6

Klenam liked a boy. I was sure of it. She and some of her friends had formed a vacation study group to prepare for their transition to junior high in September, and she’d suddenly become more studious than she ever was during term time. They’d been meeting at each other’s homes for a month now, and judging from when they were on our veranda, they were doing at least as much chatting as studying.

I’d been surprised to find it was a mixed group because Klenam only hung out with girls, but she told me they’d chosen their members because each was the best at a different subject. Hers was math, and his was history. He was called Felix, and, from what I saw and heard, he was the quietest in the group. I guessed I should feel all big-brotherly over Kle, but I was actually more worried for Felix—not that I didn’t love my sister or anything, but she could be… just… a lot sometimes, especially these days. Anyway, Felix seemed pretty oblivious.

To be honest, I’d been too until I’d overheard Ma gossiping with Togbe. I started paying attention after that, and sure enough the signs were there. Kle always had that mild touch of extra grooming when it was time for study group—a gloss to her lips, a neatness to her hair—and she’d speak to everyone in the group except him, as if she hadn’t noticed he was there, but if he happened to speak to her then she was suddenly all attention, fixing her eyes on him as though he might vanish at any second and she must commit each of his features to memory.

I dared not tease her because she’d only tease me back about Kekeli, but I smiled to myself and bided my time. It wasn’t that I minded the teasing so much; in fact, Kle’s unwitting assumption that my crush on Kekeli was a two-way thing always gave me hope, because I could never make up my mind whether Kekeli liked me back for real. Sometimes I was convinced she did, but there were moments when I felt like an idiot just imagining things. Maybe Kle knew something I didn’t through the girls’ gossip at school. But I daren’t ask in case she went and said something to someone that would somehow get back to Kekeli’s perfect little ears.

I thought of discussing it with Togbe, but what would I even say? It wasn’t like me and Keli—yes, I could call her that in the safety of my own fantasy—ever had real conversations or did anything concrete together. I wondered if Togbe had ever been through anything like this. Maybe when he met Grandma. That was it—I’d ask him about that! And then, from there, maybe work my way to Keli. It was some kind of a plan, anyway.

That weekend we had a football match. Bright wanted us to keep up practice sessions over the holidays. We loved these matches because there were no teachers involved, so they were less formal, and more fun. We played on the school pitch, and other students came to watch. No parents were invited, either, because we just wanted to be among ourselves. It was more chill that way. The bigger the crowd—and, of course, the more girls—the harder we played.

We couldn’t use our school football jerseys because they were locked up in school, but those who had their own jerseys would wear them proudly, advertising the names and numbers of their favorite Black Stars players. I didn’t have one of those, though I knew Togbe wanted to get me one, but I was taller than most of the boys and was known as the best striker, so I still felt good out on the field.

I left early with Mawuli, each of us carrying a wooden bench from home. We went to Bright’s house first, and he came out also carrying a bench. When we got to the field, Mawuli ran off with one of his friends. Bright and I were hoping Matthew would show up early too, because he was bringing the ball. His was by far the best we had between us. As we lowered our benches to the ground I heard music getting closer, drowning other sound, and Bright said, “Hehh! Look!”

A black sports car pulled up like nothing I’d ever seen in real life, rap music pumping out of it. Matthew stepped out of the passenger seat wearing a new red-gold-and-green jersey with A. AYEW and the number 10 on it. We stared enviously but held back our rowdy admiration because, as he tossed his football into the air and spun it on one finger, the driver’s door opened and a man emerged in a baseball cap, leather jacket, and sunglasses.

It felt as though we were all caught in the slo-mo frame of a pop video as they walked toward us, music still blasting from the car. Then the man switched it off with a click of a thing in his hand, and, as our chests stopped vibrating and time resumed its normal tempo, Matthew introduced him with a smirk as Uncle Jack.

“Sup, guys!” Uncle Jack held out a fist studded with rings.

Matthew’s smirk widened as Bright and I glanced at each other. Jack of Diamonds, in the flesh.

“Good afternoon, sir!” we chorused eagerly, bumping fists with him. We’d have been rolling our eyes if it had been any other adult. I saw Mawuli and his friend staring enviously.

“I jus’ love saccr, you know.” Uncle Jack touched his fist to his chest. “So when I heard ma boy Matt was coming for a game, I was like yeh, lez go!”

We chuckled politely and invited him to make himself comfortable on one of the benches. I noticed he followed the game closely once it began, but I forgot about him as it heated up. What I didn’t forget was to keep checking if Keli might still show up. There were about twenty spectators so far, mostly boys, including some who didn’t go to school. They’d play too, after this, with those of us who still had energy making up the numbers.

At halftime I saw a couple of younger boys haul in crates of drinks, and I wondered what was going on. As we trotted off the pitch, sweaty and panting, Uncle Jack stood up and applauded. “Great job, boys! Look—refreshments for you! Enjoy!”

The drinks were ice-cold—Coke, Sprite, Fanta, and Malta. This was so different from the tepid bottles of water with which we usually refreshed ourselves. Uncle Jack gathered us around him, dissecting the first half like a pro, claiming he’d once been a top striker, declaring we were excellent players and promising to buy us all studded boots on his next trip to the US.

Everyone was excited and following his every move, but something in me held back. I wondered if I was the only one to whom his mannerisms seemed somehow familiar, as if he’d studied them on someone else, like Shatta Wale or Burna Boy. Perhaps I was just being silly, but it made me uneasy that we couldn’t see his eyes, because he never took off his sunglasses. And it was amazing how he kept that black jacket on in this heat. I’d also noticed Keli come in with a couple of her friends—finally—so I was distracted. She was wearing a pair of jeans, a loose white T-shirt that slid off one shoulder, and a pair of dangling earrings.

Bright’s team won, but I didn’t really mind. I could never be too hard-nosed competing with him, and it was just a practice match, plus I’d scored a penalty shot—the only goal for our side—just as Keli came in, so I was feeling good about that. I considered joining the next match, but Matthew told Bright and me that Uncle Jack wanted to talk to us, so we gathered round him with our mates as the new match began.

He offered us more drinks, and this time there were hot donuts and meat pies too. I noticed Mawuli and his friends hovering and discreetly helping themselves. I was glad they got some of the goodies, but I couldn’t help a sense of relief when they ran off to watch the other match. As we chugged and gobbled in disbelief at the abundance, Uncle Jack asked if any of us wanted to become footballers in the future. Bright’s hand shot up straightaway, followed by several others.

“It’s never too soon to start planning your future!” said Uncle Jack. “The more you prepare, the quicker you’re there!”

He said that to turn our dreams into reality we’d need two things—freedom and money—and he asked if any of us had ever worked for real money before. Then he said he could help us get jobs. At first, I thought he meant during the holidays, but then I realized he was talking about something else.

“Sir!” I ventured.

My mates all looked at me. Trust Sena to go and open his mouth, I could just hear them thinking.

“What, sir?” He clapped me on the back, laughing. “Whass my name?” He turned to the others like a rock star addressing his crowd.

“Uncle Jack!” they chanted.

“Say what?” He put a hand to his ear.

“UNCLE JACK!” they roared.

“Uncle Jack is my name, and diamonds are my game!” he rapped, striking a pose.

I let the cheers die down and collected myself. “Uncle Jack, please, are we not supposed to finish school before we start proper jobs?”

There was a stifled “Eish!” from my mates, who looked embarrassed, as if I was being uncool, but I knew they were wondering the same thing and were secretly glad I had the guts to ask. Uncle Jack seemed surprised I still remembered my question.

“Ei, a rich boy!” He looked squarely at me, and the others laughed nervously, glad it wasn’t them. “My friend, what’s your name?”

“Sena.”

“Sena!” He put a hand on my shoulder. “I can see you’re a smart boy! So I’m sure you’ll understand I’m not saying school is bad! Ah, how can I say that?” He shrugged innocently, the gesture releasing a strong whiff of cologne. “If your people are rich enough to keep you in school forever, then why not? But if you need cash…” He turned to the others with a grin.

I felt ridiculed but, I suspected, not as much as he’d have liked me to.

“See me here like this!” he continued smoothly. “I never went to senior high!” His gesture concluded his sentence for him—and look how totally awesome I am!

There were murmurs of approval, school suddenly seeming very unglamorous.

“And these our village schools, what can they do for you, anyway? Do your teachers come to class?”

“No!”

“Do they whip you?”

“Yes!”

“Does the school perform in exams?”

“No!”

“And those who’ve finished, what work are they doing?”

We murmured among ourselves, embarrassed.

“Whose brothers and sisters have finished school?”

Hands shot up.

“You!” He pointed at Bright. “Where are they now?”

“Please, my brother is here in the village, farming.”

“And you?” He moved his finger to Delali.

“Please, my sister has a baby. She’s also farming.”

Uncle Jack shrugged. “See? What are you waiting for?”

He had a point, I had to admit.

“Time is money! You waste time, you waste money! Now, Matt here”—he clapped Matthew on the back—“he’s seen the light! He starts work next week!”

We all turned to Matthew. He tried to look smug, but I could see he was nervous. I knew we all had questions for him, but we couldn’t ask them in front of Uncle Jack, nor could we question Uncle Jack, because children didn’t do that. I plucked up my courage and tried for an indirect approach.

“Please, sir, what kinds of jobs can you help us get?”

“Oh, all sorts! In commercial riverine fisheries, the precious-metal industry, the agricultural sector for assorted specializations like cash-cropping or animal husbandry—it all depends what’s available and what you’re best suited for! I have associates who’ll be happy to find the best placement for your skill set.”

It sounded good—not that we understood it all. But… if it was so easy to get rich, why was everyone so poor around here?

“Y’all just call anytime you want! Here’s my number!”

I could tell I wasn’t the only one feeling uneasy now, but we took it eagerly, and when he finally left with Matthew, we all crowded round the car, cheering.

It was the last time we saw Matthew. The two of them left the village in the fancy car a few days later, so we never got the chance to ask Matthew where he was going, but given his attitude to school and the trouble he was forever getting into, I figured getting a job might not actually be such a bad thing for him. We found out later that other boys had gone along too, like some of the out-of-school ones who’d been at the match that day. And we eventually heard through the grapevine that they all—including Matthew—were working as cattle herders in Sogakope.

I thought back to Jack of Diamonds’s big talk about industries and skill sets. There was nothing glamorous about cattle herding. From what I’d heard about “cowboys,” they lived like slaves in their masters’ homes and spent their days under the scorching sun or in the rain at the mercy of snakes and scorpions, getting nothing in return but room and board for several years. If they were able to stick it out till the end, their only payment was a calf. It seemed like a long time to work without pay, especially under such conditions, though a calf was worth a lot of money. But… what if it died?

I wondered about going in for a job like that myself. But I never got far with those thoughts because I knew the response of Ma and Togbe dare I even raise such a thing.

What! Ma would say. Wander around all day with a bunch of cows? And what will you learn from them?

It was true our school’s performance in the BECE exams was generally poor, but surely if I worked extra hard I could beat the odds, and there was always Bright to help me. Moreover, I didn’t feel like discussing Jack of Diamonds with Ma and Togbe. Of course they’d heard about him and his fancy car, everyone in the village had, but they didn’t know about him coming to the football match and talking to us like that, and something in me preferred to keep it that way. After all, it wasn’t like I was planning to take him up on his offer anytime soon.