The Mark

They showed up in droves. Nobody stayed home. In his notice convening the krutu meeting, the basha had declared that there was important news.

The palisade school of Apentikondre village covered with palm leaves was filled to the last seat. Villagers, who were unable to find a seat in a school desk, were quietly squatting on the school grounds. All were silent when the basha surrounded by the village elders and other dignitaries spoke. The important news was that the new people in power who had overthrown the government would fulfill a long cherished wish of the inhabitants of the interior: with the aid of foreign organizations, they would launch a literacy campaign. Every man and woman, young and old, would receive an opportunity to learn to read and write, just like the people from the city.

Meersa was sitting at the back of the gathering on the school grounds on a stool she had brought herself. She listened attentively and at the end of the krutu, while everyone was attempting to argue at the same time, she got up and walked away unnoticed.

Years ago during one of the political visits to the village, Meersa had allowed herself to be sweet-talked by a propagandist from the city. The whole village had looked askance at her. Paul had promised her a happy life, but in the city he put her up in a slum dwelling in a compound. He visited regularly, but lived somewhere else—where, she did not have a clue. Through his mediation, a lady hired her for half days, or, as the lady herself said, until two o’clock in the afternoon—that means, without a meal. Of course, when the lady found out Meersa could not read or write, two o’clock soon became three and sometimes even later. What did not change was the meager wage minus a meal.

Only when she was three months pregnant did she find out that Paul was married and lived lavishly in a public housing project with his wife and children, all arranged for him by his party. She began hating the city but was afraid to return to the village for fear of being scoffed at because of her child from a city Black who had coaxed her so easily.

On her way back from the school grounds to her hut, all kinds of memories came back: the neighbor in the city, a woman also living in the compound, had told her that a fish processing company needed women to peel shrimps. Together they went; the neighbor had filled out all the forms both for herself and for Meersa. After she was hired, she asked the lady to release her. The lady was furious because Meersa had not given the legal term of notice. She was fired on the spot for breaking a verbal contract. She did not understand a word of the tirade. The only thing that was clear was that she did not receive a cent for the three weeks she had already worked that month.

Only women worked in the packaging department of the company. If she ran the risk of lagging behind with her big belly, there were always a few eager hands offering assistance for which no thank-you was expected. One of the women casually set down a package with used baby-clothing, another brought little socks and a feeding bottle, and her friend from the slum compound brought good news: “My mother, who looks after my two boys when I’m at work, is willing to look after yours also.” Meersa came to realize that the city did not only consist of Paul and the lady; there were some good people around as well.

When Frans turned three, Meersa found her way to the Trusteeship Council. The clerk who helped her appeared to know Paul because as soon as Meersa had told her everything the woman picked up the telephone and had a clearly audible conversation with him. She accused him that, again, another girl had shown up for welfare payments. Within ten minutes Paul appeared...