The Star of Simbako Page 14

  They could not offer any resistance to the rebels. Modern weapons had not yet arrived in Fona. A few of the men had ancient rifles for shooting foxes or pigeons, but the Chief had discouraged the ownership of guns in his kingdom. The women of the town begged him for help. They had no place to hide and nowhere to go. The Chief was well aware of what would happen to them when the rebels arrived. He visited Fatimata, the senior sowei in the town, to discuss the options.

  ‘No man will marry a woman who gets raped. They’ll be ostracised for life,’ said Fatimata

  ‘I have never understood why the girls must live with the blame for being raped. Sometimes I despair of our culture. We live in the stone age,' said Joseph Sesay.

  ‘You can’t save them if they get caught.’

  ‘Can we hide them somewhere?’

  ‘There is shelter in the forest near the bondo, but if they come for us, we can’t escape.’

  ‘What's the alternative?’

  ‘The girls would rather die than be violated.’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’

  ‘There are poisons we can use. The girls don’t have to know. We can feed them a good beef stew.’

  ‘But that’s barbaric! Why should they die?’ The Chief rubbed his head in anguish, pulling at his tight curls as if he would rip them out. Then a crazed expression appeared on his face. ‘That’s it! I have a plan. You must help me.’

  ‘If I can. What do you want me to do?’

  ‘We will prepare the beef stew, but not for the girls. I’ll feed it to the rebels.’

  ‘But, sir, if I kill the rebels, I can no longer enter the bondo. I’ll be unclean.’

  ‘Fatou, the rebels are evil, you’ll be a heroine.’

  ‘No, I’ll be an outcast. Those are the rules.’

  ‘The rules! You may kill the girls, but not the rebels? Will you let the girls die then?’

  Fatou avoided his eyes. Chief Sesay understood how proud she was of her status as a sowei. He could feel her anguish, but he needed to protect his people. He waited.

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘I’ll help you. It’s a small price to pay.’

  ‘God will reward you.’

  ‘But the spirits will banish me. I’ll lose my status.’

  ‘You can never lose your status in my eyes. I’ll give you the big house in the centre of town. You’ll be a woman of property.’

  ‘What’s the use of property when I lose my soul?’ She turned to him. ‘You ask too much of me, Joseph.’

  ‘But you’ll do it?’

  ***

  The rebels were only hours away. News of their imminent arrival had reached Chief Sesay’s compound, which was full of local refugees from the surrounding countryside, crowding into the relative safety of its high walls. Inside the Chief’s house, Joseph Sesay was pacing the visitors’ room. The tribal elders were packed inside, sitting on anything they could find, muttering in low tones and pulling their robes around them as if for protection. Tamba followed the Chief around the room, wincing as Sesay bumped into chairs and people in his agitation. Finally, the Chief stopped in the middle of the room and held up his hands to still the murmuring elders.

  ‘The rebels arrive tomorrow,’ he said. ‘We must act now.’

  ‘How will we stop them?’

  ‘We cannot do that. Take the people to hide in the forest. I’ll stay here and greet them.’

  ‘But, Joseph, they will kill you.’

  ‘It is of no consequence. My daughter will be a fine Paramount Chief.’

  ‘But sir …’

  ‘Tamba, this is not your decision. I need you to help me.’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘Go to the terrace with thirty men and fill in the excavation. Do not stop until you have finished. Cover the workings with leaves and palm fronds and twigs. Spread them thin so no-one can tell that mining was taking place there. When you have finished, hide in the forest until you are sure it's safe.’

  ‘What are you going to do? Invite them to dinner?’

  ‘That’s exactly it. Now get organised.’

  ‘Father, I won't leave you here.’ Adanna stepped out of the shadows and clung to him shivering.

  ‘You will, I have Pakuteh here. He will help me.’

  ‘But, father.’

  ‘Do not defy me. You must go. The future of Fona is your responsibility. Take the women into the forest and hide with them.’

  Adanna tried to hold on to her father, but Tamba pulled her away.

  ‘You heard your father. Save the women before the rebels get them. You know what will happen if they get captured. It is your duty.’

  Adanna nodded and left the house with the rest of the elders. Chief Sesay turned to Pakuteh.

  ‘I need you to lay the ceremonial table with a feast for the rebels. There is a large beef and chicken stew already prepared. Make a big pot of rice and a basket of fried bananas. Place all the food on the table after you have covered it with one of the red table cloths. When you finish, come to find me.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Pakuteh avoided the Chief’s eyes, but he did not question the instructions. If the Chief had gone mad, it was not a good time to challenge him. He turned to go to the kitchen.

  ‘And, Pakuteh, whatever you do, don't eat any stew. I want you to promise me.’

  ‘I promise.’ The doubt which crossed his face made the Chief consider telling him again, but he had no time for the recalcitrant young man.

  ‘I’ll be back,’ he said.

  ***

  Pakuteh entered the kitchen where the chicken stew sat on the hob at the back. The rich aroma of the food filled it with savoury temptation. He grabbed the handles of the pot and moved the stew onto the battered wooden table in the centre of the room. Using a large wooden scoop hanging from the ceiling, he covered the bottom of another huge saucepan with a thick layer of rice. He filled the saucepan with water and lit the gas hob underneath it. Then he collected a large bunch of plantains from a dirty corner in the larder and lifted it onto the table. A large spider fell out of the bananas onto the table and made him jump. It launched itself into the air, landing in a hairy heap on the floor and then scampered away, disappearing under the rusty fridge.

  Pakuteh hacked individual plantains off the stem and peeled their skin off and slice them length ways. When he had a large pile of sliced bananas, he put a flat pan on the other hob and poured in a bottle of cooking oil. He waited for the oil to heat, before frying the plantains in batches and placing them on a long wooden serving platter. He drained the rice and put it into two bowls decorated with local motifs.

  The aroma of the stew had sustained him though this task, but when he finished, his hunger got the better of him. He served himself a bowl of the lukewarm stew and sat down to eat. Spicy and meaty, he had never tasted better. The juice ran down his chin and he rubbed it off with his sleeve. He bolted his food and soon finished it. He washed the bowl in the sink so that there was no evidence of his disobedience and hid it among the plantains. There was plenty left.

  He couldn’t understand why the Chief was feeding the rebels. It made no sense. He carried all the food out to the table in the ceremonial hall.

  Having laid it with bowls and cutlery, he went to find the Chief.

  Joseph Sesay was sitting outside the hall in his ceremonial chair, his head in his hands, deep in thought. When he noticed Pakuteh come out, he stood up and gestured to the chair beside him, which belonged to his wife, but was still pristine.

  ‘Ah, Pakuteh, my boy! Sit down. I need to talk to you.’

  Pakuteh’s face betrayed his alarm. As far as he was aware, the Chief didn't know of his marriage to Adanna, his beloved daughter, as, otherwise, he would not be so amicable. He sat down on the edge of the seat as if ready to flee.

  ‘Shouldn’t we be going, sir? They’ll be here any minute.’

  ‘I’m not going. Someone has to stay for the plan to work.’

  ‘But t
hey’ll kill you.’

  ‘I doubt it. Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. There’s the small matter of my daughter.’

  ‘Your daughter?’

  ‘I heard about your marriage. You can’t keep a secret in this village. And while I don’t approve, what’s done is done.’

  ‘I love her.’

  ‘I know and that’s why I want you to take her away. The longer she stays, the worse it will get for her. They won’t ever let her be Chief because I stopped her going to the bondo.’

  Pakuteh was speechless.

  ‘Where will we go?’ he said.

  ‘Anywhere you want.’

  Pakuteh was about to protest when the Chief stretched out his arm.

  ‘Put out your hand,’ he said.

  Trembling, Pakuteh offered his hand palm up and the Chief dropped something heavy and warm into it. Pakuteh gasped.

  ‘Is that what I think it is?’ he said.

  ‘The Star of Simbako,’ said the Chief. ‘The biggest diamond ever found at Fona. I want you to take it and run far from here with Adanna. Never come back.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’ve a date with destiny. The Gods want their pound of flesh in exchange for your freedom and I will give it to them.’

  ‘But what will I tell Adanna?’

  ‘Tell her I love her. Go now. Quickly.’

  ***

  Fona village was empty. The whole population had left, fleeing before the ferocious reputation of the rebel battalion. The sound of wood splintering at the edge of the compound heralded their arrival and destructive mood. A lone chicken pecking the ground was swooped up by one rebel and its neck wrung before it could squawk in protest. The Chief could hear them getting closer and he steeled himself for the coming confrontation. He intended to keep them occupied until the deadly stew had its effect.

  The double doors of the ceremonial hall burst open and a tall, muscular man barged through. He had a belt of bullets slung over his body like a deadly sash and his skin shone from the evening drizzle. A newly healed scar was visible on his arm. He scanned the room for something to break. His gaze fell on Chief Joseph Sesay who was sitting in the shadows in full ceremonial dress with a leopard skin cloak over his shoulders. He sneered.

  ‘Who the fuck are you?’ he said.

  ‘Chief Joseph Sesay at your service. And you are?’

  ‘They call me Black Death.’

  Despite the awful danger represented by this musclebound thug, Sesay had to fight a smile. Another of the rebels caught the smirk he smothered. The butt of a gun hit him in the guts before he could react. He fell to his knees where he was hit again, this time in his face. His world shrank to a pinhole and disappeared.

  When Sesay came to, he was tied to a chair in the dining hall. The rebels sat around the table, stuffing themselves with stew and rice making sounds of noisy appreciation.

  ‘Ah, you are back with us,’ said Black Death. ‘I want the Star of Simbako and you'll tell me how to find it or you'll die.’

  ‘What’s that?’ said the Chief, through his swollen mouth.

  ‘Where is the Star of Simbako?’

  ‘There’s no such thing.’

  Black Death gesticulated and one of his men came forward. Swinging his rifle over his shoulder around his body, he slammed it against the Chief’s shins, causing the chair to pitch sideways and to tumble on the floor with the Chief still attached.

  ‘What are you waiting for? Pick him up, you fool!’ said Black Death.

  The man grabbed the chair back and pulled it upright. Sesay slumped over. He was bleeding into his shoes and dark pools crept over the floorboards.

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘It is a myth. I have never seen such a thing.’

  Black Death stood up and approached the Chief. In his hand, he carried a ceremonial cudgel.

  ‘You will tell me.’

  ***

  The gate of the compound hung from one hinge and bits of splintered wood covered the ground. Tamba and Adanna pushed their way past it and into the deserted yard which shimmered in the heat.

  ‘Where are the rebels?’ said Adanna

  ‘They’ve disappeared. It makes no sense,’ said Tamba.

  ‘It’s my father I’m worried about. Why did he stay behind? It thought he was coming with Pakuteh.’

  ‘So did I. He wouldn’t tell me the plan. He sent me to fill in the diamond pit.’

  ‘And Pakuteh?’

  ‘He left.’

  ‘What do you mean left? Isn’t he coming back?’

  ‘I don’t think so. He said he was going to South Africa to work.’

  ‘South Africa? He can’t have.’

  ‘Look, let’s discuss this later, okay? We must look for the Chief.’

  They edged across the yard towards the ceremonial hall, but there was no sign of life anywhere. The door of the hall fell open and the metallic smell of blood hung in the air. The sound of blowflies buzzing became audible. Their presence was an awful clue.

  ‘Oh, God. I can't face going in,’ said Adanna.

  Tamba shoved the door with his foot and it swung open to reveal a tableau of horror that was almost unbelievable in its extent. There were thirty or forty bodies, most of them still sitting at the table. A few had fallen to the floor. There was an odd white foam emerging from some of their gaping mouths. Adanna gasped. Tamba used his foot to flip over one body. It was rigid with rigor mortis and had both hands clasping its neck as if choking.

  Tamba vomited.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said.

  ‘For what?’ said Adanna. She was scanning the room with panic in her eyes, trying not to breathe the air which was thick with death. Then she emitted a cry and ran around the table to where a brightly coloured body was tied to a chair, the face smeared with dried blood.

  ‘Daddy? Oh, my God, Tamba, it’s my father.’

  She held out her hand and touched his dear face. It was still warm.

  ‘He’s still alive!’ she said. ‘Help me.’

  ‘He can’t be. Look at him.’

  ‘Help me for God’s sake.’

  Tamba undid the cords lashing Sesay to his chair and laid him on the floor. His robe fell to one side, revealing his crooked, battered shins. Adanna flinched. She pulled the robes back over his legs, grabbed a jacket of the back of a chair and put it under his head. Tenderly stroking his face, she sobbed and a large tear fell onto the Chief’s lips. The tip of his tongue poked out and licked the tear.

  ‘Daddy? He’s alive! Tamba get the doctor. Quickly.’

  Chapter XV

  Fergus’ upbringing in Simbako meant everything that had happened so far made perfect sense. Fona relaxed him and he felt at home, despite the local shenanigans which drove Ned mad, but then he had grown up in the English countryside and did not understand how life happened in a town ruled by superstition and black magic. Chief Sesay was a sceptic, but his respect for the tribal elders and the sowei meant that he tolerated most of the goings-on as normal.

  And then there was Adanna. An enigma wrapped in a cool coating – her calm exterior was as much a mask as any of the examples on the walls of the Chief’s house.

  What made her so sad?

  The biggest surprise was Fatimata. Whoever would have imagined that she was a heroine? The grumpy battleship with her simple prejudices was an avenging angel, who had saved the town from the rebels with her fatal potions.

  Despite her protests, Fergus made Fatimata a cup of tea. As he waited for the water to boil, he leaned back against the wooden table in the kitchen and tried to get his thoughts together. The revelation about the poisonous stew had shaken him. Alex never told him about Fona’s brush with the civil war. Perhaps he wasn’t aware of the town’s troubled history. It explained why there were still diamonds in the terraces around the town, even though the nearby terraces had been exploited. How did Alex know these were virgin? Sam seemed to
think the one they were given had already been exploited, but she wasn’t sure. The sabotage only made sense if diamonds waited to be discovered at the bottom of the terrace.

  He was no wiser as to who orchestrated it. Tamba was his main suspect, but he couldn’t say why though and now that Tamba cooperated with Sam and seem to even enjoy working with her, the interference has stopped. This surprised him. He had expected complaints from her about the basic conditions in Fona, but nothing seemed to faze her. It was a measure of the effect she had on everyone. As far as he could see, the only person who was taking everything in her stride was Sam. His initial scorn turned to admiration and something else, something he couldn’t admit to himself.

  That he might also find Sam attractive hadn’t crossed his mind when Ned had laid claim to her. He appreciated the sensibilities of interfering with his fiery friend’s desires. The chip on Ned’s shoulder sometimes seem to weigh on his good sense. Ned committing himself to Gemma would be a bitter blow for Sam, but maybe she would need comfort. Fergus was good at that. Many women had fallen victim to his charms when looking for solace from a bad romance. They never stayed long, he didn’t encourage it, but they adored feeling attractive again and he accepted their affection, giving nothing real away.

  He poured water into the teapot and took the tray to the sitting room. Fatimata sat at the table under the fan which rotated drunkenly above her. Dembo the parrot sneaked inside and hovered under the table, hoping to get offered a piece of biscuit.

  ‘I can’t do it,’ she said.

  ‘You must. Sam will die.’

  ‘She is not a good woman. It is of no importance.’

  ‘What is wrong with you? Sam is a special person who gets on with everyone.’

  ‘She wears clothes like a whore and I saw her go into your room. She is not worth saving. God will judge her.’

  ‘God? What kind of Christian are you? You're just a hypocrite.’

  ‘I saw her. She tried to take you from me.’

  ‘You silly woman. Sam has no interest in me. She entered my room to clean the snake bite on my hand. Ned likes her, but they are not a couple.’

  ‘Why does she wear clothes like a whore then?’