The Girl with the Louding Voice(39)

“Now, it is time to go.” He on the car engine, drive small, and turn inside one road. At the end of it is a black gate. Mr. Kola stop the car in front of the gate and press his horn, peen, peen.

Just then, one tall gray car with front lights like the eyes of a angry cat is coming behind our back. The car is tall than any car I ever see. The car come to a stop, press peen, and just like that, the gate is opening wide.

“That is Big Madam in the Jeep,” he say. “When we get inside the compound, greet her and then step aside so I can talk to her. You hear?”

“Yes, sah,” I say as our car is starting to move.

I look the whole the compound, at the big white house with red roof and two long gold posts in front of it, as if one fine carpenter carve the trunk of a tree, sandpaper it, and spray it with gold paint. I look the short palm trees, three on each side of the road, with trunks like thick pineapples, their long, green leafs spreading out as if to say, Welcome to this fine, fine house. I look the yellow, blue, red, and green flowers sitting inside black glass flowerpot here and there in the compound, the gold lampposts with round bulbs like moons in a container, the ten windows at the top of the house, blue squares of looking-glass sitting in a frame of gold. The red stone stairs climbing down from the front of a wide black door is reminding me of a tongue, the tongue of a giant that been eating too many shining things.

As I am looking it all, swallowing the whole place with my eyes and with my heart beating fast, I am thinking that maybe Big Madam is a queen, that this is the palace of the king.





CHAPTER 23

Big Madam’s car come to a stop in a space next to another car like it.

Mr. Kola put his own car behind, off his car engine, and we climb down. The man driving Big Madam’s car, he climb down too, and run to the other side of the car. I look his fair, smooth skin, the long brown dress he is wearing, the white fila on his head, the three dark marks on the side of his forehead, the white prayer beads in his hand, which he keep holding even as he open the car door, bend his head, and step to one side.

“Who is he?” I ask Mr. Kola.

“That is Abu,” Mr. Kola whisper, “Big Madam’s driver. He has been with her for years. No more questions.”

The cool air inside the car is escaping with a strong flower smell as somebody is climbing out. First thing I am seeing is feets. Yellow feets, black toes. There is different color paint on all the toesnails: red, green, purple, orange, gold. The smallest of the toes is having gold ring on it. Her whole body is almost filling the whole compound as she is coming out. I am now understanding why they are calling her Big Madam. When she come out, she draw deep breath and her chest, wide like blackboard, is climbing up and down, up and down. It is as if this woman is using her nostrils to be collecting all the heating from the outside and making us to be catching cold. I am standing beside Mr. Kola, and his body is shaking like my own. Even the trees in the compound, the yellow, pink, blue flowers in the long flowerpot, all of them too are shaking.

She is wearing a lace boubou, which is long up to her feets. The boubou is doing shine-shine as if the lace is having eyes everywhere, and blinking the eyes open, close, open, close. She is not having a neck, this woman. Just a round, fat head on top the wide chest with breast that must be reaching near to her knees area. There is one gold gele on her head, and it is looking like she just gum a ceiling fan on a hat and put it on her head.

She take two step near to us, then I am seeing her face well. Her face is looking like one devil-child vex with her and paint it with his feets. On top the orange powder on her face, there is a red line on the two both eyesbrows which she is drawing all the way to her ears. Green powder on the eyeslids. Lips with gold lipstick, two cheeks full of red powder.

“Big Madam,” Mr. Kola say, lying on the floor to greet her. “Welcome back.”

When she open her mouth to talk, one of her bottom front teeths is having gold on top it.

“Agent Kola. How are you?” she say, her voice deep. “That is the girl?”

“The best, ma,” he say.

She laugh. Sound like a rumble, a big rock rolling down a mountain.

I kneel down as Mr. Kola is rising from the floor. “G’afternoon, ma,” I say. “Adunni is the name.”

“Adunni.” She look me down, face strong, and then she is asking question upon question. “Can you work hard? I have no time for rubbish. Did Mr. Kola tell you my expectations? Have you done your health checks? Can you speak English? Write? Basic communication?”

I don’t know too much about this expecta-shun and communica-shun thing, so I am keeping my words to myself.

“She is hardworking,” Mr. Kola say. “She is healthy, I have her test results right here—you know I have never brought you an unhealthy girl. This one understands English and can read simple sentences. She is intelligent, everything you asked for, ma. She will not disappoint. Adunni, get up.”

Big Madam pinch her boubou open in the chest area and blow air inside it. “Agent Kola. That is what you always say when you want to sell them to me. The last girl you brought, what is that her name? Rebecca? She is still missing till today.”

Which girl was Mr. Kola brought before? Why was she missing? I am looking Mr. Kola, but I know I cannot be asking him the question now. I turn to Big Madam, thinking to ask her who this girl was, but her face be like a circle of silent thunder, flashing angry and making me to be afraid. Did something bad happen to this Rebecca that make her to be missing? And if something bad happen to Rebecca, will something happen to me here too?