The Cinnamon Tree by Aubrey Flegg Page A

going away, although she did not know how soon. Then Yola listened. She heard about Shimima’s household and about Kimba, her funny husband , and the jokes he played. She thought she would like a funny husband. She imagined Shimima’s house, laughing at the fun and goings-on inside. Shimima also told her secret things about marriage, things that Yola wanted to know.
    Finally, they fell silent.
    ‘I will miss you, Shimima.’
    ‘When you come back you will have two legs again. You will walk down and see us, and if Kimba pulls your leg then it won’t matter.’
    Yola smiled at Shimima and didn’t want to leave. Then Shimima said, ‘Things will go along here, Yola. The sun will shine, I will carry the town’s water supply on my head; a year is not a long time. I will think of you when the rains come again and will start then to look forward to the return of my little friend.’

6
The Road to Simbada
    Y ola felt she had hardly slept when Mother shook her awake. She sat on the edge of her bed, shivering slightly in the chill air before dawn. It was still pitch dark. A tiny yellow flame wobbled above the oil lamp on the table. She wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to go now. She’d wanted Gabbin to see her off, but Senior Mother said no, no one must know when she was going. Now she was having difficulty getting her shoe on – either her foot had grown since her accident or it had just spread from walking barefoot. Mother helped her, speaking in whispers. A torch flashed in the doorway. Yola couldn’t see who carried it, but recognised Senior Mother by her breathing, a strong inward breath followed by a gentle exhalation; you could tell a lot from Senior Mother’s breathing. She played her torch over Yola, who was standing now, self-consciously, in a borrowed dress that Mother had let down so that it covered her stump. Senior Mother’s hand appeared in the beam of the torch, holding an envelope; Mother took it.
    ‘She is to get nothing that is not necessary, tell that to Mr Eriksen. She needs warm clothes, it will be cold even in summertime in Ireland. What is left will be her pocket money while she is in hospital. At school she will need less.’
    ‘A girl from the office will take her shopping,’ Mother explained .
    Senior Mother sniffed significantly. ‘Girls can be foolish together ,’ she said. ‘Nothing unnecessary! Take the torch for the road and go quietly.’ Senior Mother turned to Yola. ‘A great loss, and now a great gain. Grow with it, but do not swell. May your ancestors watch over you.’ She gave Yola a peck on the cheek and was gone.
    Senior Mother had insisted that the Landcruiser was not to come up to the compound. There was to be no excitement; Yola was still in disgrace. Once they were outside the compound , Mother shone the torch on the road; snakes travel at night. It was pitch dark, there was not even a glimmer of light in the east: morning was a good hour off. Yola was sure they were too early but the Landcruiser was there, its headlights off, with just the dim glow of the little light over the windscreen. Hans was sitting in the passenger seat beside the driver, reading some papers. The back seat of the car seemed to be full of Kasemban deminers and the rear was piled high with bags and equipment. Yola wondered where she would sit. At that moment , Hans saw the torch and climbed out to shake hands with Mother.
    ‘Good, Yola, you are on time, let’s go. It is an eight-hour drive to Simbada. Have you ever been to the capital?’ Yola said no. ‘Let’s get going!’ he said.
    Yola’s goodbyes to Mother had to be hasty.

    The first hour of the drive was silent apart from the roar of the engine. They all felt tired after their early start. The Landcruiser threaded its way around the potholes as the road climbed up out of the Ruri river valley. The road had been smashed to bits during the war as both sides fought for possession of the NopaniBridge and the main road into the