Tomorrow I'll Be Twenty (24 page)

But then Papa Roger really confuses us by telling us that General de Gaulle really is dead and that he's buried in a part of France known as Colombey-les-Deux-Eglises, a village with two churches.

As soon as Maman Pauline, who had just picked up her glass, heard this weird-sounding name, Colombey-les-Deux-Eglises, she leapt from her chair and her beer almost came snorting out of her nostrils.

‘How can they bury someone that important in a church? And how did they bury him in two churches?'

Apparently the day General de Gaulle died, the dictator Jean Bédel Bokassa wept as though his own Papa Roger had died. He made out like it was his own father who'd just gone up to heaven and left him alone on earth. And he wept so much for
his father de Gaulle that even the Africans began to wonder: What if it's true? Now, it couldn't possibly be, because Bokassa the First was as black as the bottom of a cooking pot. And a famous White like de Gaulle couldn't have a black child. It's impossible, even in a nightmare. But the Emperor Bokassa I didn't care what people said, so he went to the General's funeral and there he happened to meet the French minister for finance, Valéry Giscard d'Estaing who, it just so happened, had family in the Central African Republic. His family loved to go hunting animals in our forests for fun, even though the animals are the spirits of our ancestors, and have never harmed anyone. Our animals are lovely, they make sweet little babies so that the bush will always be full of living creatures, and so that each generation of little Africans can see with its own eyes what a lion looks like, what an elephant looks like, what a zebra looks like, what a squirrel looks like. The Whites in Giscard's family played at hunting with these animals and killed them just for a bit of fun, and to take some photos. Then they stuck the heads of the animals on the wall so they could boast: ‘I hunted in Africa, I killed that lion, I killed that leopard and I killed that elephant.'

Every time the minister for finance, Giscard d'Estaing, went to visit his family in the Central African Republic, he popped in to say hello to dictator Bokassa I, now they'd met each other at General de Gaulle's funeral.

Papa Roger reminds us too that Giscard d'Estaing came to visit Bokassa I, who showed him round his lovely palace and gave him lots of nice presents, including a present with all these diamonds on it. Bokassa I was always very nice to his guests and he gave Giscard some more diamonds the day he came to see him in the château he owned in France. And then it turns out
there were other presents too, which is why my father says it's a complicated business, and we don't know whether Bokassa I is exaggerating, telling lies, making stuff up, because he's angry with France now he's in exile. Or if Valéry Giscard d'Estaing is trying to hide some other diamonds, and prove to everyone that he hadn't been given real diamonds, just bling.

So now it's like world war between Giscard d'Estaing and Bokassa I. Bokassa must be sitting there in his country of exile thinking: Giscard, I gave you those presents, those diamonds, why did you go and attack my regime and put my cousin David Dacko back in power, when I'd already overthrown him in a
coup d'état
?

Yeah, Bokassa I must be really annoyed at being driven out of the Central African Republic, and having to go and live with the Ivoirians. He thinks France has betrayed him, he wants revenge, he wants to topple President Giscard d'Estaing. And now that all you ever hear about on the radio and all you read about in the papers is this business with the diamonds, Papa Roger can't see how the French can vote for Giscard d'Estaing. He's going to get pensioned off, even if he is still a bit young. Bokassa I down on the Ivory Coast's going to be happy about that.

Just as Roger Guy Folly finishes speaking and Papa Roger turns off the radio, it occurs to me that Bokassa I won't ever die of cancer. No, he didn't love his country like the Shah did. Cancer's for people who love their country or adventurers like Arthur. Also, Bokassa I could have chosen Egypt for his exile, instead of the Ivory Coast. When you're in exile, or adventuring, if you don't stop off in Egypt it means you're not a good guy, you're
not very important. And I really don't like Bokassa I. So I really do want the French to vote for Giscard d'Estaing again. Then at least Bokassa I will get lost.

I go into my bedroom and put up the mosquito net. I can't stop thinking about Valéry Giscard d'Estaing. I fall asleep over the last few words I say to My Sister Star and My Sister No-name:

Let Giscard d'Estaing carry on being President of the French Republic for ever and ever

May this business about the diamonds not make the French vote for a different president

Let's hear it for Giscard! Let's hear it for Giscard!

If Caroline thinks I'm going to apologise to her, she's wrong. She was the one who wanted a divorce, not me. Why should I go running after her? Since I'm not speaking to her, and she's not speaking to me, and Monsieur Mutombo thinks it's not right, he turns to Longombé and Mokobé and asks: ‘What's up with our two little lovebirds?'

Caroline throws a fit and shouts that we're not lovebirds. We're not married, we never were married, her husband is a great footballer who wears the number 11 shirt and scores lots of goals and reads books by Marcel Pagnol. She goes running out of her father's workshop.

I've come round to bring Papa Roger's mohair trousers. They're brand new, but they're too long, so they need to have several centimetres taken off, otherwise my father's going to be sweeping the dust as he walks, like some other papas I've seen in the
quartier
. I see some of them who've turned up the hem of their trousers themselves and every time it comes down again, so you have to turn it back up in front of everyone, when it's really hard to walk, if you're always thinking you must be careful your trousers don't come undone. Who thinks about their trousers or their shoes when they're walking down the street? You think about other things, about where you're going and how you're going to get there in time.

As soon as I walked into the workshop with my father's trousers over my right shoulder, I saw Caroline sitting just by
Monsieur Mutombo and I nearly left, thinking I'd come back later. But I went in anyway because the two apprentices at the back had already seen me.

Longombé shouted, ‘Hey it's our Michel!'

Mokobé added, ‘Probably got his shirt ripped by his friend again!'

I didn't say hello to Caroline because she was looking at me already as if to say, ‘If you say hello to me I'll shame you in front of these grown ups.'

The apprentices were busy sewing her a red dress with green flowers on it.

Monsieur Mutombo says to me, ‘Go and see what your woman's doing outside, you should never leave your wife unhappy, someone else might cheer her up and marry her, and you'll be left weeping alone.'

I come out of the workshop. Opposite, there's a little football pitch. Caroline's sitting on the ground watching me walk towards her. Just as she's getting up to move away I call, ‘Wait, don't go, I've got something to say to you…'

‘No, it's over, we've been divorced for ages.'

I force myself to stay calm and say, ‘I know, but at least let's talk about it and…'

‘No, I don't want to talk to you, or I'll start loving you again and then I'll feel sad all the time!'

Now she's drawing things on the ground with a little twig. I look at her drawing close up.

‘What's that then?'

‘Can't you see it's a rose? Mabélé taught me how to draw it, and he's really good at drawing. He said I'm a rose, so now I'm drawing myself.'

The name Mabélé irritates me. I lose my cool and go on the attack: ‘Does Mabélé know who Arthur Rimbaud is?'

‘Who's that then?'

‘He's a writer. He's got loads of hair, it all grows in winter…'

‘Is he more famous than Marcel Pagnol? Has he got four castles and…'

‘No, Arthur hasn't got all that stuff, he doesn't care about things like that.'

‘If he hasn't got a castle, that means he's not rich and famous!'

‘But he travelled at lot, so he can get to see all the castles in the world.'

‘What about his own castles?'

‘He built them in his heart. And I'll keep you in the castles I've got in my heart too, where no one can harm you.'

She looks up at me at last. It's almost as if she's got a bug in her eye.

‘Where did you learn to say things like that, like some grown-up chatting up a woman?'

‘It's thanks to Arthur.'

‘Really? Have you met him then?'

‘Yes.'

‘Where?'

‘In my parents' bedroom. And when I look at him hard he smiles and talks to me.'

A plane passes overhead. I can't ask Caroline to guess which country it's going to. That's a game between me and her brother.

So I look at the plane on my own and I think: It's going to land in Egypt. The capital of Egypt is Cairo. I don't want that plane to go and land in Saudi Arabia where Idi Amin Dada is, swimming in his pool and boxing with his servants. I don't want
the plane to land in the Ivory Coast where Emperor Jean Bédel Bokassa the First tells tall stories about Valéry Giscard d'Estaing, who wants to be president of the French Republic again.

While I'm thinking about Egypt, Caroline takes my left hand and begs me, ‘Can I meet your friend Arthur with the castles in his heart too?'

‘Of course, he'd love that! But you'd better come to my house because my father will get cross if I take Arthur out into the street. And if my father gets cross, Arthur won't ever smile at me again.'

She's just rubbed out the rose she had drawn in the earth, and she's taken hold of my hand. We go back inside her father's workshop.

‘You know, Mabélé's not actually very good at fighting. Why did you run off when you met him in Diadhou's shop? If someone attacks us one day in the street will you run off like that and leave me alone with the bandits?'

I don't answer. Because I don't want to have to hear Mabélé's name again.

Monsieur Mutombo's amazed to see me coming back with Caroline. Longombé and Mokobé want to laugh, but they stifle it. They know Monsieur Mutombo will probably shout at them. Longombé pretends to sneeze, then finally bursts out laughing, as do Mokobé and Monsieur Mutombo. As the three of them are now laughing helplessly, Caroline and I start laughing too. As usual, I'm the one laughing loudest, holding my sides. The more I laugh like that, the more it sets the others off. I collapse on the floor, laughing. I get up again, laughing. I lean against the wall, laughing. I lean against the table where they cut the cloth, laughing. I laugh and laugh and laugh and
suddenly, without warning, the whole workshop turns black. Monsieur Mutombo's shiny head disappears. I turn round and see Longombé's mother blocking the doorway. As usual, she can't get in the door, not even sideways. I manage to stop laughing just in time. Besides, everyone else in the workshop has stopped. Longombé gets up and goes over to his mother, they stand and talk a few metres outside. I creep out to watch. Longombé's giving his mother money. Too late, she's seen me, and she calls threateningly: ‘Hey you, Pauline Kengué's son! I'll get you one of these days! Why do you laugh every time you see me? Because I'm fat, is that it? How do you know you won't get fat when you're grown up?'

Off she goes, at top speed. When she walks the dust rises off the street. People she passes turn round as though they've seen an extra terrestrial. She shouts abuse at them, even though they've said nothing. I think: why doesn't Longombé's father ever come and ask his son for money? Has his father left his mother? Doesn't Longombé even have an adoptive father? I feel sorry for him, working so hard and paying for his mother's keep while I'm standing there laughing like an idiot. Would I like it if people made fun of Maman Pauline like that? No, I'd want to throw stones in his face.

So I'm very sorry I laughed the last time, that I didn't realise Longombé's mother's a brave lady, as brave as Maman Pauline or Maman Martine. Longombé comes back into the workshop and looks at me with red eyes, like an angry crocodile. Monsieur Mutombo tells him to hurry up and do my father's trousers. He's going to deliberately cut them too short and when my father puts them on he'll look like a hare wearing trousers in
Tales of the Bush and the Forest
that they read to us in the infant school.

Uncle René's house is the prettiest in Rue Comapon. My uncle always worries because it's so nice, and you can see it shining in the distance as you approach, that the local proletariats, who live in the clapboard houses, will break into his property at any moment and steal all his wealth. That's why his plot has secure fencing all round it, with barbed wire on top. Anyone who thinks: I'll just go and rob Monsieur René's house because he's rich, will hurt himself on the barbed wire, and bleed and scream like babies when they first come into the world, the ones that know already that they're going to have big problems in their lives, and that they'd have been better off staying in their mother's belly, or going straight to heaven without stopping off on earth, like My Sister Star and My Sister No-name. Also, it's not just barbed wire protecting Uncle René's plot, there's a great big iron gate as well. That's where everyone goes in. The other iron gate is at the back of the house – the entrance to the garage – which my uncle opens with a remote control.

When you arrive at Uncle René's house, first of all you ring the bell and wait in the street, then the houseboy comes to peer at you through a little hole that's so well hidden that you'd never think anyone was looking at you. If you look suspicious, if you look like a trouble maker from the Grand Marché, the houseboy won't open the door to you. If you won't go away he puts Miguel onto you, who, my uncle says, is the fiercest dog in
the neighbourhood, not to say the whole town, and why not the entire Congo. When Miguel's excited he tries to bite his own shadow. The reason he's so fierce is that the houseboy gives him corn spirit to drink. Once he's had a glass of that he goes really quiet for a few seconds then he starts turning circles, chasing his own tail, but he can't catch it because when he turns left it goes right, and when he goes right it goes left. Then he gets really mad that he can't catch it, so he barks and rolls on the ground. The houseboy calms him down, puts a chain round his neck and ties him up to the foot of the sour sap tree in the yard. Miguel goes on barking, he's so angry his spit dribbles from his mouth the whole time.