How Beautiful We Were(100)

Several men thought we needed to summon the Sweet One and the Cute One to answer for themselves, but many more argued that it would be of no use—why shame them when they were likely only hoping to spare us the bad news? We need to go talk to the overseer directly, one of our fathers said. No one opposed him, nor did we need much debate before agreeing that it was time for us to move on without the Restoration Movement. Though Thula had been back for four years, we had still depended on the representatives to be our intermediary with Mr. Fish, because the Sweet One had suggested to Thula that it would be best if he and the Cute One concluded a promising conversation they already had under way with the overseer, it wouldn’t be a great idea for Thula to start a parallel dialogue. Thula had agreed. But now, given the news, and with Thula having a channel to the biggest Pexton man in the country, the time was right to start doing the discourse differently. At the time Thula met with the managing director, we hadn’t seen the Sweet One and the Cute One in nine months, so it didn’t take us long to come to a consensus that Sonni would ask Thula to lead a delegation to meet with Mr. Fish. She would speak to him in the way she’d learned how to speak to American men while living in their country. We had no better bridge between them and us than her.



* * *



—



We were not part of the delegation sent to Mr. Fish. The elders decided that, because Thula was a woman, the oldest of the village’s able men should accompany her, to give the delegation respectability. We would learn from her, after the visit, that in the absence of an interpreter she and Mr. Fish had chatted freely and at length about their times in New York, laughing when they discovered they’d both loved a particular store that sold old clothes. Thula’s elderly escorts, clueless about the conversation, had laughed too.

Yes, it was true that Pexton had decided to let the courts decide whether it owed Kosawa anything, Mr. Fish told Thula when the time came to discuss the reason for the visit. Pexton had said nothing of this to us because it wasn’t their place to inform us, it was the Restoration Movement’s.

“If I had the power to help Kosawa I would,” Mr. Fish said. “But I don’t. As you well know, this is all in the hands of the legal guys in New York. I did what I could to help broker a temporary deal when I first got here, but I can’t overstep my bounds.”

“We’ve been keeping our end of the deal for years,” Thula said. “Our situation is dire; it’s getting worse by the hour. We can’t wait indefinitely for a court decision.”

There was nothing Pexton could do about speeding the case through the courts, Mr. Fish said. All he could do, personally, was speak to his superior, the managing director; he could ask him to check with New York on the status of the case. Not that that was going to make a difference, but it was worth a try. It might also help if Kosawa was no longer represented by the lawyers for the Restoration Movement, he added.



“If your village were to speak for itself with you as their spokesperson,” he said, “it might make the guys in New York excited about wrapping things up.”

“Right,” Thula said, “because, with the Restoration Movement gone, there’ll be less of a chance of any new blunders by your company getting to the media.”

“I’m simply trying to do what I can to help your people.”

“I don’t doubt your sincerity.”

“Here’s what I can suggest: You and I and a couple of your village elders will go to Bézam to meet with the director. See what can be done about hastening things in New York. The director may have come across to you as cold, but he’s a good man; he has young children. Hearing about the children in your village is upsetting to all of us.”

“I’m open to the idea,” Thula said.

“But you have to understand that the director and the folks in New York are only going to be interested in talking to you if I tell them in advance that you’re willing to sign an agreement accepting whatever payment Pexton deems to be the best restitution for the deaths and damages, and you’re open to making a joint statement.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You have no leverage. There’s no basis for the suit the Restoration Movement lawyers filed. A judge is going to dismiss it—Pexton has no contractual obligation to Kosawa. I can’t make a fool of myself by asking my bosses to waste their time discussing an agreement with you if you’re going to walk in making outrageous demands. They don’t have time for that. Without a court verdict in your favor, you’re entitled to nothing. I’m offering you a chance, in good faith, to at least get something for your people.”

“And what if we say that a monetary compensation is not enough?” Thula asked. “Money is just a small part of the issue. We deserve to live in a safe environment.”



“I’m not in a position to make any promises on that.”

“And we’re not in a position to keep waiting year after year.”

“I’m sorry” was all Mr. Fish could say in response.



* * *





THULA’S VISITS TO THE VILLAGE multiplied after that meeting. With the possibility of a peaceful accord through dialogue gone after three more meetings with Mr. Fish yielded no compromise, Liberation Day became more vital. For five days of the week she was in Bézam—spending half of her evenings with her Village Meeting, the other half with her mother and new father and her brother—and for two days she was with us, chauffeured from Bézam in the car in which we traveled to other towns and villages. No more than two of us accompanied her on any given trip; we took turns hunting and tending to our families, and planning the revolution.