The Dragons, the Giant, the Women, стр. 58

TWENTY-FIVE

Roy’s office was in the basement of Teachers College at Columbia. I met him when I was only in middle school—he had come to Liberia with the Peace Corps and taught me social studies. He made a point to keep in touch with his former students from Liberia, especially those who had moved to America. I visited him frequently, gathering whatever news I had recently obtained about the state of Liberia to make conclusions about where my family could be. Roy had a thick gray mustache and beard that accented his pink face and head, a beard that shriveled as he spoke with an unlikely Liberian accent.

I entered Roy’s office and immediately headed to a chair between overflowing boxes. Stacks of papers were piled on and around his desk and the tables around the office. He was writing something, but stood up as soon as I walked in to give me a hug.

“Here’s the new mom,” he said in that way he spoke to his Liberian friends, words singing. He looked at me like many people did that year—he was sorry for me and covered it with a smile.

“I trying,” I said, sitting down. I didn’t remove my coat, still mistrusting New York winters.

“Are you sure you had baby?” Roy asked.

“Thank you,” I said.

“How is the boy? You’re eating?”

“Everybody’s doing well,” I said. “Facia’s been helping.”

“That’s good.”

“And yes, I’m eating. I’m taking care of myself for the baby,” I continued.

“Good. You hear anything yet?”

“Not after Amos’s call,” I said. “That why I’m here, actually.”

Roy listened carefully, as he always did.

“I decided I’m going back,” I said.

The chair Roy sat in swiveled and he creased his eyebrows.

“I’ve been praying about it and it is the only option since the people still fighting. I have to go get them,” I continued.

“Mam,” he interrupted, “I assume I am not the first person who’s said this and I won’t be the last, but this is very risky.”

“I know.”

“Very risky.”

“It’s my only option. I can’t concentrate on anything knowing they still in hiding. Who knows when the fighting will stop?”

“Still, it’s very risky,” Roy said. “You don’t want to wait? They say it will be over soon.”

“They said that before it started and now look,” I argued. “Facia has a friend in Sierra Leone I can stay with while I try to cross the border and get to Lai.”

“Mam, that isn’t possible,” he said.

“Some months ago I didn’t know where they were. I thought they were dead,” I said. “I have this information and I have to do something with it.”

“Okay. Okay,” Roy said. “How? Tell me how you plan to go about this.”

I had thought about it for weeks. I had rehearsed their escape day and night while I fed and held my new son, his face so familiar, so much like Gus’s. I thought of it in every class, distracted during lectures about the details.

“I want to leave in one month’s time. Early December. I will go to Sierra Leone to Facia’s friend in Freetown. I hear I can take a bus to the border town and rent a room, and Facia says once I am there I can find people who can send word to them in the village that I am close. Lai is close to that border town. Only one day walking. That way Gus can come meet me there and I can bring them back,” she said.

“But what if you don’t find someone who is willing to go? Few people will risk their lives to go back into Liberia,” he said.

“Then I will try to sneak in and get them out,” I continued.

“They are not letting people in like that-oh,” he said.

“I would find a way.”

“But—”

“Roy,” I said, my voice almost breaking, “I have already made up my mind. I am not here to—I just need to know how many weeks of class I can miss before I lose my scholarship. And … and I need to know how to get a sponsorship letter to present to the embassy in Freetown, so I can bring them here on my student visa.”

Roy turned back toward his desk and rubbed his eyes.

“Please,” I said.

I looked away from him at the papers around his room. I was happy to have friends who cared—I had the same conversations with Facia and friends.

“How long do you plan on staying, Mam?” Roy asked.

“Until I find them,” I said. “I just want to know how long until I lose the scholarship.”

“It will depend on the professor, generally, but my guess is you will have about two to three weeks into the semester before it really affects you. So the middle of February.”

“So I have two months,” I confirmed.

Roy nodded, reluctantly.

“And if you find them—”

“—when”

“When you find them,” he edited himself, “how will you get them to New York?”

“Well, I will bring them here on my student visa,” she said. “I spoke to a friend’s lawyer. I just need a sponsorship letter and they will come on my student visa. I know it will take some time to get that settled with the embassy, a few weeks, but there’s a crisis so I think they are expediting some cases.”

“Few cases.”

“I have faith. We’ll be in the few,” I said.

“And you have money for this?”

“I am using some of my stipend and I’ve been borrowing money from friends and family,” I admitted. “But not much.”

“I know you have made up your mind. I know you love them and I can’t imagine how you feel knowing your family is stuck there,” Roy said. “But I just think the best thing you can do for yourself and for them is to stay