Sankofa(33)

“I don’t think there are safaris in Bamana.”

“Sorry, that sounds so ignorant. I don’t know much about Africa.”

“Neither do I,” I said.





16


The night before my flight, Katherine and Rose came to say goodbye. We sat in my living room with a bottle of wine between us. I ordered Indian food, or the approximation of it that was delivered by our local takeaway. The bottle was half empty when our meal arrived.

“I shouldn’t get drunk. My flight is in the morning,” I said.

“I’ve never seen you drunk, Mum.”

“We’ll stop before she gets there,” Katherine said, refilling our glasses.

We ate with our hands, ripping the bread apart and dipping it in the curries. We ate straight from the plastic rectangles, with narrow forks that the rice spilled from, oily grains that I would have to sweep up before I went to bed.

“So how long have you lived on our street?” Rose asked Katherine.

“Twelve years.”

“So strange that we never met,” Rose said.

“I saw your dad going to work a couple of times.”

“Yeah, him.” Rose pushed her rice around. She had eaten half a naan but almost no rice.

“How are you feeling about the trip?” Katherine asked me.

“Nervous,” I said, then added, “excited.”

“It’s come out of nowhere,” Rose said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You’ve never spoken about your father before. It just seems a bit sudden.”

“I’m glad you’re mentioning that, the night before I leave.”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t go.” Rose’s phone buzzed. “Sorry, I have to take this.”

She left the room and went to the kitchen.

“Excited is good. Stay on excited,” Katherine said.

“Maybe Rose is right.”

“No, she’s just going to miss you. I’m going to miss you,” she said. “The last time I did any serious traveling was in my twenties. Took six months off work and went across South America. Absolute freedom, with which I did some stupid things.”

“I can’t imagine you being reckless,” I said.

“I had sex on a beach without a towel. Sand was crawling out of my vagina for days.”

“Was it crabs?” I asked.

We laughed until I felt light-headed.

“I need to lie down.” I sank back onto the carpet and closed my eyes.

“I think I might join you,” she said. “Do you mind if I pray for you?”

Although she had not made a convert of me, I was grateful for the offer. Prayer was Katherine’s sincerest way of wishing me well.

“Of course not,” I said.

Her voice was low and earnest when she began.

“Father, please bless Anna and give her safe travels to Bamana. We pray she finds good things when she gets there. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

“Thank you,” I said.

Rose returned. “What happened? Are you guys asleep?”

“We’re just old,” Katherine said. “You’ll get here one day.”

Rose lay down and pillowed her head on my stomach. It was a gesture she had not made in years.

“I’m going to miss you,” she said.

“I know,” I said as I stroked her hair. “I’ll miss you, too.”



Robert drove me to the airport. He had offered, and his company was preferable to an anonymous driver. I didn’t tell Rose. She might make too much of what was a simple favor.

My flight was at 11:00 a.m. but we left at 6:00 to avoid traffic. The road to Heathrow was littered with derelict office blocks. The financial crash had destroyed the hive. The workers had flown. My final year of university, I had a summer job in an office building like that, with a cubicle overlooking a motorway. It was coveted desk space. There were others trapped in the middle of the floor, far from sunlight. It was my first real inkling that life as an architect might not be what I had envisioned.

At university, we thought we were going to be the next big thing in British architecture. We made models that would tumble over if anyone tried to build them, with roofs that curved and swooped and spiraled like orange peels. We were going to alter the skyline of every city in the UK. And then I went to work in a cubicle and then in an open-plan office in the City, drawing WCs on a screen. Marrying Robert and having a child put an end to that life of midnight deadlines. Perhaps I would have designed something notable in the end, after I’d paid my dues in air vents.

“So how are you feeling?” Robert asked.

“Groggy. Rose and Katherine came over to say goodbye last night.”

On the radio, two men argued about the Labour Party. Women hardly ever phoned into these shows, and when they did, they seemed surprised they had made it past the throng of male callers. I winced at their voices. Robert turned the dial to classical music.

“I meant how are you feeling about your trip,” he asked again.

“I’m looking forward to some sunshine.”

I had packed for three weeks. Adrian advised only summer clothes. Shorts were fine but as close to the knee as possible. The UK.gov page on Bamana was not encouraging. “Terrorists are likely to try to carry out attacks in Bamana. Attacks could be indiscriminate, including in places visited by foreigners.” When I read this out to Adrian he’d laughed and said, “London had a terror attack last year.”