On the riverside of promise (19 page)

“If you need anything father, please…
Anything at all…”

Father Likembe’s mouth formed into a gracious
smile before he replied, “I need this war to end, nothing
more.”

Nicole nodded skeptically before the plump
Igbo priest continued:

“We could always use an extra hand or two.
Another couple of mouths to feed are, as you can see, just a drop
in the ocean.”

He gestured at the small throng of people,
mostly mothers with their children, as well as old folk and quite a
few disabled or injured men. Some of those had the stare of a
wounded tiger, but for most the truth was that mines, shells, and
bullets are quite oblivious to a man’s allegiance and unable to
discriminate. They had simply been unlucky and with a bitter smile
to himself, Ethan thought that this whole sordid affair reeked of
bad luck.

“I can only hope you will consider it. I’d
hate to force anything upon you, but do not forget, your brother
died trying to keep others from such a fate,” said Father Likembe,
trying to sound comforting and encouraging but with little success
this time; his words sounded more like an overused, ready-made
speech.

Nicole sipped her coffee from a tin and said
with a slight dose of uncertainty, careful to meet Ethan’s gaze
casually:

“I think I’ll stay on, father. I don’t know
for how long, but I feel I should. I can’t speak for Ethan, but
I’ll help.”

Ethan caught that gaze and remained
expressionless for a moment or two. He was still trying to discern
the truth in her eyes, her voice, her face, but he had proven quiet
inept at it so far. It helped him though being constantly unsure of
her; it enhanced his feelings of being distraught and wary at the
same time, because Nicole probably thought he was acting weird as a
result of Andy’s death. That should help him find out why she
wanted him to think Andy was dead.

The priest smiled thinly and crossed his
palms as if in prayer:

“That’s always good to hear,” he said with
evident joy in his voice before adding in a more sombre,
well-practiced, even tone:

“I can understand your grief would only be
compounded in such a place.”

He then looked at Nicole knowingly and added,
while Ethan furrowed his brow just barely:

“Nicole has been doing this for a long time,
it’s part of who she is. It’s not an easy life, especially for
someone like you, I would imagine,” Father Likembe said, clearing
his throat and straightening his back at the same time. He leaned
closer to Ethan who was sitting to his left and said with a clean,
hearty voice as if preaching:

“Do not feel unwanted or unwelcome, my son.
It would be for the best if you coped with this in your own terms,
in your own manner. I know your heart is in the right place, but
your soul needs to heal away from all this misery.”

Nicole looked at Ethan with a warm gaze, her
lips pursed together in a show of sympathy. Ethan glanced at the
mass of refugees sitting in large rough benches made out of trees.
He nodded then and said:

“You mean I’m responsible for these poor
bastards, right? That’s what a soldier does, is it not?”

Father Likembe shook his head with a deep
frown, his voice calm and quiet:

“I never said that, Ethan. I mean well, I
simply think this isn’t the right place or way for you to
mourn.”

Nicole searched for Ethan’s face with her
own, a set of begging, weary eyes fluttering frantically:

“Andy would have stayed. Isn’t that
right?”

The gall of that woman, Ethan thought.

“Yes, he would have. But that’s not the
issue, is it? You think I’m trouble, both of you.”

“I think you are troubled my son and nothing
more.”

“Well, if it’s all the same to you then I’m
staying too.”

Nicole’s eyes flashed and went wide for the
tiniest moment, before a thin smile formed on her face. She glanced
at the priest and said then:

“If it’s alright with Father Likembe… Still,
you shouldn’t stay just because you think Andy would have wanted
you to take his place. He is a different kind of person, there’s
nothing wrong with that. You can still help in other ways, Ethan.
There’s no shame in going home.”

“’Was’ a different kind of person. He was a
different kind of person, Nicole. Get used to it,” Ethan said
hoarsely, got up from his chair and walked away into the crowd,
looking hurt and irritated. Nicole shouted his name but he did not
turn. When it seemed as if she’d go after him, Father Likembe took
her by one hand and shook his head; his face turned suddenly
worried, fearful.

“Don’t push him,” he said unevenly, while
Nicole answered with a purposeful voice, “I’m not sure he is
convinced. This isn’t like him at all.” Father Likembe’s eyes
narrowed, his voice instinctively lowered to a whisper:

“I thought you were married to his brother.
You’ve hardly met the man. Have you…?” He raised an eyebrow and
fixed his glasses with one hand in a very bad attempt at
conspiracy, only to have Nicole look at him sideways with a mock
look of hurt and a sly grin.

“I don’t work like that. And it wouldn’t have
worked on him, either.”

“How come?” said the priest looking at Ethan
from afar with a penetrating, curious gaze.

“Because he loves his brother, if nothing
else,” said Nicole, her face twisted with unwanted approval. Father
Likembe closed his eyes and shook his head feverishly. He licked a
drop of sweat on his upper lip and said with hushed, spurious
undertones:

“Why is he so important?”

“He isn’t. But he’s prodding where he
shouldn’t be. I’ve already lost valuable time, not to mention men,
simply to get him off our backs. We need to keep the food and the
medicine coming.”

“Alongside the guns, the bullets and the
shells?” asked the father with a smile, his hands tracing the
emptied tin cup of coffee in front of him, his eyes lost somewhere
beyond the church grounds.

“It’s hard to win a war with nothing but
empty hands and fiery rhetoric, isn’t it father?” replied Nicole,
her eyes discreetly following Ethan around the crowd, while he had
taken it upon himself to hand out biscuits to all the children. He
seemed relaxed, faintly smiling out of sympathy. There was a deep,
brewing sorrow on the rest of his face.

Father Likembe smiled thinly and said,
“Sometimes, I’m not really sure which one of us works for the
other.” He took off his glasses, placed them in his shirt’s pocket
and massaged his eyes through shut eyelids. Nicole turned to face
him with a sudden twist, as if her interest had been piqued out of
nowhere in particular.

“Well, that’s because we’re supposed to be
working together, father. Towards a common goal.”

“Protecting common interests, now perhaps
that’s true. That’s what I had been led to believe as well,” he
said and breathed deeply before he continued, “until I heard you
killed Nebdele,” said the priest with eyes closed, his hands now
lightly massaging his bald head. “I would hardly call that working
together.”

“It’s getting to you, isn’t it? All this,”
said Nicole and made a small circle with one hand. She drank a sip
of coffee and went on, eyes level with the priest’s:

“Maybe you’re confused. It was unfortunate,
but necessary. Things sometimes go wrong.”

The priest turned his gaze over to Ethan who
was talking to a young amputee. “Was it him?” he asked, pointing
his index finger lazily towards Ethan.

“No, it was me. He’d probably talk and that
can easily get you killed,” said Nicole and lit up a cigarette
casually. Father Likembe got up and stretched his back, before
speaking as if to an invisible audience, hands crossed over his
chest:

“I’ve been posing as the good Samaritan,
smiling for the cameras and the journalists, fighting the good
fight against hunger and sorrow like some kind of meek, weak
puppet. We are not puppets, do you understand me?”

“It all happened really fast. I’m sure you
can replace someone like Adu.”

“Damn you, Nicole! It’s not like there’s a
real lot of us left!” spat out the priest and started to pace about
the small patio.

“I think he was trying to haggle with me. Ask
more in return for his little help.”

“And is that supposed to justify his death?
He was invaluable, for God’s sake! His info and connections could
have gotten us Onitsha back a lot easier. That might have turned
the tide once more but now…” he said and shook his head with a
frown upon his brow.

“It would be too late for that now, wouldn’t
it?” replied Nicole with consternation. She then got up before she
told him earnestly, without a hint of malice or threat in her
voice:

“I have my orders as well. You understand
that, don’t you father? There are things both of us have to endure.
Especially you and your people. It’s how things are in the world my
friend in need.”

“But at what cost?” he replied with
weariness, his eyes red with sadness.

“What’s a life worth to you, father?” she
asked him, her face intensely sweet and welcoming. Father Likembe
looked her in the eye with a pained expression and said in a
trembling voice:

“How I wish it were that simple.”

She smiled then mischievously and told him in
a casual tone of voice:

“Don’t fret about it. I’ll know what to do
with Ethan in the morning.”

“How will all this end, Nicole?” he asked
resignedly. He went on and said, “How will all this play out, now
that you had to kill Adu? Now that Onitsha is lost and the bombings
go on and on. Now that there’s so few of us left,” his voice coarse
and grainy.

“Faith, father. You’ve got to have faith,”
she said flatly and walked away casually.

* * *

It was the heat and the sweat that made sleep
that night a particularly uncomfortable, bothersome affair. Knowing
that Nicole had been lying to him ever since they had met though,
was what made it nearly impossible for Ethan.

He opened his eyes and checked his watch
under the dim moonlight; it was a quarter past three. The night was
wet and warm as usual. Without a cloud nearby, the sky promised a
night without rain even though it was the middle of the rain
season.

He raised his head and blinked, his eyes
adjusting slowly to what little light shone through the shadows of
the mangroves surrounding the catholic mission. He got up from the
soft hay mattress on the floor and leaned to the window, resting
both his elbows on the sill. He saw that most of the refugees had
remained; a few pregnant mothers shared tents with some large
families, while the rest simply slept on the ground, sharing thin
blankets, mats, rugs and pillows.

A faint lamp light shone from a hut next to
the church across from the small barn-turned-warehouse where Ethan
had been sleeping. It was the priest’s hut, the same man who had
tried to convince him to leave so eagerly, just like Nicole had.
The thought a clergy man was in some kind of shady deal with the
likes of Nicole and her people wouldn’t strike him as odd; stranger
things had happened and no piece of cloth could turn a man into a
saint.

Ethan decided he had to take a closer look
into the hut. He scowled for a moment before he put on his trousers
without so much as a sound. He kept his eyes fixed on the priest’s
hut and noticed the movement of a shadow now and then, a flicker of
flame every so often. Someone was working late, and he needed to
know who and why. Perhaps the priest simply had trouble sleeping,
perhaps there was a lot more than just planning rations.

He strapped his combat knife in its sheath
around his leg and got outside through another window on the far
right. When he came close enough to the hut, he quickly crossed a
patch of dirt. He reached the wall of the hut and flicked his gaze
around him. He couldn’t see anyone up and about, but he could hear
a man’s voice, somewhat rugged and deep. It sounded like Father
Likembe, the difference being that he was speaking French. He used
curt, small bursts of words and had a heavy, crude accent.

There was some kind of pattern to his speech;
he was repeating words in a staccato fashion. It was as if he was
reading something from a piece of paper, a series of words and
numbers perhaps.

Then he heard the crackle of static, a small
pause and another crackle. A radio, double-tapping the transmit
button. A clear, simple way to transmit “acknowledged”. Ethan knew
then the father was definitely part of this whole charade that
Nicole had put on for his sake. And there was probably a lot that
could be answered that night.

He waited for a few more minutes, his eyes
checking up on the church, his gaze wandering around the camp. The
only people awake seemed to be himself and Father Likembe, while
Nicole was sleeping inside the church along with some of the women.
How telling that they both seemed to pay him so little attention.
They probably thought that he’d fallen for everything, hook and
sinker. Too eager to believe that their plan had worked, too eager
to get him off their backs and go back to whatever it was he had
disrupted by looking for Andy.