BAMAKO by Aribert Raphael (smart books to read txt) 📖

eyes. She turned, looked around and sat up slowly. Samir stood towering over her. “Good morning, Madame McLean. I’m Samir Shaykh Sahab, a friend of Madame Kartz.”
“May…, may I have some water, please?” she said, shading her eyes with her hand. The light from the windows was blinding her.
In a moment, Samir went and returned to her side to give her a bowl of fresh water. After sipping a little of the cold liquid she looked at her uncle who was still sleeping at her side.
“Can we go home now?”
Samir was surprised by Rheza’s simple request but made no comments, only to say, “Yes of course, we may. And we shall in a little while.”
Then Samir squatted beside Savoi and shook his shoulder. The man grunted. He too opened his eyes and with some effort managed to raise himself on his elbows.
“Where are we? Who are you? Give me some water. I want to go—” Samir pushed Savoi back on his behind as he tried to stand up.
“Top of the morning, Monsieur Savoi. Here is some water courtesy of Madame Kartz,” Samir said. Rheza handed Savoi the bowl she had been holding.
“Where is she?” Savoi shouted, grabbing the bowl away from his niece’s hand and drinking the content dry. “I need to talk to her. I want…”
“Monsieur Savoi, you are going to stay where you are and be quiet,” Johan said, speaking from the doorway where he had been standing watching the scene. He was disgusted with the man’s ignorance and arrogant attitude. He was about to say something else, but thought better of it and walked out—probably to check on Malick and Saliou who were tied up in the cooking shed behind the house. Johan had gagged them as well so they wouldn’t alert the neighbourhood during the night.
A few moments later, Rheza turned to the bed beside her, and supporting her weight with her hands, she pushed herself up from the floor. She looked down at what had become of her apparel and began crying quietly. With Samir’s help, she went outside to attend to her morning ablutions. When she was done, she took a few steps between the huts as if to hide from intruding observers.
No one was astir yet. The camp was still silent and unaware of the ordeal that had evolved during the night. The only sound, which could be heard in the distance, was that of the Imam calling people to prayer. Rheza turned toward the sun rising above the horizon in the eastern sky and knelt in prayer to her God. Samir watched her and he too knelt beside her thanking Allah for saving their lives.
Savoi was rummaging through the hut when the trio came back.
“Look at me, I’m a mess. You people have treated me like a dog. And, why was I treated like that? I ask you. Why?”
Samir took a couple of steps toward the offender. His eyes were ablaze with anger. Rheza hopped on one foot, hung onto Samir’s arm and came to stand between the two men to prevent the start of yet another onslaught of beating on her uncle. “Uncle, please. We’re safe. We’re going home. You should be grateful to these men. If they hadn’t found us when they did, we’d be dead this morning.”
“I’m not grateful to anyone for anything at the moment,” Savoi replied, pushing his niece aside.
Johan pulled Samir back somewhat roughly and both men went out. The Touareg was seething. He wanted to kill the man he had saved. He regretted not to have used the knife on him when he had the opportunity.
After a few scolding words from Johan, Samir seemed to regain control.
They marched in silence to Ashan’s hut. The Elder was outside finishing his prayer. Supporting his weight on his cane, he rose to his feet and looked in the direction of the two men. He greeted their arrival with a smile. His face still showed signs of sleep, unwanted tears pearling at the corners of his eyes.
Samir spoke first. “Ashan, good morning. Have you slept well?”
“Good Morning, Ashan,” Johan said.
“Samir, Monsieur Johan.” The Elder looked in the eyes of both men. “And yes, Samir, I’ve slept well until I heard people move about during the night. When you get old you don’t sleep soundly and I was awakened by the noise.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but we were the ones who made the noise you’ve heard,” Samir said, nodding in Johan’s direction as he did. The latter bowed his head a little embarrassed.
“You? Why would you two go about the camp during the night like thieves?” the Elder inquired, raising his eyebrows, a quizzical look in his eyes.
Samir then recounted the events of the night and came to the point very quickly. Ashan listened intently to Samir’s tale, and leaning with both hands on his cane, he looked from one to the other. He made no remarks, comments and showed no sign of aggressiveness. He simply stood there and snorted.
After a moment, he said, “I knew the day would come when Allah would make me accountable for my people’s mistakes (and mine). This day has come. Monsieur Johan, Samir, I’m sorry. I will take care of Malick and Saliou. And now if you will do me the favour to leave quickly before my people awake, I would be grateful.”
“I’m afraid we can’t do that,” Samir said gently. “You are not a criminal but we believe Monsieur Rasheed is. You were forced to help him in his misdeeds. Monsieur Rasheed abused of your goodness and of the circumstances. He corrupted your people and he will continue to do so, if we don’t stop him. We must call the police commissioner on your radio. Then, we will go.”
The old man seemed resigned to his fate.
Johan said nothing. He had his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground like a child waiting for the inevitable scolding.
“We will tell the commissioner,” Samir went on, “and we will tell him about the explosives in the container, so he can alert the proper authorities to have all that evil removed from the village and safeguard the lives of everyone here.”
Stringing his chaplet, the old man looked at the street stretching in front of him. At that moment, he appeared to be a man who had been struck by a deep sense of guilt.
“Yes. That is what we should do.” Ashan wiped the unwanted tears from his cheeks. “I can see now you have wanted to do the right thing from the beginning. May Allah be with you and be merciful to us always.”
88
It was already one o’clock when Samir was once again sitting in the cockpit of his aircraft.
What he had done in the past twenty-four hours could not be compared to anything he had ever done in his lifetime. He needed to clear his mind. He wanted to talk to Talya—a woman held in the clutches of his friend. How could he even approach her now? He knew where Hassan was heading.
In the past, Samir had known Hassan to use wealthy women for his personal or career advancement. He was extremely jealous and while he was courting his prey, he wouldn’t let anyone approach her. Once he was finished with her, he would step out of the ring and shine by his absence, leaving the lady to drown in despair and shame. Samir knew however, that Talya wasn’t a rich widow or a beautiful heiress, but she had the one thing Hassan had always coveted—a ticket to freedom. She would have the power to take him away from Mali, even if the two were not to marry, and that, Samir could not accept. He was not going to let it happen.
89
The sun was already high above the horizon when Talya woke up. The apartment sounded empty. Where did Hassan go last night? Talya wondered as she pulled herself out of bed.
They had supper at the terrace restaurant and talked endlessly about business, politics, and relations between Mali and other developing countries. Hassan had left unexpectedly in a middle of one of Mohammed stories. He said he would be back, but never did. Mohammed accompanied Talya to her apartment, bid her goodnight, and Talya closed the door on him wondering what had happened to Hassan. She shrugged and decided to hit the pillow soon afterwards.
She went to the spa bath, opened the water tap and started brushing her teeth. Suddenly the radio blared from the bedroom. The reporter was saying something about Sabodala. With a shudder, and a mouth full of toothpaste, she was brought back from her roaming thoughts. She rushed only to catch the end of the report: “...the injured people are to be flown back to Dakar in a private plane belonging to Samir Shaykh Sahab. The aircraft is landing at the airport this afternoon. No arrest is expected…”
The phone rang. She ran back to the bathroom, rinsed her mouth, turned off the water, picked up the receiver, and sat on the toilet—again!
“Talya?”
“Hassan! Did you hear…? Why didn’t you come back…?”
“Good morning, Talya. Did you sleep well?” He had a smile in his voice.
“Good morning. And yes, I slept well, thank you,” Talya replied. “But, my question was: why didn’t you come back last night?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Did you perhaps go and visit one of Dakar’s floozies?”
“Talya!” No need to sound so shocked—you, my friend, have something to hide.
Talya remained silent. She wanted an answer. Unfortunately, she was not about to get one.
“Okay, okay I’m sorry. I won’t leave you again then. By the way, may I come back right now?”
“Give me a few minutes to take a shower…”
“I take that as a yes?”
“Do you want it in writing, notarized, and delivered by porter, perhaps?”
“All right, don’t tease. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Talya hung up. Where did he go?
Not even twenty minutes had elapsed when Hassan knocked on Talya’s door. Lifting her eyes to the ceiling, she opened the door and invited him in. Not quite dressed, and still in her bathrobe, Hassan took Talya in his arms as the door closed behind him. She felt rigid in his embrace, and instantly, he released her. He looked at her curiously. As a Muslim fellow, Hassan found it puzzling that a woman would question his movements. He had never experienced a woman’s third degree before, and it began to annoy him. He wanted to keep some things hidden—quite benign things, really—and suddenly he realized that Talya would not tolerate this habit. They sat down on the sofa, Hassan peering into Talya’s eyes.
“Well, are you going to tell me where you went last night?” She was holding Hassan’s gaze.
“I will tell you later,” he repeated. “Actually, I’ll show you.”
“Why?”
“Don’t insist, Talya. I can be as stubborn as you can,” he said, smiling, and squeezing Talya’s hand. “Did you hear the news this morning?”
Oh, what the heck, I’m not going to get an answer for now, so why bother?
She took her hand away from Hassan’s and shrugged. “Just the