it was becoming so clear and hard to ignore that Lola had been busy for quite awhile. Her health didn't matter much, Now. You could tell from her face that she was finally, for once becoming happy with Jason, while Steve lurked around her Mother she wasn't going to let Lola go against her choices, Steve can be gone and forgotten regarding Lola's relationship but she wasn't going to let her have the satisfaction of knowing that she Let her go, easily. It came as a surprise (or rather shock) when Jason received the invitation from Mrs Xell to have a talk with the orphan she sponsored in school. Could it be that she is trying to pass a message across to Jason by sending him an invitation to see the kids?. Jason gave many talks and made news headlines, often to schools, and sometimes in press conferences, but this request was the most important thus far. Not only because of his reputation. But principally because the invitation came from Lola's mother and it couldn't have come at a better
The daily news carried the news of his family's dilemma, but it was several weeks before Lola received Jason's telegram letting her know that he and his were well. He didn't say when he would be back to the city, but she hoped that it would not be long. She thought often of their last day together, when she had gone to see him. Not knowing until she arrived that he had received a telegram calling him for his attention. She remembered offering to help him pack and how he had responded by pushing the suitcase aside and reaching for her instead. "You won't leave me, will you?" Lola whispered as he held her."Never," he said wrapping his arm more tightly around her waist. "I love you, Lola."Lola had picked April as the month when Jason would surely be back but, instead, April marked the time when his letters stopped. She wrote, phoned and sent telegrams but still no reply. And then one day, feeling utterly distraught and not knowing what to do, she heard that he had been in touch with t
SOME YEARS LATER"Put your head down. In Wolof we say Segel," Garcia explained. "Tennel se bop," Lola said, lowering her head so that Garcia could braid her hair at the back. Garcia started tightly at the scalp, and within seconds Lola could feel her fingers flying down the strand of her hair. "Tennel se bop," Garcia repeated. Fastening the braid with a small white bead. "Alors, now let's hear the days of the week."Lola smiled. Garcia was determined to teach her Wolof, and she felt grateful. She had learnt more Wolof with Garcia in a month than in her whole first year in Dakar."Altine, Talaata, Allarba, Alxames," she began, stopping on the way for Thursday. "Non. Regarde!" Garcia held the braid she was plaiting with one hand and bent over to show her how to position her lips. 'Ce n'est pas difficile," she insisted, pointing to her throat with the comb.Lola listened carefully. To her ears, it sounded like "Allah may." "Alxames," she tried again and started to laugh. "It's
It seemed that the older he got, the more he looked forward to the peace and quiet of Sunday mornings. Did he miss going to church? Not really. He still believed in God, or at least in the existence of a supernatural being, but he had grown disenchanted with organized religion. He disliked the newer services and found it embarrassing to watch people crying and confessing their so-called sins in public. He viewed the speaking in tongues with great suspicion and did not care much for St. George's congregation. It seemed church members worried more about displaying the latest fashions and newest German cars than in humbly worshiping God. His family had taken issue with him: he hardly attended services so how could he know what congregation were like? So Jason learnt to keep his views to himself and, while his wife and daughter worshipped at church, he played his records and read the papers. These days he listened less to Highlife and the jazz of his youth and more to the serious j
The one o'clock gong sounded, and Jason led both families to the long table where waiters in white suits and red cummerbunds were serving the guests white basmati rice and brightly yellow curry. It was then self-service from a line of silver trays, each with its own condiments - shredded coconut, green pickles, purple onion rings, sultans, tangerine segments, sliced banana, and tomato. Soft white rolls were brought to the table with shavings of butter floating in ice water to keep them from melting. "You know there's going to be a coup soon," Abdul announced when everyone was seated."But until the BBC says so, it's all a rumor," Jason asserted, smiling to himself at this unconscious borrowing from his father. Jason had wondered then whether his father really believed that the first accurate news would come from the BBC, or whether he had made the announcement to distract the men from their anxieties. "We just need a strong ruler, Abdul broke into Jason's thought. "Someone who c
That evening, after Ivy and Grace had gone to sleep, Jason went to his study to read. He started with what lay on his desk, some business journals, but soon he had put down his Reading and was looking in his drawer for something else. The object was a tattered dairy, which had found it's way to Jason. The address on the inside cover was the only bit of writing still clearly legible in Lola's old dairy, yet he kept these torn and yellowing pages and would look at them from time to time. There was nothing new to read and usually he would end up dreaming about what might have been. What might have been had she stayed with him or had he joined her in the city or joined her in Dakar. And then then a door creaked, followed by the sound of flip-flops slapping gently against the wooden floor. It was Ivy on her way to the toilet."Lola" Jason whispered, turning back to the journal and thinking that had it not been for his mistake, had he known, had they known that the pregnancy would not ho
"When I have a house it will be just like Auntie Hélèn's," Ivy would say. "Maybe not so big, but it will have lots of art." And there was certainly an abundance of art in the Cohen's home, Hélèn, like Edward, had a collection of paintings from around the world as well as sculptures and bronzes from across Africa. On the visit, as a special treat for Ivy, Hélèn had invited two local artists to the house to talk about their craft. One was a Carver and the other a bronze sculptor. Of course Ivy had been thrilled and Jason had watched the amusement as his daughter badgered the artists with questions. The Carver, a man by the name of Damon, had brought a small collection of his works. The inspiration for these, he explained, came from a great uncle who enjoyed telling stories about his former boss, named Lugard. When Jason heard this he could hardly contain his excitement. Might this be Lord Lugard? So if this old man could still remember stories, that would certainly be very exciting
Eventually, on the third day, Jason found a way of walking alone with the old man. "So, what shall I tell you about my old boss, Lugard?" The old man smiled as he spoke. ""Even before the time whereby I started employment with My Boss, Lugard and his Lady, my father was in Lugard's service before me. He was the one who accompanied my Boss, Lugard Borgu, to claim it away from the French. You follow?" "Yes sir," Jason nodded, bemused by the man's obvious admiration for his old boss and wondering, as he continued recounting his stories, how much of his ways had been learnt from Lugard. "Sometimes, he would ask for my advice on international affairs."Jason nodded, finding this particularly interesting, as it was a side of Lugard not reflected in the diaries. Jason laughed, his mind now racing with questions as the man continued to talk about his time with Lugard. As he talked, Jason found himself thinking of his father. The more he listened to older people, the more he realized