The smell of the Municipal Dump is not something you wash off. It is something you shed, like a layer of skin, over days.
I sat in the front shop, scrubbing my left hand with a lemon Liyen had cut in half. My right arm was useless, strapped to my chest in a sling made from a torn bedsheet. The burn throbbed with a dull, feverish heat that made the world look slightly yellow around the edges.
Above me, the fluorescent lights were off.
We had 11.2 Volts in the bank. It wasn't real power. It was a "Ghost Charge." I had wired the four remaining, half-dead batteries together in a desperate parallel array. They had voltage enough to flicker a light bulb but no depth. If I tried to start the compressor, the voltage would collapse to zero in seconds.
It was a Potemkin Village of electricity. Just enough to look alive.
Tashi was sweeping the floor. He moved stiffly. The "Manager" shirt was gone, replaced by a plain white singlet and trousers. He looked smaller without the collar.
"They are coming," Collins whispered from the door. He was keeping watch, eating a piece of the dried fish we had bought with the copper money.
"Who?" Tashi asked, leaning on the broom. "Customers?"
"No be customer, Boss. Na Mr. Cletus. The Landlord."
Tashi froze. He looked at the calendar on the wall.
"It is the 24th," Tashi said. "Rent is not due until the 1st."
"He is not alone," Collins added. "He get briefcase."
In Bamenda, a landlord with a briefcase is never good news.
Mr. Cletus was a small, round man who smelled of cheap cologne and damp wool. He wore a suit that was too tight for him, sweating profusely in the morning humidity.
He didn't come in smiling. He didn't ask about the family. He walked in, looked at the ceiling, looked at the wires running along the walls, and frowned.
"Mr. Tashi," Cletus said. His voice was high and nasal. "We have a problem."
Tashi put the broom away. He put on his 'Manager' face the Standard English mask.
"Good morning, Mr. Cletus. Problem? The rent is paid up to date."
"It is not the rent," Cletus said, walking over to the glass counter. He ran a finger over the dust. "It is the... modifications."
He pointed a chubby finger at the conduit pipes I had installed for the solar wiring.
"Clause 4 of the lease," Cletus recited, opening his briefcase. " 'No structural alterations without written consent.' You have drilled holes in my walls. You have put heavy glass on my roof. The neighbors say you are running an industrial factory in a commercial zone."
"It is a shop," Tashi said, his voice tightening. "We sell electronics. The wires are for the lights."
"The lights that cause riots?" Cletus asked. He looked at me. He looked at my bandaged arm. He looked at the soot stains on the wall from the acid accident.
"This is not a shop, Tashi. It is a hazard. My insurance agent called me. He says the risk profile is too high."
"Who called your agent?" I asked from the corner. My voice was raspy.
Cletus ignored me. He looked at Tashi.
"The Chairman called me," Cletus whispered, dropping the pretense. "He is worried about the safety of the building. And when the Chairman is worried, the insurance goes up. My premium has tripled, Tashi. Tripled."
There it was. The invisible hand. The Bookman wasn't burning the shop; he was raising the overhead.
"So?" Tashi asked. "What do you want?"
"I want security," Cletus said. He pulled a document from the briefcase. "New lease terms. Six months rent in advance. Plus a 'Risk Deposit' of 50,000 francs. Payable today."
Tashi laughed. It was a dry, hollow sound.
"Six months? That is 90,000 francs. Plus 50,000? You want 140,000 francs today?"
"Or you vacate by Monday," Cletus said, placing the pen on the paper. "I have a new tenant ready. A kerosene distributor. He pays cash."
The silence in the shop was absolute.
140,000 francs.
We had 1,200 francs in the tin.
I looked at Tashi. I saw the panic flare in his eyes, then settle into a cold, hard rock in his gut.
"We don't have it," Tashi said.
"Then pack," Cletus said, reaching for the paper.
"Wait."
Liyen stepped out from the back room. She wasn't wearing her Union sash. She was wearing her house clothes. She looked tired, but her eyes were clear.
She walked to the counter.
"Mr. Cletus," she said softly. "You have known us for five years. We never missed a month."
"Times change, Madame," Cletus said, looking at his shoes. "The city is hard."
"Yes," Liyen said. "It is hard."
She reached up to her ears.
She unclasped her gold earrings. The heavy, twisted knots of 24-karat gold that Tashi had bought her when I was born. They were her insurance. Her retirement. Her pride.
She placed them on the glass counter. Click. Click.
Then she reached for her left hand.
She pulled off her wedding ring. A thick, gold band, worn smooth by years of washing clothes and sewing thread.
She placed it next to the earrings.
"Liyen, no," Tashi choked out. He stepped forward, reaching for her hand.
"Hush, Papa," she said, not looking at him. She looked at Cletus.
"Gold," Liyen said. "Weigh it. It is pure. It is worth more than your 140,000."
Cletus looked at the gold. He looked at Liyen. For a second, I saw shame in his face. He knew he was robbing them. He knew he was the Bookman's knife.
But greed is stronger than shame.
He picked up the earrings. He weighed them in his hand.
"It is... acceptable," Cletus mumbled. "For the deposit and three months rent. Not six."
"Three months," Liyen agreed. "And you leave the lease alone. No eviction. No inspections."
Cletus put the gold in his pocket. He scribbled on the receipt book.
"Three months," he said. He tore the page out and left it on the counter.
He walked out quickly, like a man escaping a crime scene.
Tashi stared at the receipt.
He turned to Liyen. He took her hand. Her finger looked naked, a pale band of skin where the gold had been.
"I will buy it back," Tashi whispered. "I swear, Liyen. I will win it back."
"You will not win it," Liyen said firmly. "You will earn it. No gambling, Tashi. We bought time. Do not waste it."
She turned and walked back to the Lab. She didn't cry. She just walked a little straighter, as if a weight had been removed from her, even if it was the weight of her dignity.
I sat in the corner, clutching my burning arm.
I had built a radio station in my head. I had built a solar empire on paper.
But my mother had just saved us with the jewelry off her body.
I felt a new kind of sickness. Not the fever. Not the dump smell.
It was the sickness of being a child who could do nothing but watch.
"Gemini," I thought.
< Yes, Operator? >
"Update the Asset List."
< Updating... >
< Removed: Gold Reserves (Emergency Fund). >
< Added: Time (90 Days). >
"We have three months," I said to the empty room.
Tashi looked at me. The fire was gone from his eyes. He looked tired.
"Three months to do what, Nkem?" he asked. "We have no stock. We have no money. We have no gold. We are just tenant farmers on the Bookman's land."
"We have the school," I said.
Tashi frowned. "School?"
"September is coming," I said. "The Bookman controls the market. He controls the landlord. But he doesn't control the Report Card. If I go to school... if I get into the Government Technical College..."
"That is for next year," Tashi said.
"We start preparing now," I said. "Knowledge is the only asset he can't confiscate."
It was a weak hope. A child's hope. But it was all I had left.
Outside, the sun climbed higher, heating the zinc roof. The ghost voltage in the batteries dropped to 10.8V.
The lights flickered and died.
We sat in the grey daylight.
Safe. For now.
But poorer than we had ever been.