Paddington Station
Emily K. Salmond
“D’yoo be Amadu’s girlfriend?” Omar lifted his brown cap, only a few shades lighter than his skin, and wiped a trickle of sweat from his bald head. His muddy boots were propped on the folding table in front of him next to an open box of Krispy Kremes.
Amadu glanced at me, “No, no, she be a friend.”
Omar eyed me, never smiling, “D’at be too bad. Amadu know how to treat women. He be from Africa.”
An elderly Black lady sat across from me, her iron-gray hair pulled back in a purple scarf. “Don’t d’ya lie to her, boy. Da girl don’t look dat stupid.”
I stifled a laugh. I had met Amadu only an hour before, after the last trains of the night arrived at Paddington Station. He had moved my bench to wax the floor and worried I’d be too cold sitting next to the railroad tracks with no coat all night. He was in his 20s and everything about him seemed relaxed: the way he talked, the way he stretched his lean body back in his folding chair, the cap pulled over his eyes. After fifteen minutes of small talk, he’d insisted I join him in the employee lounge, a 9’x9’ room with sparse furniture and hideous lime-green walls. Two other employees sat next to the table. One was Omar, a man in his early fifties from Ethiopia. The Black lady was Caroline. She was originally from Sudan, like Amadu.
Caroline threw a towel at Amadu. “What’ya bring her in here for?”
Amadu shrugged. “She looked cold.”
“Don’t let dees men here fool d’ya,” she said to me. “D’ay never be good to d’air women, ‘less d’ya be dee udder woman.”
The door opened and another janitor shuffled in pushing his mop cart of him. He was a stocky man of twenty with braided hair.
The woman jerked her thumb in his direction. “’Specially dat one. He be trouble.”
“Caroline, why d’yoo be talking like dat?” The young man bent down and kissed her on the forehead. “D’you know I be d’your favorite.”
Caroline shooed him away before introducing him as Isaac, originally from Kenya. “Isaac be all about dee women. He have one too many.”
Omar held up his hand. “Now wait d’air, Caroline. D’air be no need to talk about da boy’s business.”
“D’air be no reason not to.” She slouched back with a smug grin “Unless he be having something to hide. He don’t seem to be t’inkin’ dat what he doing be wrong.”
“D’yoo know dat da African women be different. Da African laidies, d’ay scary. D’ay slit d’your throat while d’yoo sleep. D’ay beat d’yoo and take d’your goats.”
For a moment, I imagined Caroline beating Omar for his livestock. I had only been to Africa through images in National Geographic, a collage of stick huts and deserted. I couldn’t remember if the alleys had been from Africa or India.
Isaac selected a long john from the Krispy Kremes. “Omar be right. Da women here, d’ay be different. D’ay treat a man like a king.”
Caroline jabbed her finger in his chest. “’Dat be why d’yoo not bringing d’your woman here from Africa? D’yoo got dat girl from Essex?”
“You have two girlfriends?” I asked.
“No. He have a wife at home in Sudan. She be caring for dee home and dee livestock. She be d’air eight moths wit’ no word from her husband. And he be here, sleeping wit’ dee white lady from Essex.” She jabbed him in the chest again.
“D’air be nothing wrong with my girlfriend. My wife don’t know. Maybe my girlfriend be my second wife. Or maybe I be getting another girlfriend.” Isaac turned to me. “D’yoo be Amadu’s girlfriend?”
“No. I be his friend. I mean, I am his friend.”
The others burst out laughing. “D’yoo be confused, dat what d’yoo be,” Isaac said, inching his chair closer. “I be da one to help d’yoo wit’ dat.”
Caroline kicked him in the shin. “What d’yoo be doing that for? Dat girl be too smart for d’yoo. She don’t want someone who can’t keep to his woman.”
“Course she be wanting me. Everyone be wanting me. What d’yoo think? D’yoo think I be a bad husband?” he asked me.
I didn’t want to offend Caroline or Isaac, but it was hard not to feel offended for females everywhere. “Well, do you think it’s wrong to have another woman on the side?”
“’Course not! A man be in his rights to have two women. My brothers all of have two wives.”
“Well, then have you told your wife?” I asked.
“No. D’air be no need for dat.”
“But if you’re within your rights, then there shouldn’t be a problem telling her.”
“Ha!” Caroline slapped Isaac’s thigh. “D’yoo see? Da lady be seeing past d’your lies! Isaac be scared of his woman. He go home after all this time with another woman, dat wife going to make his life hell.”
Omar piped up, “I be telling d’yoo, woman! D’yoo African ladies be scary! D’ay beat d’yoo and take d’your goat!”
I was starting to wonder if the beating and goat-rustling was a bit personal for Omar.
“D’yoo take another wife, da first woman take d’your goat. It be d’your own doing,” Caroline said.
“We be in Britain now, Caroline, not Africa. Da women here be different.” Isaac said. “Maybe I be wanting a different kind of wife. All African men understand that.”
Omar raised his fist. “Ya! African men, d’ay understand da world better.”
“All African men?” Caroline asked. She cocked an eyebrow and scanned the room. All I be seeing here be two boys, no longer in d’your precious Africa. D’yoo the ones not knowing where d’yoo be. Where be d’your Africa while you be scrubbing floors and toilets?” Omar and Isaac were silent. “What about d’yoo, Amadu? D’yoo be awful quiet. What say d’yoo about d’your Africa?”
Amadu had been leaning back in his chair, his cap pushed over his face, feigning sleep. He sat up slowly and cocked his head toward Caroline. “Africa be my home.”
“If Africa be d’your home, why d’yoo be in London?” Caroline asked.
“I have six brother and sister. D’ay work on dee farm. My oldest brother, he be my best friend. We play in da goat pin and play tricks on dee udder chil’ren. But one day, my brother, he be very sick. And da doctor, he won’t help Amar. He counting his money and enjoying his tea when we come. He say he be too busy. My brother, he died. My mother, she died. And da doctor, he still be too busy. My udder brothers and sisters, d’ay be from a different mother. D’ay be stronger. But I still be afraid. I come to England to study medicine. I come to help my people. I go back to Africa, I be a nurse.”
The rest of us were quiet. Isaac stared at the table. Omar fidgeted in his chair. And Amadu leaned back in his chair and pulled the bill of his cap over his face where we couldn’t see his eyes. After a while Isaac spoke. “I came here to get an education. My whole family be counting on me. But I go to school four months and d’ay want more money. I be a rich man in Africa. But here, I be nothing.” He turned to Amadu. “D’yoo too? D’ay be asking d’yoo for too much money?”
Amadu nodded, never moving.
Isaac looked back at the table, thoughtful. “I be working here every night for a year. My school, d’ay tell me I can’t come back. D’ay be too full. I be too ashame’ to go home.”
Caroline took a sip of coffee. “When I come here, I be t’inking dat I have a new life. My family be dead: chil’ren, husband. My granddaughter be the only one left. She be in America. I work here long enough, I go there too.”
“Why you be here, Omar?” Isaac asked.
“My woman, she steal my goat.”
I was too perplexed to laugh. Amadu and Isaac and Caroline—they were all struggling to survive. Even Omar had come here for something better, a wife who wouldn’t steal his goat. I didn’t understand how a doctor could be too busy, counting his money, to save a boy’s life, how a school could refuse to help a men willing to work so hard because they didn’t have money, in a country so rich could take everything a man had and still not help him to his feet.
“And d’yoo, girl? What d’yoo be here for?” Caroline asked.
I had trouble looking her in the eye. I knew what it was like to want to please a family. But I had never been where they were, trying to hold a family together or help them survive. I had spent the past week believing I was poor. Every penny I owned went toward getting to Germany to spend a week with my friend Tina and her mother. The rest of my friends were off touring ten countries in 15 days. While excited about Germany, I wished I had enough money to stand in the Colloseum in Rome or hike through the vineyards in Tuscany.
“Well, I’m flying to Germany to see a friend.” I looked at the table, ashamed of my night sleeping in a railway terminal, something that had revealed my poverty a few hours earlier.
“D’yoo be a rich girl. Don’t be caught up with us, now. We fill d’your head wit’ nuddin but sorrows.” Caroline patted me on the shoulder.
Omar stood and put his hand on my shoulder. “It be 4:15. Morning trains coming in soon. We best be goin’ now.”
Isaac and Caroline followed him out the door. Amadu waited until they were gone. He smiled at me sadly before leading me to the door. “It be just another day in Paddington Station.”