فصل 09

Chapter nine

African sunshine, African rain

A chicken hurried across the ground as a young Zambian girl in school clothes, carrying a bag of books, walked into the back yard. It was nearly five o’clock, but the September sun was still hot, shining on the cooking pots and pans left out to dry. At the far end of the yard there was a big mango tree with wide green leaves and small green fruit. The girl walked towards the back door and dropped her bag on the table just outside it. The house had just one floor, with the door in the middle and a window on each side.

‘Ikuko, I’m home!’ the girl called.

Ikuko came out into the hot sun. She looked very different from the pale unhappy girl who had opened Bernard’s letter months earlier. Her face was relaxed and happy. Holding onto her other hand was a little girl with dark skin and wide eyes.

‘Hello, Beatrice. How was school?’ Ikuko asked.

‘It was good,’ Beatrice replied in English. Then Beatrice and the little girl spoke for a minute in Bemba, their own language. She turned to Ikuko again. ‘Chiole says that today you went to the market. And you bought some tomatoes and onions.’

Ikuko laughed. ‘Yes, she helped me choose them. Good ones!’

‘Is my father back yet?’ Beatrice asked.

‘No, he’s at his photography business. He’ll be back soon, then we’ll have dinner,’ said Ikuko.

‘What’s for dinner?’

‘Chicken and nshima. And salad,’ answered Ikuko.

‘I can make the nshima if you want,’ said Beatrice. ‘It’s difficult for you. I can’t imagine how you can live in Japan without eating nshima.’

Ikuko just smiled. She didn’t want to tell Beatrice that she found it difficult to eat the heavy nshima. Flour and water cooked in a pan over the fire. But the children loved it and so did Bernard.

She had been in Zambia for almost four weeks. In some ways they had been the happiest weeks of her life. She had arrived at the small airport feeling frightened. Would she even recognise him? What would she do if he wasn’t there to meet her? But he was there, smiling his crooked smile, looking just the same - except that in the hot sun he didn’t need the red jacket. He had borrowed a friend’s car and they drove from the airport to his house down the narrow roads, between low hills and trees. Everything was dry and dusty.

‘Wait until the rains come next month,’ Bernard said. ‘Everything will be green. The grass will be higher than the houses.’ Ikuko couldn’t imagine rain as she looked up at the blue sky. So much space, she thought. The sky seemed wider than anywhere else she’d been.

They arrived at a square house. The two children came shyly out to meet them. Little Chiole just stood and stared with her thumb in her mouth. ‘She doesn’t know much English yet,’ said Bernard.

Four weeks later, Ikuko and Chiole still couldn’t say much to each other. But the little girl seemed to trust her. They spent a lot of time together while Bernard and Beatrice were at school. Ikuko found that all the housework took a long time - cleaning and cooking, washing and ironing. The house had electric light, there was a fridge and a television, but no washing machine or electric cooker.

Every day she walked to the market with Chiole and bought vegetables. It was a long walk there and back in the hot sun, carrying the heavy bag of vegetables. She watched the African women with their babies on their backs and their shopping on their heads. It looked easy, but Ikuko had tried and couldn’t do it. When they got back she was hot and tired. Then it was good to sit on the seat by the back door watching Chiole play in the garden.

She was always happy when Bernard arrived home, although often it was very late. He had started up his photography business, so he went straight there after school. It was doing well and he had a lot of work to do in the evenings. But eventually he would arrive, and they would all eat outside together in the cool evening air, with the sound of the insects in the dark and the stars shining above, before the children went sleepily to bed.

They hadn’t made any decisions about the future yet. ‘Wait and see,’ said Bernard. ‘Zambia isn’t like England or Japan. I’d like you to stay, but you must decide for yourself.’

All through the next week it got hotter and hotter. The daily walk to the market was even more tiring. Little Chiole lay on her bed most of the day. Everyone seemed hot and tired.

‘It’s a difficult time, the end of the hot season,’ said Bernard. ‘It’ll be better when the rains come.’

And the next afternoon the rains came. First the wind arrived, blowing the dust across the yard. Then big drops of water landed on the hot dry ground. The smell was wonderful and Chiole ran about laughing and shouting.

By evening it was still raining and the yard outside was wet and muddy. Beatrice and Bernard came home with their clothes wet through. ‘It’s early for the rains,’ said Bernard. ‘It’ll probably not last long. But it’s good to be cool again.’

The next morning was fine, but in the afternoon the rain started again. That evening Ikuko found that the little house seemed to be full of wet clothes and muddy children. She realised how much of their life they usually lived outside, at the big table by the back door. Now they ate their dinner indoors without speaking - it was difficult to talk with the noise of the rain and thunder. Suddenly there was a bang and all the lights went out. ‘Don’t worry,’ said Bernard. ‘It’s just an electricity cut. Beatrice, get the candles and then go to bed.’

Bernard and Ikuko sat without speaking in the candlelight as the storm went away. But it wasn’t an easy silence. It was the silence of two people trying to decide what to say to each other.

Then Ikuko spoke. ‘Bernard, I love you very much. And I love your children, too. I’d like to stay here. But I don’t know if I can.’

‘I know, Ikuko. I wanted you to come here, to see what it was like. But I know it isn’t an easy life for you.’

‘I don’t think it’s that. It’s been a bit difficult since the rains came, but it’s not that. But, Bernard, wherever I am I want to be somewhere else. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I be happy with what I’ve got?’

‘You’re looking for something, Ikuko. But you don’t know what. Maybe you’ll find it back in Japan after all. In your own country.’

‘But if I leave who will look after the children?’

‘I’ll have to manage,’ said Bernard. ‘It won’t be easy, but I can do it. That’s not the problem. The problem is losing you. I hoped we’d stay together. But Mungwi isn’t Tokyo. I couldn’t live all my life in Birmingham, even though I loved it. And I don’t think you can live in Mungwi, even though you’ve tried so hard.’

Their conversation continued as the candle burnt down. At last the rain stopped. ‘Let’s go and sit outside on the bench,’ said Bernard. They went out and sat on the wooden seat by the back door. The clouds had gone and the big African moon was full and bright. Ikuko reached out and took Bernard’s hand.

‘I think I have to go. I think in the end I belong in Japan. But a part of me will always be here. And I’m happy I came. I’m happy I have these memories of our time together. Maybe we’ll never meet again, but in a way we’ll always be together because we’ll both remember these times.’

It had rained that morning, but now the sun shone on the pools of water in the yard. Ikuko sat on the bench outside the house with her blue suitcase next to her. Beatrice and Chiole were outside at the front, waiting for Bernard’s friend to arrive with the car.

Bernard came out through the back door. He stood there, looking at her. ‘Stay there a minute,’ he said, and went inside. He came back with his camera. The Japanese girl looked back at him, unsmiling, as the camera clicked and recorded that second for the years to come.