Lisbette leaned against the door and calmed herself. She had always been cautious with Graham, yielding at times, realizing that they didn't know each other well. But what she had just experienced made her afraid. She closed her eyes and willed her thumping heart to return to its regular rhythm. A part of her wanted to just give in to his demands but she couldn't fully do that anymore. Lisbette was slowly giving herself over to the idea of creating a life here in Eyubea and that gave her a sense of wonder. The dam was bursting and she couldn't stop it even if she wanted to.
That night she slept tentatively, no more than a few hours at a time and never deeply. Eventually Graham rose early and readied himself. Like on the ship, he treasured his morning exercises and left to take a walk. When she was sure he was gone, Lisbette got up and donned the clothes Clare-Voy had given her. The dawn sun was breaching the horizon. It was cool and brisk when she walked to Clare-Voy's house and knocked.
Lisbette was surprised when she answered the door quickly, dressed and ready.
"Early."
"Yes, I know." Lisbette smiled nervously. "Graham has gone for his morning walk and I thought this would be an excellent time to get chores done before he returns."
"Ah." She stepped out and indicated for Lisbette to follow.
Her father had always wanted a chicken coop but with his salary and expenses, it never seemed possible. When she opened the door, the stench assaulted her nostrils. She stepped back covering her nostrils with her sleeve.
"Smell over time not bad."
Lisbette attempted to open her mouth and felt saltiness graze her tongue. She spit repeatedly trying to cleanse her taste buds. Steadying herself and quelling her gag reflex, she attempted again to enter the coop. Clare-Voy stuck her hand under the bird and it clucked, flapping its wings at the intrusion. She gently placed an egg in the basket and repeated the same process with the next bird. Lisbette counted at least ten chickens, perhaps a dozen on one side and on the other, there were definitely more.
"Laying hens give eggs. Common fowls for food. Kill six weeks for food."
Lisbette looked at her, confused. But when she looked at what Clare-Voy called the common fowls, they looked much bigger than the layers. In fact, some of them were the size of small turkeys. "So there are different chickens. And how long do the hens give eggs?"
"Two years. Three. Keep some eggs for new hens. Common fowls too."
Lisbette was fascinated. She had seen baby chicks in school for agricultural projects but had no idea that there were different kinds of chickens and functions. Clare-Voy explained a little more about how the birds were fed and butchered, which while she loved chicken, she wasn't looking forward to the necessary execution.
The sun had almost risen. Lisbette had to get back to the house before Graham returned. She briskly walked back to the house. She sniffed her clothes and pulled away, crinkling her nose. She quickly took them off and looking for a quick hiding place, shoved them under the mattress on her side. Then she ran into the bathroom to bathe.
The door clicked. Graham had returned from his morning walk. He gently knocked on the door.
"I will be out soon."
After emerging from the bathroom fully dressed, Lisbette sat at the dresser and moisturized her skin while Graham bathed. She went to the kitchen to find Clare-Voy fixing breakfast. Directing her to put on an apron, Clare-Voy ordered Lisbette to make the dough for fresh rolls, giving her explicit directions on the ingredients and proportions. It was the first time she had done so much from scratch and while she was excited, she was also tired. She wondered how Clare-Voy or any other woman did this day after day.
When everything was ready, Lisbette set the table with three places.
"No." Clare-Voy removed the third setting. "I eat in kitchen."
Lisbette was a little taken aback and a bit hurt. "But, it would be nice to have you eat with us."
Clare-Voy shook her head even more emphatically. The truth was she had no problems eating with Lisbette. It was Graham. There was something about him that she didn't like. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she felt an evil spirit in him, and she was not going to subject herself to it if she could avoid it. How this girl with a pure spirit wound up attached to him, she didn't know, but what she did know was men like Graham were tainted.
The minute Graham entered the room, Clare-Voy left. Graham was oblivious to her sudden disappearance and fixed his gaze on food he recognized. Eggs, ham, bacon, rolls, butter, tea. That was more like it. He sat down, said a prayer and dug in. He was always ravenous after his morning walk. After a few minutes of chewing and silence, he poured and sipped some of his tea. It may not be English, but he liked the woody, spice flavor of it that reminded him of a mild Earl Grey.
"We have been invited to lunch by the leader, Afabakar, this afternoon. He wanted to give us a tour of the school houses. You will have about six girls to teach."
"Me? Teach? I know nothing about how…"
He held up his hand to quiet her. "The material will be provided. All you have to do is follow the plan. The girls have some basic knowledge of maths and reading already from a previous mission."
"What happened to the other mission?" Lisbette had no idea that there had been other teachers that had been to Eyubea.
"The funds dried and they couldn't continue. I don't know the exact details but an associate of my father's heard of it. He gathered more than enough support for this mission going forward."
Even though Lisbette had harbored thoughts of following her father's calling, she knew it was an undertaking and she wasn't sure she would be fully ready.
After he finished eating, Graham got up, pushed his chair back and excused himself.
"Tell Clare-Voy to have the car ready at eleven o'clock. I want to get there early so that we can see the school first."
And with that he was gone without feeling the need to even say anything to her or to clean up after himself. She grabbed a bit more food and went into the kitchen to see Clare-Voy at the opposite side of the small table, eating.
Lisbette sat down as the older woman kept her eyes on her. "Graham just told me that there were other missionaries here before us. What happened to them?"
"Nice people. Little money but good hearts. Helped me learn to read and write."
"Really."
Clare-Voy nodded. "Both worked with children. We couldn't read, taught us evenings. Tafale learned better. Talked better, too."
"And the children?"
"They learn too. Many children at first but they got less and less with time."
Lisbette expected some attrition. When she was in school, some of her classmates who were present in the first weeks were absent a month or so later and for the rest of the year. She had no idea what happened. There were rumors of some getting sick. Others were sent to work, or just disappeared completely. She could only imagine what it was like here for the children.
She then told Clare-Voy about their appointment with the leader.
"Old fool," Clare-Voy muttered getting up from the table.
Tilting her head to the side, Lisbette asked, “What do you mean?”
"We not English. We fought English, Germans to stay who we are." She stood and thought, her mouth trying to find the right words. "We have ways taught by mothers, fathers, grandmothers, grandfathers. We not English. African. Eyubean. Not English." Clare-Voy stopped again, taking a breath. "What believe you, good. What believe us good as well. Change come? Good. But English change…" Her face was tight, her hand balled into fists and she fought to verbalize her myriad thoughts. "Change hurt we believe. Take away from us."
Interpreting Lisbette’s wrinkled brows as confusion, Clare-Voy let out a pained sigh. If she had paid more attention, practiced more of her English language lessons, maybe she would have been just as good as Tafale was. Letting out a whoosh, she abruptly turned and tended to the dirty dishes.
Lisbette thought about what Clare-Voy said and thought she understood it. Sometimes, when change comes it does tend to wipe out what preceded it. If anything, she was proof of that. Realizing what she would probably be dealing with, she wished her father were there. He would know how to handle things that were looking to be possibly more complicated than Graham may understand.
Lisbette neatly placed her knife and fork on her plate and got up to put it in the sink.
With her back turned, Clare-Voy spoke louder than she planned. "Leave plates." She turned and looked at Lisbette and said in a quieter voice. "I clean. Leave plates."
Lisbette returned to the dining room and looked at the table. Graham's plate was gone as well as the remaining food. She gathered the dishes in a pile and left them as Clare-Voy asked, not wanting to upset her further. In the meantime, she decided that it was time to send a letter home. If her father couldn't be here with her, at the very least, she would do the next best thing.
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Wattpaders, Thanks for reading Lisbette's journey so far!
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