The Mercury Explosion
The darkness was complete except for a small burst of light in the middle of the room/shack/underground tunnel. Behind that burst of light was movement, strange because this space was most often silent and still. The body moved forward into the darkness and was swallowed in with the lights. Making a beeline for the far wall at the right, the person kicked cans and bottles out of the way in haste.
A few seconds later, a switch clicked and light flooded the large space. The owner of the light was a small ten-year-old girl with blonde hair shaved close to her head. She was wearing a tight-fitting pair of trousers and a red t-shirt and sneakers. She looked from her face down like a well cared for child. It was only her hair that set off warning bells. Gently, she began pushing a barrel to the left side of the room.
The space was large like three average living rooms, some parts were fairly clean and others weren’t. There was no evident reason why she was decongesting that part of the room. There was no one else coming to meet her, the adventure was hers to experience. She seemed very fearless, alone down there with no adult around, the only sound was the friction between the iron container and the floor.
Around the room was evidence that this place used to be some kind of laboratory before a fire. The walls were black with soot and several things hung on the wall, a pair of adult male socks, an old toasting machine, some mops, and the old bulb that was begging for mercy. Then boxes and boxes, some of them closed, others slightly open and exposing valuable content.
The little girl stopped pushing, the box had reached the others in the middle and she leaned against it to catch her breath. Her eyes were bright and shiny like that of a scared mouse from all the adrenaline. She glanced at her watch, a pink pup with large ears, and muttered inaudibly about something. Standing up straight, she gently peeled off the top of the box.
Inside were glass bottles that contained a silvery substance that was frozen over. Their surfaces so cold to the touch it stung her fingers. Hefting one of them, she dropped it on the table and began to examine the label. It said NN/NH03. She didn’t know what that was but the bottle was thawing around her fingers and that was progress. Leaving it on the table, she went ahead to push out another box. This one was heavier and sweat bloomed at the back of her t-shirt like large roses.
Suddenly, a loud shrill tone rose into the air.
“Shit!” She said and reached into her pockets. “Hey mom”
“Hi, sweetie. How are you?”
“I’m fine mom still playing,” she said, faking a smile so her mom would hear it through the phone.
“Okay Aize, I’ll come to pick you up in an hour,” her mom said.
“Okay, bye mom,” Aize said cheerily.
Pushing the phone into her jeans pocket, she resumed pushing. She had only thirty minutes before her mother would get to the amusement park. She was going to use it well. The bottle had thawed and the silvery substance shook when she held the bottle. Steadily, she tipped the bottle until it faced the table. One drop fell off and rolled down into the darkness, then another, until the bottle was halved.
Aize found it interesting, dropping the bottle, she followed the drops to a pool of alcohol from broken bottles of gin. This pool had been present since her discovery of this place and at that moment, she noticed how deep it really was. What she didn’t know was that a Mercury and alcohol combination meant an explosion. For that moment, she was safe. Then the merry go round up in the real world began to move, causing vibrations on the ground.
***
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Before
Mayor Kathembe’s office was at the edge of town, a small room in front of a squalid red house with leaky roofs. People said that he spent more of his day sleeping in his armchair than attending to his duties. His wife Violet was the principal of Kathembe Royal High School and the very opposite of him, she was quick on her feet and sharp. She was also a very impatient woman and this showed in her choice of husband and her relationship with other people in the town. She was coincidentally also Aize’s Godmother.
The morning the investors came, Mayor was sitting at his desk dipping a large loaf of bread into a mug full of tea. Outside, the Welder’s son was mowing the lawn for the first time in four months. It was one of those cold mornings that usually precedes days of inactivity. The hand of the clock seemed to be moving even slower than ever. Mayor, when he was done with his meal, got up and fiddled with the control on the old standing fan.
Over his head hung the portraits of the old mayors, all of them White and snooty. Three years ago, this little town had won its independence. An Afrikaan community was formed, African Americans from all over the United States were welcome to make a home here. Some people called it little Jamaica and were told to never say that again. Yet, its similarities with Jamaica was evident, the preference for dreadlocks was one, the neocolonialism was another.
Four rapid knocks sounded at the door, startling the mayor and the standing fan awake. It spluttered to life and began blowing cool air around the room. Kathembe knew those knocks were from a stranger. No one in the town would knock without first yelling to know if the Mayor was awake. He shoved stray papers quickly from his desk and righted the small portrait of Martin Luther King that was always on his desk.
Three men and one woman stepped into the office. Two of the men were young and the other seemed to be the woman’s significant other. Warm greetings were exchanged. They were investors, rich business persons from Nigeria seeking to make more money in the USA. They requested the use of the old wasteland (the area surrounding the old laboratory that collapsed ten years ago.) They would like to create an amusement park for kids to rival Disneyland.
Kathembe’s saggy chin bobbed in anticipation of what he would get from such a deal.
“Apparently, all that land is now in your control,” the man who introduced himself as Mr. Ajayi said. He looked a bit jealous.
“Yes, it is” Kathembe replied, sitting a little straighter. To be fair, he was not a man wanting for intelligence. He was just unforgivably lazy.
“And the government inspection of the place?”
The mayor smiled, this part was what made that land so valuable, the fact that government officials wouldn’t be able to poke their ugly noses in it now that it belonged to the Afrikaans.
“There would be no need for that,” he said. Through the corner of his eye, he watched Ms. Ajayi cock her head to the side in puzzlement.
“Interesting. We will leave you to think about our proposal. When should we return?” Mr. Ajayi asked.
Kathembe got up with a flourish and took the other man’s extended hand. “Thursday would be fine”.
***
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Vera worked as a receptionist at the only dance school for girls in the town. It was the first Black Girls Only ballet school in the United States. A place where dancers could wear brown colored tights and chocolate-colored pointe shoes. Ballet dances were also Afrikaanized in a spectacular way that won them many prizes across the country.
The only girl who didn’t attend those classes was Vera’s daughter Aize because according to the girl, Ballet wasn’t for everyone. They lived close to the mayor’s house as was arranged, Vera and mayor’s wife being best friends and wanting to stay close to each other.
If the Mayor’s wife had any children perhaps Aize would have had some playmates and things would have turned out differently. Vera placed the cup of tea on the tray and walked into the living room where her friend sat watching reruns of The legend of the Iron mask. The mayor’s wife was wearing an A-line Ankara dress, always setting the fashion for other Afrikaan women, that one.
“Who said I was hungry?” She asked when she caught sight of the tray.
“Who said I want to feed you?” Vera asked, rolling her eyes. She made space for the tray on the small table that sat in the middle of the living room. “I am just keeping to the tradition of pouring tea”
“Whatever you say Madame. Did you send for me because of this petty argument?” She asked. A faux frown on her face.
“What are friends for?” Vera quipped ” If they won’t be there when you need someone to argue with.” She sat down and sipped from her tea.
“You look worried,” Violet said, studying the new frown lines on her friend’s face.
Tipping her head to the side like a little teacup, Vera swallowed audibly. “I am worried about Aize. She has been so moody lately”
“Kids bullying her again?” Violet asked. Vera shook her head, dropped the teacup, and folded her hands in her lap.
“Did they ever stop?” She said bitterly “she doesn’t tell me but I know. I see how she hates to be around her mates.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know. You remember when I was pregnant with her?” Vera asked. Her friend didn’t answer; she knew all too well that question was a portal through which Vera walked through all too often and better alone. The younger woman walked towards the window and stood there looking out into the streets. Some children were playing basketball on the field opposite her house. Their dark skin glowing in the afternoon sun.
“It is amazing how just one mistake can change everything isn’t it?” Vera asked, she was talking to herself, walking through her past yet again.
She was fourteen when her mother died of cancer, leaving her and her two little siblings in the hands of a father who loved his booze more than anything. Because of him, all three children were introduced to abuse at a very early age. The first time he hit them was when he came home with a woman and the children refused to say hi to her.
“Greet her!” He commanded, watching the children as they huddled against the back of the sofa but not really seeing them. They cowered before him, silent. Their silence only aggravated him and in a split second his belt was out and eating up space on their supple skin. The lady tried to stop him, she did but he pushed her so hard she was convinced there were some depths she couldn’t venture into because of money.
When she walked out, Vera’s father ran after her and when he couldn’t get her to come back with him, he returned to dig his belt deeper into the bodies of his children. Yet it would not be accurate to say that Vera and her siblings grew up in all that darkness. They had a savior in their aunt, who came some years later to take them away from their father.
She lived in China with her husband’s family and that was where Vera learned to pour tea. Use the pouring of tea as a means of relaxation and also a ritual. It was in China that she first learned that she was Black. Before she had thought of herself as just a girl but now there was an added burden for her to carry alongside her demons. When the opportunity to go to college came, she fled to America and that was where she met him.
Christopher Jones. An African man who was born and raised in England. His parents were from either Nigeria or Ghana, she couldn’t remember. There was so much to remember about him. Why should she be bothered about his origin? In her mind, he was just an ex-boyfriend. She treated his memory like that to survive.
If she let herself think of him as her daughter’s father, staying away would be really hard to bear. She met him on the sidewalk. Something was happening on the streets that day, she couldn’t really remember what. They were both standing beside a small fountain, enjoying the view and the cool breeze.
“Hi,” someone said close by and Vera turned until she was looking into the face of the person. He wasn’t handsome or anything but he was wicked enough to smile. Vera was a teeth girl, she loved a perfect set of teeth and this guy had one of the most perfect sets she had ever seen. She smiled back and soon they were talking about everything.
Soon enough, the streets were too noisy for them. He took her hand and led her into the park some blocks away. “We have so much in common,” Christopher said and smiled at her. Vera was busy cataloging all his moves, from the moment he said hi to her, to this moment. To make certain of what would happen later, she had to be sure all her experiences with this strange man were real.
Everything that happened in the past hour played out slowly in her mind as she watched him talk. His lips moved to cover his teeth more often than Vera liked. His face was so animated she longed to touch it. Like a toddler would long to stop a fast-moving object from spinning. When he stood up, he stretched out a hand to take hers.
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“Let us go back. I think we can find our way from there.”
That day was the beginning of their short romance story. Vera, taken by his physique and his sweetness was all too eager to go on dates with him. He taught her to play the piano and smoke. She taught him the delicate art of pouring tea and the little Chinese he could learn in that short time. They had sex, but it was all so hazy in Vera’s mind. The day he came to inform her that he was leaving and didn’t know when he would be back, that too was hazy in her mind.
Two months and five pregnancy tests later, Vera discovered she was pregnant for a man who had disappeared without a trace. She ran to her aunt who convinced her to keep the baby instead of having an abortion.
“You will love this baby,” the aunt said to Vera that morning. The younger woman was hugging herself on the sofa, looking so small.
“This child will have no father” Vera cried. Her aunt gave a wicked chuckle.
“You had a father. How much good did that do to you?”
The baby was born white with blond hair slicked closely to a soft round crown. Vera held her baby in her arms, trying to get over the shock of labor. To her, the color of her baby didn’t matter. Just like her aunt had prophesied, she loved the child fiercely. It was however impossible for Aize to ignore the reality of being an albino child. As she grew, being the center of so much hostile attention began telling on her. Other children would not play with her and preferred to watch her from afar. She became a moody child, the type that loved sitting alone in one spot and playing mechanically with her toys.
It was in hopes that things would change that Vera moved to this small town for Afrikaans but just last week, Aize had returned home in tears, demanding that she wanted her hair shorn to the scalp. Vera had refused to do it. She was hoping her daughter would change her mind but that never happened. The next morning, Aize’s hair was gone. She had chopped everything off with scissors, creating jagged edges on her head.
“Let’s go to the salon and make it right,” Vera said after a while of staring at her daughter who stood in a defensive pose by the door. She could have raised her voice but the little girl looked as fragile as glass. At that moment, she wondered if she had made the right choice, coming to this place.
The Mayor’s wife cleared her throat loudly, startling Vera who still stood by the window, looking out blindly into the streets. Vera turned to her friend.
“I have no regrets.” She said. “Right?”
“Right” Violet answered, knowing that she had to reply this time. A few miles away, an explosion shattered the universe.
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