Of preparations, appearances, and appearing prepared.
“Ughhh…she won’t leave me alone!” Tymas complained as he and Gen strolled towards their classroom. Tymas had an assortment of activity books and stationery in his arms and he was struggling to keep them from spilling over. Gen, on the other hand, was walking effortlessly; all his school supplies were stored neatly in his sling bag.
“I thought you said your Ma will be too busy preparing for the dinner to boss you around?”
The scowl on Tymas’ face grew. “She wants me to actually help her with the preparations. We’re going to shop for table garments this afternoon…”
Arriving at their destination, they walked up to their usual spot at the back of the class. Tymas threw all of his school supplies onto the table. Gen caught his charcoal pencil before it rolled off the edge.
Ms Enka walked in soon after. She looked less pale today, her cheeks a little more rosy with rouge.
“Children, we’re going to work on some calculations today, so take out your activity books,” she began, and there was strength and a spring in her voice, quite unlike her usual measured meekness.
Gen and Tymas cast each other a glance. There was something unusual about Ms Enka today.
Throughout the class, Gen was at the very least trying to be attentive and responsive to Ms Enka’s instructions. Tymas really couldn’t care less. He had his activity book open but he was doodling away on the page where his mathematical workings should be.
Ms Enka walked down the row once, but didn’t call Tymas out for his inattention, not even with a gentle ‘encouragement’. Something was really up with her today!
Then came the routine recitation of the village creed at the end of class. As a matter of fact, they seemed to have wrapped up the lesson a few minutes before the bell. The creed recitation was usually signalled by the sound of the bell - the point of Tymas’ ongoing argument that it was outside of class time. Today, not only was this recitation unprompted, Ms Enka seemed to rush through it, her eyes darting to look outside the window more than once.
The bell rang almost exactly after they recited the last word. Ms Enka smiled, grabbed her bag, and was off.
As the boys packed up, Gen noticed that Tymas was distracted. He nudged him with his elbow.
“Something’s going on, and we’re gonna find out what,” he said, determined, eyes trained on the door as he stuffed some supplies into his bag and picked up the rest in his arms.
“We ended class on time, that’s good, isn’t it? And aren’t you supposed to go shopping with your Ma?” Gen asked.
Tymas didn’t answer Gen’s questions, but scooped up his belongings and headed for the door, ‘C’mon.”
They followed Ms Enka from a safe distance. She seemed to be headed for the marketplace but made a sharp turn before she could get there.
“Ty, are you sure this is a good idea? We’re not supposed to be roaming around on our own after school…,” Gen asked nervously, trying to keep up with Tymas’ determined pace. He was supposed to go straight home after school. It had taken some convincing before Ma agreed to let him and Tymas make the journey home by themselves and he wasn’t keen on giving her a reason to change her mind. But to say he wasn’t curious where Ms Enka was going would be lying.
They turned into a less crowded and slightly more elegant-looking (as elegant as red earthen bricks and dusty roads can get) street. Ms Enka was still walking ahead. She hadn’t stopped for as much as a drink or to ask for directions.
Then came the welcoming smell of something roasted over the open fire.
“Is she going for lunch?” Gen found himself asking.
And then the growing noise of a crowd and lively activity reached their ears. Finally, colourful signs came into view.
There, under some high and flowing tentage, was a decorated platform and logs for seating arranged in rows in front of it.
“It’s the noontime show-performance-thing! I heard my Nana talk about it before…I think that’s how she met Dada,” Gen said.
Ms Enka hadn’t gone straight to the seats but had made a detour to the snack stand to get some roasted nuts. Standing next to her was a tall man with peanut brown hair that looked remarkably like Uncle Drewe from the back.
It was Uncle Drewe.
“He lied to us!” Tymas gasped.
“He didn’t lie to us, Ty. Uncle Drewe said he and Ms Enka are friends,” Gen replied. Tymas shot him a look that said ‘Really? Friends?’
Once again, Tymas was about to make his way over to break up the nice thing they’ve got going on but Gen held him back.
Oblivious to the fact that there were two young boys spying on them, Drewe and Enka walked into the arena and took their seats in time for the show.
“C’mon, Ty, let’s go. Your Ma will be angry if you don’t make it home on time.”
Tymas remained adamant for a few moments but finally gave in. Swiping the back of his hand across the bottom of his nose, it came away with a smear of blood, which he wiped off haphazardly on the side of his tunic. “Ughhh, this weather!” Everything seemed to be getting on his nerves today.
The boys then quickly made their way home before the glower (and worry) on their mothers’ faces became too much for them to handle. They did get lost once since they were unfamiliar with the area and all the streets looked exactly the same, but after running around a little they found the path back to the marketplace.
Tymas told his Ma a blatant lie when she caught him strolling through the door fashionably late. Gen told Ma they took a slight detour because they got distracted when they saw someone they recognised, which was half of the actual story.
Gen then managed to convince Ma to let him follow Tymas and his Ma on their errands. He showed her the full score on his maths quiz from earlier that day and she sent him along with an apple in hand.
The boys found themselves at the textile market trailing after Tymas’ Ma as she went from booth to booth inspecting cloth after cloth. She hadn’t found the one as of yet. Tymas, in his desperation, had attempted to help her narrow down the search to a colour, pattern, texture, or fringe design but she was undecided. Gen followed along in contemplative silence, pondering which cloths Ma, Leia, and Nana would choose if they were here. Ma would like the one with the swirly print, Leia the one with flowers, Nana the cream-coloured silky one - it looked like her hair.
Her shopping was interrupted when she bumped into some friends who were running their errands at the marketplace. They asked about the big dinner; it had been the subject of much idle talk, an occasion esteemed among the village folk. Tymas’ Ma, beaming with the pride and joy of exceptional privilege, began to share about the preparations, gesturing to her dutiful son who had volunteered to help out.
Now, Tymas was utterly bitter and annoyed about the whole ordeal and wasn’t afraid to display that on his face. As the inquisitive and probing housewives turned their attention towards him, his Ma quickly shoved a couple of coins into his hands and steered him and Gen towards the snack stalls.
“He deserves a treat for his hard work, he’s been shopping with me all afternoon,” she explained, then continued to fill the ladies in on the details of her shopping list.
“See, I got us a treat. These should be enough for two nectar sticks,” he smirked, counting the coins in his palm. This was a rare opportunity, and Tymas sure knew how to wrest it out of his Ma. Gen was grateful he had a part in it; he’d only savoured the toothsome treat twice in his life and it left him in anxious anticipation for his next chance.
The boys left the stall giddy with excitement. It turns out there was enough money for two nectar sticks each. They indulged in them, licking both sticks one after another, as Tymas’ Ma continued her animated discourse about hosting the Chief for dinner. It seemed she had drawn a larger crowd of curious homemakers than before.
It probably wasn’t a good idea for two seven-year-olds to have that much sugar but they polished off their nectar sticks way before Tymas’ Ma could intervene. When she was done rousing the crowd about the prestigious affair, she grabbed the boys, who were now sated, and whisked them back into the serious business of cloth shopping.
Just shy of five minutes into it and Tymas began to drag his feet and walk unsteadily. Had the sugar rush subsided that quickly?
Finally, he clung to his Ma’s arm and got her attention.
“Can we go? I feel dizzy,” he said, speech slow, weak, almost breathless.
His Ma was visibly rattled and put a hand to his forehead. She patted away the sweat at his temples then picked up one of the cloths impetuously, handed it over to the merchant for packing, and paid for it in a fumble.
“Let’s go.” Taking Tymas’ hand, she gestured to Gen, and they were on their way.
Gen was worried. As he walked alongside Tymas, he whispered to him, “Ty, are you okay?”
To that, Tymas simply winked (or blinked, he hadn’t quite mastered the one-eye-only motion) and left his best friend speechless.
No sooner had they reached home than Tymas perked up and was back to his normal self.
His Ma permitted him to stay outside but under the shade of the canvas canopy and with a large jug of water. Gen stayed with him.
“Why did you do that, Ty? Your Ma looked scared.”
“I scare her every once in a while,” he brushed it aside. “Anyway, it got her to finally pick a cloth for the table garment,” he said, kicking back in his seat.
Gen sighed, unsure of what to think. He imagined that it was Ma, frantic and face pale with fright, and he shuddered at the thought of it all being a prank.
Just then, Drewe strolled into the yard, whistling a light-hearted tune. When he saw Tymas and Gen, he stopped to say hello.
“Where did you go today, Uncle?” Tymas asked. Gen looked between him and Uncle Drewe, a little apprehensive about where the conversation was going.
Was Uncle Drewe going to lie? They would know. And they’d have to lie about how they knew.
“I went to watch the noontime show,” he replied with a smile, and Gen released a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“With who?” Tymas probed further.
“A friend.”
When Tymas continued staring at him with that steely gaze, Drewe chuckled, “Why are you so curious? I’ll take you and Gen there next time.
How did the shopping trip go?”
“We had nectar sticks!” Gen burst out excitedly then quickly covered his mouth.
“Nectar, huh? I know something sweeter, better. I’ll try to get it for you two.”
Something sweeter and better than nectar? Gen didn’t think that was possible, but his eyes sparkled at the mention of it.
“We’re going to the marketplace tomorrow, more preparations for the big dinner,” Drewe informed Tymas, “Gen, wanna come along?”
Gen nodded, then hopped off his seat to return home. He hoped to get on Ma’s good side with his initiative so that he’d be allowed to go. It was almost time for her to send Leia over to get him.
As he waved goodbye and walked those few steps to the adjacent house, he heard Tymas’ Ma fussing faintly over the cloth she had bought, telling Uncle Drewe that it was the wrong colour.
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