Read Online Say You’re One Of Them by Uwem Akpan - Free Book Online

jest, stood up, and said to the people, “
Mon peuple,
I no dance well for church dis morning?”
    “You dance well well,” the crowd said, supporting him.
    “
Mais, il est un bon homme.
Very good man,” Fofo Kpee said. “
Na
my new friend. . . . Dem just post
am
to dis area. You go know
am
better later. . . . For now make you just
dey
enjoy me,
dugbe se to ayawhenume se.
Once I become rich, my dogs no go even let
una
come near my gate
o, comme
Lazarus.”
    “Den make you remain
agbero
till dy kingdom come!” someone said.
    He waited out the laughs, then said, “
Kai,
you better start looking for anoder monkey man to harvest your coconuts. . . . Anyway, on a serious note: joy full my belly today because my broder and wife done rewarded me, say I do deir children well well.”
    “Make God
dey
bless dem
o!
” someone said.
    Fofo Kpee pointed to us, and all the attention shifted our way.
    Yewa and I stopped stuffing ourselves with rice and looked at each other. I felt lost because I knew my parents were in the village, not abroad. It was as if I didn’t hear Fofo well. Did Big Guy bring the bike from my parents in Braffe? No, that couldn’t be true. My parents weren’t that rich even when they enjoyed full health. Again I thought maybe he said they had recovered, and this party was also in their honor. So I stuffed myself with more food. With my bare hands, I ate my whole mound of jollof rice; the hired cooks used Uncle Ben’s rice, which we could consume fast, without fear of pebbles. I saved a piece of fried
zebra
fish, sliced as thin as a plantain chip, for last. I didn’t give what Fofo had said another thought.
    “When my broder and his wife and oder children come to see us,” Fofo Kpee continued, “you go even eat better better tings. . . . Alleluuu . . . !”
    “Alleluuuia!” the people said, and he sat down.
    That evening, the visitors danced to music coming from our recently bought, used Sony boom box. Big Guy stood up and took off his jacket to reveal an immaculate white shirt. He pulled his trousers up to his waist to give his long legs room and showed us how to dance
makossa.
He moved his arms and legs, as if his suit now gave him permission to do so. He rolled his hips and gyrated to the electric guitar and heavy drums. With his smooth moves, he was a spectacle to behold. We began to like him. He reminded Yewa that she was an intelligent girl. He picked her up and tossed her repeatedly into the air and caught her. Many kids gathered around him, asking him to toss them too. He got sweaty, his shirt got dirty, his loafers became covered with dust, but he didn’t care. We had so much fun that the next day we had diarrhea and a temperature. We didn’t go to school.

    ONE WEEK LATER , FOFO Kpee came back early from work and sat on his bed, wringing his hands. He was so preoccupied with what he wanted to say that he didn’t change his work clothes or bathe for the night. Then he leaned forward and said, “You
dey
enjoy school dese days, wid your new book?”
    “I like my books!” Yewa said.
    “The teachers like us now,” I said. “We share our books with our friends.”
    “Good,” he said, wriggling into the bed until his back touched the wall. Above his head was a big old 1994 World Cup calendar that featured pictures of the thirty-two national soccer teams that had made the finals. The lantern’s rays mapped out patches of light and shadow on it, because the wall was uneven.
    He pulled Yewa in between his legs and tugged at her cheeks playfully. The bedspring squeaked, sending a wall gecko scrambling from under the calendar. It went up the wall and rested on the wide space between the wall and the roof, its tail on the bicycle chain that held them together.
    “Your godparents go happy say you
dey
enjoy school,” Fofo said suddenly. “Be grateful to dem
o. E je˙ do˙ mi ni d’ope na yé.
”
    “Godparents?” I asked, sitting up on our bed.
    He looked at me carefully and nodded.