A Long Way Gone_ Memoirs of a Boy Soldier - Ishmael Beah [82]
“Sir, from now on, you will be informed about how this young man is doing,” Leslie said.
“Thank you,” my uncle replied. He held my hand and I walked with him toward the van that he and Leslie had arrived in. Before my uncle got into the car with Leslie, he hugged me again and said, “You look like your father, and you remind me of him when we were growing up. I hope you are not as stubborn as he was.” He laughed, and I did, too. Esther, Mohamed, and I waved them off.
“He seems like a nice man,” Esther said as soon as the van disappeared from our sight.
“Congratulations, man, you have a family member in the city away from all the madness,” Mohamed said.
“I guess so,” I said, but I didn’t know what to do in my happy state. I was still hesitant to let myself let go, because I still believed in the fragility of happiness.
“Come on, man, cheer up.” Mohamed pulled my ears, and he and Esther lifted me up and carried me back to the hospital, laughing. At the hospital Esther put the Bob Marley cassette on the tape player, and we all began to mime “Three Little Birds” together. “Don’t worry about a thing,” we sang, “’cause every little thing gonna be all right…”
That night I sat on the verandah with Mambu, Alhaji, and Mohamed. We were quiet, as usual. The sound of an ambulance somewhere in the city took over the silence of the night. I began to wonder about what my uncle was doing at that moment. I imagined him gathering his family to tell them about me. I could see him sobbing during his account and his family gradually joining him in crying. Part of me wanted them to cry as much as they could before I met them, as I always felt uncomfortable when people cried because of what I had been through. I looked at Alhaji and Mambu, who were staring into the dark night. I wanted to tell them about the discovery of my uncle, but I felt guilty, since no one from their families had been found. I also didn’t want to destroy the silence that had returned after the ambulance’s wailing died down.
As my uncle promised, he came to visit every weekend.
“My uncle is coming. I saw him down the road by the mango tree,” I told Esther the first weekend after his initial visit.
“You sound excited.” She put her pen down. She examined my face for a while and then continued. “I told you he seemed like a good man.”
My uncle walked through the door and wiped his sweaty forehead with his handkerchief before hugging me. He said hello to Esther during our embrace. As soon as we stood apart, he began to smile so widely that my face relaxed and I too began to smile. He put his bag on the floor and pulled out some biscuits and a bottle of cold ginger beer.
“I thought you might need some fuel for our walk,” he said as he handed me the presents.
“You two should take the gravel road up the hill,” Esther suggested. My uncle and I nodded in agreement.
“I won’t be here when you return. It is nice meeting you again, sir,” she said, looking at my uncle. She turned toward me. “I will see you tomorrow.”
My uncle and I left the hospital room and started walking in the direction Esther had suggested. We were quiet at first. I listened to the sound of our footsteps on the dusty road. I could hear the rattling of lizards crossing the road to climb the nearby mango tree. I could feel my uncle’s eyes on me.
“How is everything? Are they treating you well at this place?” my uncle asked.
“Everything is fine here,” I replied.
“I hope you are not as quiet as your father.” He wiped his forehead again and then asked, “Did your father ever talk about his home?”
“Sometimes he did, although not as much as I wished