parents. Having spoken French and Idaatcha all our lives, I thanked God for helping us pick up English very well and even come to understand a bit of Egun in the year and a half we had spent on the border. I hoped that wherever our godparents took us we would exhibit the same flair. Remembering my promise to our parents and grandparents, I promised God again tonight, as I did every night, to be always obedient to Fofo. I told God I would do everything to support him. I asked God to guide Yewa’s thinking so that she wouldn’t embarrass or be difficult with our godparents when they visited us.
THE FIRST VISIT FROM our godparents and our new siblings was low-key. The three of us had sat outside on the veranda mounds, facing the sea, before they arrived.
Now Fofo brought out the lantern and placed it on the floor beside us. It stood there, its lone flame fluttering in the wind. Yewa and I were chatting and thinking about what lay at the other side of the water. Both of us were wearing green T-shirts and black shorts. We had showered that evening, and our faces glowed with AZ petroleum jelly, and we kept sneezing because our uncle had rubbed too much camphor, which he called “poorman perfume,” on our clothes.
Fofo was nervous. He kept crossing and uncrossing his legs, folding and unfolding his arms across his chest.
“Yewa, wetin you go call your godparents?” he quizzed her suddenly.
“Papa and Mama,” she said.
“Good gal. Gbòjé poun, everyting go dey fine fine.”
“Fofo, I am relaxed,” Yewa said.
“And make you no forget to tank dem for school fees when you see dem. Even God dey like grateful creatures.”
“We won’t forget, Fofo,” I said.
“I’m hungry,” Yewa said. “Are we going to eat tonight?”
“Hungry?” He turned and glared at her. “I told you dem go bring food! Like picnic. Just be patient, ole. Look at your long mout. You want drink garri now? You and your broder, you no dey listen to me for dis place. Remember wetin your fader talk de day I bring you come here? Remember wetin your grandparents talk? One more wahala from any of you, I go cancel my plan wid your godparents. . . . I go even return you to Braffe!”
Yewa said, “I’m sorry, Fofo Kpee.”
“Shut up, you onu ylankan . . . ugly ting. I no know where your mama carry you bastards from come my broder’s house! One more word from you den . . .”
We sat in silence until dark. Fofo became more and more anxious, sucking his lips in and out. He sat erect, his back flat against the wall, his head against the closed window.
The fishermen at sea spangled the water with their lanterns, like stars. Yet there was no sea, no sky, no land, only points of light dangling in a black chasm. The night had eaten the coconut vistas too, except when the canoe lanterns, moving, were periodically blotted out behind the trees. The sea blew a strong kiss of breeze, warm and unrelenting, through our neighborhood. In the distance, we could hear the hum from the no-man’s-land market fizzling out for the night. We could also hear the semitrailers and trucks coming and going from the border, backing up or parking. Sometimes, from where we sat, we saw the beams of their headlights sweeping the skies of neighboring villages, like searchlights. Fofo had told us the trucks carried assorted goods from one part of West Africa to another.
Suddenly, we heard the sound of a vehicle coming down our dirt road. As soon as it turned into our compound, the engine and the lights died out. The car swished silently toward our house, checked by our sandy pathway. A woman was the first to come down. She ran toward us on the veranda, squatted, and quietly swept us into a hug, as if the moment were too tender for words. “I’m Mama!” she said softly. Yewa seemed indifferent to her presence, her attention focused on the vehicle, but I wanted to hold her forever.
“Mama . . . welcome, M-mama,” I stammered.
“Thank you, good children,” she said, pulling us even closer. “How sweet of you!”
After a while, she brought the lantern nearer to see our faces. She was a tall, beautiful black woman, with deep gentle eyes and full lips and a smooth face. She was in a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and tennis shoes, her hair gathered in a