Girl by Edna O'Brien

Author:Edna O'Brien [Edna O'Brien]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780571341191
Publisher: Faber & Faber
Published: 2019-09-05T16:00:00+00:00

THE CITY IS TEEMING with life. Cars, motorcycles and taxis all edging their way in and out, the taxis no bigger than perambulators. Passengers are squeezed into them, their belongings on their laps. Babby is sound asleep in my arms, despite all the jangle.

Sun beats down on stark white buildings, their black gates ablaze with spears of gold. Watchmen sit under the shade of the trees, chatting with policemen who stroll around. Other policemen stand in narrow white booths, directing traffic and stopping cars. Our car is waved on, because of a military flag attached to the side of the bonnet.

The policewoman pointed to what seemed a mountain, but was in fact a rock, a rock so famous that its picture featured on the currency notes. She spoke of its fabled history and the many assaults attached to it. Water ran down its sides into the innumerable veins, like endless tears of lamentation.

The trees are not as ample as the ones I cowered under in the forest. Younger trees bordered the lanes of the motorways, their leaves wrapped around their trunks, like folded umbrellas.

In between the stately villas are shacks made of assorted things – cardboard, wattles, bamboo, and here and there a panel of zinc roofing rasps in the sunlight. Women are stooped over their small cooking fires, with hordes of children needing to be fed. On cement walls, painted signs for fridge repairs, motor repairs and one in jet black that read Call Mr Chef, with a phone number beside it. On a huge hoarding in coloured letters I see the edict Become a Millionaire. Underneath it, someone had scrawled Cotton is the Creation of God.

At a busy intersection where four roads met, two young boys without legs whizzed around on skateboards, their hands outstretched and when a coin was tossed, they raced each other to be first. Different youths tapped on the window whenever our car came to a standstill. They were holding up crayons, flip-flops, bottled water and little plastic bags of mixed nuts. The policewoman told me to ignore them.

We arrived at sets of double gates that led into parkland, where there were numerous buildings, also a glistening white, and long flights of steps up to the entrances. Various officials greeted us. Then a woman came forward and called me ‘Pet. Pet.’ She said that baby could do with a nappy and we were brought straight to the bathroom, which was an abode of marble and mirrors. Beside the washbasin was a tray to change her and she kicked with glee, her eyes roaming at the opulence of her new surroundings. I caught sight of myself in many mirrors and gasped at the alien creature I had become, my mouth full of sores and my hair in splices. Babby was almost toppling off that tray, but I caught her just in time and marched us around to gape at each other. She pointed to the two images in the mirrors, not knowing who they were. The woman who called me Pet was rapping on the door, as doctors were waiting to examine the baby.

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