The Dragons, the Giant, the Women, стр. 62
“Thank you,” the man said. “I am Jallah.”
I nodded but did not respond, afraid to encourage conversation, and I continued in silence as the bus rode along. The faces of pedestrians and city buildings sitting too close together became deep and vast plains. The Atlantic Ocean was not too far away, and my head leaned against its jubilant sound. Gus had courted me in the presence of that same ocean. I was a teenager when we met, and while we were undergraduates at the University of Liberia, he spent all his spare change on bus fare to visit me and my parents in Logan Town. Ol’ Ma liked him because he was as brave as Ol’ Pa had been, direct with his intentions, yet soft when he looked at me. The ocean had eavesdropped when he proposed.
I had been unable to sleep the night before. I lay awake in Marta’s guest bed for hours anticipating my journey. Now these distant beaches ushered me to sleep, applauding my return after what felt like a lifetime away. Every time I dozed off, I woke up suddenly, surveying my surroundings with my purse close to my breasts. The suitcase remained underneath the seat.
The man laughed beside me.
“Do not worry,” he said. “It is still there. I am watching it for you.” I moved uncomfortably in the stiff bus seat.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. I leaned my head against the seat.
“Besides, it is not thieves we must worry about. Everybody is too nervous going this way to steal,” he chuckled. He looked out of the bus window and I finally smiled. His voice was warm and familiar.
“Thank you,” I said again, making sure he heard me.
“Ah, no worry, no worry.”
“What was your name again?” I asked after a moment. He turned to face me, noticeably pleased.
“Jallah,” he said. “Yours?”
“My family calls me Mam,” I answered. “I’m Vai.”
“Oh! You are Vai?” he asked, holding out his hand. I shook it.
“Yes. It’s nice to meet you,” I said.
“I knew it,” he said in Vai. “Our women are the most beautiful. That’s what I say.”
I laughed with him and blushed.
“Bie-kah. Thank you,” I responded in Vai.
“You have been away, yes?”
Just as Facia had told me, my time in America was emanating from me, even with the plain clothes and hair.
“No worry, I will not hurt you. Anyway, you are clever to be so quiet, but you are safe. By my word,” Jallah said, holding up his right hand. “I knew that too,” Jallah said, joyfully slapping his thigh. “You should be careful traveling when you reach the border towns. I hear that not too long ago they kidnapped a woman they thought was an American nurse. They still looking for her.”
I looked out the window.
“But no worry, no worry. You Vai girl and Vai people they not humbugging much, they say. You going to market?”
“No, to Bo Waterside. I need to find a room,” I said.
“There are plenty rooms there but not all of them good,” Jallah said. “You have family there?”
“I have family in Cape Mount,” I said. “On the other side.”
“Yes, me too,” Jallah said. “Plenty family in Cape Mount.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
“I have many many brothers and sisters. Many of them. Nobody die in war yet. One cousin we can’t find but nobody die yet,” he said.
“That’s good to hear,” I said, my body now cold. “What do you do?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Me, I am a trader. I go to Freetown for things you can only find in America and London and I sell and trade with the boys at the border,” he said.
“That’s good,” I said.
“People want American things plenty. Perfume and jeans, jewelry, anything they buy if it’s from America.”
“That is something. People in school in America ask me where they can find African masks and fabric. They pay plenty money for it,” I said.
“Yes, I know, I know. People want American thing. American want African thing,” Jallah said. “Nobody just happy with what they have.”
“Yeh,” I agreed.
“You will see the market at Bo Waterside. American thing there too,” Jallah said.
“I’m sure,” I said. “But the first thing I have to do is find a room.”
“I have rooms and I would let you rent one but my wives will get jealous.” He laughed again until he coughed. I laughed too. I couldn’t help it.
“The two of them are hard women—my wives. The people them ask why I choose them, but the heart wants what it wants,” Jallah said. “How many wives did your father marry?” he asked.
“One,” I said.
“Oh! And your grandfather?”
“One,” I said.
“Both of them?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. And still wealthy enough to have daughter in America? They are great men,” Jallah said, waving his pointer finger.
“They were great women,” I replied.
Jallah looked at the golden band hugging my slender finger.
“And how long have you been married?”
“Eight years. Our anniversary was last week. December 12.”
“Happy anniversary,” Jallah said. “You are beautiful woman. I am sure he will buy you plenty fine gifts.”
I touched my ring.
“He is alive?” Jallah asked.
“Yes. I was told he is living.”
“That’s good! You never know, my sister,” he continued in Vai. “I met a woman in Freetown who was selling at a market to feed her daughters. She said her husband and brother were killed and she cannot find her son.”
“God bless her,” I said.
“Yes-oh.”
“And is he at Bo Waterside?” Jallah asked.
“No, he is in a village on the other side. I am going to try to get him and my daughters out,” I said, each word heavier than the last.
Jallah raised his eyebrow and turned to the window. When he looked at me again, his eyebrows were still creased, unable to filter his doubtful thoughts.
“And …