TIME SLIPS.
Another scene ripples, splashing memories through me as I unpick Nana’s hair.
On Aunt Ruby’s advice, Ma was getting ready to travel again. She needed time, her sister said, to fulfil the promise of her name. Time away to pursue what she loved best: buying and selling material and jewellery.
Aunt Ruby helped my mother pack, dumping two suitcases on the bed in our room. I hadn’t slept on that bed for over a week. I hadn’t dared to in case shadow darkness swallowed me again. But, drawn to Ma’s glow of excitement, the chatter of adults inside the room, I tiptoed to the door and watch.
On the bed were bundles of cloth: bales of dyed indigo beside a jumble of smocks and stoles. There were multi-coloured kente cloths as well. Aunt Ruby selected the best of her stock, while Ma packed it.
‘Indigo from Kano,’ said Aunt Ruby, hoisting a dark blue bale on to what’s already stuffed inside.
Ma managed to squeeze it in. Just. She lowered the suitcase lid, Aunt Ruby tugging and pulling while Ma wrestled the lid down with a knee.
Once the suitcase was fastened, my aunt remembered: ‘Asemane! I almost forgot to show you my latest necklaces.’
She hurried out, tickling the crown of my head.
Ma flung open the second suitcase. Half-hidden behind the door, she turned to me and said: ‘Would you like to come travelling with me, Sheba?’
I shook my head.
‘You don’t want to be with me any more?’
I let out a sob. Of course I want to be with my mother! She’s Ma: my sun in the morning, my moon at night as she guides me to bed. Ma of all people must realise that after the explosion in my hand, after her tears turned to silver and ensnared me, I can’t touch her any more.
‘Bone of my bone, come to me!’
I recalled that sizzling in my fingers, that crackle of heat.
Ma leaned forward, beckoned. ‘Come, little chick…’
The possibility that if I didn’t touch her too much, I’d be OK flitted through my mind and before I knew it, I was running. I stopped in front of her and gazed into eyes black as the feathers of a crow.
‘Good girl,’ she said. ‘I’ve missed you.’
She lifted me. My legs straddled either side of her hips as her nose nuzzled mine. She kissed both my cheeks and happiness streamed through me, for, like a river coursing to the sea, I’ve found my way home to her.
‘Blood of my blood,’ said Ma, ‘be good to your aunts while I’m away, you hear? Listen to Nana and take heed of every word she says.’
I nodded.
Her skin rubbed against mine and I noticed that her body-talk today was hushed, her scent musky; the smell of earth after it’s rained. I was tempted to touch her hair to see if her hair-talk was silent as well.
I hesitated, and catching my drift, Ma said: ‘I’m sorry about the other night. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Sheba. Sometimes…’
She sighed, unable to find the right words to soothe her tongue. She put me down beside the open suitcase and making space for herself, said: ‘Listen, my baby-last, sometimes I’m so angry my head hurts.’
She tensed, shuddered and her hair, scraped in a twirl at the top of her head, shivered like a horse flicking its tail. Ma has a lot of hair – tight crinkly curls that fall to her shoulders when she wears it down.
‘My head hurts,’ Ma said again.
I stretched my hand and stroked a curl. It wasn’t as hot as before, but the burn was still there.
‘I always feel better when you’re close to me.’ Folding my hand in hers, Ma placed it on her heart. ‘Will you promise me something, Sheba?’
I nodded.
‘Whatever happens, don’t do what your sisters did. Promise you’ll never leave me.’
The fierce urgency of her words planted a seed of disquiet in my chest.
Even so, she repeated her request. ‘Promise me you won’t let your uncle Solo’s wife steal you like she did your sisters. Promise!’
I nodded again, confused by emotions shimmering over her face like sunlight on water; rearranging her features, distorting them until they settled in a scowl.
‘Thanks to Lila, your sisters think they’re better than me. Those girls don’t know what I do. If the trunk of a tree dies, its branches wither as well!’
‘Are you going to die, Ma?’
I touched her hair and my fingers were singed in a blast of heat.
I was about to start crying when Aunt Ruby returned with a basket full of necklaces and beads.
‘Here you are, Sika,’ she said, ‘trinkets to sell on your travels. We’re going to make a fortune, you and me. A fortune.’
Ma winked at me, put a finger to her lips, and then smiled at Aunt Ruby.