“What nonsense,” chuckles the old man. “Such a prize idiot as you I think there’s never been. How is Ma Franci, recovered yet from her adventure?”
“Day by day going madder.”
“It was a sweet time she spent with us,” says Huriya, reaching for heaven’s kettle. “Like a schoolgirl she was, all naughtiness plus pranks.”
“She’s talking a great deal about her childhood. Plus also angels.”
“I pray for that good woman. At the end of time when God judges us humans, I just hope He remembers to judge Himself as well.”
“Tauba tauba tauba,” says Hanif, touching his cheeks. “Don’t talk that way, old woman. Animal, when you see Zafar be sure to tell him that the child needs more medicine, her coughing is worse.”
“Well, you can tell me,” Elli suddenly says in Hindi.
Such a silence there’s. Even old Hanif turns and sends his sightless eyes searching for her. “Animal, she speaks. Why didn’t you tell us?”
I shrug, open my mouth, out’s come nothing but a giggle.
“I’m the doctor you were talking about,” says Elli. “I’m the one who opened the clinic that everyone’s afraid of. I’m not a monster, I’m not from the moon and I hate the Kampani as much as you do.”
“Tauba tauba tauba,” says Hanif again. “For shame, Animal. Madam, great apologies, don’t think us rude.”
“Wasn’t me talking about tarboozas,” I’ve said.
Says Huriya, placing a glass of tea and a plate with a roti in front of Elli. “This beastly boy deserves a good slapping.”
“What is wrong with your granddaughter?” asks Elli, but first she must taste the tea, also the roti, which Huriya has sprinkled with sugar plus a little coriander leaf. When she’s pronounced both to be delicious the old folk begin to tell how Aliya has been ill for almost a year with a cough and fevers.
“Where is she?” says Elli. “May I look at her?”
The old man lifts his head and calls, “Aliya!”
“Aliya! Aliya!” shout the kids in the doorway.
Presently the child appears, steps shyly forward. One reason I’m so fond of Aliya is she’s cheeky. Cheeky in kids is good. It’s a real shame for a kid to be non-cheeky.
“Hi Animal.”
“Hi again Aliya.”
Elli asks in a soft voice, like she’s cooing to a pigeon, “Aliya, how long have you been coughing?”
“Forever,” says Aliya. “I’ve not been well for ages.”
Elli’s produced her doctor’s dangling thing which she must have hidden in a pocket, she listens to Aliya’s chest. “Aliya has an infection. I need to find out what it is. I’ll do a throat swab, then I will give you medicines, there will be nothing to pay. Everything is free. Bring her to the clinic.”
Elli has that smile on her face, same as when she flung open her doors. It has again to fade because Huriya’s looking worried, shaking her head she’s.
“Doctress madam, I’m so embarrassed, we can’t bring the child. We are not supposed to come.”
“Who says you’re not to come,” asks Elli. “I suppose it’s Pandit Somraj.”
“Not Somraj. Zafar brother. He says we must be careful.”
“Oh, how I’d love to slap Zafar brother,” cries Elli. “Come on people, this is your granddaughter we’re talking about.”
Now everyone is silent. Aliya stands there looking from one to another of her grandparents. “Hey Aliya,” I tell her, “go and play.”
Hanif gives a sigh. “This is stupid,” he says. “It’s cruel, by my life. Heaven knows how much we love that child. Nevertheless we must do as Zafar asks. We will come when he says we can come. Let’s hope it’s soon.”
“What?” I ask, “does he hold you in his power like slaves?”
“If you bring her, what will Zafar do?” Elli asks.
“It’s not like that, madam,” says the old man. “Animal knows this. All of us here respect Zafar bhai, plus Somraj, that whole family. They are good people, they do a lot to help us poor. If we do what Zafar asks, it’s because we trust him, and we do it out of love.”
“Strange kind of love,” says Elli. “It’s not them I blame, it’s this Zafar. He is one of Somraj’s gang. They’re all one family.”
“Not one family,” I say sharply, this kind of talk I find upsetting. It’s like a dark cloud spreading in my mind, that first Hanif, then Elli, talks of Zafar as part of Somraj’s family.
There’s a gaggle of folk now, following us from house to house. The kids are still there of course, but also plenty of grown-ups, who soon put a stop to the endless Aiwas. “Stop eating the doctress’s head, such a dhaap you’ll catch!”
Word has spread that a foreign doctress has come to give free treatment, people are appearing from their houses, calling, “This way, come to my mine.” “No, mine first.” “There’s someone sick in here who needs help.” Well, someone’s sick in every house in the Nutcracker, in many houses everyone is sick. Elli’s quickly into and out of a dozen houses. All want treatment, but not one is willing to come to the clinic. Time after time there is the polite, embarrassed refusal. Elli’s disbelieving. “These people have nothing. Why do they turn down a genuine and good offer of help? I just don’t get it.”
Seeing how unhappy she is, I try to find something to say that will make her feel better. “Elli doctress, no surprise or shame. I understand because these are my people.”
“So what the hell do I have to do to get through to these people of yours?” She cups her hands to her mouth and shouts, “HEY, ANIMAL’S PEOPLE! I DON’T FUCKING UNDERSTAND YOU!”
Oh what glee among our young rabble. Forgotten is Aiwa, as we leave the Nutcracker we can hear the chorus of small voices gradually falling behind, “Hey hey, Animal’s People! Hey ho, Animal’s People! Hee ha, Animal’s People! Ha ha, Animal’s People! Don’t fucking, fucking, don’t fucking understand! I don’t fucking understand you!”
Up Paradise Alley out of that place I’ve led her, across the railway tracks. Remembering that she understood français I’m thinking I will take her to meet Ma Franci, but when we get there of Ma there is no sign.
“You live here?”
Eyes, wherever a person lives is normal to them, but in Elli’s eyes is the same look that I have seen in Kakadu’s, Père Bernard’s and so many others.
“Please, Elli doctress, will you take tea?”
I’ve placed my hand into the hole in the wall where we keep our food, it is a somewhat nicer hole than the one in which Kakadu’s tape mashin is quietly rotting. Elli shrieks.
“What is it now?” I’ve brushed a couple of scorps off the paper screw of tea leaves. Still angry I’m, that the world in its ignorance considers Zafar to be Somraj’s son-in-law.
“Those things!” says she, pointing, as the creatures scuttle back to the wall. When their tails have safely vanished into a crack between the stones she turns to me and pigeon-coos, “Oh poor Animal, what a life!”
“Look Elli,” I say, feeling like I want to explode, “I’ll tell you what disgusts me about this place, which isn’t what disgusts you, such as scorpions, filth, lack of hygiene, etc. It’s not that if I want a shit, I must visit the railway line…”
“Hardly your fault,” says she, misunderstanding.
“Not a question of fault. You foreigners talk as if the sight of a bum is the worst thing in the world, doesn’t everyone crap?”
“Not in public, they don’t.”
“There’s a lot to be said for communal shitting. For a start the camaraderie. Jokes and insults. A chance to discuss things. It’s about the only opportunity you get to unload a piece of your mind. You can bitch and moan about the unfairness of the world. You can spout philosophies. Then there’s the medical benefit. Your stools can be examined by all. You can have many opinions about the state of your bowels, believe me our people are experts at disease. The rich are condemned to shit alone…”