She was seated on the bed; the two men were side by side on the couch; the single seat facing the couch was empty. I sat in it. The light from the open window fell on my face. There was something missing from the room. Throughout the interview the absence kept niggling at my mind, distracting me. The men looked identical in all respects, like twins; even their cross-legged posture was identical.

‘Kela, we hope you can help us with our investigation. It is very important,’ the man on the left said. ‘We are from State Intelligence.’

I didn’t know what State Intelligence was, but I nodded. I tried to catch my auntie’s eyes, to get some kind of direction from her, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes. Suddenly I felt apprehensive. Maybe someone had died. Maybe…

‘Joshua Amusu was your teacher, wasn’t he?’

The question jolted me out of my wild speculations. I nodded. ‘He was.’

‘And we understand that you were very close to him. You used to go on outings together.’

‘Yes.’

‘You seem to be the last person to have seen him before he disappeared after the unfortunate riot of last week. You were together at the hospital.’

I told them everything. Joshua had told me that they would come. He had warned me not to lie; that they’d definitely find out if I did. And in any case, there was nothing to hide.

‘I left him at the hospital. He said he was going to Warri,’ I said. I felt my auntie’s eyes on me. I had not told her this.

‘Oh, what for?’ the one on the left asked.

‘To see Hagar’s people and tell them about her death.’

‘And from there? Won’t you come back?’ I had asked.

Joshua had shaken his head. ‘What for? Without her, Poverty Street will never be the same again for me. I’ll move on,’ he had said.

‘Where?’ I had asked.

‘I don’t know. I’ll move around a bit. I don’t know.’

Maybe he didn’t want to tell me where, so that I wouldn’t have to lie to them. I saw the excitement in their eyes as they leaned forward.

‘Where was he going from there?’

‘America,’ I replied without hesitation. I saw the surprise in my auntie’s eyes. The two men looked at each other.

‘America? Did he tell you that?’

‘No, no. I am only guessing,’ I said, shaking my head.

‘Why?’ I could feel the restraint behind the word. Now they were trying to humour this fanciful child.

‘Because that is where people go to when they can’t live in their own country. They go to seek asylum.’

‘I see. How interesting.’ They were still humouring me. The tension in the air had reduced.