Diary of David Banda, age 1

October 18, 2006 at 7:04 am (Espresso)

Tuesday 17 October

Mad woman, who calls herself ‘mom’, brings me to London. Apparently she’s pretty big out here. And a guy – called Guy for goodness sake – who makes poor movies is supposed to make a great dad. I was trying to hide when they came to our orphanage. A whisper went around: “A mad American who thinks she’s English is coming to shop here.”

I remember the two of them peering over the crib next to mine. I tried to look as white as possible so they wouldn’t pick me. But they did. “I want this one,” said mad-woman.
“You sure, Madge?” said Guy. “The one in crib three looked nice.”

“No, this one looks like Cassius Clay.”

“Sure you don’t want a girl, there’s loads next-door.”

“Hold on a minute, there’s a finger missing on this one.”

And then they came to me. I retracted my little finger so they would think I don’t have one. Then mad-woman uncoiled it.

“He has his finger!” she said.

And that was that.


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