehouse, the security staff was sure of that, then where was it? It had to be somewhere in the compound. Or maybe the robber had switched license plates and made it past the gatehouse?

Ayo walked over to her in the jeep. He came up to her and put his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him. She hadn’t talked to him much since her pregnancy and the birth of her son. It had been well over a year, and right now, she barely felt his hand on her shoulder. Her mind was full of the demons of maternal guilt.

“We’ll find them, don’t worry,” he promised. “The robber only really wanted the car. I doubt he wants your children.” She hoped he was right. He didn’t know about the juju spell.

***

 

Just before dark, the security guards found a large hole that had been cut into the far northwest corner of the compound fence. The hole was big enough for a car to drive through. This corner of the compound was mostly forest and bush, and here the concrete wall gave way to a chain-link fence. They followed the tracks through the bush to a dirt road outside the compound. But eventually those tracks led to the main tarmac road and disappeared. The security guards asked random villagers along the quiet road if they had seen the car or if they had heard or seen any children. Several women had thought they had seen the car, but no one could be sure if there were children in it or not.

By the time they returned to the compound, it was dark, and they still had not found Lila or Thomas. Ayo drove Sylvia back to her house. They were both silent. She felt like she was sinking into the deep abyss at the bottom of the ocean, the midnight zone where there was no light, where the weight of water above her would be so intense it would crush her. Ayo saw her despair and put his arm around her as he drove. But she only felt a numbness descend on her.

As they turned into her driveway, Patience came running out. She was out of breath.

“Where were you, madam? I came home from de market and de children, dey were just left here sitting at the front door. Crying.”

She got out of the car and rushed inside to hold her children. They were both clean and happy, with no trace of recently being kidnapped. Patience must have given them a bath. She hugged them tightly, feeling their small, warm bodies close to her. She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes. She just wanted to hold them and never let go.

“Someone must have quietly brought the children back to the house once it got dark. But where were they all this time?” She heard Ayo saying to the security chief.

“Maybe, sah, dey were hidden in a servants’ quarter?” the security chief surmised. “We neva checked dat.”

“There was someone on the inside,” Ayo said.

“Someone on the inside?” Sylvia said, her voice shaking. She asked Patience to take her children to bed. She didn’t like the fact that someone had so easily penetrated the gate and walled fortress of her compound.

“Is there something else going on?” Ayo said, sensing her fear.

“Someone put a juju spell on Winston’s life. I was threatened at the market.” Saying the words in plain English to Ayo made them sound real to her now.

“Someone go give him juju?” the security chief looked frightened now.

“Yes,” she nodded, feeling on edge from the guard’s reaction.

“Has your husband written a report on this?” Ayo asked.

“I don’t know. He thinks it’s all mumbo-jumbo.”

“It no be mumbo-jumbo, it real. He betta be careful,” the security chief said.

“Unfortunately, the juju magic is prevalent here. Everyone is afraid of it. I would not take it lightly. After this incident, your husband will probably change his mind,” Ayo said.

Winston would be insane if he didn’t, she thought. After all, his son was almost stolen.

“What did de man at de market look like?” The security chief asked.

She described the old man with the yellowed eyes and clear skin. The security chief seemed to be jotting down notes.

“Have you seen anyone like this?” Sylvia said.

“No, madam, but we will have an investigation of all de workers and servants on de compound,” the security chief said, but she detected an uneasiness in his voice.

“Maybe our security can work with the local police to track the car and find out who did this?” Sylvia said, offering another approach.

“Unfortunately, dey can’t. As we speak, madam, your car is being dismantled and sold in parts. Your car no longer exists,” the security chief said. He didn’t mention that the local police force was inept and corrupt.

“Why did they return them?” Sylvia said in a small voice.

“The children? To show you that they can. To threaten you. It’s a warning possibly,” Ayo said. “Where’s Winston?”

“Out in the bush. He’s due back in a few days.”

Ayo looked worried. He spoke in Yoruba to the security chief. She couldn’t understand what they were saying, but they seemed to be arguing.

Ayo then turned back to her. “I told the security chief to take precautions. Someone has threatened your husband’s life with a juju spell, and now your car was stolen with your children. We have no way of proving the two incidents are related. It’s possible it was still a random car theft. But I think we should proceed with caution. He’s going to send an extra security guard to watch your house. I would avoid going into town, at least until Security sorts things out.”

***

 

The next day, she felt trapped in her house—the compound walls seemed one-way to her, thick and impenetrable on her side and flimsy and porous on the other side. They kept her inside, yet failed to keep anyone out. She kept worrying she would see the man with the yellowed eyes peering through her window. The security guard assigned to their house didn’t seem to be concerned. As far as she could tell, he mostly slept on the job. Anyone could get past him. The only thing that sustained her those few days was the certainty she felt that Winston would change his mind and realize the seriousness of the threat against him. After all, his precious son had almost been stolen.

Ayo came by the next evening after the children had gone to bed and Patience had returned to her own quarters behind the house. Sylvia heard him arguing outside with the security guard.

“I had to give that guard a prod with a stick. Utterly useless. I should be guarding you myself,” Ayo said as she let him in.

They both suddenly looked at the sofa. He could sleep on the sofa, she thought. She wanted him here. She hadn’t really talked to him for the past two years since her pregnancy, but nothing had changed between them. For a moment, they stood awkwardly in the middle of her living room, and she felt he wanted the same thing.

But he seemed to collect himself and said instead, “Right, I’m going down to the security office at the gatehouse to request another man. I’ll be back.”

She waited for him to return. A part of her, the part of her that shouldn’t, wished he wasn’t such a good man. Why couldn’t he stray into her arms, slip up just once? He came back with a new guard. She was pretty sure he was going to snore as loudly as the other guard, but Ayo seemed assured.

“Apparently, this man’s a bit of an insomniac.”

Ayo didn’t come inside this time but stood firmly planted on the other side of her door.

“Do you want me to get Patience? I think she should sleep here with you in the house,” he said.

“That would be a great idea, yes, thanks.” Sylvia perversely hoped Patience would ply Ayo with her tea and cake to keep him around.

But Patience, groggy-eyed herself, seemed slightly irritated to be woken up at night, even by her hero-doctor.

“We be okay. I sleep here. No juju doctor going to take de children while I go be here.” She had a large, heavy stick in her hand.

“I think you’re in good hands,” Ayo said.

Too good, Sylvia thought to herself.

***

 

A few days later, Sylvia was in the garden cutting passion flowers for the table when Winston returned from his trip. She heard his jeep pull up quickly, brakes screeching on the driveway. She stood up, holding the large, starfish-like, purple and white passion flowers in her arms. She heard him on the screened porch talking to his son. Then he came out into the garden, looking for her. She watched him approach, shielding her eyes from the sun. She thought, now of all times, he would capitulate. Maybe they would pack their bags and leave tonight.

“You heard what happened?” she said as he walked over to her in the garden.

“The security chief gave me a report. Apparently, it was a bit of a witch hunt. They interrogated every worker and servant on the compound. Fired several dozen workers.”

“Did they find the man with the yellowed eyes?”

“I don’t know. The security chief said your description wasn’t much to go on. But yes, they fired several old men with yellowed eyes.”

“You speak as if the case were resolved. They fired
several
men with yellowed eyes, the more the better, so we’re safe now? How do we know if it’s the right one?”

“We don’t. But the security chief has assigned round the clock guards to watch our house from now on.”

“Aren’t we leaving?” she asked, stunned that the incident wouldn’t send Winston packing his bags.

“Leaving? Where to?”

“I thought…” She realized how stupid she was. Of course, he wouldn’t care. Suddenly, she felt a kind of rage toward him. She hit him on the chest, the bouquet of purple passion blossoms in her arms falling to the ground.

“Your son was almost stolen? You get that? Because of you,” she said hysterically as she hit him.

He stepped back from her, his shoes crushing the flowers meant for their dinner table. She let her arms fall limply beside her.

“They’ve assigned security guards to watch our house permanently,” he repeated. “If you go into town, Ige will drive you from now on. You are not to go alone. And under no circumstances are you to bring the children. They stay here with Patience.”

“The result of all of this is I’m a prisoner in my own home. And you? You plan to continue on as you like?”

“We’ve discussed this before. I have no choice. I have to do my job. I trust the security chief will do his job and protect you and the children.”

Winston turned and walked back to the house. She wasn’t so sure. The security chief seemed as frightened as she was. Why wasn’t Winston frightened like the rest of them? She stood there among the passion fruit vines and their lush garden—full of bougainvillea and hibiscus blossoms. Her stomach churned. The scent of flowers was both sweet and sickening to her. She turned to cut some violet bougainvillea blossoms. The plant’s sharp thorns pricked her fingers, but she didn’t care, letting them bleed. The violet bougainvillea blossoms fell carelessly onto the grass below. She didn’t bother to save any for their dining table.