the main Lacebark building. At four concrete storeys this was the tallest structure in the town, although like a consular office it didn’t really belong to Gandayaw but to the foreign territory of the Concession, and indeed a tunnel was popularly rumoured to lead from its basement all the way to the mines twelve miles away.
‘Are we going inside?’ said Cherish. The day was hot and she had her longyi folded up to her knees.
‘No.’ Instead, they sat down in a tea shop where all the seats were made from the top halves of old swivel chairs lashed with bamboo rope to drums of laundry detergent, weighted down with rocks. They must have waited there for at least two hours, although it seemed more like a month to Cherish, who’d never been so bored in her life. She passed the time watching an old man, hairless and hunchbacked, an animate nub of ginger root, who hobbled up and down the street selling cigarettes and flowers. Just as she counted his seventh lap, three white men in business suits walked laughing out of the Lacebark building, and her mother jumped up from her stool and hurried across the street, pulling Cherish with her. A black Mercedes-Benz was waiting for the men, perhaps the same one as before, and beside the car were four bodyguards with guns, but the approach of a woman and her young daughter must have seemed so innocuous that no one really noticed them until Cherish’s mother was thrusting her towards the tallest of the white men and screeching in English, ‘Your child! Your child! Your child!’
The words might have been plain enough, but at that moment it didn’t occur to Cherish what they actually meant. What she did understand straight away was that her mother was doing something unbelievably dangerous. For both of them to be marched off at gunpoint and beaten up in the pit behind the disco would have taken only a word, maybe only a gesture, from one of the men in suits. And indeed the bodyguards were now reaching for their pistols. But then the tall man, the object of Cherish’s mother’s fury, must have said something to hold them off. Cherish looked up at him, and he looked back down at her with the stunned expression of someone watching the flame from his half-smoked cigarette consume an entire heap of rubbish, a bit guilty for his carelessness but at the same time quite impressed by this reminder of his powers.
There was a pause in which no one seemed to know what to do. The tall man’s two colleagues looked especially awkward. Then the tall man stepped forward and murmured something to Cherish’s mother, who nodded before crouching to kiss Cherish.
‘Go to your brother,’ she said. ‘Wait for me at home, the two of you.’
‘No!’
‘Go, sweetheart. I’ll be back.’
So Cherish obediently crossed the street, but rather than carrying on towards the cosmetics stall she pressed herself against the wall of the tea shop so she could watch what would happen. As the other two got into the car, the tall man and one of the bodyguards led her mother around to a side door of the Lacebark building and disappeared inside. Cherish burst into tears and dropped to her knees in the dirt, certain that she would never see her mother again. On his way past, the hunchbacked pedlar drew back his lips to give her what was probably supposed to be a comforting grin, but in the darkness of his mouth there were only two brown incisors that dangled from his gums like bats from the roof of a cave.
5.49 p.m.
Raf takes a swig of beer. ‘So what happened?’ he says. He has that feeling of mild inadequacy he gets whenever he listens to anyone who’s had a truly eventful or difficult life.
‘I was wrong! That afternoon, my mom came back. My brother was about a minute from making a commando assault on the Lacebark building, but she came back. She said we were going to America. Everything was arranged. And that was the last night I ever spent in Gandayaw. The next day, a jeep took me and my mother to
‘Are we going inside?’ said Cherish. The day was hot and she had her longyi folded up to her knees.
‘No.’ Instead, they sat down in a tea shop where all the seats were made from the top halves of old swivel chairs lashed with bamboo rope to drums of laundry detergent, weighted down with rocks. They must have waited there for at least two hours, although it seemed more like a month to Cherish, who’d never been so bored in her life. She passed the time watching an old man, hairless and hunchbacked, an animate nub of ginger root, who hobbled up and down the street selling cigarettes and flowers. Just as she counted his seventh lap, three white men in business suits walked laughing out of the Lacebark building, and her mother jumped up from her stool and hurried across the street, pulling Cherish with her. A black Mercedes-Benz was waiting for the men, perhaps the same one as before, and beside the car were four bodyguards with guns, but the approach of a woman and her young daughter must have seemed so innocuous that no one really noticed them until Cherish’s mother was thrusting her towards the tallest of the white men and screeching in English, ‘Your child! Your child! Your child!’
The words might have been plain enough, but at that moment it didn’t occur to Cherish what they actually meant. What she did understand straight away was that her mother was doing something unbelievably dangerous. For both of them to be marched off at gunpoint and beaten up in the pit behind the disco would have taken only a word, maybe only a gesture, from one of the men in suits. And indeed the bodyguards were now reaching for their pistols. But then the tall man, the object of Cherish’s mother’s fury, must have said something to hold them off. Cherish looked up at him, and he looked back down at her with the stunned expression of someone watching the flame from his half-smoked cigarette consume an entire heap of rubbish, a bit guilty for his carelessness but at the same time quite impressed by this reminder of his powers.
There was a pause in which no one seemed to know what to do. The tall man’s two colleagues looked especially awkward. Then the tall man stepped forward and murmured something to Cherish’s mother, who nodded before crouching to kiss Cherish.
‘Go to your brother,’ she said. ‘Wait for me at home, the two of you.’
‘No!’
‘Go, sweetheart. I’ll be back.’
So Cherish obediently crossed the street, but rather than carrying on towards the cosmetics stall she pressed herself against the wall of the tea shop so she could watch what would happen. As the other two got into the car, the tall man and one of the bodyguards led her mother around to a side door of the Lacebark building and disappeared inside. Cherish burst into tears and dropped to her knees in the dirt, certain that she would never see her mother again. On his way past, the hunchbacked pedlar drew back his lips to give her what was probably supposed to be a comforting grin, but in the darkness of his mouth there were only two brown incisors that dangled from his gums like bats from the roof of a cave.
5.49 p.m.
Raf takes a swig of beer. ‘So what happened?’ he says. He has that feeling of mild inadequacy he gets whenever he listens to anyone who’s had a truly eventful or difficult life.
‘I was wrong! That afternoon, my mom came back. My brother was about a minute from making a commando assault on the Lacebark building, but she came back. She said we were going to America. Everything was arranged. And that was the last night I ever spent in Gandayaw. The next day, a jeep took me and my mother to
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