Songs from ne Soul Stories from Around the World = a s = Fa 3S 8 Fs & icSONGS FROM THE SOUL Stories from Around the World These stories come from different countries, but often show that life has the same problems, the same surprises, the same tears and laughter wherever we are. Children are cruel to parents, and Parents are cruel to children in India or in Britain. Love and kindness are strong in New Zealand and in India. In Malaysia Samy finds good luck and Chai finds bad luck; Linda finds a strange and terrible truth in Nigeria; in India young, pretty Kanna finds that the world is a hard, hard place. And Gbenga, sitting in front of a computer screen in a cyber café in Nigeria, thinks he is very clever ~ but he quickly learns that he is not as clever as he thought he was... BOOKWORMS WORLD STORIES English has become an international language, and is used on every continent, in many vatieties, for all kinds of purposes. Bookworms World Stories are the latest addition to the Oxford Bookworms Library. Their aim is to bring the best of the world’s stories to the English Janguage learner, and to celebrate the use of English for storytelling all around the world. Jennifer Bassett Series EditorNOTE ON THE STORIES The eight stories in this book were selected from the winning stories in the 2005 and 2006 Commonwealth Short Story Competitions. Overall Winner and Regional Winner (Asia) 2005 Preeta Krishna (India) for ‘Treason’ Regional Winner (Europe) 2005 ‘Mary McCluskey (UK) for ‘Complicity’ Winners of Highly Commended stories 2005 Anthony C. Diala (Nigeria) for ‘The Strange Child” Suchitea Karthik Kumar (India) for ‘Chinna and Muthu’ Winners of Highly Commended stories 2006 Shahana Chaudhury (India) for ‘The Evening Train’ Susan Costello (New Zealand) for ‘With Sincere Intent” Folakemi Emem-Akpan (Nigeria) for ‘The Deceivers’ Nandita Ray (Malaysia) for “The Luck of Four’ ~ OXFORD BOOKWORMS LIBRARY World Stories Songs from the Soul Stories from Around the World Stage 2 (700 headwords) Series Editor: Jennifer Bassett Founder Editor: Tricia Hedge Activities Editors: Jennifer Bassett and Christine LindopNOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATORS CHANDRAMOHAN KULKARNI (illustrations on pages 3, 5, 18, 20) was born in 1956 in Pune, Maharashtra, India. He has been a freelance artist for many years, working in book illustration and cover design. He has done almost 5,000 cover designs, and illustrates contemporary literature in Marathi, a local Indian language. His work is shown in exhibitions throughout India. JO THAPA (illustrations on pages 9, 10, 23, 25) lives in Wellington, New Zealand, with her partner, son, cat, dog, and two birds. She isan illustrator and a painter, working in both digital and traditional painted mediums. She has had many exhibitions of her paintings in Wellington. Z1D (illustrations on pages 13, 15), a Malaysian now living in Singapore, was born in 1983. His full name is Mohammad Yazid Kamal Baharin, and he works as a freelance painter, illustrator, and comic artist in both real and digital media. He has done several art shows. MESHACK ASARE (illustrations on pages 29, 30, 38, 40) was born in Ghana in 1945. He studied Art, and later, Social Anthropology, and was a teacher for many years. He is now a very well-known writer and illustrator of children’s books. His books have won numerous awards, including Noma and UNESCO awards, and have been published in ‘many countries. ANURADHA THAKUR (illustrations on pages 33, 35) was born in Maharashtra, India. She has been a freelance artist for more than twenty years, and has had exhibitions of her work all over India. Her work has also received several awards, She travels widely around the country to learn about tribal life styles for her work, and she has run art workshops for rural people. RETOLD BY JENNIFER BASSETT Songs from the Soul Stories from Around the World _— OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESSOXFORD Great hrendon Stet, Oxford oxs 60 Oxford University Pres isa department ofthe University of Oxia. Ife the Unive objective ofexclence inner sol, sh esucation by publishing worden ‘Auedand Cape Town Dat Salsa HongKong Karachi ‘Kuala lumpar Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Nairobi ‘New eth Shanghai Tape Toronto ‘with ces in ‘Argentina Austria Breil Chile CoechRepuble France Greece Goatemala Hngary tly Japan Poland Porigal Singapore South Kors Switzerland Thiland Turkey Ultsne Vietnam ‘oxronn and orrono enous are registered ade marks of (odor Unsensty Press in he Uk and in cern oer cuties Conte foal: ‘The Evening Trae © Shahana Chaudry 2006; Wh Se net © Susan Costello 2008 ‘The Srang Cid © Antony Dials 205; The Dees © Folker! Een-Apan 2008 “ren © Pret esha 2005 Compt © Mary McC 2005 (in ta © Saris Ramat 208; he ik of ar © Nanda Ray 2006 “Tis simplified eon © Oxford Univrity Pree 201. “The mora righ ofthe author have ben ase! ‘Datrbave right Oxford Univers Pes mak) ist published in Oxford Bookworms 3082 Nounauthorized photocopying Alright reserve No part ofthis publeation may be repodice, _sore ina erie system, oranse a any frm or yay tes, ‘hou the ror persion a writing of Oxford Unversity Pres ora expres permed nw or ander etme agree with he appropriate ‘eprowaphis rights ongantsation Enqultesconcering producto cutie the scope ofthe above should be sen othe ELT Rights Department, ‘Oxford Univesity Press, atthe adress above You must ot iculate his book in any oer binding or cover ‘dou mst impose this mae condon on sna Ay websites refered on this publication ae inthe public domain and ‘heir adress are provided by Oxford University Press for information ony ‘Oxford Univer ress cas ay eons or the content, rsx 978039499682 complete recording of his Bookworms eon of Songs fo Sos ruben in andi pk 0978 01547904 Word coun main tex 5 965, or more information onthe Oxford Bookworms Lbrsy, ‘lt ww.cup.comelibookworms ‘Te stories are selected fom the winning entries ofthe Commonwealth shor Story (Compection administered theCommuanwealth Broadcasting Anactaton and funded by "he Commonseats Foundation These rit te flowing or ern a adapt and singly cpr ten: ‘Shabana Chaschuy for The Even Tras Susan Costello or Wa Sere ent ‘Anthony Dias for Th Sage On Folakems mem Alp for The Deco Peet Kesha for Irs: Mary Meuse for Comply Schnee teed inane iatieteies CONTENTS INTRODUCTION NOTE ON THE STORIES NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATORS NOTE ON THE LANGUAGE INDIA, ‘The Evening Train Shabana Chaudbury BRITAIN, Complicity Mary McCluskey MALAYSIA ‘The Luck of Four Nandita Ray INDIA Chinna and Muthu Suchitra Karthik Kumar NEW ZEALAND With Sincere Intent Susan Costello NIGERIA ‘The Strange Child Anthony C. Diala INDIA ‘Treason Preeta Krishna NIGERIA ‘The Deceivers Folakemi Emem-Akpan GLOSSARY activities: Before Reading activities: After Reading ABOUT THE AUTHORS ABOUT THE BOOKWORMS LIBRARY viii u 16 21 26 31 36 saees 53NOTE ON THE LANGUAGE ‘There are many varieties of English spoken in the world, and the characters in these stories sometimes use non-standard forms (for example, leaving out auxiliary verbs such as do, have, and are). This is how the authors of the original stories represented the spoken language that their characters would actually use in real life. There are also words that are usually only found in a particular variety of English (for example, Jab in Malaysian English), and a few words from other languages (for example, kumkum from Sanskrit). All these words are cither explained in the stories or in the glossary on page 41 The Evening Train SHAHANA CHAUDHURY “ A story from India, retold by Jennifer Bassett Life in a big city is fast, busy, always changing. Life in a village is not so fast, and change comes slowly. Old people don't like change; they like things to stay the same. But to the young, a city is full of excitement, of promise, of change. Keshto, an old man in a quiet Indian village, is happy with his place in the world. But his son, Karthik, is not happy... the last potato was ready. Keshto put it into the basket and stood up. His thin old body was tired after hours of work on the potatoes. Slowly, he walked out of the hut. The hot afternoon lay across the countryside like a sleepy lover. The green rice fields, the dark mango trees, the river ~ all were still and quiet. Soon, the afternoon will wake up, Keshto thought. The fields, the trees, and the river will come alive again, and a little later, the evening train will roll in to the station. People will get out of the train for a few minutes to drink Balai’s ginger tea and to breathe the sweet2 _ Songs from the Soul: Stories from Around the World village air. And then, they will buy my beautiful golden potato cakes and eat them on the way home. This was Keshto’s life. Twenty-five years of making potato cakes. Every day he waited for the evening train to stop at the little village station on its journey from ‘one city to another. He smiled at the tired faces of the passengers, and they smiled back and bought his delicious potato cakes. Then they got back into the train and hurried away to their bigger, better, city lives. In the old days, Karthik, his only child, was always with him when he brought his potato cakes to the station. The boy loved to watch the train and the passengers then. But the years came and went, and the boy’s mother died. Now Karthik loved the city, and trains no longer interested him. ae I know a man in the city, father. He can help me to start a food stall. I will get rich, and then you can stop working; you can rest, and take life easy. No, son. We belong here. Everyone has a place under the sun. That is the way things are. Father, this is a new world. People change their place. You and I can have a better life if we want to. This is a good life, son. And you can make it better. Borrow money from the government and start your own business. I hear they are offering good money, and easy payments. The Evening Train ‘Father, this is a new world. People change their place. You and I can have a better life if we want to.4 Songs from the Soul: Stories from Around the World But that’s here, in the village, father. And I want to go to the city, Then you must go without me. I cannot, father, can I? ae The sound of bells brought Keshto back to the real world. He looked around. It was late, and Karthik was still not here. These days Keshto could not make all the potato cakes and cook them without help, Behula, the little girl with strange green eyes, came past Keshto’s hut. She made a pretty picture, following her cow and carrying a stick that was much bigger than she was. ? she ‘Grandfather, do you have a potato cake for m asked. Keshto smiled. “Come back later and I will have one for you. No, Iwill have two for you. Oh, have you seen Karthik dada?” Behula saw everything, knew everything, The child never rested, moving around the village like a playful little wind. If you wanted to know something, you just asked Behula, “He was sitting by the river, talking to a man.” “Which man?” Behula shook her head. A man, any man. She didn’t know. She ran happily after her cow, a child with no cares in the world. The Evening Train 5 Strange, thought Keshto. Everyone knew everyone in the village. Who was this stranger, sitting by the river, talking to his son? But now, he had to make the petato cakes before it was too late. He stood up, his seventy years heavy on his thin back and his tired legs. He walked slowly into the hut and towards the big basket full of potatoes. It was already dark inside the hut. Outside, down at the station, the evening train rolled in. And Keshto knew it was too late.Complicity MARY McCLUSKEY ¥ A story from Britain, retold by Jennifer Bassett Children see and hear a lot. Parents don't always understand this. They think they can have secrets, and their children will never know. Emma and her brother Jimmy are going with their mother to get a chicken from the farmer. During the visit Emma watches and listens — and thinks she understands . . . Or does she? fe wanted to go with Mam and we said so, loudly, Jimmy and me. We wanted to ride on the old country bus, out of the dirty, smelly air of the village, with its crowded little houses. All the houses belonged to the mine and were just the same — long crowded lines ‘of them, going up the hill ro the mine at the top. The air at the farm smelled soft and clean. You could almost taste it in your mouth. Mam was taking a jug of her homemade cider to the farm, The farmer would have the cider, and Mam would take one of the farmer’s chickens. That was the agreement. A jug of cider for a chicken. Complicity 7 ‘My father, sitting by the fire, nodded. “Take them,’ he said. Since his accident at the mine, he didn’t like us playing around him in the house. Mam hesitated. ‘Just this once,’ she said. When we climbed down from the bus, Big Dan Stockley was there at the gate. He was a heavy man, with big red hands and strong arms, A face brown from the sun, with very light blue eyes. He was the kind of man who stared a lot ~ at me, at my mam. “You're late, Rose,” he said. He was looking at the jug in her hands. is tongue wet his top lip. ‘You've no chickens left?” she asked. ‘None caught,’ he said. He pointed to the yard, where there were a few chickens. ‘Some running around.’ ‘We looked at them. Jimmy made a move towards one, and it turned and ran on its thin legs to the end of the yard. We laughed. ‘You know what we said, Dan. A chicken for a jug,” said Mam. Dan looked at her. “Too bad,’ he said. ‘So how’s Johnny boy?” No one ever called my father ‘Johnny’, It sounded wrong. ‘Fine,’ said Mam. ‘Not the man he was since that accident. Eh, Rose?”8 Songs from the Soul: Stories from Around the World She turned away. “You can’t let us have one chicken?” she asked. ‘If you can catch one, you can have one,’ Dan said. My mother hesitated. Then she put the jug of cider in Dan’s hands. ‘Hold this,’ she said. The farmyard was wet and muddy from the morning rain. Mam ran towards the chickens, and Jimmy was behind her in seconds, feet slipping in the mud, laughing happily. ‘Come on!” he shouted. So I went too. I chose the fattest, prettiest chicken, with a silvery colour, and ran after it. But the chicken understood me and it ran away as fast as it could. ‘Mam was laughing, and the sound rang out across the yard. She was chasing a fat brown chicken around in a circle, her skirts held up, her long white legs dirty with mud. ‘Mammy, chase it here!’ Jimmy shouted. Jimmy waited, his arms ready to catch. He was covered in mud, even on his face. Mam looked at him, giggling, then ran at the chicken, waving her skirt at it, like a dancer. “Get him,’ she called. Her laugh rang out again. Her face was pink, her hair falling free down her back. She held up her skirt and turned around to look at me, and to look at Big Dan. He stood at the end of the yard, Complicity Mam looked at Jimmy, giggling, then ran at the chicken, waving her skirt at it, like a dancer.10 Songs from the Soul: Stories from Around the World A holding the jug of cider in his big red hands. When he saw her looking, he winked. The chicken ran straight into Jimmy's arms. The bird was squawking, trying to escape. ‘Mam! Quick!’ Jimmy shouted. Mam ran forward and broke the chicken’s neck. Our dinner. A chicken for a jug of ci “Emma, look!’ she called. ‘Nice fat one.’ I looked. ‘Dad will be pleased,’ I said. I thought of him, sitting on his straight chair with a glass of medicine for the pain, while we ran in the sun and Big Dan watched my mam. My mother’s eyes held a deep stillness. ‘He will, yes,’ she said. er. I remember her smile, so small, of complicity. A shared secret of wrongdoing. The Luck of Four NANDITA RAY e000 A story from Malaysia, retold by Jennifer Bassett People believe there are lucky numbers, and unlucky numbers. The number 13 is unlucky in England and America; in some Asian countries the number 4 is unlucky. Chai and Samy are old friends. Every week Chai buys @ huge number of lottery tickets. He's always hoping for lucky numbers, for the big win. . thai walked slowly into the coffee-shop, breathing heavily. His huge stomach was the first thing to go through the door. He looked around to find his usual table. It was empty. So was the coffee-shop most of the time these days. He sat down heavily, pleased to get off his feet, and nodded at the short Indian man at the back of the coffee-shop. ‘Oi Samy! One teh-tarik, four-spoon sugar,’ he called. “Usual-lah?’ smiled Samy, in his friendly way. Chai’s face was hot, and his breathing was noisy. Samy came over to sit with his friend. “So, Chai! Very hot-lah today. Hot like this, and I cannot get many customers,’ said Samy, shaking his head,12 Songs from the Soul: Stories from Around the World “You know, Samy,’ Chai said. ‘If I win the four-digit lottery, I can buy a big aircon house outside the city, and go and live there!” “Yes ah? Buy already-lah today’s lottery numbers? said Samy, ‘Of course-lah! See?” said Chai. He moved his large body with difficuly, and pulled out from his back pocket a huge number of lottery tickets. ‘Hiya, Chai. You spend too much money on those things-lah! Eh! How about giving me one of your numbers? You always got good luck,’ laughed Samy. Chai often won something on the lottery, Maybe it was his good luck, or maybe it was because he spent almost all his money on buying tickets. “How can-lah, Samy? I give away my numbers, I lose my luck,’ said Chai. “So what?’ Samy said. ‘I’m not your good friend ah? I always give you free tea.” ‘OK-lah, OK-lah!’ said Chai. The kitchen-boy came with his glass of tea, and Chai put away his tickets. He was beginning to feel hot and a little angry; he didn’t like his friend laughing at him. “Give you one. Here! Four-four-four-four! My birth date,’ whispered Chai. He spoke softly because he didn’t want anyone to hear him, and also because he was finding it difficult to breathe. ‘Aiyoyo . . .!’ Samy began to speak, then stopped. He The Luck of Four 13 ‘Give you one. Here! Four-four-four-four! ‘My birth date,’ whispered Chai.14 Songs from the Soul: Stories from Around the World The Luck of Four 15 knew the words ‘four’ and ‘death’ sounded almost the same in Chinese, but he decided not to say anything. Chai suddenly closed his eyes in pain. He felt there was something around his chest, pulling tighter and tighter and tighter. Something was banging in his head, hurting his eyes. He felt sick. “Eh, Chai! What’s wrong? You not well? I take you to see the doctor?” ‘No ... no need. The weather-lah . . . I go home and sleep. Sure feel better.’ Chai got to his feet, breathing noisily. Then his eyes closed again and he almost fell His friend quickly took hold of his arm. ‘Come, I take you home.’ “Pm OK,’ whispered Chai. His head felt better. He found his way out of the shop and turned into a narrow little street, the quick way to his home. Dirty water from the houses ran down the street, and the smell of it was terrible. There were strong cooking smells too, coming from the open back doors of shop-houses. Chai tried to walk faster. He had to get home before seven. He walked on, and his left arm went dead. He couldn’t feel it at all. The side of his face began to hurt. “Four-four-four-four . . .’ Chai whispered. The pain in his chest was suddenly huge, terrible; he could not breathe, he could not see. He fell to the ground, and darkness closed in around him. Somewhere a child shouted, cooking pots banged together, a police car siren screamed . .. At seven that evening, the winning numbers for the four-digit lottery were called out. Samy sat in his chair, his eyes on the television, his shaking hands holding a single lottery ticket. Slowly, his old face began to smile, a great big happy smile...16 Chinna and Muthu SUCHITRA KARTHIK KUMAR ge A story from India, retold by Jennifer Bassett In some places in the world, life is hard. When the rain does not fall, your fields turn brown and your cattle die. Soon you will die too. You have to do something, and surely the old ways are best. But Chinna is just a young boy, a child, He doesn’t know the old ways, he doesn’t know what is best. Or does he? hwack! For a second the big black bird did not move, then it fell softly to the ground. ‘Chinna, you're the best!” The catapult dropped out of little Chinna’s hands. He looked at the dead black bird on the ground, and tried not to cry. He did not hear his friends, calling and Iaughing and shouting how clever he was. gE That year the sun burned down on the village. The land was brown and dry —and thirsty; the cattle were thirsty, the plants in the fields were thirsty, people were thirsty Water was drying up. The Rain Gods were angry, and they needed a sacrifice. Chinna and Muthu 17 Chinna was the only son of Nachiappa Gounder, the village chief, and the sacrifice would happen in the chief's house. The sacrifice of a goat. ‘The men brought the goat in when China was having lunch. China stared at it as it went out into the back yard, its little feet dancing on the hard floor, like a dancer’s shoes. It had unusually big eyes for a goat. gE China lay awake, his eyes wide open. It was long past midnight, and the night air was hot and still. He could not sleep, so he jumped up and went out into the yard. He picked up a stone and threw it carelessly into the old cattle-shed. Almost immediately, there was a noise. China looked inside. The little goat was awake, and was walking up and down, up and down ‘Hold still, hold still.” Chinna put his arms around the goat. It felt soft and warm, and had a wonderfully sweet smell of milk and hay. It made a little noise, and Chinna smiled. «My name is Chinna, but you don’t have a name, no? Hmm... Let’s think. Muthu? Muthu was my dog.” The boy and the goat sat quietly. Chinna told Muthu everything about his life, and then he looked up at the moon in the sky. Tomorrow it would be full. Like a great ball of yellow gold. Tomorrow. Chinna felt cold.18 Songs from the Soul: Stories from Around the World “There is no need to be afraid,’ Nachiappa Gounder said. ‘We will break a pumpkin for the Gods.’ Chinna and Muthu 19 ‘The next morning the house was full of noise and people running, shouting, laughing. The women gave Chirna a bath, then took him to the yard. The drums were already beating loudly; everything was ready for the sacrifice. ‘Bring in the goat,’ the priest called. Chinna hid behind one of the women. ‘A man came running into the yard. ‘Aiyya! The goat is missing!” The drums stopped. Everything was suddenly quiet. Then everybody began to cry out at the same time. ‘The Gods are angry with us!” ‘We will die, we will all die!” ‘Not one drop of rain will touch our land!” “QUIET! It was Chinna’s father. ‘There is no need to be afraid. We will break a pumpkin for the Gods. It is a present from our land, from our own fields. The Gods will surely accept this from us.’ For a few moments there was a lot of talk and noise. There was also one very quiet conversation between Nachiappa Gounder and the priest, during which there was a promise of two fields of good land. After this conversation, the priest called out: “Be quiet! Gounder Aiyya knows what is good for all of us. Why have the drums stopped? Start the singng!” ‘The drums and the singing got louder and louder. The men brought in a large pumpkin and gave it to the chief.20 _ Songs from the Soul: Stories from Around the World Before Nachiappa Gounder put the pumpkin down on the table of sacrifice, he stopped and looked at China. Chinna’s ears felt burning hot. He stared back at his father’s face. The sun was in his eyes, and he couldn’t see clearly. Was that a smile, or an angry stare? E ‘That night, the boy and the goat sat under Chinna’s favourite tree. Chinna stared at the river, while Muthu pushed her nose into Chinna’s hand, looking for food. Chinna was thinking hard. Did his father know about this secret place too? Chinna smiled, and threw a stone, trying to make it jump over the water, The stone sank, leaving behind a ripple on the water, and another . then another . Then China felt it on his arm and looked up. A drop. And another. The skies opened, and fell down on the only two sleepless things in the village that night. Wonderful, warm, kindly, and heavy. Rain. 21 With Sincere Intent SUSAN COSTELLO et A story from New Zealand, retold by Jennifer Bassett Everybody has a different way of breaking bad news. Some people like to do it quickly, in just a few simple words. Other people talk around it, hoping that the listener will begin to guess what's coming. But there’s no easy way, especially between people who love each other. Bill and his wife are very close. They‘re good friends, they enjoy a laugh and a giggle together... ill, my husband of nearly twenty years, was still lying on a bed in the Accident and Emergency department. ‘Well, what did they give you for lunch? I asked, putting my bag on the floor and sitting down on the visitor’s chair beside his bed. ‘Four different kinds of sandwiches and some soup, which was delicious.’ “Really?” “Yes, What did you have?” “A pizza and a piece of cake.’22 Songs from the Soul: Stories from Around the World We smiled at each other. ‘Has the doctor come back yet, to say what’s the matter with you?” I asked. ‘He came half an hour ago, and :old me to wait here for a bed upstairs. All the beds there are full at the moment. But . . .’ His voice suddenly got quieter. ‘I haven’t been bored. I’ve had a lot of fun watching the people opposite.’ Thalf turned, and saw a man lying on the bed with his right leg in plaster, He looked very unhappy. “What happened?” ‘Well, about two minutes after you left, the ambulance men brought him in. He was cleaning a light in the kitchen, but it was turned on and he accidentally touched a wire and got an electric shock.’ I giggled. ‘I thought we were the only people who did things like that.’ “Anyway, the electric shock wasn’t strong and it didn’t hurt him. But he fell off the chair and broke his leg.” We both laughed, and I moved over and sat on the bed. ‘He was still down in the plaster room,’ Bill went on, ‘when his wife and son arrived. They both looked very wortied, and there was a policeman following them. The poor boy, who's about fourteen, had to put more brake fluid into his mother’s car, but by mistake he put soapy water in, not brake fluid! His mother tried to stop the car With Sincere Intent “The electric shock wasn't strong and it didn't burt him. But be fell off the chair and broke his leg." 2324 Songs from the Soul: Stories from Around the World at the bottom of the hill on the way here, and of course the brakes didn’t work. The car went straight across the road and into a fish pond in somebody's garden. ‘Luckily . .” Bill tried to keep his voice quiet. ‘Luckily, they weren’t hurt, and the owner of the fish pond called a taxi for them. But you won’t believe this .. . About twenty minutes later one of the nurses took a phone call and ran over to the wife. One of her daughters, the nurse told her, was in trouble. How could she turn off the water in the house? Who knows what was going on in that house! The poor woman ran to the phone, listened for a moment, shouted at the girl to get the neighbour from next door, and then she and the boy left in a great hurry. We haven’t seen them since.’ We laughed as quietly as we could, but it was difficult because we were shaking with laughter. ‘Now,’ said Bill, smiling at me, ‘before I go on, do our children know where to turn our water off? ‘I don’t know if they know, but I do. It’s the thing outside the front door.’ ‘Do you know where to turn off the electricity in the house?’ Rill said In the hall.” ‘And do you know where to put soapy water in the car, and where to put brake fluid?" ‘Yes, Bill,’ I said, giggling. After Bill’s sudden illness in the night, and then the terrible journey to the hospital With Sincere Intent 25 in the early hours of the morning, it was wonderful to have a laugh and a giggle. ‘Right then,’ said Bill. ‘Give us a kiss.” I moved closer. My lips touched his ~ so many kisses over so many years ~ and I understood. My body was shaking and I could not speak. My arms went round him, and we held each other closely for a long, long time. And, when at last we looked at each other again, his voice was quiet and loving. “They say I haven't got long, my love, but you'll be fine without me.”26 The Strange Child ANTHONY C. DIALA Sa A story from Nigeria, retold by Jennifer Bassett Before young people aet married, they usually meet each other's families - mother, father, brothers, sisters. And everybody comes to the wedding, to celebrate the joining of two families. Linda has been married to Emeka for nearly three years, but she has never met his family. She is unhappy about this, and decides to change things. But sometimes it is better not to ask questions... Le lay in bed, turning from side to side. She could not sleep. There was a question in her mind that was as old as her marriage —a question that did not go away, a question that had no answer. Something about her husband puzzled her, but she could not decide what it was. She stared for a long time at the ceiling. And then, at last, Linda woke her husband. Emeka turned to look at her. His eyes were sleepy. “What is it?” he said, staring at his wife. ‘My love, Ihave been your wife for almost three During this time, how often have I asked to me: ars. your The Strange Child y family? And every time you say no. I know nothing about your past life, or your family, and I cannot stay married to a man who is a mystery. So, I have decided. If you still won't take me to your village, I shal! go alone with our son this weekend. I must meet your family.” Emeka stared at the wall. Linda wanted to win this long battle between them. He could hear it in her voice. The fight was over. He could not stop her, and he had nothing more to say. “Do what you want,’ he said. ‘I don’t know why you want to see my family. They will never welcome you. They don’t want to see me. They disowned me years ago =T’ve told you that many times. I don’t ever want to see them again.” He turned on his side and went back to sleep. ‘Three days later, Linda travelled to Emeke’s village with her two-year-old son. She drove carefully through the narrow roads in her small sports car. The countryside was beautiful, she thought, with its hills and its thick green forests. But the houses were poor and not at all beautiful. Near the end of the journey she began to feel excited. She stopped to ask the way, then at last she arrived at a small house, which looked old and uncared for. In the house were a grey-haired old man and a young man, who was Emeka’s brother. ‘The house is empty today,’ the old man explained, ‘because Saturday is the28 Songs from the Soul: Stories from Around the World village market day.’ He offered Linda kola nut and a calabash of water; these were the usual things offered to a visitor in the countryside. Linda was pleased and thankful for this welcome. She then told her story, beginning from the day when she met her husband at a gas station, The old man and Emeka’s brother looked more and more puzzled, When Linda finished her story, she showed them her marriage certificate and pictures of her husband. ‘Please,’ she said, ‘please, please forgive him.’ ‘The old man stared silently at the floor for a long time. Emeka’s brother moved uncomfortably in his seat. Linda held her son’s hand tightly and watched the two men worriedly. What are they thinking about?” she thought. “Will they welcome me to the family?” After some time, the old man stood up. “Come, my daughter,’ he said. ‘I am Emeka’s father, so I cannot lie to you. Follow me please.” ‘The old man took her outside the house, to the edge of the yard. He stopped under a huge mango tree. He pointed to the ground under the tree. “Emeka is buried there,’ he said quietly. ‘He died in a car crash, exactly three years ago. He is my son and I loved him very much. We never disowned him.’ Linda stood as still as a stone. Her mind stopped working; she saw and heard nothing, The Strange Child 29 = = The old man stopped under a huge mango iree. He pointed to the ground under the tree.30 Songs from the Soul: Stories from Around the World Emeka’s father looked unhappily at the little boy standing beside her. He looked exactly the same as Emeka at that age. The old man was filled with worry, What will happen, he thought, to this strange, strange child? 31 Treason PREETA KRISHNA ww A story from India, retold by Jennifer Bassett A child lives in a small, safe world, but that does not last long. There are hard lessons to learn about the adult world, which can be a dangerous place ~ a place where people say one thing, but do another, a place where truth is difficult to find. Kanna is a young girl, without a care in the world, She and her father are making a family visit, to a grandmother that Kanna has never seen before . ome on, Kanna, hurry up, or we'll be late. We have Ee get there by midday.” I was walking slowly along the side of the road, trying to catch a butterfly. ‘Pa, there’s a yellow one, just up there on that flower. Can you catch her? My father is a very brave man. He can do anything... anything, We were going to my grandmother's house, he told me. I haven't ever heard of her before. Why do we have to go now? Today is a pleasant day to sit by the pond, feed the fish with rice, and then feel the fish trying to eat my toes.