Baking Cakes in Kigali (30 page)

BOSCO SIGHED HEAVILY
and banged the palm of his right hand down hard on the steering-wheel of Ken Akimoto’s Pajero. Angel was right: it
was
good for Alice that her father was trying hard to secure a scholarship for her to study in America. But it was certainly not good for Bosco.

“Now, Auntie, what am I supposed to do while she’s in America for her degree? For four years, Auntie. Four years is a very, very long time!”

“I’m sure she’ll come home for holidays during that time, Bosco.
Eh
, Bosco! Be careful of these potholes! I don’t want my teapot to break.”

In her lap, Angel cradled a beautiful blue-grey teapot, hand-made by Batwa potters at the workshop outside Kigali that she had just visited with Bosco. She had thought long and hard about what to give Leocadie and Modeste as a wedding present, and at last she had decided that the most appropriate gift would be some of this pottery. The Batwa were a tiny minority in Rwanda, small not just in number but also in
stature, and Angel had not heard about them before she came to live in Kigali. Of course she had heard about Hutus and Tutsis—in 1994 the whole world had heard about them—but she had not heard about this third group of tiny people who, long ago, used to live in the forests. They, too, had suffered terrible violence and discrimination, but Angel could not remember hearing about them in any of the news reports. It was only right, she thought, to commemorate the union of two of the three groups with a gift made by the third.

She had gone to the pottery workshop with no clear idea of exactly what she was looking for. It was Bosco who had pointed the teapot out to her. He had said that it was a good gift for Angel to give because she was always giving people tea to drink; it was something that would always remind Leocadie of her wedding-mother. And he was right.

“Sorry, Auntie,” he said now, slowing down the Pajero. “Auntie, it’s not just that Alice will be away for four years. You know that since I got Perfect as my niece, I’ve wanted a baby of my own. Now, how can I wait four years for that?”

“But, Bosco, you knew when you met Alice that she intended to study at university. She was not one of the Girls Who Mean Business.”

“Yes, Auntie. But I thought she would attend classes here, at KIST.”

“And how was she going to attend classes
and
have a baby?”

“There are classes in the evenings, Auntie. She could look after the baby in the day while I’m at work, and then in the evening I could look after the baby while she attends classes.”

“That’s a good plan, Bosco. But is it a plan that you and Alice made together?”

“No, Auntie,” said Bosco, slowing down further as he navigated his way around two cyclists.

“These days a man cannot make decisions on his own,
Bosco. It was different before—when I was your age—but these days a man cannot just tell a girl what to do. There has to be consultation, negotiation. I’m sure Alice knows about these things, because Sophie is her teacher.”

Bosco was quiet for a while before he said, “Then, Auntie, is it okay for me to ask her not to go to America?”

Angel looked at him. “What do you think my answer to that question is going to be?”

He made a tutting sound with his tongue against the roof of his mouth and sighed heavily. “It’s not okay, Auntie.”

“Yes. If she gets the opportunity to go, then of course she must. Alice is still young, Bosco.”

“I know that, Auntie. If she goes, then I think I must love somebody else instead. Somebody who is not so young.”

“
Eh
, Bosco, the way you say that makes me nervous. It makes me think that you already know this somebody else that you’re going to love.”

“No, Auntie.”

“Are you sure, Bosco?”

“I’m sure, Auntie.”

Angel was not convinced. “Are you very, very sure, Bosco?”

“Eh, Auntie!” Bosco gave an embarrassed smile. “Okay, I thought for a while of loving Odile. But Odile cannot bear children.”

“Eh? She cannot?” This was something that Angel had suspected, because it explained why Odile had never married. The purpose of marrying was to have children, and a woman who could not bear children was of little use to a man.

“Uh-uh. In the genocide they cut her with a machete in her parts, her woman’s parts. I like Odile very, very much. She is very, very nice. But I want to have babies, so I’m not going to love her. No, Auntie, there is nobody else that I’m going to love. Not yet.”

“That’s good. Because Alice has not gone to America yet,
and maybe she won’t go at all. It’s not easy to get a scholarship.”

“I know, Auntie. I’m just trying to plan ahead.”

“
Eh
, Bosco!” Angel spoke so loudly that Bosco almost swerved the Pajero off the road. She clutched her teapot protectively. “Sorry, Bosco. I forgot to tell you! It’s only now that you’re talking about planning ahead that I remember.”

“What, Auntie?”

“Eh! Captain Calixte proposed marriage to Linda!”

“To
Linda?”
Bosco stared at Angel with his mouth open. “Is Auntie serious?”

“Watch the road, Bosco! Of course I’m serious! It was less than one week after Linda heard that she was divorced.
Eh
, news travels very fast here!”

“Very, very fast, Auntie. Please tell me that Linda refused him.”

“Of course she refused him.”

“That is good, Auntie.”

“She’s still sleeping with the CIA.”

“That’s bad, Auntie. Does the CIA’s wife suspect?”

This was a difficult question. As far as Angel knew, Jenna suspected only that her husband worked for the CIA. But Jenna was her customer, so Angel was not at liberty to disclose this to Bosco. Okay, Linda was also Angel’s customer. But Linda had never confided in her about sleeping with Jenna’s husband, so it was fine to talk about that. But Jenna’s suspicions were a different matter.

“I think she might suspect something. But she’s very busy with her literacy class now.”

“Does the CIA suspect?”

“No. He still has no idea of what’s happening in his own apartment every morning.” Angel laughed, and Bosco joined in.

“He’s not a good CIA,” he said, shaking his head.

They drove in silence. Angel ran her hands over the shiny roundness of the teapot in her lap, feeling very happy with her purchase. She was happy, too, that Ken had agreed to let Bosco drive her to the Batwa pottery workshop. And of course she was happy that Bosco was her friend.

“
Eh
, Auntie!” said Bosco suddenly. “I forgot to tell you! Alice told me that her friend, the one who is the sister of Odile’s brother’s wife, that friend told Alice that Odile has a boyfriend now!”

“A boyfriend? Odile? Are you sure?”

“Very, very sure, Auntie.”

“Eh! Do you know this boyfriend’s name, Bosco?”

“No, Auntie. But Odile’s brother’s wife told her sister, and then her sister told Alice, that he works in a bank.”

A wide smile lit up Angel’s face. She was very happy indeed.

LATER
that afternoon, as she finished decorating a cake that had been ordered for a retirement party the following day, Angel received a visit from Jeanne d’Arc. The children had just settled down to do their homework in the living room, so Angel made tea and took her guest down to the compound’s yard, where they sat on
kangas
spread out in the shade.

Jeanne d’Arc was an extremely beautiful young girl, and it was easy to see why men were attracted to her—even though she dressed much more modestly than many of the other girls in her profession. Today she wore a long maroon skirt over low-heeled black sandals that revealed toenails painted in a dark red colour. The same colour adorned the nails on her long, slim fingers. Draped around her shoulders and secured with a small gold brooch at one shoulder was a thin black shawl that hung in soft folds to her knees. Long, thin extensions fell down her back from neat rows radiating back from her forehead.

“I’m happy that you came to see me, Jeanne d’Arc,” began Angel. “I have something for you.”

“For me, Auntie?” Jeanne d’Arc looked confused.

“Yes.” Angel reached into her brassiere, where she had slipped the money when she had left Jeanne d’Arc in the kitchen to watch that the milk did not boil over. She held the roll of Rwandan francs out to her guest. Jeanne d’Arc looked at the money but did not take it.

With a furrowed brow she said, “What is it that you want me to do, Auntie?”

Angel gave her what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “This is your money, Jeanne d’Arc. I got it for you from the Canadian.”

“
Eh?”
Jeanne d’Arc still did not take the money.

“Yes. I know that he took back from you the money that he owed you, and also some other money that was already yours. I don’t know how much that was, but this is what I got from him.” Angel took Jeanne d’Arc’s right hand and placed the money in it, closing her fingers around it.

“Oh, Auntie,” said Jeanne d’Arc, “I am so ashamed! I tried to steal from that man. I should not have done that.” She tried to hand the money back to Angel, but Angel raised both her hands with the palms facing forward and would not take it. “Please, Auntie, I cannot have this.”

“Jeanne d’Arc, did you not do sex with the Canadian?”

“Yes, Auntie, I did, but …”

Angel gave her no time to continue. “So did you not earn that money?”

“Yes, Auntie, but …”

“And did he not take from you money that you had already earned?”

“Yes, Auntie, but …”

“But nothing, Jeanne d’Arc! Okay, you tried to steal some money from him. But he took that money back, so that matter
is finished. And in fact
he
stole that money from
you.
That money is rightfully yours and you must have it. Do you not want the money that you earned? Do you not need it?”
“Eh
, I need it, Auntie.”

“Then you must have it. I insist. I will not take it back, Jeanne d’Arc.”

Angel sipped at her tea for a while to give the girl time to think, and watched her taking deep breaths and turning the roll of banknotes over and over in her hand. At last she looked up at Angel.

“Thank you, Auntie, I will take it. Thank you for getting it for me.”

“No problem.”

Then Jeanne d’Arc peeled off one of the notes and handed it to Angel. “Auntie, I would like to contribute to the bride-price for Modeste and Leocadie. I was going to contribute only a small amount, but now I can give more.”

Angel accepted the note and tucked it into her brassiere, watching as the girl placed the rest of the notes inside a small black handbag.

“Thank you, Jeanne d’Arc. The herd of cows is becoming big now.”

“I’m glad, Auntie.
Eh
, I’m happy to have my money; thank you again.” Her beautiful face broke into a smile. “It has saved me from having to pay for our room with sex.”

“Good. You said
our
room, Jeanne d’Arc. Do you share a room with another girl?”

“No, Auntie, I have my two young sisters and a small boy. I’ve been their mother since ’94.”

“But you look like you still need a mother yourself! How old are you now?”

“I think I’m seventeen, Auntie.”

“Seventeen?”

“Yes, Auntie.”

“So you were eleven when you became their mother?”

“Yes, Auntie.” She shrugged. “I was the oldest one left. Our parents were late, and also our brothers.” She shrugged again.

“And the small boy?”

“After we fled into the forest, we found him there by himself. We couldn’t just leave him, he was very small then.” Another shrug.

“And how have you been taking care of these children, Jeanne d’Arc?”

“At first—afterwards—we went back to our family’s farm. We grew potatoes and cassava there, and some bananas. But it was very difficult for us because the men that we had seen kill our family, they were still there, they were our neighbours on the other hills. Some people came from an organisation, some
Wazungu
, and they tried to help us, but they could not find anybody from the boy’s family who was still alive. Really, we could not stay there. Then we all came to Kigali.”

“And have you been prostituting yourself since then?”

“Yes, Auntie. Those men had already violated me. I was already spoiled, so it didn’t matter. But my sisters were not spoiled, so I wouldn’t let them work. My work pays for their schooling and our clothes and food, and also our rent.” She flashed a beautiful, shy smile at Angel.

“Eh, I’m proud of you, Jeanne d’Arc.”

“Thank you, Auntie. Now my first sister, Solange, she’s going for her confirmation in the church, and I want her to have a party with her friends to celebrate. I’ve come to ask Auntie to make a cake for her party.”

“
Eh!
I will be honoured to make that cake!”

“Thank you, Auntie. Just something small and simple, please.”

“It will be a beautiful confirmation cake, Jeanne d’Arc. I’ll give you a very good price. Tell me, how old is Solange?”

“At her school they say she’s eleven. I think she’s twelve or thirteen, but she’s very small. I think the reason she’s small isn’t because she’s young; I think it’s because she didn’t get enough food for a long time.”

“Is she about the same size as Grace, or as Faith?”

Jeanne d’Arc thought for a while. “Maybe she’s like Faith, but I’m not sure. Maybe she’s smaller.” She shrugged.

“Okay. Both of my girls have already been confirmed. Grace had her own confirmation dress, and then it was altered for Faith. Why don’t you bring Solange to visit us, then we can see if the dress fits her. If it needs altering in any way, you can take it to a place in Biryogo where there are some ladies who are learning to sew. They do good work and they’re very cheap. I’ll tell you where the place is. Solange will have a nice dress for her confirmation. She’ll feel very proud.”

Tears began to well in Jeanne d’Arc’s eyes. “Auntie, you are very kind. It hasn’t been easy for me to be a mother to children who are not my children, and now you are being a mother to me when I’m not your child. You are Leocadie’s mother for the wedding, too. And I know that your children here are not your children but your grandchildren. I’m sorry that your own children are late. They were very lucky to have you as their mother.”