by Blaire Baron
It is still dark and the early morning cacophony has yet to greet the day. The others have already left and Washington knows they aren’t waiting for him, not this time. With no Mum to wake him, he’s getting better at finding his clothes in the dark. Washington scoops up a sticky ball of yesterday’s ugali and pops it in his mouth before rushing out of the ramshackle maze. He zig-zags past sleeping mothers and babes. Everything here is laid bare, there are no doors and there’s nothing here to steal.
Some might call it a labor camp but to Washington, it’s home. Out of the maze now, he runs toward the line of humming shadows holding machetes. Washington grins up at one of his uncles.
“Look who made it?”
He hums along with the men. The voices swell — in rhythm with footsteps — as the army of bare feet trudge along the hill to work.
Eh nyege nyege
Kwetu mwanza nyegezi
Hmm nyege nyege
The orange ball of fire peers over the hilltop. Another day. The silhouettes slowly curve forward, ants on the move. A beautiful image, tainted by the mud-caked clothes dangling and loose on their bodies. Toward the back of the line, the feet are smaller. The smallest pair belong to Maurice who must run to keep up. Washington remembers those days, when he was the youngest. But now he’s ten and no longer a child.
The line pauses, as always, to acknowledge the volcano across the mountain. It’s always at this moment, Washington imagines what school is like. Is it better than the cacao farm? Would he even be a good student? What would happen to him after school? Would he get the chance to find out? Washington notices Maurice has turned back. He leaves the line to retrieve the child.
Maurice cries to Washington, he misses warm breakfast and the lap of Maa Nandi. Maa Nandi, the eldest and most revered, always tells stories to the youngest children — the ones too young to work and too poor to pay for school. The story everyone likes most is of Xotay and Ukundu.
“On opposite sides of the Kwango or it might be the Ubangi, others say the Nile, live two Peoples: Xotay and Ukundu. They are as connected as the threads in a spider’s shimmering web, though they have never met at all. Yet the People of Xotay know that their luck, their happiness, even their very survival depends on the sacrifice of the Ukundu. While the Xotay have more than they could ever need, the Ukundu work and have nothing. Xotay knows the Ukundu will serve and work so they send prayers of thanks. They will never rescue the Ukundu, for it is a privilege to serve and they will be rewarded…”
Washington was always puzzled by Maa Nandi’s story. He knew that they were the Ukundu. One day, he planned to seek out the “lucky ones” in the next village and determine if Maa Nandi’s story was true. If it were, he would find a way to break this curse. He wanted to do great things for his people. But for now….
Eh nyege nyege
Kwetu mwanza nyegezi
Hmm nyege nyege
#
It’s Tea Time on the 23rd floor of Rockefeller Center, New York City! The American Doll Cafe and Store is stuffed to the gills with patrons on this Saturday before Christmas. At the cafe, each table is a trifecta: mother, daughter, doll. The Triple Crown goes to Miss Zoey, her chauffeur (whom she loudly refers to as Dana-Mom) and Zoey’s prized American Doll, Lola. They’ve made the long pilgrimage here from Rumson, New Jersey. Kevin, their server, has fitted Lola perfectly in her American Doll high chair, along with pink placemat, pink napkin and cup. Zoey asks Kevin if she can take home everything pink on the table. If the answer was no, she planned to steal it anyway. Zoey holds the last bite of a crustless PB&J sandwich to Lola’s mouth. Dana-Mom checks her phone
“Ten minutes before Lola’s hair appointment.”
Mom hopes Zoey has long forgotten her crazy idea about piercing that doll’s ears.
“Lola wants to get her ears pierced!”
“How about cake for dessert?!”
Dana-Mom knows better than to cross Zoey in public so she changes the subject. She waves to Kevin, now swamped with multiple tables with pressing needs.
“Yooo hooo! One German chocolate layer cake!”
“Three! I want my own slice. What about Lola? She loves chocolate! ”
Mom turns to Zoey.
“Three? Too much chocolate, Baby, we’ll all be sick in the car. Besides, Lola doesn’t want cake, honey. She didn’t finish her sandwich.”
Zoey’s shoulders curl into a sulk. She knows her doll’s needs better than Dana-mom.
“If Lola can’t get her ears pierced then she gets cake!”
Kevin glides over to them.
“Ladies?”
“Kevin, be a doll and explain to my child how rich the cake is!”
Kevin bends down to Zoey’s level.
“Zoey, this is German Chocolate with three layers of buttercream. You might want to share your slice with Lola so she doesn’t get sick!”
Zoey trusts Kevin more than Dana-mom..
“Is the chocolate from the Willy Wonka Chocolate Factory?”
Kevin starts to respond when Dana-mom interjects.
“Zoey is obsessed with the Johnny Depp remake. She thinks Willy Wonka is real.”
“He is real..”
Kevin speaks softly, as if only for Zoey.
“Zoey, American Doll only uses KOKA chocolate. The cocoa beans come from very far away in Africa! In fact, the beans grow right next to exotic gorillas.”
Zoey tilts her head.
“Gorillas?”
“Yes. And the chocolate, well, it’s the best in the world. Besides, you won’t find Augustus Gloop’s finger in your frosting.”
“I forgot about him!”
Kevin nods. They’ve reached a compromise.
#
It’s a blistering day in Atlanta, but chilly inside the KOKA Corporate Campus auditorium. KOKA magnate, Joyce Vale, addresses a packed audience. The Stakeholders. In an Armani suit, Joyce seems like a tiny fleck on KOKA’s cave-like stage.
“The past murky handling of supply chains is over! Our chemists have created legitimate biomarkers by isolating DNA at three cocoa farms, enabling the creation of a database specific to each farm. This means KOKA can now account for the precise geographic location of its cocoa beans! We now lead the way in fair-trade sustainability practices with a certified 100% Green Supply Chain! Now when people buy KOKA chocolate products, they are casting a vote for human rights, for hope, for conservation, for good. KOKA for good.”
A giant glowing cocoa bean rotates on the Jumbotron screen like the Shroud of Turin.. The crowd chants, KOKA for Good! They believe they are doing good, like “the Xotay” as Mama Nandi would call them.
Balloons float from the rafters in the colors of the Kenyan Flag. Now the photo of a boy, none other than Washington himself, appears on the Jumbotron. KOKA’S new literal poster child, Washington’s face has been digitally “cleaned up” to smile bright in his KOKA T-shirt. He may or may have smiled that big for the photo, but anything can be improved. No smile seemed brighter than Washington’s. He made the stakeholders feel warm inside. These stakeholders will never meet Washington, but now they at least feel a connection. They have cast their vote for good and they feel good. That’s all that matters.
“Now, under our watch, children like Washington can go to school rather than labor under impossible working conditions.”
#
Back at the American Doll Tea Room, Zoey yanks Lola out of her pink high chair, excited to be dashing off to the next thing. Mom sighs before she tosses down a twenty for Kevin.. Two slices was a mistake, she thinks to herself. Kevin rushes over.
“Can I pack up all that for you?”
“Ya know…we have that long drive. I was thinking. Is there a way you can give these cakes to the homeless? We saw about three tents on Sixth Avenue! I mean, right downstairs! Poor folks. So sad. I bet they’d love KOKA chocolate!”
Kevin looks at Dana-Mom, deciding whether to let her feel good or tell her the truth: due to health regulations, her beneficent idea is illegal. The cake is going in the trash. He doesn’t have the energy to tell the truth today.
“I absolutely will follow up on that..”
Dana-Mom glows with fuzziness before lifting four handle bags weighted with American Doll gear.
“Kevin, you’re a doll. Merry Chirstmas!”
Kevin looks at the KOKA cake slices. Two bites out of each. With the triumvirate groups gone, he notices all the cakes on all the plates on all the tables. Two bites two bites, two bites…or was this his brain again just looking for patterns?
Kevin feels a wave of sadness as palpable as the chocolate on the tables. The wave has a message for him and soon he will quit this job at American Doll to follow his dream. But for now, Kevin removes the desert plates and tosses the uneaten KOKA chocolate cakes into the trash.
#
Eh nyege nyege
Kwetu mwanza nyegezi…
Another sunrise. Washington sings on the walk to work. The labor camp, now deemed “KOKA Village” has experienced a face lift. KOKA’s touch is everywhere and so is Washington’s smiling face. There is no word in Swahili for “branding” but since the visit from the KOKA people, worker pay has gone up from the equivalent of 80 cents a day to 95 cents! Maurice and children younger than him still work, but they hide when the drones fly over and when the inspectors come. As the sun rises and the workers ponder the volcano across the mountain, Washington thinks about the visit from the KOKA Mzungus. How much they smiled at him. How they took his picture. How they listened to his dreams of going to school. And how they promised to make a school right there that he could attend. So Washington stayed. And so he waits.
Maa Nandi still cooks breakfast in the labor camp, but with better utensils and even electricity! She still tells the story of Xotay and Ukundu to the youngest children—the ones too young to work on the cocoa farm and too poor to afford school.
“A prophecy was handed down that one blessed day, a member of the Xotay will cross the river to see the Ukundu. The Xotay member would know their suffering and tell the others to share their abundance. The Ukundu would then know a life of bounty and joy. The prophecy has not come to pass. And so they wait.”
© Blaire Baron
Blaire Baron (she/her) serves as Artistic Director of the famed Shakespeare Youth Festival. She is an award winning director, actor and playwright. Her play Milk Meetings won Outstanding Achievement in Playwriting at The Ophelia (NYC). Her play The Below was Best of Fringe, Hollywood. The Basket Weaver was chosen and performed at Playwrights Horizons for the Samuel French Playwrights Festival. Her trilogy ran in four theaters across Los Angeles. Blaire launched a trilingual Performing Arts program for 137 youth in Kogelo, Kenya. They did Hamlet in English, Kiswahili and Luo…for their village. Blaire is a recipient of PBS’ Community Champion Award, and was recently awarded by the City of Los Angeles for her work with youth.
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