“Zero breakfast, one lunch, one dinner. It could be worse. In Nigeria, it’s zero zero one. Or sometimes zero zero zero.”
The other prisoners laugh.
“Oga, Samuel. You’ve been in prison in every country in West Africa.”
“You can call me a prison tourist.”
There is a bench in my cell and I sit.
“How long have you been here?”
“Two weeks,” Samuel says. “I’ll be out soon. My wife will see to it or maybe one of my sons. What about you? Why are you here?”
“I’m not sure. I think there’s been a mistake.”
“So do we all.”
My cell is roughly the same size as theirs. I count seven men. Most of them are shirtless, some without trousers. There is a bucket in the corner. A man crouches over it and shits. The smell fills the air and we avert our gazes. Outside, a fly dashes itself against the window, desperate to get in. It will exhaust itself soon and drop dead. The door to the outer world opens.
“Anna Graham.”
“Yes.”
“You’re free to go.”
The guard unlocks my cell. The prisoners begin to stir.
“Obroni is leaving already.”
“Obroni, I need a lawyer.”
“Remember me to my wife, Bunmi! Sixty-seven Peterson Road,” I hear Samuel shout as the door clangs shut behind me. I am led to the reception where Sule is waiting by the front desk in a suit. I squint in the daylight.
“You’re bleeding,” he says.
They return my handbag, and my gifts for Rose and Katherine. Sule carries both. Outside, the courtyard is full of policemen on parade, raising dust as they march. There are women selling food, ladling stew and rice on to the plates of off-duty officers. There are always women selling food in Bamana. I sit in front.
“You need a tetanus shot,” Sule says.
“I’ve been vaccinated. I called you yesterday. Twice.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, and bows his head. “I didn’t see it on time.”
“There’s no record of my passport on the Bamanaian database. That’s why I was detained. They said I’m on a no-fly list.”
“I’m still trying to get to the bottom of this,” he says.
“You made the passport arrangements.” It is his fault and he does not argue.
“I know,” he says. “It will all be taken care of.” His deference deflates my anger.
“When can I go to England?”
“Soon.”
We drive to Kofi’s mansion in the Peak. He is waiting outside, standing under the flag, hands crossed behind his back. It is the same pose as the first time we met.
“Your face,” he says, when I get down from the car. He puts his hand on my cheek. It is an intimate gesture, fitting for a father to a child. I step back from his touch.
“Who did this to you?” he asks.
“I don’t know. It was dark.”
“Owusu must be behind this. It will all be taken care of. Don’t worry. As long as you’re in this house, you’re safe. Come with me. You must be tired. Sule will bring your bag.”
“I don’t have it. It’s still at the airport.”
“Of course. Don’t worry. Sule will arrange everything. Come.”
I follow him through the entrance of double doors, up a wide staircase, down a corridor, and into a place that has been prepared for me. The curtains are closed and the interior is dim, as if the room is in mourning. I sit on the bed, where a fresh towel and dressing gown are laid out. When he is gone, I take off my clothes and lie down. Kofi’s enemies have become mine. This is what it means perhaps to be family.
I sleep till late in the afternoon. I wake up thinking about my mother. We hardly spoke when she was dying. She could lie for hours in her thoughts.
“Are you in pain?” I would come in and ask.
“Yes,” she would answer, or “No,” sometimes, but she never said any more. Was she thinking about Francis Aggrey? Had he faded completely from her mind by then?
I get out of bed and feel unsteady. The room is too big for one person. There are shadows in the far corners, areas of darkness. I have left marks on the white sheets. I wear the dressing robe and go to the bathroom. The mirror shows my eye is bruised black. My cheekbone a more delicate purple. I shower longer than is necessary. The water rushes out in a strong jet, the highest pressure I have felt in Bamana.
When I am done, I put on the dressing gown and return to my bed. I am ready to call Rose. Her phone rings just once before she picks up.