Vernon Mooers writes

THE WHITE MAN'S GRAVEYARD 
chapter 14 (1)

There had been a water shortage and he wanted to take a jerry can of water out to Jeannie at the Women's Teachers' College. The wells at the school were dry and she didn't have a car. She'd moved from the town into one of the new houses at the school and there were only shallow hand-dug wells which didn't last through the dry season.

The WTC was at the other end of town at the far end of the disappearing lake. By this time, the marshland in the area was just pockets of mud-holes or grass for the cattle to graze on. The lake had receded more than a mile.

Alex parked the car by the Principal's house and took the jerry can out, greeting the m'guardie, who was lying under the tree, in passing. It was fifty yards over to the staff quarters and he had to jump a ditch. The apartments, attached like town-houses, didn't have electricity hooked up yet either. They'd been saying they'd have light soon, but it had already been six months since she'd moved in.

Jeannie was marking papers.

"I'm going to the market to get a few things, if you want to come," he said, putting the jerry can down. It was four o'clock and the stalls would be opening up again soon, after being closed all afternoon.

"All right. I need some kerosene. I've been marking Miss Roldan's papers. That bitch refused to mark them! She said she had to go work on her papers in Kano again. I'll get her when the WAEC's are written."

Jeannie got her things together, grabbing a plastic kerosene jug and a knapsack to carry foodstuffs in. They went out to the Volkswagen, waving to the m'guardie as they passed.

"Did you get the brakes fixed?" she asked.

"Finally. Third time. I had to pay Dantu another hundred naira, but it's better. I drove for a week using the hand brake."

They drove out the gates of the WTC. The Principal's car was still not there.

"She went to Maiduguri to pick up the exams yesterday," Jeannie said. He waited as a lorry whizzed past, then swung up onto the highway. "She'll probably be gone all week again. Anyway the students stopped going to classes already. They're up all night studying by the bush lamps."

"The Form 5's at G.S.S. stopped going a couple of weeks ago. I haven't taught a class to them in two weeks."

They were on the edge of the town where the huts and mud houses intermingled. The women were in front of the houses, pounding maize or guinea corn for supper. Alex saw the boy out of the corner of his eye. He wheeled the bicycle up over the ditch, swerving dangerously on the edge of the road. There was a split second when the bicycle swung into his path, right in front of the car. Instinctively, he swung the wheel to the left hitting the brakes at the same time. There was a loud bang and they were off the road on the other side of the highway, up on the embankment and then down. He stopped the car and looked in the rear-view mirror. Jeannie screamed something inaudible. A boy was lying flat on the highway beside a mangled bicycle. He shut the car off, opened the door and ran back, dazed, staring at the boy who wasn't moving.

There were sounds of shouting and someone grabbed the boy under the shoulders and dragged him into the ditch. Someone threw a calabash of dish water on him. He sputtered and there was a welt on the side of his head, rising.

Jeannie was there now, white as a ghost. There was a crowd around and shouting. The boy whimpered. An old man with a hoe was shouting in Hausa in his face, shaking the hoe. He was wide-eyed and looked again at the boy. "The hospital," he blurted.

"You want to take him to the hospital," someone said in English. "Take him in your car." He shouted something to two or three people. "This is his brother," the man said.

"You come," he answered, "and you and you and you," automatically. They ran to the car, carrying the boy. They jumped in the back seat, three of them and the boy in their arms. He squealed out and drove frantically for the hospital.

The hospital was a mile down the highway. They bounced over the bumps down the side road. Alex honked the horn at the m'guardie who swung the gate open. He drove over to the ward area, got out and ran inside. There was a white uniform.

"An accident!" he blurted. "The boy!"

The man in the white uniform put his hands up in front of him. "Take it easy. Everything will be all right. Now what happened?" He was walking outside.

"There was a boy on a bicycle. He's hurt. Quick! Quick!" He was frantic now. They were outside. The people were carrying the boy in. He was crying and there was blood on his head.

They took him into the office. The orderly was looking at his eyes and touched his head. He asked the boy if he went to school. The boy said yes and he told him to stop crying. He asked him where he lived and the boy told him. He said to put him in the back room.

"Is he O.K.? Is he O.K.?" Alex was asking.

"Bakome. Don't worry. Don't worry," the orderly was saying.

"Where's the doctor? I'll get the doctor," Alex stammered.

"I don't need the doctor, I need the police," the orderly said.

"O.K.  I'll get them." Alex ran for the car. Now it was beginning to hit him. He wheeled the car out and in a flurry was at the doctor's house. He banged on the door. There was no answer. He banged and yelled.

He drove around to the other compound. He wanted Ricardo, the Filipino doctor to come. He wanted an expert to be there. He knew Mabub, the Pakistani was out of town. Where was Ricardo? He banged on the Filipino teacher's house next door. Aleli came out. "Where's Ricardo? I had an accident!" he blurted.

Aleli stood in the doorway. "He moved into the new house yesterday. Back of the cinema, the green one, beside the Sri Lankans."

"Wait, keep my passport." Alex had it in the glove compartment. He had been going to photocopy some pages for his monthly remittance. He handed it to her.

He bounced over the ruts and through the sand and swung behind the cinema. There was no car at the green house. There was a garbage with the metal door down. He banged on the door. The ambulance was there then.

"I thought you were going for the police," the driver glared at him.

"Just now," he said. Ricardo was at the door, looking like he'd been awakened from an afternoon sleep. "An accident. You come to the hospital." He jumped in the car again.

Alex was at the police station now, at the desk. A sergeant was there. "I had an accident -- a boy on a bicycle. They said to get the police."

The sergeant looked at another one sitting on a bench. "Do you want to handle it?" The man didn't answer but grabbed a clipboard from an office and they went out and got in the car.