The Other Side of Truth by Naidoo Beverley (z-lib.org).epub

“Don’t move, children! This one has a torch.”
The car lurched to a halt and Sade heard the window being rolled down. She
held her breath and hoped Femi was doing the same.
“I’m late, officer. My mother is coming to the airport now. I must be the first
one she sets her eyes on. You know how it is with mothers!” Uncle Tunde
laughed lightly, his tone smooth and polite.
“Oga, open de door! Wetin you carry for back?” The policeman barked.
“Oh, it’s only rubbish at the back, officer!” Their uncle’s voice rose on the
word “rubbish,” as if enjoying a joke. “I threw the blanket on top so my mother
won’t complain that her son is untidy!”
“OK, OK. Carry on!” The policeman was impatient.
“Thank you, officer. Very understanding.”
The engine stormed into life again.
As soon as they had left the roadblock behind, Uncle Tunde instructed them
to throw off the blanket and to sit on the backseat.
“Did you give him money, Uncle?” Sade asked, her heart pumping rapidly.
“Never you mind. That could have been nasty! If he insisted on looking, we
would have been in big, big trouble.”
“He would think you were kidnapping us!” Femi muttered, sniffing. He
brushed his arm across his eyes. Had he been crying? He wriggled on the seat,
stretching his legs, and turned away from Sade.
The lights of Murtala Muhammed Airport sparkled in the distance. Usually it
was exciting coming out to the airport, especially in the evening. The main
building glittered in layers like an enormous ocean liner out in the middle of an
indigo sea. Thousands of invisible messages could be shooting at any moment
between the great funnel-shaped control tower and invisible planes somewhere
up there in the sky. But tonight Sade felt none of that excitement, only her
stomach twisted and knotted. At this moment, someone in the control tower was
preparing to direct the plane that was going to carry her and Femi far away from
home.
Even at night the car park was as busy and noisy as any street market. They
joined a winding stream of cars that eased their way through the crowds, who
were hustling back and forth with bags and boxes. Having found a parking
space, Uncle Tunde told the children to wait. He would go first and find the
agent and Mrs. Bankole.
“I don’t want to go, Sade,” Femi blurted, as Uncle Tunde merged into the
shadows of the crowd. “If we run away now, we’ll miss the plane! They can’t