I imagined us walking down the street. Him so broad shouldered and handsome. Many months had passed since he’d been given leave. In all that time I had not heard from him, I could only imagine what duties he was undertaking. Who knew where in the country he might be, some place without a post office. And you know, sometimes they didn’t allow them to write, especially when the mission was important or secret.
Rain was threatening, a dark cloud rose up behind the mosque, though the sun still shone. The light shimmered, catching the white robes of the men gathered at the front of the building after midday prayers. Women, dressed in all manner of colours, made their way from the back door. Some people were waiting to cross the road by the roundabout, others stood about in clutches exchanging greetings at the same time as they eyed one another up and down. I slipped into the crowd, mingling, nodding to this person and that person, enjoying the looks that came my way. And sure enough presently I saw somebody I did know: the woman who was once my mother-in-law, in a manner of speaking. Remember Khalil? The one who betrayed me? His mother.
Well, I’m telling you now — it couldn’t have been better. I turned away and strolled on a short distance. When I felt her close behind me, I swung around like I had suddenly remembered something.
‘Aunty!’ I said, as though she was the last person on earth I expected to see there.
‘Hawa,’ she nodded. She would have liked to move on, but I was blocking her path.
‘I hope you are well?’ Or some such irrelevance.
‘As you see me, by God’s grace.’
‘And the family?’ I persisted, though I noticed she made no enquiry as to my own health.
‘They are all well.’ She glanced over my shoulder, wanting to get away. But I was not finished yet. The thing about niceties is that there is no end to them. I asked after every member of the family by name. She took no care to elaborate on her replies. Then I mentioned Khalil’s name. She looked at me directly, then. Suspicious eyes flickered over my face for a moment, until she caught sight of the earrings. I smiled and put my hand up to touch them.
‘A gift from my son,’ I told her.
‘Very nice.’ Thin lips stretched tight into a smile, a mouth like a rubber band.
‘Solid gold. Twenty-four carat.’ She was silent. ‘Bought with his salary, you know. He is in the Army. A Major. A promotion, another one.’ I wasn’t sure if that was correct, but it didn’t matter. And maybe I should have stopped there. ‘He’ll be coming home soon. On leave.’
‘Well, I am glad to see you are so well. Until next time, Hawa.’ And she stepped around me, which was annoying because I had wanted to be the first one to walk away. Still, the victory was mine.
I moved off in the other direction. There were still a good number of people outside the mosque, the imam among them in a long purple coat over his robes. I raised my umbrella over my head as I turned down a side street, passing the stalls selling second-hand electrical goods and suchlike, to where the Syrian traders — Lebanese, they were called now — had their shops. Looking about me I ducked into the nearest entrance.
The man behind the counter, shouting at somebody at the back of the shop, stopped the instant he saw a finely dressed woman enter and smiled at me.
‘Good day, madam,’ he said. That was how impressive I looked. I moved closer to the counter, underneath the dusty glass of which lay many pieces of jewellery, mostly gold.
‘How much for the gold?’ I asked.
‘To buy?’
‘No, to sell.’
‘What carat?’
‘Twenty-four,’ I told him. He raised his eyebrows.
‘Show me.’
I slipped my earrings off and dropped them into his outstretched hand. Oh, it was a difficult thing for me to do. He weighed them in his hand, scratched the surface with a dirty thumbnail and shook his head.
‘This is not twenty-four carat.’
I looked back at him. ‘Eighteen then,’ I said confidently. Still good.
He shook his head at that, and dropped them into a small set of scales. ‘Where did these come from?’
I decided not to mention my son. Not because I had anything to hide, but because these days too many people were saying bad things about soldiers, about the things they were doing. He would try to pretend they had been looted and use that to offer me an even poorer price.
‘Left to me by my mother,’ I replied.
Nine carat! Can you believe it? Of course he was taking advantage, but what was I to do? I didn’t bother to thank him. I took the money and put it in my purse. As soon as Lansana came home we would come back here and give that thief back his money. Redeem my earrings for the measly sum he gave me.
Outside the shop I stepped into a doorway for a few moments to adjust my headdress so that it covered my ears. A few people were still standing around by the mosque. I kept my chin high as I walked by. I could feel their eyes upon me. I looked neither to one side nor the other, but straight ahead, to the bicycle stand, and gave one of the fellows there my address. In full view of the lot of them I climbed on behind him and we rode away.
I felt the wind in my face. I sat sideways on the parcel shelf with my ankles crossed, feeling as demure as a girl out with a suitor. I felt something I had not felt for a long time.
I remembered the last time Lansana had come home, bringing with him a cassette player. He liked to listen to it all day, morning, noon and night. He took baths and changed his clothes, sometimes several times a day. Then sat back down, tapping his fingers or his foot on the floor, turning the cassette over every time one side finished. To tell the truth the noise got on my nerves: the repetitive sound of some man’s voice. One evening I asked him to turn it down. I had to raise my voice over the sound of the music, if that is what you could call it. I repeated myself once, twice. The third time Lansana suddenly swung around and faced me. For a moment he looked furious, I wondered if he had been asleep, dreaming, and I had woken him up. But then his face softened and he smiled. He stood up and grasped both my hands and swung me around, and had me dance with him to that terrible music. Yes, I really did. I danced.
I would not have that feeling of joy again for years to come. After that day when I was forced to sell my earrings, I waited for Lansana as long as I could. By then the girl had gone, I saw the people fleeing all around me, I was too afraid to wait any longer. I pushed three of my dresses into a plastic bag, that was all, there was no food in the house. We followed the footpaths to the main road, passing villages emptied of people. I saw a lad I knew, a salt seller, walking in the other direction. ‘Be careful, Ma,’ he warned me. They were shooting northerners at the checkpoints.
When I reached there I listened carefully to the answers people ahead of me gave. My turn came, I bowed my head, I muttered the name of the same town in the South. The soldier demanded the name of the headman, he narrowed his eyes: yellow eyes, dark at the core. I supplied it, giving the name I had just overheard, and passed through. My son is a soldier, I wanted to tell him. He’s in the Army. Perhaps you know him. But I dared not, I kept my head down and carried on walking.