Ancestor Stones - Aminatta Forna [129]
And somewhere among the ranks of the soldiers the bow-legged street boy’s counterpart. One-time victim, now with a gun in his hand. Unconfident, nervy, his trembling forefinger wrapped around the trigger of his weapon.
A lizard scattered suddenly, foreshadowing what was about to happen. Another barrage of insults, and the bow-legged boy brought the rock out from behind his back and flung it with all his might across the divide. It fell short, sending up a small shower of dirt. Nobody was hurt, but somebody’s nerve broke. A single shot, followed by another. Two bullets skidded through the earth. The third shot brought down the bow-legged boy, sent him flying backwards, legs and arms at awkward angles, like a scarecrow caught by the wind. The cotton tree shuddered, as a thousand bats flinched.
Time paused, as if considering whether to move swiftly on or turn back and reverse what had just happened. Time moved on. Realisation descended in an instant. Anger and outrage burst forth, the street boys began to advance. More stones. A volley of shots. This time aimed at the air above their heads, there would be no more casualties. The boys retreated with their wounded companion, swearing, holding up their fists, some still managed a swagger. Retreating all the same.
The colours of the day had fled, darkness was approaching. Redempta and I sat alone in the polling station among the ballot boxes.
A truck had arrived, collected some of the soldiers and driven away again. By my best estimate six, perhaps eight men remained. The van that was supposed to collect the ballot boxes was due in the next half an hour, but who knew now whether that would happen. At some point the soldiers would have to decide what to do with us.
I listened to the blood thumping in my eardrums, my breathing growing louder as the darkness closed in. Outside I could hear the bats leaving the cotton tree, taking to the skies one by one. I could see them through the window, watch them spiral upwards, their dark shapes outlined against the silver-blue sky, stretch their wings and turn towards the sea.
I could only just make out Redempta’s form in the half-light. I inched my way towards her through the gloom and whispered into her ear. She nodded briskly. We got down on to our hands and knees and crawled around, groping in the darkness until we found what we were looking for: the chain that had held the ballot boxes together. I removed my headdress, wrapping it around the chain to muffle the sounds, in case the soldiers should hear us. We sat back to back, passing the chain around and between us.
Whatever happened next we were as ready as we ever would be, we sat and held hands in the dark.
Footsteps. The door was opened, the young officer in command stood silhouetted against the sky. Behind him the cotton tree encircled by flying bats. Polling had now officially closed, he informed us. We had done our job. From this point on he would take charge of the ballot boxes.
‘We are instructed not to allow these boxes to leave our sight until they are properly handed over to be counted.’ Redempta’s voice was steady.
He would have expected us not to give in straight away. He replied smoothly: ‘Well, I am an officer of the Army. You can regard yourselves as having placed the ballot boxes in safe custody.’
‘We cannot do any such thing.’ I spoke up, to show we stood together. ‘We are very clear about our instructions. The boxes must go to the centre to be counted.’
‘Exactly. And that’s where I will make sure they are delivered. Believe me.’
Liar!