Echoes Of Fuladu 3: Present

“Matou! What are you doing in there? Sleeping?”

Aunty Bae.

Matou almost laughed through her tears. There was no mistaking that voice. It seemed capable of reaching through walls, doors and even the deepest sleep.

“I’m bathing!”

“Bathing since when? The other children are almost finished! Do you want them to leave you behind?”

“No, Aunty!”

“Then hurry! You think school will wait for you?”

Matou quickly rinsed away the remaining soap. Another cup of cold water brought a fresh gasp, but this time she did not linger. She dried herself hurriedly, wrapped her towel securely and stepped out of the washroom. Aunty Bae was standing nearby. “Look at the time!” Matou lowered her eyes. “Yes, Aunty.”

“Every morning the same thing. Hurry up!”

Matou hurried past her. As she entered the room, however, her sadness began to lift. There, carefully laid out, was her new school uniform. She stopped. For a moment she simply admired it. The uniform had been sewn during her absence, using the measurements of one of the other girls as a guide, with an allowance made for Matou’s slightly broader frame. She had worried that it might not fit properly, but now, holding it against herself, she felt a sudden surge of excitement. It was new. And it was for Class Six.

She slipped into it quickly, smoothing the fabric over her body and checking how it sat at her shoulders. The allowance made it a little loose in places, but that did not trouble her. There was room to grow, and besides, she liked the way the fresh cloth felt against her skin.

She turned slightly to inspect herself.

Jane looked up.

“Matou! You look like a new pupil.”

Matou grinned.

“I am a new pupil.”

Matou had always loved school.

It was one of the few places where her efforts were recognised without constant reference to her position in the household. In the classroom, she was not simply the girl who had been brought from Farato to live with another family.

She was Matou.

The girl who read well.

The girl who answered questions.

The girl who sometimes knew the answer before the teacher finished asking.

There were rules at school, certainly, and punishments too. But there was also a fairness she valued. A correct answer remained correct regardless of who gave it. A well-written exercise earned praise because of the work itself.

And there were her friends.

She wondered whether Haddy Gadjo had returned from her holidays. Whether Yassin Faal had grown taller. Whether Samba Bah would still tease the girls as mercilessly as before. Whether they would all be placed together or separated into different seating arrangements.

She hoped they would be together.

She wanted to tell them about Farato, about the animals, the farming, the long evenings and Bubel’s endless mischief.

She wanted to tell them about Nata’s visit and the extraordinary collection of gifts she had brought back.

But there were things she would not tell.

She would not describe how she had cried through the night before leaving.

She would not explain how cold water had made her miss her mother so much that she had wept in the washroom.

Those feelings belonged to a quieter part of herself.

She was still deciding how to carry them.

“Matou!”

Jane was already at the doorway.

“Are you coming?”

“Yes!”

“Then come! We are going to be late.”

Matou picked up her schoolbag and hurried after her.

Breakfast was eaten quickly amid the usual morning confusion. Someone could not find a shoe. Another child had misplaced a pencil. There were reminders to finish eating, to straighten collars and to make certain nothing had been forgotten.

Matou ate with a better appetite than she had expected.

Aunty Bae inspected the children as they prepared to leave, offering corrections and warnings in her usual commanding voice.

“Don’t go and play on the road!”

“Yes, Aunty.”

“And don’t come back with dirty uniforms!”

“Yes, Aunty.”

“Matou, make sure you keep your things properly.”

“Yes, Aunty.”

The familiar instructions might once have irritated her. That morning they seemed almost part of the excitement.

At last, they were ready.

Matou stepped outside with the others.

The morning had brightened considerably. The September air was fresh, the road still marked in places by the recent rains. People were already moving about their business. Women carried baskets, children hurried along in uniforms, and greetings passed from one compound to another.

Matou adjusted the strap of her bag.

She felt different.

Only the previous day, she had arrived in Bakau with swollen eyes, a heavy heart and a collection of gifts from people she desperately missed.

Now she was walking to school in a new uniform, surrounded by children whose company she enjoyed, preparing to enter the final class of her primary education.

The sadness had not disappeared.

It remained somewhere inside her, ready to return at the sound of a familiar song, the smell of woodsmoke or the memory of her mother’s hands.

But it no longer occupied every corner of her heart.

There was room for something else.

Anticipation.

Pride.

Hope.

As they approached the school, the familiar sounds grew louder.

Children called to one another across the compound. Some ran towards friends they had not seen for weeks. Others stood in small groups, comparing uniforms and recounting holiday adventures. The older pupils carried themselves with an exaggerated seriousness that made Matou smile.

She searched the gathering faces.

Then she heard someone shout.

“Matou!”

She turned.

Haddy Gadjo was waving both arms.

Beside her stood Yassin Faal.

Matou’s face lit up.

“Haddy!”

She hurried towards them, forgetting for a moment every sorrow that had accompanied her return.

“You came!” Haddy exclaimed.

“Of course I came!”

“We thought you were going to stay in Farato forever!”

“I wanted to!”

They laughed.

Yassin examined her critically.

“You have changed.”

“How?”

“You look different.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know. Just different.”

Matou put her hands on her hips.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Maybe.”

They burst into laughter.

Samba Bah appeared shortly afterwards, already grinning as though he had been saving up mischief throughout the holiday.

“So the village girl has returned!”

Matou turned towards him.

“And the troublemaker is still here.”

“Of course. Somebody has to keep this school interesting.”

“You mean somebody has to keep the teachers busy.”

Haddy laughed so hard that she had to hold her stomach.

For several minutes the friends talked over one another, each determined to tell the most important story first. Matou heard about holiday visits, family events, minor quarrels and adventures that grew increasingly dramatic with every retelling.

She had stories too.

But before she could begin describing Bubel’s latest mischief, the school bell rang.

The sound cut through the chatter.

Children began moving towards their classrooms.

Matou looked towards the building where the Class Six pupils would gather.

There it was.

The final year.

She felt a sudden flutter in her stomach.

Class Six meant harder lessons, more demanding teachers and the examinations that would help determine the next stage of her education. It meant that the carefree years of primary school were drawing towards their end.

But it also meant progress.

She was moving forward.

For a brief moment, Matou remembered Yerro’s words on the morning she left Farato.

You know why you are going.

At the time, she had barely been able to hear him through her tears.

Now, standing among her friends, she understood a little more clearly.

Her parents had not sent her away because they loved her less.

They had sent her because they hoped education would open doors that had remained closed to them.

It was a heavy expectation for a twelve-year-old girl.

But Matou was beginning to see that it was also a gift.

She straightened her shoulders.

Haddy nudged her.

“Come, Matou. Class Six!”

Matou smiled.

“Class Six!”

Together they walked towards the classroom.

And as Matou crossed the threshold, with the voices of her friends around her and the smell of chalk and schoolbooks welcoming her back, she felt something she had not experienced since leaving Farato.

She felt entirely present.

Not longing for yesterday.

Not fearing tomorrow.

Simply happy to be where she was.

For the moment, that was enough.