Tari Learns to Listen

In Port Harcourt, Tari had lots of words.

English words for school and sums. Pidgin for football with his friends.

But in Ịzọn, the language of Mama and Dada, Tari had no words at all.

Not one.

Visual guide Port Harcourt street, busy and bright: yellow buses, a bread seller, a football, a boy of about eight (Tari) in school uniform, bag on his back. Speech bubbles full of English words float around him. One empty bubble drifts by, just out of reach.

One morning Mama packed a bag.

“You are going to Auntie Yengi,” she said.

“Plant something in her yard before the rain.”

Then she held him for a long, long time.

Visual guide A small flat, morning light. Mama kneels at the doorway to Tari’s height, her hands on his shoulders, saying one last thing. A packed bag by the door. Tender, not sad. (Keep Mama’s face gentle; she does not go with him.)

First a bus. Then a boat.

Six long hours on the water. Green, green, a gap, more green.

River splashed up beside the boat. Ịzọn · KB-12

Storm tugged his shirt like an old friend.

The boy at the engine grinned and called out, Ịzọn · KB-01

City boy! Which house are you for?

The words zipped past Tari like little fish.

Not yet.

Visual guide Wide spread: a long wooden passenger boat on tea-brown water between walls of mangrove roots. A barefoot boy of about fourteen steers the outboard engine, grinning. Tari sits small in the middle, hugging his bag. River rises out of the water beside the boat, bubbling at him; Storm tugs his shirt. The boat boy isn’t bothered by either. The sketch above still shows the earlier scene; follow this guide.

Visual guide Wordless spread, full bleed, no text panel. The busy village landing: women with basins on their heads, men mending nets, children running on the planks, everyone talking at once. Their words are drawn as small silver fish darting around Tari, who reaches for them with open hands and catches none.

Auntie Yengi looked at him for a long, long time.

Behind her peeped Ebiere and little Doubra.

“Sorry,” said Tari. “I don’t — sorry.”

Auntie Yengi said, Ịzọn · KB-02

You have come. Come inside.

Visual guide A compound yard. Auntie Yengi, a proud older woman in a wrapper and headtie, stands very straight, studying Tari. Her granddaughters: Ebiere (6), arms folded, frowning; Doubra (3), thumb in mouth, peeking round Yengi’s leg. Tari stands at the gate with his bag.

That night, Tari planted a little green stick by the fence and pressed the earth down tight.

The stick was very small.

So was Tari.

He whispered the word Mama always sang to her pepper plants. Ịzọn · KB-09

Grow.

He had never known he knew it.

In the bark, a tiny green face blinked open. Grove yawned, and did not grow.

Not yet.

Visual guide Night, a lamp glowing in the house behind. Tari kneels by the fence, pressing earth around the tiny cutting. Big starry sky. The stick and the boy are drawn the same small size against the dark. In the bark, Grove’s tiny green face has just blinked open, mid-yawn. The sketch above still shows the earlier scene; follow this guide.

Every evening, by the lamp, Auntie Yengi said a word.

Ịzọn · KB-03

His tongue tripped. He tried again. And again.

Auntie Yengi never said “Good.” When he got it right, she just said the next word.

That was how he knew.

Visual guide Inside, by a kerosene lamp. Auntie Yengi sits upright on a stool; Tari sits opposite, lips moving, concentrating hard. Doubra asleep on a mat. Warm lamplight, deep shadows.

Visual guide Two panels or a split scene; the art carries most of this spread. Left: Doubra (3) on Tari’s knee, solemnly turning out his empty pockets and chattering, then patting them flat and beaming up at him. Right: in the yard, Ebiere (6), arms folded, says his word back to him exactly as wrong as he said it; Tari winces and tries again. The sketch panels still show an earlier version (pointing, the doorway); follow this guide.

At the landing, the boys dived off the jetty.

“Ịzọn · KB-05” the boys shouted.

City boy! Jump!

Tari dropped his bag.

Those words did not need practising. They went straight in.

And so did Tari.

Visual guide Boys diving off the jetty; River catches them in a curl of water and tosses them back up. Tari mid-jump with them for the first time, bag dropped on the planks, arms wide. Big splash. Joyful and noisy. The sketch above still shows the earlier scene; follow this guide.

Visual guide The yard over several months, shown as a sequence across the spread: the stick sprouting, then a sapling, then a small leafy tree leaning toward the sun. Grove’s face in the trunk grows with it, more awake each time. Tari beside it in each stage, a little taller each time. One stage shows Tari on the jetty with the boys, holding up a small fish.

Visual guide Two moments. Left: the landing. Tari stands tall, mouth open on his word; everyone around him is laughing: the boys doubled over, market women with hands over their mouths, River splashing with giggles. Not cruel, but Tari’s face falls. Right: Tari alone on the path home, small, fists tight.

Auntie Yengi was mending a torn net by the lamp.

She put the torn edge in his hands and went back to her knot.

One knot. Then the next. Then the next.

Tari’s first knot was crooked. He tied another.

By the time the lamp burned low, the hole was gone.

In the morning, he said his word again. Right tune.

Visual guide Inside, lamplight. Auntie Yengi on her stool mending a big fishing net that pools across the floor. Tari beside her with the torn edge in his lap, tying a crooked knot, tongue between his teeth. Yengi’s eyes are on her own knot, not on him: she does not ask what is wrong. Final vignette: morning, Tari walking back down to the landing. The sketch above still shows the earlier scene; follow this guide.

The first big rain did not start. It arrived, all at once: Storm and River together.

Everybody ran. Tari did not run.

He stood by little Grove, bent almost flat. Grove held on.

Storm roared. River sang. Inside the noise, Tari heard words. Something he almost understood. Ịzọn · KB-07

Not yet.

Visual guide Dramatic spread: the first big rain. Storm and River together, a huge grey-silver shape pouring over the creek, enormous but friendly. People running for cover with basins over their heads. Tari by the fence in the rain beside little Grove, bent almost flat, one hand cupped around it, face turned up, listening. The sketch above still shows the earlier scene; follow this guide.

One evening, by the fire, Doubra said something silly. Ịzọn · KB-08

Everybody laughed, even Grove. Tari understood.

Yengi just said the next thing.

Next morning, the boat boy called out again. Ịzọn · KB-01

Which house are you for?

This time, Tari caught every word.

And he answered. Ịzọn · KB-11

My name is Tari. In Yengi’s house.

Tari was home.

Visual guide Left: the whole household around an evening cooking fire: Yengi, Ebiere, Doubra (mid-joke, arms up), Tari laughing with his head thrown back. Behind them, by the fence, Grove, now taller than Tari, laughing along with its leaves. Right: the next morning at the landing, the long boat coming in, the boat boy at the engine, Tari standing tall and answering him. River and Storm nearby. Warm and full. The sketch above still shows the earlier scene; follow this guide.