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B
Skye Brannon

Fireweed
I t was a remembering day for Baluta. I t began w it h laughter, or a dream o f laughter. I t was
Alanso's laugh, flowing like doves out o f her bright smiling mouth. I t was Alanso's laugh, out f ro m between those cheeks that caught the sun and held i t i n a warm glow the rest o f the day. I t was Alanso's laugh, stirred f ro m the dead to wake Baluta. Sometimes remem5 bering began later i n the day, but not today. Baluta had to l if t f ro m beneath a stone o f g rief , so heavy w it h his sister's memory, to get out o f his cot. He had work today, after a ll .
Baluta washed i n the shower, cold after his brother and sister-in-law had had theirs.
Cold like Kpatawee Falls back home, Baluta thought. Yes. Today would be a remembering io day. He pulled a work shirt over his head. The name ' Joel ' was simply embroidered over the heart. The name had been his brother's idea.
"Dese Americans," Jato said, " i f you tel l dem your Mandika name, dey look like you've given dem a riddle. You tell dem your name is Bob, and dey are all smiles." Jato grinned at his younger brother. " Bu t you can't have Bob, dat is mine" is Jato and his w ife , Sama, had already gone. Since Baluta had to have the car to go where the bus route didn't, i t was Jato and Sama who had to wake at f iv e a.m. to catch buses to work. Baluta f el t awfu l f o r this, but he had to work to get a car, and needed a car to get to work. So, here he was, walking toward the faraily vehicle. Jato cailed i t the Swiss Chevy.
The o l d Camero had so rnany holes i n its body, the attempts at duet-tape patchwork had
20 been abandoned, and Baluta heard the w in d whistle through them as he drove through the ghettos o f his neighborhood, through the factory district, out to the country, past g ol f resorts, and f inall y in through a large gate toward his work si te.
Just the week before, he'd taken a l ef t at the crossroads i n the neighborhood, to work on a banister f o r Mrs Giles. She'd nodded, pleased at Baluta's work, and as a reward
25 referred him f o r more work. "This couple has some cabinet problems that are really bothersome, Jim." Even remembering Baluta's fake name was too d ifficul t f o r Mrs Giles. " Fi l give you a call i f they want you to come over."
She had and Baluta was on his way. This time, he would take a right after entering the gate, and drive past the large man-made pond. I t was only a l ip , a small man-made lip on
30 one side o f the water's body, but i t was just the same curve as the pond where he and
Alanso played, splashing and laughing. She could p ui l f is h f ro m that pond, like plucking flowers f ro m a f ield , and would howl good-naturedly at Baluta's empty handed attempts.
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s ætninge n kan betyde b åd e "he had to l if t h imself " og "he had to l ift.. . a stone o f grief...". a people and a language of West A frica , i n this case Liberia. kant. Side 10 af 12 sider

When they would get back to their hut, a square i n the shanty-town q uilt shadowed by a mountain, Alanso would always t el l Grandma Awa that Baluta had caught some f ish .
35 She'd smile at Baluta, and he'd k ic k the dirt embarrassed.
Baluta pulled his attention f ro m the pond, f ro m his remembering. He noted the wroughtiro n numbers on the mansions he passed. When he was several numbers away, he took his foot o f f the gas. He hoped he could glide to a stop i n front o f the correct house, otherwise, the Swiss Chevy would let out a loud squeal when he hit the brake. He had timed i t just
40 right to slow to a dead stop just at the start o f brownstone path that led to the palatial home. He saw a lady, pretty, laid back inside the house, behind the glass o f a large bay w in dow. I n his side vision, he saw her sit up straight at Swiss Chevy's approach. When he got out o f the car, he noticed a frightened look on her face and that she clutched a phone i n
45 her hand. That posture, that clutching, that frightened look, i t made Baluta remember his father's monkey traps. They were just small boxes w it h a d rille d hole and a nut inside. The monkeys could put their h ånd s i n the box to grab the nut, but they could not p ul l their f ists out, and refused to let go o f the treasures. This lady in the square o f the window, she had the same posture, s til l and frightened, as those monkeys when Baluta's father would col50 leet them.
B y the time Baluta had gotten out o f the car, she was gone f ro m the window and standing behind the door, opened only slightly.
" Di d you need something?" she called out.
Baluta smiled a wide smile, standing s til l next to his car. "Hello der, Miss! I am Joel,
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55 the Carpenter."

"Okay." The woman stayed s til l behind the door, closing i t a littl e more. "Mrs Giles said you needed some cabinets f ixed? "
" Oh! " Suddenly, the woman became comfortable. The scared monkey i n her had run away. "That's right. I forgot Cindy had said you were coming today." Joel nodded, starting
60 up the path.
"Oh, wait." The lady seemed to shout as an afterthought. She pointed out toward where
Joel was walking. "Could you please smash down that pile o f dirt?"
"Sony, Miss?" Joel looked around and saw a small mound o f earth, piled up around a hole. 65
"Yes, that. The real-estate agent just l ef t that hole there when she pulled out her sign.
F i l have to use someone else next time. Could you go ahead and f i l l up that hole?"
"Sure, Miss." He didn't know this lady's name, Baluta thought, and was already at work f o r her. He approached the mound and the remembering began. I t was the mound o f dirt f ul l o f ants that he and Alanso used to torment. He had been stung once, and then
70 twice, and then a t hir d time. Every time he had cried and watched the welts rise on the bites. These ant stings were more p ainfu l than any other, little f ir e irons on the skin.
Alanso told him that i t must have been because he was a sweet boy, and she a sour little g irl .
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et slumkvarter, som ligner et k ludetæppe .

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I t was only a moment, and the dirt was back i n its place, a dot o f black i n the lush
75 green. The lady watched f ro m the steps, pleased. She introduced herself as Tiffany, and moved through the large entryway, into the extravagant kitchen. She teetered on t all , skinny high heels as she walked, stopped at a cabinet above the sink, and opened i t accusingly.
"This has got to be f ixed. " She looked at Baluta f o r c onfirmation .
Baluta nodded, but saw nothing wrong. The cabinet was o f beautiful hardwood. "What so is i t , Miss?"
"This," T iffan y tried to push the cabinet door back, and i t remained straight out. "This, this door needs to go all the way back, not just straight out. A l l the way back. A l l o f them.
A l l of them should go all the way back."
"Okay, Miss. Dis is not a problem. I can f i x dis today. M r s Giles t ol d you o f my terms, ss yes?"
"Yes. Fine." T iffan y waved absently. "She said you were f ro m A frica? "
"Liberia." Baluta c larified .
"Oh, sorry." T iffan y looked at the cabinet again. "Cindy said you were f ro m A frica .
How long w il l this take?"
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"Only a few hours, Miss."
"Fine. F i l just be right there." T iffan y pointed her slender finger toward the granite counter tops. The sunlight bounced f ro m her diamond r in g and danced dazzles across
Baluta's face. Diamonds.
"They mink they've found diamonds i n our mountain." Baluta's father, Idirissa, had
95 once t ol d h i m gravely. "The war w il l be coming our way soon." Baluta remembered; i t was the f irs t time he had seen fear behind his father's strong eyes.
T iffany scooted up to the granite counter while Baluta began his work. Slick magazines splayed i n f ron t o f her. Pouting models wearing high skinny heels. Grand dining room and kitchen displays. A collage o f movie stars caught i n the aet o f l iving , w it h the ioo byline 'who got fat, who got skinny, who got married, who got surgery'. She flippe d through the magazines absently while Baluta lost himself i n the work, the sawdust, and the remembering.
Tiffany's cellphone rang. I t was a custom ring o f a song cailed T stil l haven't found what F m looking f or ' by U 2 . She flipped the phone. "Yes?" She turned a page absently, los and then slammed her f is t on the counter. "What do you mean they don't have it? I t said right there on the website that i t was i n stock! Have you gone to the paint store on 78th
Street?" Baluta tried to shut his ears to this woman's t rill . "Are you sure you are asking for the right color? F-I-R-E-W-E-E-D? Fireweed ?" The word h i t Baluta right i n the heart. I t knocked his breath f ro m his lungs, and stilled his h ånds . Fireweed. no "Go! Go you! Go get de fireweed now! You are a very bad boy!" Grandma Awa had caught Baluta w it h his hand i n the cassava pile. He had been so hungry and wanted only a small slice, but Grandma Awa, her eyes usually f ul l o f kindness, was irate at this. She never spanked him, no, but ordered something far worse - fireweed. Even i n mouths long used to hot peppers, sucking on the bitter red leaves would make your eyes water i n pain.
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gederams.

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"Fireweed!" T iffan y screeched. "That's the only one that w il l work. Chet, what are we gofng to do? We already have two walls painted fireweed i n the second guest bedroom?
Are we going to have two fucking mismatched walls? Not i n my house we aren't. Go to the store on 78th. I don't care. The painters w il l be here tomorrow and then are booked up f o r a month w it h the Tremmeis' renovation. Chet, get that paint or I swear to God. Just go."
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"Just go! Go now!" Grandma Awa had said, looking down at her mortar, smashing the rice. "Can I go w it h him?" Alanso had chimed i n , her eyes sparkling.
"Do you want de fireweed too?" Grandma raised her eyebrows to Alanso, who looked down silent.
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Baluta's h ånd s stopped working on the cabinets. The remembering had captured h im .
That day, the day he went to get fireweed. He never wanted to remember that day. W it h this woman's screaming about paint, i t was accosting h i m now. His t rip , past the ant pile, past the pond where Alanso caught her f ish , past his father's monkey traps to the small fireweed bush stretched out i n his mind. Fle'd picked the largest leaf he could f ind . The
130 larger the leaf, the less the sting, he and Alanso had decided.
He held the stem o f the fireweed gingerly, ready to h old i t up to Grandma Awa f o r inspection when he returned, before putting i t i n his mouth. Past the monkey traps, past the pond, he stopped stil l at the ant pile. Fear had frozen h im . From the ant pile, he saw the dust surrounding their shanty. He saw the jeeps and men w it h guns and machetes. He n s saw his father, swinging f ro m a tree, on a rope. He saw a h il l on the ground the same colored pattern as Grandma Awa's dress, s till , i n a growing circle o f red.
"Are you there, Chet? On 78th? Do you see the fireweed?"
Baluta held tightly to the fireweed stem, he could not move even though troupes o f ants attacked his feet. Sting, sting, sting, he stood s till , holding tightly onto his fireweed. He n o saw littl e Alanso's ten-year old body, l imp , naked i n the sun, being passed f ro m one soldier to another, his pants mingling w it h the dust. Sting, sting, sting.
"Chet, i f I don't get that fireweed, I ' m just going to die!"
(2009)