Tomorrow I'll Be Twenty (27 page)

Just as I close my eyes, I hear my parents on the other side of the wall, as though in a dream. My father asks my mother, ‘Pauline, do you think Michel guessed what's going on?'

‘No, I don't think so. He couldn't guess, he's still too young to understand these things.'

Mother Teresa is the mother of all poor people. She helps children who have no family and have to hang out in the street down in India, especially in a town they call Calcutta, but she also wants to help poor people all over the world, so people can be happy here on earth. She works very hard. Since she has white globules, she'll go to paradise where God's waiting for her, so he can congratulate her in front of all the angels, and they'll all clap. She also helps people who are sick or are going to die. Roger Guy Folly says that today she's been given the Nobel Peace Prize. The Nobel Peace Prize is a present they give people who don't like it when other people do bad things. They give it to people who've done something important for humanity.

The American journalist reads out the names of the other people who have been given the prize before Mother Teresa, and I notice that the president of Egypt, Anouar el-Sadat, is on the list. I'm very pleased about that. Anouar el-Sadat got the prize along with another man called Menahem Begin, who's from Israel, the country that was angry with the Ugandan dictator/president, Idi Amin Dada. Roger Guy Folly also says that was a great event, because Anouar el-Sadat is Arab, Menahem Begin is Jewish and these two important people are trying really hard to get the Arabs and the Jews to stop hating each other and fighting.

.....

According to Roger Guy Folly, when Mother Teresa accepted the Nobel Prize in the name of all the poor people on earth, she said that abortion was the thing that would finish off our world. Now I know why Maman Pauline always talks about this woman as though she was a member of our family. Mother Teresa this, Mother Teresa that. Maman Pauline thinks this woman is right and France is wrong, because France voted to shut the door in the face of children. My father explains to her that this business about abortions is very complicated, that there are times when it is better not to allow a child to come into this world if it's going to suffer unnecessarily.

‘For instance, Pauline, a woman can't keep the offspring of a rapist in her womb! Abortion also means freedom for women! In any case, if abortion is made illegal, people will always do it in secret. So, what's better: doctors who carry it out properly, or charlatans who make a complete mess of it and risk killing the mother as well?'

Maman Pauline thinks that abortion is a crime, that what they need to do is give the children they would otherwise throw in the bin to mothers like her.

So now they're rowing. My mother's not prepared to listen: ‘Let's stop this discussion now! You always have to be right!'

One thing I know is, as long as she hasn't had another baby besides me, she's not going to agree with Papa Roger on this subject. Her view is, they should kill the rapist, keep the child and not tell him that his father was a bad man with lots and lots of red globules.

.....

Roger Guy Folly is still talking about the life of Mother Teresa, who even sends nuns into Muslim countries where they read the Koran, not the Bible. Papa Roger changes radio stations and we listen to the President of the Republic on Radio Congo, making a speech congratulating himself on the success of the Day of the Tree, and announcing another plan he's got, called ‘One school, one field'. Every school's got to have a field. If any school doesn't have a field, it will be closed. Too bad for the pupils and teachers, that's their hard luck. Our President congratulates Mother Teresa on winning the Nobel Prize. Our journalist says at the end of the President's speech:

‘We hope that the jury of the Nobel Peace Prize will one day consider the exceptional revolutionary activities of our Revolutionary leader. It appears his name was cited this year as a possible laureate. These were credible rumours, and our leader has officially confirmed that he received a phone call from Sweden. But the Imperialists and their local lackeys made quite sure that the Congo and proletariats all over the world were deprived of this prestigious award, which would have furthered the cause of lasting peace on this earth. Be that as it may, our leader can count on our undying love, more precious than any Nobel Prize!'

That plane going overhead is going to land in Cairo, in Egypt. We're sitting by the river Tchinouka. Lounès knows if he asks me the question about where the plane's going to land I'll start talking about Egypt and the Shah, who's ill again. So instead he says, ‘Your parents are going to buy you lots of presents.'

I'm so surprised I fall over backwards. ‘How do you know?'

‘Your mother ran into my mother at a fetisher's and…'

I interrupt him: ‘I see, so fetisher Sukissa Tembé's behind all this?'

‘Why, do you know him?'

‘No, I don't know him, but when my mother and father were talking in their room I heard everything. And they mentioned that name.'

‘Well your mother and father have already been to see him. My mother was there too, for her lung problem. I couldn't believe it either, when I heard my mother telling my father about it: the fetisher consulted his fetishes, and the fetishes said that it's your fault your mother can't have another child.'

‘MINE?'

‘Yep, yours. The fetishes say you're a child by day, but at night you're a grown-up person, with white hair, and when it's dark you get out of bed and go and meet up with other old people who don't like your mother and are plotting against her.'

‘And you believe that? He's a liar, this fetisher!'

‘He thinks you're going to be jealous and unhappy if you have brothers and sisters. So you've closed up Maman Pauline's belly. When children want to come, they find the door shut and they die just this side of it. So you're the one that has the key to your mother's belly.'

‘That's not true! It's not true!'

‘So the fetisher said to your parents that they have to give you lots of presents, any presents you want and apologise to you, till you're ready to give them the key to your mother's belly. The fetisher can't do anything for Maman Pauline, she'll never have another child before she dies, not unless she gets the key.'

‘I don't want their rotten presents!'

‘Michel, you have to take them.'

‘NO!!'

‘Are you glad your mother's miserable because she's only got one child? If you die before she does, what will happen to her? Have you thought about that?'

Another plane goes by.

‘Where's that plane going to land?' Lounès asks me.

‘In Calcutta, India.'

‘Really? Not in Egypt?'

‘No, it's going to India. There's a woman there called Mother Teresa who loves all poor people, and abandoned children. She got given a big present for it: the Nobel Peace Prize.'

Suddenly Lounès seems sad. When I look at him I can feel that he loves me, he wants to help me, but he also wants to help my parents. He speaks very slowly to me, as though he was almost begging me to do something: ‘Michel, listen to me, tell me where you've hidden the key. I won't tell anyone else about it, I promise.'

‘I haven't got a key.'

‘You have, because you're the one that locked your mother's belly, the day you were born.'

‘I haven't got a key!'

‘Michel, that fetisher can't lie, he was fetisher to the President of the Republic!'

‘Well, he's just told his first lie then!'

‘Listen, give me that key and I'll give it to my mama, and she'll give it to yours.'

Since he's so insistent, and I've run out of answers, I agree.

‘Ok, I'll give it to you.'

‘Really?'

‘Yeah. I've hidden it somewhere, the fetisher's right.'

I'm in my parents' bedroom. Arthur's smiling at me. I want to talk to him, to tell him everything's getting on top of me. But instead I tell him I don't like riding bikes, I don't know how to pedal, I'm probably going to fall off and hurt myself. I also tell him I'd rather have a car like Sebastien's, a car you can control from a distance. I'll go left, then I'll go right, then I'll go straight on for a bit, then do a U-turn. If I meet people who don't have a car walking along in the midday sun, I'll give them a lift home in mine. No, I won't have an accident because I'll always drive slowly and I'll stop at the stop sign, or when people are crossing the road, especially old people and children. The others will just have to watch out because I'll have priority, and if I run them over that's their lookout.

I also tell Arthur I haven't got the key, it's not me that locked the door to my mother's belly. I try to think back, but there's nothing there, there is no key. If I had hidden it somewhere I'd definitely remember. So how come everyone's accusing me?

I have the feeling Arthur's saying: ‘Michel, calm down, let them say what they want, and just admit it was you that locked the door to your mother's belly, you've got the key there somewhere, and if they still go on bothering you the whole time, pack your things and go and take a break in Egypt, to help the Shah recover from cancer. He'll be pleased to make your acquaintance. Yes, tell all those who accuse you that you do have the key, that you've hidden it somewhere. It won't cost
you anything. You'll make your mother even more miserable if you don't listen to your friend Lounès.'

‘What shall I do then?' I ask Arthur out loud.

He smiles at me again, and seems to be saying very quietly, ‘Go and look for any old key in a rubbish bin, somewhere you're bound to find one. Give it to Lounès and he'll give it to his mother and she'll give it to Maman Pauline. After that you can go off to Egypt. I'll give you some addresses of friends of mine there, you won't be alone.'

‘Arthur, what's “the hand that guides the quill”?'

He doesn't reply. I think maybe he doesn't like being asked about his book. He just wants to help me.

‘And what's “the hand that guides the plough”? How much money did you leave behind in Egypt?'

He's not going to answer that. He's not smiling now. He's just a picture on the book cover now, but earlier he was almost alive, like me, I could hear his heart beating.

When I got to Maman Martine's house this morning, Papa Roger had already set off into town. He even works on Saturdays because that's the day when lots of people arrive at the hotel. The evening before, my mother had a long chat with Maman Martine. She told her she was going off into the bush, and then to Brazzaville for four days. She'd left a bit of money for Maman Martine, who refused it at first. But my mother insisted, so Maman Martine eventually accepted: ‘We'll make a nice dish of beef with beans.'

Maman Pauline stroked my hair. When she put her arms around me I thought I might start to levitate! Then she let me go, and looked at me tearfully. She turned around, I saw her walk away, get into a taxi and wave from a distance. I knew she was thinking about the key to her belly. But she didn't know I knew about it now, and I'd already begun looking in dustbins in our neighbourhood, as Arthur had advised. And I really didn't want her to know. I still haven't found anything, I'll go on looking, and I'll find the key for her before she gets back if possible. After that I'll go and have a rest in Egypt, I'm so tired.

Yaya Gaston says: ‘Geneviève's coming this evening. There won't be any other girls besides her.'

I'm so happy I want to laugh out loud, but if I laugh he'll ask me why I'm laughing like that. So I just act like it's normal
that Geneviève's coming this evening, and no one else. I know Genviève's talked to Yaya Gaston, and that he knows now that I don't like the other girls, who make a lot of noise and talk about things that even us children find silly.

I think about what I'll say to Geneviève when she comes. I'll definitely talk to her about the business with the key to my mother's belly. I'll tell her the story about the madman I met when I was just beginning to look. Then she'll know that I've been wandering about all over the Trois-Cents, and I haven't found a single key lying on the ground. I emptied out the bins, but I only found old needles, broken glass, carcasses of dead dogs with maggots wriggling around in their eyes, old cooking pots with rotting food at the bottom, bottles full of urine and lots of things besides. No keys. What if I stole a key from one of the Lebanese or Senegalese shops? No, I can't take a brand new key to give to Lounès. A key that you've had hidden for a long time has to be quite old looking with rusty bits. When I came across an old lock in a bin over by the Savon
quartier
, I said to myself, ‘If there's a lock in this bin the key can't be far away, it must be in this bin too.' So I turned over all the rubbish with a bit of wood. I poked around angrily in its belly, muttering, ‘There's a key hidden in this rubbish, and I'm going to find it! I'm going to find it! I'm going to find it!'

Seeing me rooting around and talking to myself, a madman looking for food a few metres away burst out laughing. He said the world had really changed, that people were going mad in childhood now. In his day only grown ups were mad, not children.

‘How long have you been mad, little one?' he asked me.

I was about to run off.

‘No, don't be afraid. I don't eat people yet, though I may
start to if I don't find anything in these rubbish bins.'

I told him I wasn't mad like him, I was looking for the key to my mother's belly, I'm just a normal boy, I go to Trois-Martyrs school, I'm an average pupil, very hard-working, and maybe I'll get my School Certificate and go to Trois-Glorieuses secondary school. Then I'll be with Lounès, I'll joy ride the workers' train like Jean-Paul Belmondo in
Fear Over the City
.