Elephant Dropping (9781301895199) (51 page)

‘Birin, we get
this money?’ She said in a hoarse whisper, a wild look in her
eye.

‘It’s not our
money, it belongs to the bank.’

‘No! It the
Azizza womans, she stoles it from the bank.’

‘Yes that’s
true, but now the bank can get it back.’

‘Ha, you fool,’
she stabbed the screen with a painted fingernail, ‘thisis already
thieved. Birin, it already stolens,’ she spoke to him as though he
was a child.

‘Yes, but if we
take it, then we are also stealing darling.’

She looked at
him aghast, and put her whole hand on the screen possessively. ‘Not
like them, they will be poor and we will be rich.’

Brian smiled
indulgently. ‘Lucy I’m tired let’s get some sleep,’ and he reached
out to shut down the computer.

‘No,’ she
shouted hysterically, ‘no, you geti this moneys now.’ She turned
round and pushed him aggressively away from the table.

Brian had never
seen her looking so wild. ‘Listen Lucy we can talk about this
later.’

‘No you do it
now,’ she yelled. ‘Birin get moneys now!’

‘Lucy, I can’t
get it now the bank is shut until nine.’

She frowned
scanning his face for trickery. ‘Shut?’

‘Yes, until the
morning. I can do nothing now.’

‘Oh, but when
bank open, we take the money yesi?’

Brian relieved
to see sanity return, nodded. ‘Yes later sweetheart, now can I shut
it down.’

She fended off
his hand her nails digging in. ‘You promises me?’

‘Yes,’ he
agreed, ‘I promise.’

‘Ok,’ she said
releasing his hand, watching as he shut down the computer. She
hugged him. ‘Lucy clever hey, Lucy Nakkles rich woman,’ and she
squealed in delight. ‘We buy big house,’ she led him to the
bedroom, ‘no, we buy two big houses, yes.’

TWENTY-EIGHT

Azizza joined
Patel at breakfast as he was tucking into a large bowl of cereal.
He crunched noisily, raising his eyebrows, watching her closely to
gauge her mood.

She put the bag
of money on the seat and went to serve herself from the buffet.
When she returned, he had finished and was fussily wiping his mouth
with a napkin. He suppressed a burp. ‘Morning my dear sleep
well?’

‘Yes, I
did.’

He reached for
the bag and peered into it. ‘Ah, good, I see you didn’t spend it
all.’

‘No I will do
that today,’ through a mouthful of croissant.

‘Ah at last,
I’m having breakfast with a rich woman, when can you send that
transfer? I have things to do you know.’

‘After I finish
my breakfast, and what about Madagascar?’

‘We haven’t
discussed it, have we?’ He parried.

‘We’re
discussing it now.’

‘I think it
wiser we fly to Dar-es-Salaam, don’t you?’

‘Ah, I see,’
buttering a piece of toast. ‘So this idea of a break, was what you
were planning anyway - so you can run away to Durban?

‘No, I have
business in Dar and can still have a holiday.’

‘So it’s just
business?’ She gave him a penetrating look.

Patel said
brightly. ‘I need my half of the money, you know me, business
always before pleasure.’

‘The only
reason you brought me to Mombasa is because you were scared I was
going to run away with your half.’

Patel dismissed
this with one of his dangerous little giggles. ‘My dear, I know you
would never be silly enough to do that. I am very pleased you are
here with me in Mombasa. Look upon it like half time in a football
match, we are sorting out the money so far, and taking a well
earned break.’

‘Okay, so if I
go along with this holiday of yours, when do you want to cross the
border?’

‘I’ve got to
conclude my business today and all being well, we can drive down or
fly tomorrow. Don’t worry I’ll book the tickets.’ He helped himself
to a wad of money from the bag and tucked it into his jacket. ‘Try
to relax my dear, you are far too tense.’

Azizza took the
bag from him and put it in her lap; despite her doubts she was
excited at the prospect of spending time away with him. ‘How long
do you think we’ll be gone for?’

‘Oh, I don’t
know, a week or so.’

‘I see, and
will you call Evans, or do you want me to?’

‘No, I’ll call
Evans. As soon as you do the transfer, I can get on with what I
need to do. By the way, my driver will be arriving with Fimbo and
his wife tonight.’

‘So you have
two cars in Mombasa. How does that work?’

‘Very well my
dear. Fimbo has my passport. I need to keep him sweet and have
arranged for him to see some other vehicles.’

‘Wow, you’re
spending money on him.’

‘Yes, I think
of it as a future investment and I am so confident, I am paying for
it from my share,’ he said smugly.

She stood up
and walked away out of earshot. Finishing with her instructions to
the bank she came back to the table. ‘It should be there in half an
hour,’ and picked up the bag of money. ‘I’m going shopping, let’s
meet at lunch,’ she said over her shoulder.

Patel took a
deep breath his eyes glistening excitedly. He waited and watched
her hail a taxi. He had a great deal to do that day and the timing
needed to be spot on. Up in his room he emptied the suitcases on
the bed. Here he rang the bank manager using his alias N.J. Shah.
He explained he was expecting an additional transfer, and would
like to withdraw the entire amount in cash.

Carrying the
two empty suitcases he went down to his car and with the help of
the askari removed the spare wheel from the boot. ‘I will be back
to collect my spare, keep an eye on it.’

At the bank he
parked in the secure car park. He realised the final transfer would
not be through yet, so leaving the car he walked back to the gate.
A uniformed askari waved a truncheon at him. ‘You can’t leave the
car here it’s only for bank customers.’

‘I am a
customer I’m just going for a walk, I will be back.’

The askari
stood in front of the gate. ‘If you customer then use that door,’
and he pointed at the back of the building.

Rather than
argue Patel took out a hundred shilling note. ‘Cool off buy
yourself a soda.’

The guard
faltered, glancing around. He snatched the proffered note and
opened the gate all in one movement. ‘Don’t be long,’ he cautioned
Patel, ‘I could lose my job.’

‘No problem,’
he stepped out onto the street and quickly crossed the road, to the
office of an airways agent.

He booked
airline tickets, paying for two of them in cash and promised to
return with the money for the others. ‘You must pay by check-in
time, or you will automatically go onto standby and could lose your
seats. The agent told him.

‘No problem,’
smiled Patel as he pocketed the tickets.

*

In the old
town, Zainabu waited for Azizza. ‘You look better today.’

‘I feel good,
did you get me an appointment?’

‘Yes it’s not
far, we can walk.’

‘I want to have
clothes made up, do you know a good tailor.’

‘Of course I
do.’

‘Good, let’s go
shopping afterwards.’ Azizza held her cousin’s arm as she was led
through the narrow streets towards the old port. Zainabu greeted
people she knew. ‘What’s the name of the woman we are going to
see?’

‘The Doctor is
called Kumanda.’

‘What kind of a
name is that?’

Zainabu lowered
her voice. ‘The Dr. is not really a woman.’

Azizza frowned.
‘What do you mean, Kumanda is a man?’

‘No, a bit of
both, you know,’ she made a cutting movement with her hands as
though using a pair of shears.

Azizza stopped
walking, as she absorbed this information. She caught up with
Zainabu and grabbed her arm again.

‘The Doctor is
one of those?’ She copied the cutting motion.

Her cousin
nodded and whispered. ‘Yes one of those, a eunuch.’

‘What would
someone like that, know about love?’

‘Probably much
more than us,’ Zainabu said confidently.

Azizza laughed.
‘You can’t be serious, a eunuch?’

‘Shhhh..,’
hissed Zainabu looking around her.

They walked on
in silence, Azizza slowing the pace as she considered this
phenomenon. ‘It’s not far now cousin,’ Zainabu urged, ‘the doctor
is very busy, if we are late you could lose your appointment.’ She
turned down a narrow alleyway to the old harbour - the odour of
dried fish filled the air as porters unloaded a Somali dhow. They
crossed the square and went down another street passing a perfume
shop, the scents mingled producing an indefinable assault on the
senses.

Azizza held a
scarf to her mouth and nose. ‘Ugh, what a smell.’

Zainabu looked
at her. ‘You don’t like dried fish?’ Azizza shook her head, mouth
covered.

‘It’s very good
for you.’

The air cleared
as they drew away. Another few turns and Zainabu stopped in front
of an imposing antique Arab door studded with worn brass spikes.
‘Are you ready?’ she asked.

Azizza grimaced
uncertainly and then nodded.

Zainabu reached
up and pressed a bell push; a melodious ditty rang inside the house
announcing their arrival. She smiled. ‘Don’t worry cousin, it’s all
going to be ok.’

They heard a
bolt shoot back and a young girl adorned with bracelets, opened the
door. She wore a blue satin dress. The child stood back and arm
jingling motioned them inside.

They followed
her in - it was gloomy in the house, thick walls and a high
ceiling, shafts of light filtered through slits in the walls.
Partially blinded they stepped carefully waiting for their eyes to
adjust, they could smell burning incense. Sandalwood Azizza
decided.

She could make
out a long steep staircase in front of them, lighter at the top.
The child pointed at their shoes and walked partway up the stairs
waiting for them. The women slipped off their sandals and followed
her. As Azizza went up the staircase, a moment of fear gripped her
and she broke out in a light sweat, her cousin’s hand on her back
steadied her.

At the top they
entered a long tall narrow room, a single closed door in its
centre. High port windows let in the light from either end; a bench
along one wall and a plastic carpet with a leaping orange tiger
embossed on it covered the floor.

Their guide
pointed at the bench and waited for them to sit, the only noise was
the child’s bracelets. Azizza could feel her heart thudding in her
chest, as she sat down.

The child
motioned silence, her finger to her lips, it looked as though she
was blowing them a kiss, then she opened the door a crack and
slipped out of sight.

Azizza looked
at her cousin and whispered. ‘Let’s go,’ but made no attempt to
move. Zainabu placed her hand firmly on Azizza’s arm, gently
restraining her.

The door opened
and the child stepped through followed by a middle-aged man dressed
in a white
kanzu
. He looked neither right nor left and
followed her to the head of the stairs in a stiff robotic action,
so remote he could have been sleepwalking.

Azizza stared
at her cousin; Zainabu only smiled shaking her head and tightening
the grip on her arm.

The girl
returned, she looked about nine years old, lipstick and eye shadow
gave her a doll like appearance. She waved at them to follow. They
entered a much larger room without furniture and closed shutters on
all sides. An overhead fan stirred the air, fine dust circulating
in upward spirals, a strong smell of musk. A heavy red velvet cloth
curtained off a section of the room.

The child
motioned for Zainabu to sit on the floor, and then lead Azizza by
the hand to the curtain. She stopped and made a high chirping bird
like noise - a loud rasping falsetto growl answered. Azizza nearly
leapt out of her skin, and turned desperately to look at her
cousin. Zainabu waved crossly, the child parted the curtain and
Azizza followed her through, her heart in her mouth.

A human figure
sat on a low wooden throne, backlit by a shuttered window. The
child squatted down tugging Azizza to the floor and then sat
crossed legged beside her.

Azizza knelt on
her haunches and looked upwards at the figure. She could see only a
shrouded silhouette.

‘Azizza?’ The
voice rasped. ‘You are a woman in love?’

She nodded, her
throat completely dry. The doctor leant down, the voice closer,
reverberating through her whole being. ‘Hmmm you don’t look like a
happy woman.’ The doctor uttered a series of grunting noises. ‘This
love of yours, it’s for a man or a woman?’

‘A man,’ she
managed to squeak.

The doctor
clapped it’s hands twice. The child on the floor rose quickly and
disappeared though the curtain and then returned with a glass of
water; she handed it to Azizza. Gratefully she took a sip and put
the glass on the floor.

‘Did you say a
man?’

‘Yes,’ said
Azizza, louder this time.

The doctor made
the same grunting noises only longer this time, rocking back and
forth as it did so.

‘Your love for
this man, it is not returned?’

‘No.’

‘Do you want
this man to love you, or do you want to kill your love for
him?’

‘I want,’ her
voice faltered, ‘I want him to love me as I love him,’ she
whispered.

‘I don’t hear
you.’

‘I want him to
love me.’

‘Louder, I
don’t hear you.’ The voice grated.

Azizza repeated
her request louder.

‘I still don’t
hear you.’

‘I want him to
love me!’ She shouted getting desperate.

The doctor
rocked back and emitted a deep wheezing. ‘Ahh that’s better, I hear
you now. Say it loudly three times.’

Azizza
embarrassed, did as she was told.