my father, not like Your Father

The boys were all huddled around a table. Not a rickety table, not crooked in any way. Sébastien's grandfather had built it how many years ago? It didn't matter. The table was smooth, never giving anyone splinters if they ran their palm over the surface. All the legs, perfectly even, supported the flat of the top, which was large enough to splay maps of all kinds on it. Maps were the topic of the day. The boys were scribbling and erasing all over the map of Dondou, their little fishing town in the south of British colonial Nigeria, not too far from Lagos, looking for a path.

"I say we go North towards the church, tell them we're going to mass," Romeo suggested, drawing a line with his finger on the map to show them the route, stopping at Port de Maigueux. Sébastien slapped on the back of his head, and Romeo doubled over, clutching his shaved head.

"You idiot!" Sébastien shoved himself in front of Romeo, now drawing his own path. "We can't walk to the church! Too many people on Sundays."

"So how do you suggest it then? Or are we just not getting on the ship at all?" another boy mocked. Sébastien stood tall and proud, ignoring the remarks and snickers of the other boys.

"Understand me," he said, rolling his eyes for a bit of comedy. "The ships will be arriving at five o'clock. We need to arrive earlier, hop on the ships. The Clackers will be too sleepy to notice us that early."

"I'll be too sleepy to be up at all!" the same boy from before laughed.

"If you want to stay back, you can stay back," Romeo said. "No one is counting on you, David. We know your family." David retreated a little, embarrassed. David's father was a Clacker, always in uniform with a Portuguese rifle. He had met the boys a few years before after they had stolen a gun from a ship and tried to retrieve it from them. But David was too fascinated by the gun himself (and intimidated by Sébastien) to bother, and had since become an asset to the group, only sticking out because of his heavy accent.

"My papa told me that it rains across the water!" David once told them, and the boys would crowd around him, dying to hear more.

"What does it look like; how does it feel; does it smell; if you're thirsty, can you drink it; have you seen it?" they would ask.

"No," he would reply. "Neither has my papa, 'cause he's been stationed here for so long. His papa, my papa, me."

Ever since, the boys were committed to cross the water and see the rain.

The boys came up with a good plan: they were to wake up early, earlier than everyone else, to get to the docks by 4:30. Then, they would strap themselves with thick rope under the boardwalks and wait for the sailors to come.

"And if we run into a Clacker?" a few of the boys asked, reasonably concerned, Sébastien thought.

"If he doesn't have a rifle, you beat him."

This was ominous to the boys, especially David.

"What?" Sébastien continued. "You scared?"

Silence amongst the boys, as they waited for the rest of his wisdom.

"It's alright to be scared. But if you think you will put your fear in the way of our goals, in the way of the rest of us, you better stay behind." Sébastien paused, scanning the room for disloyalty. But these were his brothers, and he was prudent not to judge so harshly. He continued:

"If the Clacker has a gun, you hide. We'll be mostly hopping over roofs, so as long as you stay quiet, you shouldn't get caught. If there is no way out, you make him think you're on your own. Understood?"

"Understood," they replied.

"Good."

The sun was expected to rise at six o'clock that morning, and the boys rose at four. They shuffled their way through the quiet backyards, all manicured and well kept. A disturbing thought permeated Sébastiens mind as he slipped through the picket white fences to climb onto his neighbours rooftop, looking down at the picture-perfect homes in his neighbourhood: why do I even want to leave? He scanned the horizon, chest pressed close to the tiled roof, and watched as the lights turned on in his neighbourhood, but the windows stayed dark in Theirs up North.

"Hey!" he heard Romeo whisper from behind him. He looked back and saw Romeo crouching down, mimicking Sébastiens pose. "Are we moving?"

Sébastien remembered the rest of the boys, who were still in the yard. He nodded at Romeo, and kept going. I am leaving to see the rain, he reminded himself. I am leaving because my father wakes up early and theirs don't.

The boys continued to move swiftly, rooftop after rooftop, crouching so as to not be seen. Sébastien noted the larger crowds of Clackers as he moved further towards the bank and away from Their houses.

"Damn!" Romeo whispered from behind him, staring at the gaggle of Clackers down by the docks. "David, you better get real friendly."

"Aw, no way!" David looked up at Sébastien with a pleading, please-don't-make-me-do-this kind of look. He nodded.

"It's fine," he told the group, all crouched down on the roof in their socks to keep quiet. Sébastien would have normally shoved David down to distract the Clackers, and then pulled him over when they weren't looking. But he hesitated when he noticed David's father was walking up and down the docks. It wasn't fine, but he was to make it so. "We're not sacrificing him." Sébastien looked back towards the boys, all lowered down on the tiles, looking up at him, and felt an overwhelming responsibility.

Sébastien instructed them to continue moving forward and stay out of sight. David would stay in front of them in case they were caught, and Romeo close behind with the rest of the boys. Sébastien split off, and shuffled a pipe to get down, slipping between alleys to avoid main roads. He regretted now not wearing shoes- socks alone are much quieter, but the dry, cracking ground would cut through his socks and slice the bottom of his feet. Any grass he found was synthetic, having not been able to survive without moisture in the soil, and would poke his feet even more. He made his way to the docks, peeking from behind buildings to scope out the spot. He was reassured when he realized he couldn't hear or see the boys above him. Quickly, he pelted a few rocks in the direction of the docks, then bolted behind another house. David's father turned his head in Sébastiens direction, and motioned for the rest of his group to move forward. As the Clackers abandoned the docks, Sébastien saw the rest of the boys run behind them. They tied themselves under the docks with the thick rope that Romeo had stolen from his father, and were soon all inconceivable. Sébastien continued pelting the incoming Clackers with small rocks from behind the house.

As they were approaching the house he was behind, he abandoned his rock pile and shuffled back onto the roof with the pipe, ran over a couple houses (his feet relieved from the pain of the tough soil), then shuffled down again and sprinted towards the docks. Slipping under the water, he was tugged under the dock by Romeo, who helped tie him under.

"Genius," Romeo told him. The boys nodded in approval, and the burning of Sébastiens feet diminished.

They hung together, bound to the docks, completely silent for half an hour. The Clackers tapped their rifles and stomped their boots, shaking the docs every once in a while. Clack, clack clack, thunk thunk thunk. A few of them shut their eyes and started to snore, but quickly shook themselves awake when poked by Sébastien or Romeo. Finally, the boats arrived, and the sailors loaded up the cargo: Portuguese rifles.

"Oh God," David whimpered, and though no one was as verbal as David, some began to tremble. Sébastien understood: if they moved, they would be shot dead.

"Sh!" he hushed, and waited for the sailors to finish loading and move off of the dock. Sébastien untied himself, and motioned for the others to start doing as well.

"Wait for my signal!" he warned them, and submerged himself under the water. He found the back of the boat, and pulled himself up from the rickety boards. Reaching an opening on the backside of the boat, he slipped himself through and fell inside. His body made a hard thump, and he froze- nothing. He looked around, stumbling through whatever layer of the boat he had landed in. Crates after crates after crates. He was just under the deck, safe from any of the sailors noticing him. And the rest of the boys could fit, too. He stuck his hand out of the opening and gave a thumbs up, and the rest of the boys stumbled in. They all situated themselves in the boat, lying flat on their stomachs to not bump their heads.

"You alright, David?" Sébastien asked.

"Yeah, he's alright," Romeo said, slapping David on the head. They all let out a soft chuckle.

"Is the rain on the other side of the water?" someone asked.

"Mhm," Sébastien replied. He watched as the boat departed from the port, peering out of the opening. He watched the Workers stand in lines, harvest pepper, and carry crates in and out of boats while the sailors leaned on buildings, smoking. He watched as his father was shoved along, a Clacker trailing him and tapping his rifle against the hard, dryland while he walked to work. And he hoped, prayed to God, that there wouldn't just be rain on the other side: there would be justice.