Chasing Freedom Home (Malinding) (16 page)

'Him? You could, I mean, he wanted to, I don't understand. How could you?'

'It was the right thing to do. We are a pragmatic people. I see your shock; Ed was equally shocked. Binta was, perhaps, a third his age. He still thought of her as a child.  I knew that if he did not agree to this she would become an outcast. Even if Ed did agree, it would not be easy. Binta would have to work hard and show she was a good wife, a respectable woman. You see her now? People respect her, they seek her advice, and she is a trusted businesswoman. She is modest and hard working. Would you have wanted it to be otherwise?'

'Of course not, but how did you cope; you knew the bed she was in was...'

'Was my husband's? Of course I did. I remember the first night he slept with her. I was furious; with him, with her but mostly with myself because I had put her there. I thought of him doing this and doing that with her and to her. I was furious with myself. I would gladly have flung her to wolves. I would have danced if somebody had told me that she had become a diseased whore walking the streets of Kololi, going from bed to bed for ten dalasi a time. And the next morning, when she was singing and she smiled at me I could have strangled her with her own bed sheet. I washed her bedding and her clothes and wished I could have boiled her with them. Of course I did; I am human. But you see us now? We were soon friends again. My beautiful husband made both of us happy; we can both treasure our memories of him. Binta and I have both re-married, both of us to good men. And you need have no fear of such a happening. Our world has changed at a speed we could not have dreamed of. Young girls no longer fear the cut of the blade, no longer fear being forced into marriages with men they loathe. They have education and good health care; they have professions which are respected and they have children which are planned and welcomed. We still respect our elders and care for them. We have clean water and hygienic toilets and the electricity runs through the wires and lights our homes, even though some of us still make love by candlelight. Come, the pot is empty. I shall show you how to bone fish.' While they worked Rachel asked another question, timidly. She was on very unsure ground.

'Sirra, my chief, I seek your wisdom.'

'Rachel, my daughter, you speak formally? This is not you; ask. If I can I will answer, and if I cannot answer I will explain why.' Rachel stared at her for a moment, and then

'You spoke of fearing the cut of the blade. I think I know what you mean, but I'm not sure.'

'What do you think is meant?'

'FGM. Female Genital Mutilation. I don't understand it, what was the purpose?'

'First, it was not a religious practice. There is nothing in the Book to command it. Tradition. I was not cut; my father did not allow it. My mother was in favour of it; she believed it would make me into a good wife, faithful to my husband. I would, she thought, only enjoy sex with my husband and I would never want any other man. Another advantage was that the genitalia would always look neat and attractive, or so it was thought. Do you understand?'

'No. How could you enjoy making love if part of you was cut away?'

'There was a difference in the cut. Some cutters removed only the outer lips; some removed the outer and the inner lips and some removed everything; outer, inner lips and the clitoris itself. Then the wounds were sewn up; a small gap was left so the girl could still piss. Many became infected, some died, some had difficulties when they came to give birth. Some women were incontinent for the rest of their lives. Some who survived the cutting had dreadful pain when they first had sex. There were many, many problems. It was a matter of traditional practice.'

'So, how did it come to die out?'

'Education. That, and promising the cutters other employment. A guarantee of a good, well paid job for life and a generous pension - there were very few objections when it was seen that the promise was kept. I'm sure it still goes on; you hear of it now and again, but it's increasingly rare. There is no need for little girls in this village to fear the knife. Children are safe to grow up with the beautiful bodies God has given them.'

'Amen to that' said Rachel, with a shudder. 'Thank you for answering me.'

'I am happy that you trust me to answer your questions honestly.' Both women were thoughtful for a while.

'Rachel?'

'Yes, my chief?'

'Will you take me fishing tomorrow?'

37

Theresa inspected her bedroom. It had two doors, one onto the corridor and one leading to a dressing suite. There was a bathroom, with double bath, a double shower, two toilets, a bidet and a long white marble top with two inset copper hand basins. The marble floor was heated. It was the sort of bedroom suite a whore might have. 'I'm a top class whore now; must at least be a grade ten. This is the sort of thing a whore who is first lady of a banana republic has. I've arrived.'

The corridor led to a sitting room overlooking the Thames. Log fires, one at either end. Modelled on the drawing room at Gladstone's Library; Geoff had a taste for history. After that came a dining room, a library and right at the end was the bedroom suite of the Lord Protector of England. It was an exact copy of her own. 'At least he admits he's a whore too,' she thought. She also thought that she'd have to travel at a hell of a speed if he rang for her during the night. 'And when he has some other tart in his bed I won't hear her screams, not at this distance. Not unless he has her in my bed.'

There were no screams that night. They had appeared on the balcony together. The welcoming crowd consisted of one nervous photographer. The Lord and Lady Protectors had dined in state together. They went their own ways to their own beds. She spent the night alone. She checked that the bleeding had stopped, then soaked herself in a hot bath. She dumped her stained clothing in a bin. She climbed naked into her monstrous, hideous bed and, for the first time she could remember, fell asleep and slept soundly till the clock struck nine. Another morning and she was still alive.

38

The Philosophical Fishing and Boat Building Company of Malinding Village held its first Annual General Meeting. The whole village attended. Guests of honour included Prudence-Fatou Ceesay, aged two months, and her auntie Ruth-Fatou Shaw, aged seven weeks, surprise daughter of Lizzie and Andrew Shaw. Binta and Sirra were both pregnant and hoping for sons. In village homes the matchmakers were already at work.

Fourteen boats had been built, including the prototype 'Binta's Boat'. Twelve boats had been sold or leased to other villages and there was a steady stream of orders. The Mechanical Girl was present and reported on the success of the youth training scheme which, directed from her college, sent groups of young people to Malinding to learn boat-building skills. One of these students, a previously uneducated girl who reminded the Principal very much of her own origins, designed a small racing dinghy suitable for use by children. The college would sponsor the construction of ten such dinghies for use by riverside villages, with the aim of having an annual competition for the best under-twelve years of age helms people. The competition would be open to girls and boys.

Prudence-Fatou suckled purposefully at her mother’s breast. Her mother gazed at her infant with justifiable pride.

‘I never paid much attention to my boobs before but now they’re gainfully employed I feel quite attached to them. I’m a changed woman. I can’t wait to take her sailing. Perhaps she’ll be all girly though? What do you think?”

‘She’ll be herself; it’s our job to help her on whatever road she takes. Or were you asking me about your boobs? Very nice, dear, very nice. I’m enthralled, by her, by you and by your …ouch! What did I say?’

‘Just watch the cricket, husband. If you’re very good you can change her nappy when she’s finished her snack.’ Fatou Manneh had set up a game, ten overs a side, between the village children and their parents. Parents were handicapped by being instructed to use only one hand and having to hop between the wickets when they were batting. Binta had a very sneaky slow spin delivery, underarm. Andrew kept wicket, left-handed and with one eye closed. Ed-Lamin had a far-away expression.

‘Penny for them?’

‘Rachel, I was just thinking how English all this is; messing about in boats, cricket, tea and biscuits – the oven you built works a treat – and England isn’t like this anymore. Everybody here is secure, they know there’ll be food tomorrow; if somebody falls ill they’ll be cared for; England used to be like this, for most people anyway. Now it’s violent, dangerous, and un-civilised. England’s a place to escape from, if you’re lucky.

We ran away. Maybe it’s time to go back.’ He looked down at the child in his arms. ‘But not just yet.’

The End

The people of Malinding village exist only in imagination. You will not find the village itself on any map. What does exist is the generosity of the welcome that Gambians give to strangers.

All proceeds from the sale of the Malinding series of ebooks goes directly into the bank account of the charity ‘GOES’ (Gambian Occasional Emergency Support). This organisation, registered with HMRC for Gift Aid, assists with education, health and various emergencies. A fuller description of the charity can be viewed on the blog -  gambiaGOES.blogspot.com – where you can meet some of the real people of the Gambia.

A note about names. Most of the population of this, and of the other Malinding books, are Mandinka tribesmen and women. It is their general practice to name the first boy child 'Lamin' and the first girl 'Fatou'. This inevitably leads to confusion, at least to visitors. Variations of this practice exist; Ed-Lamin is such an example.

Greetings are another complication for the visitor - ask for help and you'll receive willing tuition!

If you're invited to share a meal, accept. Refusal does cause offence. You are most unlikely to have to eat with your fingers but if you are only use your right hand (even if you're normally left-handed.) Wash your hands before you start to eat. Oh, and you have remembered to take your shoes off before you enter the house? Yes? Good! You may be told it doesn't matter - but it does. If you've been fed in three different homes already do not refuse the fourth and fifth - but it's fine if you just take a couple of mouthfuls and explain that everybody has been so kind. You don't refuse to eat in the poorest of homes because they obviously don't have much food. That would cause great offence. Gambian food is genuinely delicious and is very thoroughly cooked. Try it!

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