Read Web of Lies Online

Authors: Beverley Naidoo

Web of Lies (17 page)

A double-decker bus clattered past, veering toward the pavement. Femi checked the number to see if it would take them back to their High Street. Aunt Gracie and Uncle Roy would be waiting with a meal. Femi felt a small burst of energy.

“Hurry, Papa! Sade! I’m starving!”

Femi contorted his face, flickered a grin, and bounded ahead to join the bus queue.

 

S
ATURDAY
1
ST
N
OVEMBER

11:45
P.M
. (Attic, Uncle Dele’s cottage in Devon. Not even a sliver of moon.)

Outside the bedroom window

Waves plunge against the cliff

Ceaseless, tireless.

In the night

A storm breaks

Their rhythm changes

Shaking the world

Making small boats tremble.

In the haze-gray morning

Gulls drift on calm currents

Squawking to greet another day.

Outside the bedroom window

Waves plunge against the cliff

Ceaseless, tireless.

Tonight I feel like we are on one of those small trembling boats, Iyawo, in the middle of a raging sea. We could be turned upside down or smashed against rocks. If Mama were here, she would pray. When the sea is calm, it’s deceptive. It can wreck you in a minute.

Until this evening we were having a peaceful week with Uncle Dele. Walking, talking, eating, relaxing together. Even when the sky was thick with clouds, Uncle insisted we dress up warmly and walk along the coast path. Papa teased him that he has become a real English gentleman! So you see, Iyawo, we’ve even been laughing.

That peace was wrecked with Papa’s news after dinner. He has avoided telling Femi and me because it’s so upsetting. But tonight he couldn’t hide it any longer. A few weeks ago he found out that almost every single Nigerian who has asked the British government for asylum in the last three years has been turned down! Can you imagine that, Iyawo? I always believed that when the immigration officers studied Papa’s case properly, they would under
stand how we became refugees. They would know he was telling the truth. But if they haven’t believed
thousands
of other Nigerians, what are
our
chances? They claim they are fair, but, if you are Nigerian, they don’t even care whether your story is true.

So now we are not going back to London. Uncle Dele convinced Papa that he must start writing full-time again and make his voice heard. If lots of people get to know Papa through his writing, it won’t be so easy for the government to get rid of us quietly. Papa is going to give up his work in London, and Uncle will support us until Papa can earn enough. Uncle is younger, so it’s hard for Papa to accept being dependent on him. But it’s our only hope. Uncle Dele is lucky he doesn’t have our problem with immigration. The colleges here want him to teach, so they always get him a work permit and he doesn’t have to report to the police station every month like Papa. Next year he can apply for a residence permit to stay for as long as he likes. Isn’t it crazy that Papa is treated so differently?

It feels like a tidal wave has swept over us, Iyawo. After beginning all my exam courses at Avon, I’m back to square one. On Monday we have to register at the high
school four miles away from Uncle’s village. I won’t be surprised if Femi and I are the only African children in the whole school…probably the only black children. When Papa asked what we thought, Femi said he didn’t mind as long as Gary could visit. He’s glad to be far away from Lizard Eyes’s gang and he has more freedom to roam around here. But I was silent. Then Papa said, “Events sometimes dictate our choices, Sade. At least we are together, our small family.”

I’m sure he was thinking of Mami Cynthie and Edward. A peace accord was signed last week for her country, and the rebels are meant to stop fighting and hand back the child soldiers. Papa fears that the agreement will easily break down, but Mami Cynthie is determined to get a flight to Freetown as soon as possible. It’s strange how things change, Iyawo, because I’m anxious about her myself.

Poor Papa. He has had to cope with everyone else’s stress on top of his own. That includes me being mad at him over Mami Cynthie. While we have been walking, we have talked about so many different things. I told Papa my whole story about Lizard Eyes. He said I mustn’t blame myself for not telling him earlier,
because it was also his fault. It’s really hard living in London. We were falling apart there.

So I should try to be positive, shouldn’t I, Iyawo? I intend wiping Lizard Eyes out of my brain now. If I’m honest, I have been thinking a bit about James. Will he break with Lizard Eyes’s friends and try to turn himself around? Mama used to say you can take a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink. She actually said it about Femi, although it wasn’t really true. She could get Femi to do most things.

Mama would have loved to see Femi racing along the beach this afternoon. He was playing chase with a little black Scottie that reminded us all of Bonzo. Seeing my little brother laughing and jumping around again made my eyes prickle. Papa and I were walking arm in arm, with the waves lapping near our feet and fresh salt air blowing into our faces. Papa’s eyes looked a bit wet as well. I thought it was the sharp wind, but now I realize he must have been thinking about how to break his news. He could have tried to cover up by saying that we had to stay in Devon to keep Femi away from trouble. Instead, he was honest with us about our situation. I’m glad. I’d rather
face the harsh truth than be tangled in another web of lies.

Well, they haven’t deported us yet! Uncle reminded us that Ashanti people say
No one knows the story of tomorrow’s dawn.

So we shall steer our little boat to the shore and…here’s my own saying (even if there aren’t lots of palm trees in Devon):

If you have to climb a palm tree, there’s no point sitting at the bottom of the trunk, is there?

As in
The Other Side of Truth
, my characters are all fictional, but there are references to real people and events.

In 1997 General Abacha was still in charge of Nigeria. He had seized power four years earlier, and anyone who criticized him and his soldiers was in danger of being arrested, tortured, even executed. Outspoken journalists (like Papa) were a particular target. By 1997 almost fifteen thousand Nigerians had come to Britain, asking for asylum. Fewer than twenty-five had been granted permission to stay—and some of those for a limited time only. Many asylum seekers were left waiting in fear about their future. After Abacha died suddenly in 1998, Nigeria held democratic elections and the country returned to civilian rule.

In Sierra Leone, by 1997 a civil war had been waging for almost six years. Since the war began, there had been two military coups and only fragile hopes for peace, when President Kabbah was elected to power and called for a ceasefire. Different groups, some with foreign support, fought to control the country’s gold and diamonds. Children as young as ten were captured and forced to become child soldiers, mostly by rebel forces; but they were also recruited by units of the Sierra Leonean army.
Boys were drugged and taught to kill. Some went on to form their own teenage militias such as the West Side Boys. Freetown, the capital, became the only safe area. In May 1997 Major Johnny Koroma, a soldier in the Sierra Leone army, seized power from President Kabbah and his elected government. Koroma took control of the army and was also supported by some of the rebels, including the West Side Boys. Thousands of educated people fled the country, and others who happened to be overseas (like Papa’s friend, Mami Cynthie) found themselves unable to return. The United Nations imposed sanctions, and a West African peacekeeping force, led by Nigerian troops, was sent to enforce them.

On 20 October 1997, a Commonwealth conference was held in London to help President Kabbah return to power. (This is the conference that Mami Cynthie tells Sade she is going to attend.) Three days later Koroma and his military junta agreed to a peace plan that would include child soldiers being handed back to their families. (This is why Mami Cynthie thinks she will be able to return home.) But the agreement was weak and broke down (as Papa feared). Although President Kabbah was restored to government in February 1998, the bitter fighting continued and, by the time peace finally came, many more lives had been lost.

UNICEF estimated than five thousand children were turned into child soldiers. A further five thousand were made to carry goods, cook, and serve the rebels. In 2003 Sierra Leoneans began to tell their painful stories to a Truth and Reconciliation Commission.

Many people have generously helped me during my research and writing. Although I have space to mention only some by name, my thanks go to them all.

Olusola Oyeleye offered me her wonderful drama workshops, unflagging interest in my fictional characters, and insightful comments on the real world they inhabit. I also thank the many young people who spoke so openly and honestly. These include students at Charles Edward Brooke School, Camberwell, London, with particular thanks to Vwarhe Eguridu, Cherish Nwokike, Donna Rafferty, and Monisola Britto; and students at the From Boyhood to Manhood Foundation in Peckham. I am much indebted to its director, Uanu Seshmi. My thanks go to Camilla Batmanghelidjh at Kids Company, and The Bosco Centre, both in south London; Ruth Symister and students at Whitefield Fishponds Community School, Bristol; Sharon Muiruri and members of Vita Nova, Bournemouth; Sheila Melzak, Medical Foundation for the Care of Victims of Torture; Jill Rutter, London Metropolitan University; Praveen Naidoo; Det. Chief Inspector Brooker; Jeanette Redding; Deborah Catesby; Hannah Lake; and Maya Naidoo. As ever, Jane Nissen and Hilary Delamere have provided unstinting support, and my husband, Nandha, his patience and sustenance.

B
EVERLEY
N
AIDOO
grew up in South Africa under apartheid. She says: “I was brought up with the usual conceptions most white South Africans have, completely taking for granted the services of our cook-cum-nanny, whose own three children lived over three hundred kilometers away. I still feel intensely angry about the racist distortions of reality—passed on to me as a child…. I believe we owe it to young people here to help them understand what that struggle against an evil system is about. How can we hope for peace if we deny our children access to that knowledge?”

Beverley Naidoo was detained without trial when she was twenty-one and left South Africa the following year for Britain, where she has since lived. Her books about South Africa include
JOURNEY TO JO’BURG, NO TURNING BACK
, and
OUT OF BOUNDS. WEB OF LIES
is the sequel to
THE OTHER SIDE OF TRUTH
, which won both the Carnegie Medal and the Jane Addams Book Award and was named a Best Book for Young Adults by the American Library Association.

You can visit her online at www.beverleynaidoo.com.

Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

Also by Beverley Naidoo

Journey to Jo’burg

Chain of Fire

No Turning Back

The Other Side of Truth

Out of Bounds

Jacket art © 2006 by Kate Miller

Jacket design by Christopher Stengel

WEB OF LIES
. Copyright © 2004 by Beverley Naidoo. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN-10: 0-06-076075-3—ISBN-13: 978-0-06-076075-5

ISBN-10: 0-06-076077-X (lib. bdg.)—ISBN-13: 978-0-06-076077-9 (lib. bdg.)

EPub Edition © February 2010 ISBN: 978-0-06-200792-6

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