Bockarie had tried talking about the importance of education in his class, and one of the students had asked, “Sir, you are educated, but I do not see any significant changes that education has made in your life. So why should we waste our time and money that we could use to enjoy our lives now as opposed to investing it only to be miserable later?”
“You have made a good point, but think of it as planting a mango tree. It takes years before you can begin to see the fruit. You can also plant something that grows quicker, like cassava or potato, but you want mangoes, too. I hope you get my point, since you are also studying agriculture.” Bockarie walked slowly up and down the classroom, making sure that he made eye contact with every student regarding his last point.
“I understand, sir, but you still see my point that what we see of those educated isn’t encouraging,” the young boy persisted.
“It is indeed not an easy question, but it is worth thinking about.” Bockarie wanted to flog the boy for his tone, but he respected the intelligence in his thinking and also knew the importance of his question. It was difficult to convince anyone to invest in education if those educated were worse off and couldn’t find better jobs for themselves. So his response was, “Times are difficult for many people these days. There used to be a time when an educated person lived better. But that is not the only purpose of education. Its purpose is far greater than just improving your economic condition. In your case, you all need education so that you can be in a position to take advantage of opportunities that will come along. You cannot wait for the opportunity and then get an education when it arrives. You’ll be too late.” The students were quiet, even the young man who had asked the questions.
Bockarie was not sure whether he believed what he had told his students, but he felt that it would do for that moment. At home that evening he spoke to his father, Pa Kainesi, and his friends Pa Moiwa and Mama Kadie about what had happened in school. He remembered how exciting school was when he was a boy and the children had a thirst for learning. All the elders could offer him now was a popular maxim that “no condition is permanent” and that what he was doing was noble. He wanted to respond that although he believed in the maxim, in this part of the country, the condition of their lives and the despair were bringing about changes in people that would become permanent even after the conditions that had brought them about had changed. But one must have faith in the words of the elders and sometimes allow hope breathing room. He resorted to that thought instead.
He went for a stroll, keeping his frame within the darkest body of the night to avoid greetings and conversations. He soon forgot his thoughts and started to observe how some closed their day. At the edge of town he stopped, and his eyes caught the bottom of the veranda where Colonel and his group were tying up bundles of wood for sale. He walked closer to the nearest mango tree, carefully minding the sounds of his feet so that his footsteps didn’t give him away. He leaned on the tree, watching this energetic group of youngsters. They were calculating the amount of money to be made from selling wood.
“Five bundles and one for free so that she will continue buying from us,” Salimatu told Amadu, who jokingly saluted her and started tying the extra bundle. She laughed and continued instructing Victor, Ernest, and Miller how to pack the bundles so that it was clear which was to go to what house.
“That makes it six supplies,” Victor called out to Colonel, who wrote something in a small notebook while standing on a bench over everybody. They all moved quickly. Colonel sat on the ground and started counting their income for that day, which he pulled out of a small bag, looking around to make sure no envious eyes from the outside were on him. Bockarie hid himself some more in the darkness. Colonel separated the money into two piles, one for saving and the other for food and whatever else they needed.
“If we continue saving this way, all of you will start school again next year.” He spoke looking at Salimatu, Victor, Amadu, and Ernest. Though Colonel had brought Miller under his care, he had yet to make him fully part of the family. Therefore, nothing was said about his prospects for school. He didn’t seem to mind.
“Okay, let’s eat. Miller, my man, bring out the food,” Colonel ordered, and Miller ran inside, smiling a bit that he had been given this task for the first time, a sign of a developing trust by Colonel. Miller returned shortly with a big bowl of rice with cassava leaves. They ate together, scooping from a bucket and passing a plastic cup of water around to whoever was thirsty. Bockarie wondered whether Colonel himself would like to go to school or find some work. It was then that Colonel noticed someone in the belly of the darkness and looked directly at where Bockarie stood. He walked away as quickly as possible before Colonel could get up to ascertain further. On his way he passed by Sila’s house. He was teaching his children the alphabet with the letters cut out from old cardboard that he held in his only hand. When the children got a letter right, he would ask them to make a sentence, sometimes acting out a word with a smile always on his face. Sila had started a farm, growing cassavas and potatoes that he sold in exchange for things he needed. He had also, after several visits to Mama Kadie’s home, gotten her and Mahawa to agree to cook for him and look after his children. It all started at that first gathering at Bockarie’s house when they joked with him about what he fed his children.
“Besides the obvious fact that I am missing a hand, I am a man and do not know how to cook as well as you women. So whatever I know how to cook best, which is plain rice, actually plain everything, is what I will make for my children. If you don’t like it, help. Please help?” He had laughed and continued, “I am sick of my own cooking.” He pulled his tongue out and twisted his face to indicate how bad his meals tasted. His children concurred, making faces as though they had just tasted a bitter medicine and quickly turning away when he looked in their direction.
Bockarie remembered admiring how honest Sila was, without any care about what others thought. He continued, his eyes’ final feast turning to Mama Kadie’s house. Mahawa and Mama Kadie sat together by a dimly lit fire chatting about something that made both of them laugh and then embrace. The old woman’s face was filled with joy as she stared at Mahawa and Tornya. Mahawa, on the other hand, had one of those calm faces that showed satisfaction but with a deep torment in their stillness. Bockarie sighed, not really knowing whether it was for him or for others. What he did know was that he had to return home before Kula started getting worried. When he arrived home, his children and wife were reading or doing homework. He watched them quietly, a sight that changed his mood and summoned the dancing of happy spirits on his face.
“What are you reading, Kula?” he asked, and the children acknowledged his presence either with a wave or with their eyes and then went back to what they were doing.
“Someone threw this on the street. It is a novel and in good condition. I just started, and if it is any good I will lend it to you for a price.” She chuckled and motioned for her husband to come and sit on the bench next to her chair.
* * *
The day after he had the conversation with the elders, Bockarie left for school early to avoid the melancholic faces on the road, including those of his children, whose doldrums especially tormented him. However, he encountered Benjamin, who was in a better mood, and that cheered him up. He just stood by the road smiling, clearly waiting for Bockarie.
“I have an idea that will make us some additional money, young teacher friend who always looks serious.” Benjamin started walking backward so that he could face Bockarie as he spoke.
“What is this idea and please explain slowly, not too fast.” Bockarie tried to catch up with Benjamin, who was now moving faster.
“You don’t even know when you are funny sometimes. So I could speak slowly and walk faster or walk slowly and speak faster.” His actions mimicked his words.
“Okay, save your answer. The plan is we should start after-school lessons, particularly for students who are going to take the national exam.” He jumped in the
air and now walked forward, and at a slow pace.
“It is indeed a brilliant plan, my friend,” Bockarie responded, laughing a bit.
“I did not see any excitement from your body language, just your voice went up a bit. Anyhow, let us meet and discuss later,” Benjamin concluded as they neared the campus. They decided to meet in the small windowless staff room at lunchtime.
When they arrived at the staff room, the principal was sitting in a corner hunched over a book and a bag filled with cash, new notes that hadn’t yet been worn out by the hands of everyday survivors. They froze and thought, Finally the rest of our salaries have arrived. His back to the door, the principal was consumed with the contents of his bag, licking his fingers to carefully count the stacks of bills. He would make a note in the book next to him on the ground whenever he paused in the counting.
Bockarie glanced at Benjamin with eyes that said they would have to either say something or leave quietly. Benjamin thought that any movement would reveal them, so they might as well announce their presence.
“Good afternoon, sir.” The principal’s body jumped with surprise and his fingers halted. He slowly turned his face to look at them while making sure that his body shielded the bag from their view, and as he stood, he covered the bag with the long book they now recognized as the ledger listing the teachers, their salaries, and attendance records. The principal held their eyes, making sure they didn’t drift to the bag on the ground. He inhaled deeply, perhaps searching for words, and his forehead was sweating now. Bockarie and Benjamin looked at each other, trying to understand why their superior was acting so strangely.
“So, gentlemen, this is a surprise for me to see that teachers indeed are making use of this room.” His nervousness was now apparent even in his tone.
“Mr. Fofanah, we can go somewhere else, sir. We just needed a place to have a private conversation.” Benjamin pointed to the back of the building.
“No, gentlemen. I should leave you here and go to my office. I only came because some workers were fixing a cabinet in there.” The principal lowered himself, again placing himself between the bag and the men, and slid the ledger between the handles of the bag. With a series of nervous nods, he made his way toward the door, but as he was walking out, his hands shook and the ledger fell.
All three pairs of eyes landed on a page that listed the names of more than twenty teachers, teachers who were not at the school. And next to their names were the salaries they’d supposedly received for three months of the year. The principal froze; he could not bring himself to pick the book up off the ground. Bockarie leaned over and handed it to him. The principal plucked it from his fingers and hurriedly left them standing there speechless.
* * *
Bockarie sat down on one of the benches. “Well, now we know why he is always in a good mood.”
“What are we going to do about what we just saw?” Benjamin asked.
“It is a difficult situation, my friend. We are getting our salaries. He has not tampered with that, as you saw. He has just added a lot more teachers than we are here. And we do not know anyone up top to bring this complaint to. They are probably all in on this behavior.” He pondered. “Let’s think about it for a few days.”
“Now to our meeting,” Benjamin said, to get their minds off the situation. He outlined the after-school lesson idea and they agreed on first printing flyers, which cost money, to hang around town and on the school grounds about the lessons at Bockarie’s house. They needed only a blackboard, which they could take from the school’s pile of old and unused junk. They both would save chalk, when it was available during school hours, by writing less and dictating more.
At the conclusion of school that day, they stayed behind and looked through the old blackboards until they found one they could easily rehabilitate. They carried it awkwardly, each holding an end, walking the miles home. They stopped every now and then to rest and joked that at least they didn’t have to run into the bushes to hide from the dust, as the blackboard took most of it. At the bottom of the hill during a respite, the principal approached on his motorcycle. He blew the horn more than necessary to get their attention.
“This is the school’s property and you have removed it without permission. Therefore, I must report it and you will be sacked for stealing.” He stopped and got off the motorcycle.
“It is an almost rotten blackboard and you were going to throw it out anyway.” Benjamin’s fury was apparent in his deep, resonant voice.
“I will be the judge of whether I was going to throw it out or not,” he sternly responded.
“We will take it back, then,” Bockarie said, as he didn’t want himself or Benjamin losing his only job.
“It won’t make a difference. You have already stolen it.” He got back on his motorcycle and started the engine as though he wanted the sound of it to cover the things he said next.
“Now, if your memories can erase what your eyes saw earlier, then I saw nothing of this. Why do you need this old thing, anyway?”
Bockarie quickly explained their plan, and the principal agreed that it was a great idea not only for making extra cash but also for providing needed assistance to some students. He said if they kept their mouths shut, he would even help them print the flyers for free using the printer in his office. Of course, this meant he would have to start the generator that required petrol that he said he would gladly provide and also some chalk to start with. He left without waiting for their response, as he knew they had no choice in the matter; he had the power to fire them and they couldn’t bring their case to anyone. They knew no one and wouldn’t be granted an appointment to see the educational district officer, who was currently being investigated for worse. They also needed the work to take care of their families. So quietly, and feeling defeated, their morals imprisoned by necessity, they conjured whatever meager courage they had left to carry the blackboard, which had suddenly gotten heavier.
* * *
They got the flyers printed by the principal, who still continued his inspirational messages. He told Bockarie and Benjamin that he wasn’t doing anything wrong so he felt no guilt. He continued with an expression that they hated, as the very idea had already destroyed the country: “Where a cow is tied is where it grazes.” He added that it was “my time to graze and the school is my field, my little portion of the bigger grazing field for those whose time it is to eat.”
Bockarie stepped in front of Benjamin to make sure he didn’t hit Mr. Fofanah. Benjamin’s hands were shaking as he uttered his response under his breath. “If it is his time to eat, what about other people who must eat, too? We all must eat, otherwise there is no peace.” This was exactly what every struggling man, woman, and child felt, but this sentiment was never heard even when spoken as loudly as possible because those who were eating now had become deaf, even though they had been on the other side of the fence a short while ago.
They went home defeated and worked on making the blackboard usable. They knew a trick from when they were students, which was breaking open old D and A batteries, extracting the black substance in them, then crushing and mixing it with water. They thoroughly rubbed the substance on the surface of the board and left it to dry in the sun. Later they wiped the residue to make the board smoother for writing.
“It looks new, man. We could sell this thing back to some other school if there was another in the area,” Benjamin exclaimed.
The lessons started a few days later, and some money was coming in to lighten the burden for them. Still, they had to literally threaten parents in order to get the fees. Parents promised to pay but would hide whenever they saw the two teachers in town. Bockarie and Benjamin had to do one of the things they hated most, which was refusing to teach eager and intelligent students. However, if they made one exception, then the whole business would fail because all the parents would no longer want to pay, knowing that the teachers had a weakness for students who wanted to learn. Such was the game of testing and juggling morals amo
ng people waiting for their conditions to change. The only person who paid fees consistently without waiting for the impatient words of the teachers was Colonel. He had decided to enroll Amadu, Salimatu, Victor, and Ernest for introductory English and mathematics classes. Miller said he wasn’t interested, but he always went along with the others and sat at ears’ distance of the lesson. The teachers never sent him away.
“Teachers B to the power of 2. I would like to do a ‘sibling payment’ so that they can start preparing for school next year.” Colonel had approached Benjamin and Bockarie, pointing to the others. The teachers had laughed at the humor and cleverness in his sentence, but he didn’t. He discussed with them a reduction in price and promised to pay on time, guaranteed. Afterward the teachers considered inviting Colonel to attend school, but something about his demeanor made them hold back. When the discussion came up with the elders, they remarked, “You are speaking about Man in Charge? If he wants to attend school, he will do so on his own.”
* * *
“Bockarie, my brother, you are too patient. We have been thinking too long about what to do with the business of the principal,” Benjamin whispered, as some students were around and the elders, too, weren’t too far.
“Speaking of our devil.” Bockarie shouldered Benjamin, whose attention was turned to make sure the students had all brought their notebooks. He looked up to see the principal arriving on his motorcycle, its engine revving up the tiny slope to a halt. Benjamin tried to subdue his anger while urging the students, who had been hanging around on the stoop waiting and comparing notes, some provoking their friends who jokingly chased them off in the yard, to take their seats on the bamboo mat on the floor of the veranda.