“You two should be given the best education possible in this world!” Papa concluded, embracing Yewa and giving me a rigorous handshake.
“We’re intelligent too!” Antoinette announced to everybody, pouting.
“Yes, I should say you two are as bright as Paul and Antoinette. Right, Paul?”
Paul was still staring at the floor and didn’t say anything, the cloth covering half his face like a medical mask.
When he finished looking at our books, I said, “Thank you, Monsieur Ahouagnivo!”
“No, no . . . Papa, just Papa!” Big Guy said suddenly, shaking his head and sighing and giving Fofo a bad look. “If you no remember well, just be quiet like dis aje-butter boy.” He pointed at Paul.
“Thank you, Papa,” I corrected myself. “I’m sorry, Papa.”
“It’s OK, Pascal,” the man said.
“N ma plón wé ya?” Fofo Kpee fumed at me. “How come ta soeur dey behave better dan you egbé, Kotchikpa . . . ?”
“Oh, no, his name is Pascal,” Mama corrected Fofo, who stiffened up like someone who has touched a live wire. “Pascal,” she said again. “See how easy it is to make these mistakes? Do we expect too much from these children in one night?”
“Sorry, madame, je voulais dire Pascal,” Fofo Kpee said, a hangdog smile straining his face.
Papa and Mama began to show us pictures of Gabon and some of their property in that land and in Nigeria and Benin and Côte d’Ivoire. They showed us pictures of the inside of some of the ships we saw crossing the water and pumping smoke into the horizon every day. They were all very beautiful. They showed us pictures of some of the children they had helped, doing different things—studying, playing, eating, singing, even sleeping. Some were as young as Yewa. These pictures were shown hurriedly, and Antoinette commented on each of them excitedly, as if she had already been to Gabon and knew all these children. She seemed to know many of them by name.
“And, by the way,” Mama said, “make sure the children remain in good health for the trip, OK?”
“Sure, madame,” Fofo Kpee said.
“Make you buy mosquito net for dem, you hear? I mean prepare de children well well o.”
“No worry, madame. Everyting go dey fine fine.”
“And Big Guy no go worry you again about de oder children, OK,” Papa said, standing up to leave.
“Tank you, monsieur!” our uncle said, and bowed.
“We no go take back anyting from you,” Papa continued. “Just dey do your best. But if someting bad happen to dese two children, we go hold you responsible o.”
Everybody laughed. Fofo gave him his assurances and winked at me and rubbed Yewa’s head. He cracked a few jokes and pulled at his lip, and everybody laughed, even Paul. It seemed to me that for the first time during that long night he had come into his usual confident self. He must have sensed the visit he had dreaded was coming to an end on a good note.
“All right, then,” Papa said suddenly, putting the pictures away, “Big Guy, begin dey pack up. We still get two places to go. It’s a long night.”
“No, four places . . . seven children,” Big Guy corrected him, and started packing up the food and returning everything to the car.
My heart started to sink as they packed away the food. I had nursed the secret wish that they would leave the buffet for us. I had thought about pouring out the ogbono soup that filled our biggest pot, to accommodate the food. I had also thought about converting our aluminum bathing bucket into a temporary pot. Instead of letting anything go to waste, we could have poured everything into these two containers and stirred. As Fofo used to say whenever anyone was eating too many things at the same time, “Dem all dey enter de same stomach.” I could warm the food two or three times a day.
Yet I calmed myself down when Mama hugged me and said she would miss us, and Papa advised us to be studious and said that this evening was the beginning of good things to come. As Big Guy drove them away, I thought about the good work our parents were doing all over Africa.
I began to feel guilty for being greedy and wanting to keep all the food, when they needed to feed other children. I was ready to cooperate with Papa and Mama, to be as cheerful about our prospects as Antoinette was. I didn’t like the trouble Paul was giving