Hiding in Plain Sight (18 page)

Bella assures Dahaba, “You are a wonderful girl, and you do not possess even an iota of wickedness.”

Dahaba shrugs. “Why did they blame me?”

“Maybe they were shocked themselves,” Bella says. “You mustn't take any of this to heart. These sorts of misunderstandings happen in families, but you have to let them go.”

“It's all Mum's fault,” Salif says.

“How so?” asks Bella.

“She didn't have to stay with Dad,” he says. “And it would even have been okay if she left him for a woman. But couldn't she have partnered with a woman good enough for us to accept into our family? She chose a basement bargain! And you know what they say, you get what you pay for.”

Bella knows she can't afford to comment.

Dahaba says, “Padmini should've stayed on the couch where we left her. You took the trouble to make it up for her.”

“Or the two of them should've shown patience until they were in their own private hotel room,” Salif says. “Even cigarette packets carry warning signs.”

Is he trying to be hilarious? Bella thinks, taking a mouthful. But she keeps mum. She must let them speak their minds.

Dahaba now says, “After they went to jail for it, you would think that they would be more careful the next time.”

“I've nothing against Mum going gay,” Salif says.

Dahaba says, “It just gave me a shock, seeing them and all.”

Bella looks at one and then the other, and speaks with extra caution. “In much of Africa, being gay is considered an abomination. I hope you are more advanced in your own views and are more tolerant of other people's choices. What people do and who they do it with is their own private affair.”

“I agree with you on that score,” Salif says. “But there is a
but
.”

“Let's hear it,” says Bella.

“You must tell the truth, no matter the fallout,” he says. “Why lie and say that Padmini is like a sister to her when it is clear there is something else going on. You see what I am saying?”

Bella does. Indeed, she is astonished to find that he is thinking just as she thought.

“What about you, Dahaba, darling?” says Bella.

“I am not against her being gay,” says Dahaba slowly.

“But you were shocked,” Salif reminds her.

“Because I didn't expect to come upon them,” she says. “And because Padmini called me evil.”

“And what do you think now that a little time has passed?” Bella asks.

But Dahaba is unwilling to say.

“What's your position, Auntie?” says Salif.

Dahaba says, “Auntie lives in Europe, where they accept such behavior, where they tolerate it.”

“What are you saying?” Salif challenges Dahaba.

“In Europe, being gay is no big deal.”

“Why don't you let Auntie answer?” he says.

Bella says, “People everywhere should be in a position to make their God-given choice and to be with those they choose to be with. We
Africans lag behind the rest of the world, and we waste valuable energy putting our noses in people's private lives. We have no business there.”

“Did living in Europe change your views,” Salif asks, “or are those the views you held before you left Africa?”

“I've always appreciated differences,” Bella says. “My mother had a lot to do with that. She appreciated the things that set people apart. She was never one for monotony.”

“Why are most of us so wrong about this?” Dahaba asks.

“We are ill informed about the world, ill educated, intolerant of the views of others when they do not agree with ours,” Bella says. “We are undemocratic, just like our governments. But sex is a personal matter that our societies and governments have no business with.”

The children are proud of her strong statement, she can tell. Especially Dahaba, who makes as though she might applaud.

Salif says, “Have you ever fancied women?”

“Never,” Bella replies.

“Not even tempted?” Dahaba asks.

“Never.”

Salif asks, “Did it ever cross your mind that our mother was inclined that way before you discovered it to be the case?”

“You never know what you know until you come to know that you know it,” Bella says. And then she gets to her feet and starts gathering the plates.

“Auntie is smart, isn't she?” Dahaba remarks.

“Smart in her evasiveness,” Salif says.

Bella adds the plates to the mess in the sink. But she doesn't speak of the tedious business of dishwashing. Instead, she says, “Any plans for today?”

“We'd like to visit Auntie Fatima and Uncle Mahdi and their children,” Dahaba says.

“I can you take there.”

“Can we sleep over?” asks Dahaba.

Bella thinks that Aar would not object. And she would love to see his dear friends again too.

“I'll ring them,” Dahaba says. “And then we'll do the dishes.”

Salif says, “We'll make our beds.”

Bella goes up to her room to collect the presents she has brought for them. She has always wanted to share her knowledge of photography with them and regrets that she never found the time until now. She brings down two identical digital cameras, each with a manual. But Bella shows them the basics herself, along with a few shortcuts she knows.

“Can we show them to Zubair and Qamar?” says Salif.

“Of course you may.”

Dahaba takes a selfie and says, “How exciting!”

Everything is quiet, save for the clicking sound of Dahaba taking photos, now of Bella or Salif, now a selfie, and now of objects around the room. She is getting more excited by the second. But Bella's mind has gone in a very different direction. She is imagining Death entering the scene again, depriving her and others of those they love. She remembers reading Roland Barthes's prophetic answer to an interviewer: “If photography is to be discussed on a serious level, it must be described in relation to death.” She remembers vaguely that Fatima was having a medical procedure. What kind of procedure? she asks herself now. It is not the type of question to put to Dahaba at this very moment when she is enthralled with capturing life. She will ask Salif when the two of them are alone; maybe he will know. She says to Dahaba, after she has taken yet another photograph of her, “Now what did Auntie Fatima and Uncle Mahdi say when you rang the house?”

“They said we are most welcome,” says Dahaba.

“Only for an afternoon visit or for a sleepover?”

“Sleepover,” Dahaba insists.

“I want to hear one of them confirm it,” says Bella.

“Would you like to ring them now?”

“There is plenty of time before we go.”

Dahaba practices with the cameras a bit more, taking photos of Bella, then of Salif. They pose in ones and twos, and then take a selfie of all three of them.

Bella starts on the dishes. Salif, unasked, puts away his camera and begins to dry the plates. Bella remembers wanting earlier to tell him about not leaving the door open the way she found it when she came in with the shopping. But she is content to talk about this on another occasion. And, with him helping, they are soon done.

Bella leads the children upstairs and they help each other to make the beds, to turn off their computers, to draw the curtains, to put the wet towels on racks, and to flush the toilets. Then Dahaba and Salif pack their shoulder bags with a change of clothes and their toothpaste and toothbrushes. Dahaba gets Uncle Mahdi on the phone to confirm that she and her brother are welcome to stay the night.

Bella makes a call of her own in the privacy of her room: She telephones HandsomeBoy Ngulu, the lover who lives in Nairobi. They chat briefly, the first time they have spoken since her arrival. Of course, he has heard the tragic news, and he offers his condolences.

“If you are free this evening, maybe we can meet,” she says.

As soon as the words leave her mouth, alarm bells of worry ring in her head. She wonders if she is ready to meet a lover so soon after her brother's death. But her heart's quickened pace at the thought of it is pleasurable too. They agree to meet in the café of the Nairobi Serena, a five-star hotel.

Bella hides the papers she has brought home under the mattress in the master bedroom, just as her mother used to do, but she doesn't yet dare bring in the carryall with Aar's personal effects among which she found a set of house keys, which she will keep. She is glad the children are going to see their friends. It will be good for them not to be obligated to defer to an adult the entire time; she imagines this must be exhausting, like speaking a foreign tongue in which one is hardly proficient. It can't have been easy to live in the house of your school principal and his wife, she thinks, no matter how kind they are. With their peers, they can be uninhibited and speak frankly, with everything up for open analysis and hearty discussion.

Still, she thinks, they've been lucky to be raised by Aar rather than in a traditional Somali household. And Aar, in turn, was lucky to be raised by Hurdo, who not only tolerated differences between people but also appreciated them. Aar's playmates would be beaten at home by their parents if they talked back and the children seldom got a kind answer if they questioned an adult. In such a household, a child inevitably resorts to lying, sneaking around, and being evasive. Bella
remembers the story of a boy whose father struck him in the face as they passed each other in a hallway of their home even though he had done nothing wrong. When the son asked him why, the father replied that the blow was “for the wrongs you will surely commit in the future.” Aar, she knows, never raised a hand to a child in his life.

Dahaba brings her mobile phone to Bella, indicating that Uncle Mahdi is on the line. Fatima and Qamar are out shopping, he says, but he hastens to add that they will be back by the time Bella and the children can drive there and that they are welcome to sleep over.

And so they set out, the car keys in Bella's hand, and a set of house keys for her and Salif in the event the children get back when Bella is not in the house. Bella reminds herself to have a set made for Dahaba, who has never been trusted with keys because she has a habit of mislaying them. But Bella intends to make Dahaba more responsible for herself.

But when Bella wonders aloud if they should set the alarm and Salif concurs, Dahaba goes into an inexplicable panic. “Why set the alarm?” she says.

Bella says, “Why not?”

Dahaba says, “What if I come back alone and I can't remember the code?” Her teeth are clenched, and her features are contorted with anxiety.

Bella reminds herself that there is now a before and an after in these children's lives and that this new phase requires compassion. There is no sense in upping the ante, especially as Dahaba has a tendency to make a drama out of everything.

As a sibling, Salif is harsher, refusing to fall for what he calls Dahaba's “exploits,” and it annoys him no end when tears get her what she wants from adults. Aar was well aware of her tactics, but worried that a heavier storm was brewing, he sometimes gave in to her demands. Bella
too is familiar with this side of Dahaba, and while she thinks it is too soon to get confrontational, she knows that sooner or later she will have to face the challenge if she doesn't want matters to get out hand.

“Will someone answer, please?” Dahaba says.

“When have you ever had a problem with the alarm,” says Salif, impatiently. To Bella, he says, “Please let us set the alarm, Auntie.”

Now Dahaba's voice begins to rise. “If the alarm is set, I panic and have no idea what to do. If the alarm goes off and armed security arrives at the gate and the guard lets them in and they find me alone, imagine what may happen—me alone with four armed men!” Bella senses that Dahaba knows how ridiculous she sounds, which only makes her more shrill and defensive.

Salif says, “Dahaba will be the death of us.”

Dahaba throws her hands in the air. “Do what you want,” she says, “if your conscience doesn't tell you that you are doing something wrong.”

Bella tells Salif to set the alarm and turns to Dahaba. “As for you,” she says, “you may phone me at any time of day or night and I'll be here to let you in or drive you back. Let this be the end of it.” She tells herself that all children benefit from a firm, fair hand.

—

It is Dahaba's turn to sit in the front. Bella leaves Cawrala silent and gives Dahaba the task of guiding her to keep the children from arguing and keep their anxieties of whatever nature at bay. Bella is remembering her last encounter with Fatima, who took her to the airport on her last visit on a day when Aar was too busy to take her himself. Mahdi is five years Fatima's senior. In the late seventies, he served as the editor of a Somali weekly before incurring the dictator's wrath. He quit the country before he was detained and, together with a few close friends
who had similarly fallen out of favor, set up a trucking business in Zambia. The business, which specialized in transporting everything from grains to vehicles to landlocked Zambia and Zimbabwe, did very well. Along the way, he met Fatima in Lusaka, and they married. Eventually, they relocated to Kenya, where the business did even better and where their children were born. Qamar and Zubair have never really known their parents' country of birth, but Mahdi still publishes pieces on Somalia in the Kenyan press or for one of the many websites that have lately flourished. Now and then he toys with the idea of returning to Somalia and setting up an independent daily newspaper, but Fatima isn't keen on throwing their hard-earned income into such a shaky venture. She wants her children to attend one of the best universities in the UK or the U.S. Bella is partial to Fatima, but she respects Mahdi's sharp mind and generous heart.

Dahaba directs Bella onto a new four-lane highway that the Chinese have recently constructed. Then Dahaba looks at Salif in the rearview mirror and says, “Do you remember why we ended up with the Kariukis instead of with Auntie Fatima and Uncle Mahdi?”

Salif is shifting uncomfortably, but he replies, “It was bad timing. Auntie Fatima had to go into the hospital for a procedure. Qamar and Zubair were sent to stay at their cousins' house for a few days.”

“How come you knew about that when I didn't?”

A deadpan expression spreads itself like melting butter over Salif's features. He says, “I don't trade in gossip.”

Bella thinks about this. It's true, she knows, that Dahaba has been accused numerous times of trading on family secrets, especially with Qamar and Zubair. She tells them both plainly that she hopes that neither of them will speak to others of what happened last night. “This is a family matter,” she says, “and I don't wish you to spread it or trade in it.”

“Padmini is no family of mine,” Dahaba says.

“She is family as long as she is your mum's partner,” Bella says, “and you must respect her as such. Nothing that occurs in the house gets repeated outside of it. Is that understood?”

“I won't talk,” Dahaba remonstrates.

“Are you sure?” Bella says.

The question stings, and Dahaba falls into a stubborn silence. At length, she says, “Why don't people believe me when I promise I won't talk?”

Salif says, “He who tells his secrets will hardly keep those of others. Somalian proverb,” he adds, looking pleased with himself.

Bella says, “We believe you, darling. Relax.” She reaches over to pat her niece's hand, but Dahaba moves it out of range, her expression sour.

—

Bella has just finished honking to attract the attention of the day guard when Dahaba is out of the car and banging on the gate, calling to the guard on duty to let them in. Bella shakes her head, amused by Dahaba's suddenly reclaimed assertiveness. She glances at Salif to see if he shares her amusement, but he is absorbed in his mobile phone. Salif seldom reads, she notices, except when consulting the results of the latest soccer matches. When Dahaba was younger, Bella remembers, Aar used to tussle with her about reading in the back of the car in bad light. So far, her eyesight does not seem to have suffered. It just goes to show, Bella thinks, that adults worry themselves unnecessarily about children's health and behavior.

The gate opens, and Dahaba runs into the complex, shouting her thanks to the guard, and Bella and Salif follow in the car. Inside are
twenty or so semidetached houses, each with its own small patch of garden where the residents grow vegetables or roses. Bella halts to let a child collect an errant soccer ball. His mother takes him by the hand and pulls him out of the way, apologizing to Bella and berating him. This time Bella catches Salif's eyes in the rearview mirror, and they both smile. The boy reminds them of Salif, who lived and breathed soccer when he was that age, dribbling and bouncing his ball against the walls of the house, inside and out, every waking moment, and falling asleep each night with the ball clutched to his chest. A proverb Hurdo often quoted, usually in reference to Bella's own behavior, returns to her: It's not the parent who chooses to favor a child, but the child who behaves in a way that compels a parent's love. In this shared moment, Bella feels that she and Salif are confederates, coconspirators, working in tandem to look after Dahaba.

Bella likes the community feel to this complex, she realizes, as she brakes again to let two elderly Asian women cross to the other side of the road with the help of two African women. The scene reminds her of a family of elephants on their way to a watering hole, a sequence recalled from a nature documentary. Then that image gives way to a caravan of camels being led by a Somali herdsman. Ten meters on, her eyes fall on a white woman in the doorway of one of the houses, bending down to tie the shoelaces of a dark-skinned child, who is fidgeting and raring to be off.

Dahaba has already disappeared into Fatima and Mahdi's house, which is at the end of the complex, a stand-alone two-family structure bigger than all the others. Bella parks in front, but she does not immediately get out.

“Who told you that Auntie Fatima was having a medical procedure?” she asks Salif.

“Dad did,” he says. “In fact, he left me a message saying it was the reason he was coming back from Somalia so suddenly. He said he planned to go straight to the clinic to visit her there.”

“And what was the procedure for?” Bella asks.

“Something to do with high breast density.”

“You even know the term for it, I am impressed.”

Salif hesitates. “I did a bit of research about it on the web too.”

“Any idea about the result?”

“I understand that the results of the tests were worrying enough that she's lined up a specialist in England, at Barts, for a second opinion. She's going there in a few months' time.”

“And your dad told you all this?”

Salif nods, his look humbled in memory of his father.

Bella wonders what else he knows, remembering what Gunilla told her: that Aar trusted Salif with everything, including the passwords to his computers. She gives Aar credit for his trust and foresight, which have helped to prepare his son for the unfortunate position he now finds himself in. It's a great pity that Valerie hasn't the character or the humility to appreciate the traits Aar instilled in Salif.

“Do I understand that you have your father's computers' passwords at your fingertips?” she asks Salif with care.

“Have they found his computers?”

“Please don't answer my question with another,” she reprimands him gently.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “I do.”

“Every single one of them?”

“Every single one of them.”

She looks at Salif, as if with a new pair of eyes, and sees Aar in him vividly now: astute, caring, trustworthy, levelheaded, with an unerring sense of what matters. It's the first time she has understood the
meaning of the saying, “The child is father to the man.” She prays she can aspire to achieve a fraction of what her brother achieved as a single parent.

—

Mahdi is waiting for them in the doorway. He hugs Bella warmly, his whole body trembling, his tears flowing freely. Bella hasn't had a cry since her encounter with Gunilla, but now she gives in to the impulse again. Salif doesn't permit himself to get carried away, however, giving Mahdi only a brief hug and muttering, “Yes, we'll miss him terribly,” in response to Mahdi's outpouring. “You're a big, grown man yourself,” he concludes, sizing Salif up. “You're your own man. But I want you to know we are here for you.” He turns to Bella. “We could have picked them up, you know.”

“I did not think to ask,” Bella says. “Besides, you have your own worries.” She wants to let him know that she has an idea about Fatima's state of health even though this is not the right time to discuss it, and she can see that he is touched by the delicate way she has let him know. He takes Bella's hand in his left and offers his free one to Salif, and the three of them enter the house.

“We've been grieving, following the loss,” Mahdi says, as if standing here where Aar so often stood has brought him back even more vividly. “He was our great friend, and no commiseration or sorrowing words spoken will replace him. Nor am I fond of the words of condolence we Somalis often invoke—that we are all headed in the same direction, toward our graves. That's no consolation. Me, I don't like this kind of talk.”

It is these words that at last bring tears to Salif's eyes, and he moves to embrace Mahdi, but just at that moment, Mahdi turns and shouts up the stairs for Zubair to come join them. Zubair careens down the stairs,
Dahaba with him, and the young fellow offers his formal condolence, hugging Bella and then standing apart, head bowed and looking sad. But as soon as they have satisfied the demands of politeness, Zubair and Dahaba bound back up the stairs to reenter the world of the young, where sorrow is held at bay for as long as possible.

Mahdi says, “Where are my manners? Please forgive me.” Bella doesn't quite comprehend why he says this. Not until he turns to her and asks, “What will you have?”