The Other Side of Truth by Beverley Naidoo

Author:Beverley Naidoo [Naidoo, Beverley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Social Issues, Nigerians - England - London, England, Social Science, London (England), Nigerians, Brothers and Sisters, Juvenile Fiction, Africa, General, London, Family, Historical, Siblings, People & Places, Fiction, Refugees, Values & Virtues, History
ISBN: 9780064410021
Google: hS7PlbVUc9AC
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2000-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 22

BULLIES IN THE HEAD

A FRESHLY BAKED CHOCOLATE CAKE was waiting on the kitchen table when Sade arrived back at the Kings’. A large slice was already missing. Sade called to Femi who was huddled in front of the television next door. He didn’t reply.

“Femi won’t talk to me too, you know. But at least he likes my baking! I decided you both deserve a treat after your first day at school,” Aunt Gracie said brightly. Sade didn’t feel like talking either but it was difficult not to respond. Aunt Gracie was trying so hard to make them feel at home.

They sat together for a short while in the warm kitchen. Splashes of color in among the crockery and a tray of pink and white flowers on the windowsill defied the grayness outside.

“How was it at school?” Aunt Gracie poured orange juice for Sade and tea for herself. Ever since morning break, Sade had not been able to get Marcia’s threat out of her mind. They were in different classes for math and science, but at lunchtime, Marcia and Donna had sauntered across the canteen to the table next to her and Mariam. The small group with them included Kevin. Sade had tried not to look but she felt sure the titters of laughter were about her, especially when she heard snatches of Kevin’s voice and something about wearing other people’s clothes. Why had they taken such instant dislike to her? Mariam said they didn’t like Africans. It was a puzzle. Marcia said her grandmother lived in Jamaica. Didn’t she know—like the Kings did—that her own ancestors came from Africa?

Aunt Gracie’s right eyebrow was raised like a question mark, waiting.

“How was it?” she repeated. “Any problems?”

“It was fine, thank you,” Sade replied. She hardly tasted the soft crumbling chocolate. As soon as the lie was out of her mouth, she remembered Mama’s Tell a lie, play with fire. But don’t complain of the smoke.

She finished her cake and drink, only half listening as Aunt Gracie spoke about her first school. It had been little more than a shed, ruled over by a teacher who carried his cane everywhere. When Aunt Gracie asked if she had homework, Sade nodded. Two other teachers besides Mr. Morris had given them work.

“Why not go upstairs, mi dear, and do it before supper? No time like the present, you know!”

Sade was glad to enter the quiet of her room. For a while she sat at the desk in the growing dark with the pineapple curtains pulled back, watching the evening shadows gradually swamp over the back gardens. Some of the houses on the far side of the gardens became hidden in the dusk while glowing squares and rectangles lit up others. In a strange way the darkness reminded her of the forest she had intended writing about. The patches of light reminded her that other human beings were out there too. It was a bit like being able to glimpse the village and Family House from their hideout at the forest’s edge.

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