opened them. He brought out Coke, Maltina, La Place beer, and Chivita orange juice and placed them on the table. Each time he came in from outside, I expected to see the car’s other passengers. From time to time, when my attention strayed from Mama and the food, I wondered what Fofo Kpee was doing with the others outside.
When our center table was full, Big Guy brought out two fold-up stands from the car. I had never seen so much food in my life except in raw form in the open market. Yet Big Guy kept bringing more. The good smell swallowed up Mama’s perfume, and I was so overwhelmed that I was no longer hungry.
Though I didn’t sleep like my sister, I was in my own world, a foretaste of what I thought Gabon would be like. I remembered Fofo saying we were going to be rich and start eating well. Things had moved very fast for our family, and, comforted by the care of Mama that night, I had no reason to doubt that we were coming into better times. It wasn’t difficult for me to imagine that our godparents were important people, since Big Guy, an immigration officer, drove them around and served them. Thinking about Gabon as the land of opportunity now came to me naturally, and my mind began to pine for it. I imagined my sister and me being driven to school in a car. Now, even thinking about riding to school on our Nanfang felt sort of beneath me.
“SWEETIE, I’LL JUST CALL you Mary, OK?” Mama said to my sister, gently shaking her awake. “Good morning, Mary, sleepyhead . . .”
Yewa rubbed her eyes and her gaze wandered from me to Mama, before coming to rest on the assorted food. Her eyes widened slowly until they almost popped with shock.
“Would you like to be called Mary, or do you want another name, sweetie?” Mama said to her.
“Wake up, Yewa!” I said.
She didn’t say anything but scratched her head and yawned. Then she reached out to touch the Coke nearest her.
“Your brother likes Pascal, you know,” Mama tried again, winking at me. “He is now Pascal.”
Yewa looked at me, a flash of understanding touching her face.
“Pascal?” she said.
“Yes, my new name is Pascal,” I said, shrugging and smiling shyly. “It’s OK, Yewa.”
She shook her head. “My name is Yewa Mandabou!”
“When Mama gives you a name,” I said quickly, “she remembers you because she has lots of children to care for. You’re still Yewa, I’m still Kotchikpa . . .”
“Yes and no, Pascal,” Mama interjected in the softest of voices. “It’s best if we just use one name so that there’s no confusion. I’m sure your sister will understand.”
“Yes, Mama.” I nodded.
I felt I had overreached in my attempt to help matters. A pang of remorse settled in my stomach, and I shifted on the bed and held on to the bedpost to hide my embarrassment.
“Mary?” Mama said to her, testing out the name, her smile at its widest.
Yewa nodded awkwardly, still staring at me. I nodded vigorously, partly to make up for my bad explanation earlier, partly to assure Yewa it was OK. “Mary is a beautiful name,” I said. “Beautiful.”
“You’re so so cute,” Mama told her. “Oh, so obedient, respectful of your older brother. . . . I’m sorry I had to wake you up for dinner. Is that OK, Mary?”
“I don’t know,” Yewa said, and shifted her attention to the food.
“She can be stubborn,” I told Mama. “She needs a bit of time.”
“I don’t think she’s stubborn,” she said. “She’s a good girl, and we have time.”
With her forefinger, Yewa traced the Coca-Cola logo on the can. She was about to lick the finger when Mama grabbed her hand. “Oh, no, Mary!” she said, shaking her head. “You can have whatever you want . . .”
“Yes, Mama,” she said.
“Everything is for you, sweetie. OK, Mary?”
“Yes, Mama. . . . Could I have Coke, please?”
Mama opened the Coke immediately, as if Yewa would reject her new name if she wasted time, and poured it into my sister’s mouth. Yewa’s face was upturned like a suckling lamb’s. The bubbly drink filled her open mouth slowly, her throat releasing loud gulps into her stomach.
Mama stopped abruptly.
“Do you want more, Mary?” she asked.
Yewa was panting. “Yes, Mama.”
WHEN THE OTHERS FINALLY came into the room, it felt crowded, with everyone sitting on the beds. Apart from the three men, there was a boy and a girl. Mama