3 3 Home Affairs Deji Olukotun "HomeAffairs/'excerpted fromNigerians in Space, a largernovel inprogress, follows afather and son as they attempttopenetratethenotorious RefugeeReceptionOffice inCape Town, South Africa.Thefather, Wale, hasfled bothhis native Nigeria and his second home?the U.S.?in search ofhis dream togo intoouterspace.His son,Dayo, wonderswhy theyleft at all. ButNigerians are rarely welcome inSouthAfrica,and refugees often get thecold shoulder.The storyemerged from Olukotun's work as a refugee attorney. he bullwhip went up and snapped back in a flash, givingWale just enough time JL toduck. The guard was angry?he'd been aggravated by a Tanzanian, freshoff the smug gling truckand waving a paper inhis face?and finally, he'd had enough. "Three lines! Twenty-twos, here! Twenty threes, here! Twenty-fours, here! Three lines!" When Wale and Dayo didn'tmove, theguard came at them hard and fast, stepping back to stretchthe full lengthof thebullwhip. "Get itup, Dayo!" Wale shouted. "Raise the shield!" Clumsily Dayo raised his basket cover, a makeshift shield, and whap!-whap!-whap! theguard rained thewhip down, shooting bits of bamboo into theair.Father and son huddled togetherlikea Roman turtle,raising theirshields over theirheads until the guard, furious,moved on and cracked September-October 2009 i21 thewhip at a group ofCongolese men chattering inLingala, seemingly unaware of the commotion. "three lines!" The resthappened rapidly: the whip snapped, a pair of spectacles?glinting silver in the sun? shot into theair, one of the men fell to theground clutching his temple, and his companion inmili tary fatigues hurtled himself at the guard, wres tlingaway the whip. He had been a commander of theNinjas inBouenza, he shouted, and wouldn't let theguard treathim like an animal. And while more guards joined the fray to retrieve thewhip that the commander had taken,Wale spied an opening in the security gate and theywere run ning fast, fast, fastpast the hundreds of others, through the turnstileand thebeeping radar detec torand into thegloam of theold Customs House. Inside the long, dark foyer there was a cor ridor that led to the elevators. A stale haze hung in the air, obscuring theirvision, and theybegan to sweat. They put away their shields and were about to press the "Up" button on the elevator when the guards entered dragging themilitary man by his shirt. "Stay calm," Wale instructed. "Let's go to the stairs." The elevator door opened as the guards approached with their captive. Wale pretended likehe had just exited the elevator, looking at his watch as if late for an importantmeeting. The guards pulled theman into the elevator without noticing and waited calmly forthedoor to close. Wale and his sonwalked briskly to the stair well, where the steps twistedup interminably into the mottled haze. "Whatwill theydo with him,Dad?" "This isHome Affairs,Dayo. In here we will mind our own business. We get in and get out." He stepped over toDayo, who was hunched over, his mouth slightly open and looking stupid, and pressed a thumb intohis spine. "Stand up straight. Close your mouth." There were no windows in the stairwell, and theair feltas ifithad hung there fordecades. "How far?" "She's on fourteen." They began to climb. Dayo broke out in a full sweat by themezzanine of the stairwell, and thenumbered floorsdid not begin until theyhad already climbed five flights. Wale tramped up, sweating too, holding the hems of his flowing agbada on the landings. They burst out of the stair well into an empty corridor stripedwith mauve, fuchsia, and wilted sunflower paint. The fuchsia was thebiggest stripe.There were exposed struc turalbeams and air ducts from refurbishing and each door had a plastic placard with a number on it. "Mrs. Craxton is in four-point-thirty-five point-sixty-two-point-twenty-one," Wale said. "Or was it point-twenty-three?" He took a note fromhis pocket. "I've got to go to the bathroom." "Point-twenty-two. You ate too many yams. I told you not to eat so many yams." They followed the hallway for a good two hundred meters, twisting and turning,until they were back at the stairwell. The only people they passed were security guards whom theywished to avoid. Cautiously, they trailed a custodian...
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