BAMAKO by Aribert Raphael (smart books to read txt) đ
- Author: Aribert Raphael
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âDo we know what he means by âirregularitiesâ?â
âNo, not really. Kane says he wants to see someone empowered to assume responsibilities for these applications. He says Savoi hasnât given them all the documentation they needed or ⊠something like that anyway.â
âOkay, Iâll see about that when I get there. Anything else I should know before I go?â
âYesâŠâ He hesitated. âThere are rumours floating aroundâŠâ Silence. âTalya, are you there?â
âYes, yes, Iâm here. But what do you mean by ârumours floating aroundâ?â
âJust what Iâve said. Somebodyâs been saying that weâre about to start mining several sites in Northwest Mali. They say weâve got as many as a dozen concessions up there and that weâve found gold.â
Talya was stunned, to put it mildly. âThatâs ridiculous! You know as well as I do we havenât got any permits to do anything. And whoâs been spreading these rumours anyway?â
âI have no idea. But you know people down hereâtheyâd say anything to show theyâd know more than the next man.â He sounded embarrassed.
She hated gossips, and poor Jean-Claude felt the brunt of her irritation when she assaulted him over the line. âWe need to know whoâs been spreading these rumours. Damn it, youâre right there. You should know who has been doing all the talking and you should have told James or me. At least you shouldâve mentioned something in those reports youâve been sendingâŠâ
âHold on, Talya. Iâve told you these are only rumours and they shouldnât amount to anything. Thatâs why I didnât mention it before. Anyway, itâs not like people are shouting from rooftops.â They might as well have.
âDo you have any idea what this sort of speculation could do to our stock? You and I, my friend, would not have a job by the weekend. Do you realize that?â If the letter to James was anything to go by, the damaging flood of speculations had possibly begun. âListen, Iâm sorry to jump on you like this, but this isnât something we could correct easily, and you know it.â Her anger was abating slightly. âIâll talk to James before I leave and heâll probably issue a press release to stave off any possible repercussion.â
âBut, but ⊠I really didnât think these gossips would reach the stock exchange from here.â His discomfiture was audible now.
âOkay, letâs hope youâre right. Donât worry about it for now. Weâll get to the bottom of this one way or the other. Just keep your hat on until I get there, and please, tell Monsieur Kane that Iâll meet with him as soon as heâll be able to see me. Oh, one more thing, have you seen Savoi?â
âNo, I havenât seen him anywhere, but heâs been around, thatâs for sure.â
Talya apologized once more for her outburst and hung up.
4
In the early seventies, Talyaâs father, a physician, decided to go and cure the ills of Africa. Through a tireless dedication to his work, he unwittingly showed his daughter what a young girl should never see. The misery and the pain of fighting for mere survival were staring her in the face, around her, every day. She saw people implore for pity and simple kindness or attention to their never-ending sickness. She saw humans reduced to animal-like forms by diseases and horrible living conditions. The Dark Continent was bleeding from the scars of colonization. It was suffering from a long, incurable disease called âProgressâ.
The first time she returned to Africa after spending several years in Europe, going to college and hesitantly taking her first steps into the business world, Talya found that modernization had trespassed on the ancient continent. It had helped several countries emerge from the anarchy of independence. Wasnât it Churchill who once remarked, âIndependence was an unwelcome disruption to nations which prior to the First World War had shared a common economy, government and lawsâ?
As the years marched on, unfortunately, progress and poverty became bedfellows. Today, many people are merely subsisting in slums that emerged from the vestige of dead colonies, while many others are living in luxury homes mushrooming from foreign investments. This atmosphere breeds corruption, which, bar a few exceptions, is now running rampant almost everywhere throughout Africa.
On her way to Mali, since there were no connecting flights to Bamako on the day, Talya decided, with Jamesâs approval, to stop over in Dakar; the capital of Senegal situated at the western-most point of Africa. This city is a relic of an Old French settlement with busy streets and narrow sidewalks, where people jostled to fray a passage amid the dense horde of cars, buses, donkeys, horse-drawn carts and hobbling beggars. Even the many large tree-lined thoroughfares bearing such names as âAvenue George Pompidouâ or âBoulevard Charles de Gaulleâ ail from the seldom-interrupted traffic jams.
Throughout the years of abundance and hardship, this old city kept its charm. In Dakar you could find the most luxurious mansions abutting the poorest shacks and the cleanest beaches strewn among the filthiest fishing coves, and not unlike a small version of Marseille, with its very busy port, markets everywhere, selling everythingâif you need it, youâll find it in Dakar.
Yet, Talya had another reason for visiting the Old Marseille. Three months before her departure, a man who, by all accounts, was seeking to find a mining partner, paid a visit to Carmine. He was a handsome, tall African man. He walked down the corridor leading to the boardroom with a graceful, yet purposeful stride. The broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waistline hinted at the manâs muscular stature. However, the two long scars on his left cheek, deeply etched on his coffee-coloured skin, distracted Talya from noticing the tentative and somewhat timid smile that brightened his face when he came near. His allure and manner exuded charm, but his eyes reflected anxiety and distrust. His name was Ahmed Hjamal. He came to Vancouver in need of professional assistance. Apparently, he had planned and had begun the construction of a gold-processing plant in Senegal and now wanted to engage Carmine and hire their technical knowledge.
James and Talya met with him. During the meeting, Ahmed Hjamal showed his pretentious side as well as his grandiloquent egotism. James told him at once that his company was not for hire but he also made it clear that the Directors could look into a form of association that would eventually benefit all parties concerned. Monsieur Hjamal wanted nothing to do with that offer. He wanted control. He had money, he said. He wanted to buy the knowledge he did not have. The meeting ended quickly, and their guest showed his displeasure by marching out of the office without awarding another glance to his hosts or to the bewildered receptionist; perhaps understandably so, since he had travelled to Vancouver intending to buy help and was now going home empty handed. Whatever this man wanted or coveted in life, this man got. He would not easily take ânoâ for an answer.
5
Richard went through the double doors of the Eaton Centre quickly. The temperature had dropped drastically the night before, and the walk from the parking lot nearby chilled him to the bones. He could have parked underground but it was quicker this way.
As he entered the restaurant, he spotted Hjamal immediately. He was impeccably dressed as usual. His investments must have paid dividends, Richard thought. That was the thing about Africa, you made it big, or you died a pauperâor both.
Richard sat down and looked at the African inquisitivelyâhe waited.
Peering into the eyes of the man sitting opposite him, Hjamal said, âHere is your ticket,â handing Richard an envelope.
âNot so fast,â Richard retorted, pushing away the envelope from under his nose. âI havenât said that Iâll go back. I want some explanation first.â
âWhat sort of explanation?â Hjamal asked, leaning to the back of his chair. âThereâs nothing to explain.â
âYou said on the phone that âall will be made clearâ. I need some sort of assurance from you. I donât want the same problems as I had the last time I was working for you.â
âCorrectionâlast time you were at the site I was not your employer, this time I am. You work for me now.â
âAgain, I should remind you that I havenât said Iâd go back.â
âThe envelope contains your contract, the advance, and your return fareâwhat other assurance do you want?â
âHow much?â
âWhat I consider a fair salary.â
âHow much?â
âLook for yourselfââ
Richard grabbed the envelope. He opened it and gasped.
âI thought that it would sway your decision somewhat,â said the African with a faint smile crossing his lips.
âYeah, it sways it all right, but let me hear what I have to do for that much money.â
Hjamal told him.
6
Following her meeting with Hjamal, two weeks later, Talya received a phone call from âa friend,â the man said. His name was Abdul Rasheed. He asked her if she could assist Hjamal in his venture.
âAgain!â she uttered with annoyance. âI thought we made it quite clear during our meeting. Carmine is not for hire.â
âYes, yes, so you said ⊠but, if you could, we would appreciate your assistance in helping matters along. We would like to find a company that we could engage to do the job and complete the building of the plant.â
âMr. Rasheed, let me say this: Iâll look into it for you. And if I find a company ready to take a look at your proposal Iâll let you know.â
âThank you. Your assistance will be much appreciated.â
After a few parting words, Talya slammed the receiver down in sheer exasperation. At the time, she remembered thinking that she, definitely, did not like the manâs voice or his smooth appeal. They sent shivers down her spine.
Why doesnât he take a hike? Why indeed? Abdul Rasheedâs persistence was peculiar. On the other hand, she felt Ahmed Hjamal failed to divulge vital information when he came to Vancouver. In the end, during one last conversation with this Monsieur Rasheedâhe had called a couple more times in betweenâshe had arranged to meet with Monsieur Hjamal in Dakar.
7
The aircraft landed at LĂ©opold SĂ©dar Senghor International Airport in the middle of the night. Talya had not been there in many years. What she remembered of Dakarâs airportâformerly known as Yoffâs Airportâhad nothing to do with what she saw when she alighted from the plane. The terminal building was modern, well organized and very well lit. A bus came to fetch the passengers from the aircraft and carried them two hundred yards to the entrance marked âarrivalsâ.
She walked in with the herd toward the immigration desks. She filled out the forms and after fifteen minutes of waiting in line, she presented her passport to a man in khaki uniform. He stamped the first blank page available, asked her where she was staying and waved her to move on. Abdul Rasheed had told her that he (or someone) would meet her in the arrivalsâ lounge. She doubted she could rely on that promise. She was right. There was a handful of people waiting for passengers and holding pieces of cardboard with the name of their party on it. None remotely resembled hers.
Coming out of the immigration enclosure, Talya was assailed by porters;
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