“Why are you driving it anyway?”
“Because my own car is being serviced, that’s why.”
“None of this makes sense to me.”
Bosaaso tried to explain: “I bought this taxi for a poor cousin of mine, who drives it so he can raise money. All income from taxiing is his, though the car remains mine and in my name.” He sighed, sensing that he had been long-winded.
“In that case, I’d like to pay.”
“Pay?” He sounded offended.
“You may choose to give the money to your cousin.” She paused. “Would a hundred and fifty shillings be enough for a town trip, given today’s fuel shortage?”
“Sure,” Bosaaso said.
But she sensed that he did not take her offer seriously. To counteract her hurt feelings, she gave a theatrical chuckle, pretending to be amused.
“What’s so funny?” he said.
“The thought that one defers to money,” she replied.
He hung on her words like an angler to a rich catch. But he couldn’t frame her face in his mirror, however much he adjusted it. She had gone very quiet in the back. He looked over his left shoulder and then his right, but saw no Duniya. Impervious to what he was doing or that he might meet other vehicles, he impulsively turned his head right around. Still he could see only a small part of her; her body was bent over — maybe she was picking up something from the floor. Then he lost control of the steering-wheel. The car swung, its tyres bumping against one kerb and then another, nearly colliding with the bumper of a vehicle that was parked off the road. Finally he came to a safe halt.
Suddenly the two of them were exaggeratedly conscious of each other’s presence, aware of their physical proximity for the first time. Disregarding a small crowd that out of curiosity had gathered around the car, Duniya and Bosaaso touched, marvelling at having shared a life-and-death experience, at having stopped in good time before crossing a threshold.
Without him suggesting it, Duniya got out of the back of the taxi and went to sit with him in the front. He removed his golf cap and threw it out of the window. They started to move.
Duniya noticed how his smile emphasized the handsomeness of his features. And he had a habit of tilting his head to one side as though leaning against something; and he wrinkled his forehead, like someone in private trouble.
Duniya remembered the night she and Bosaaso had been together longest. While his wife, then in labour, was asleep in the private ward, they tiptoed outside for some fresh air. He didn’t say much; and his head, she recalled, had inclined like the tower of Pisa.
He was now saying, “About your paying for this journey, if I may…,” and he fell quiet.
“Yes?” she said, and waited.
“Do you ever go to the cinema with your daughters and son?” he asked tentatively.
“Now and then,” she lied.
“What kind of films do you see?”
Wondering where it was all leading, she said, “The odd spaghetti western, or an Indian or kung fu film; there isn’t much choice. Why do you ask?”
He didn’t say anything immediately. Entering a difficult lane he concentrated on his driving. His indicator was not working, so he stuck his arm out of the window to show that he was turning right. However, first he braked in order to let a pedestrian cross the road. Duniya noted he was a careful man, considerate too.
Changing gear smoothly, he said, “I suggest you take me to a film with you and your children, instead of paying anything today.”
“But I don’t know when I’ll next be seeing a film,” she said.
“There’s no hurry,” he replied.
Was this some sort of male trap that would be impossible to undo at a later date, like links of an invisible chain?
“Perhaps you don’t have time,” he said, “what with grown-up twins and a young daughter to look after.” He added as an afterthought, “And your work at the hospital. It must all be extremely demanding. Plus other engagements, I’m sure.”
Surprising them both, she said, “I have plenty of time.”
He didn’t speak for a while. Then: “Perhaps I’m too slow. Or is there a catch? Is there something you haven’t told me yet?”
“To be frank, I’m not sure I want to take anyone to a film.”
“Fair enough,” he said, as he turned a corner.
She hoped she hadn’t been unnecessarily off-putting. From the comer of her eye, she watched him switch on the car’s hazard light which blinked red, in time with her heartbeart. He was looking at her intently, wondering if he dared interrupt her thoughts.
In fact she spoke first. “I hope I haven’t been rude.”
“You’ll be forgiven the instant you invite me,” he said.
“I’ve no way of reaching you anyway.”
“On the contrary,” he said. “You’re a very resourceful woman; you’ll know how to get in touch if you want to.”
Too tense to think clearly, she remained silent.
“One way of reaching me,” he went on, “is through Dr Mire at your hospital I see him a great deal, almost daily.”
“Wouldn’t he be put out by being asked to carry messages?”
“He’ll be only too delighted, I assure you.” He grinned, dividing his attention equally between Duniya’s face and the road, which was full of pot-holes and pedestrians.
He brought the vehicle to an abrupt stop. “I am afraid I can’t go beyond this point. There’s a sign that says ‘No taxis.’ I forgot I’m not driving my private car. I’m sorry.”
Sitting up, she prepared for the difficult task of saying something wise or neutral, managing, “You’ve been very kind.”
“My pleasure,” was all he said.
Murmuring something that was a cross between a “thank-you” and a “see-you,” she stepped out of the car, confident they would meet again. She closed the taxi door without looking at him.
Having arrived early, Duniya conversed affably and at length with the three cleaning women, even offering to help them tidy the Outpatients’ Clinic where she was to work that day. But they wouldn’t hear of it. She did all she could to keep her mind busy.
But when the cleaners left and she was alone in the echoing hall, her mind kept replaying scenes from the chance encounter with Bosaaso. To while away time, she unearthed an old newspaper in which she discovered an item of interest:
MOGADISCIO (SONNA, TUESDAY)
The Secretary of Agriculture and Livestock today warned of impending disaster and famine in Somalia unless immediate action is taken to terminate the breeding cycle of the desert locust. Mogadiscio residents recently witnessed huge swarms, 25 km wide and 70 km long. He said the government is launching a campaign to eradicate the pests but this can only be achieved with the help of insecticide and light aircraft for spraying, which are not available. A grant towards the campaign has been promised by the governments of the USA and the Netherlands. However, this was not enough.
The Head of State, Major-General Mohammed Siyad Barre, has invited the ambassadors of the Federal Republic of Germany, Britain, France and Italy to consider what assistance their governments can offer Somalia to cope with the disaster. Last night five light aircraft belonging to the East African Locust Organization were grounded in Addis Ababa through lack of spare parts and fuel.
Quoting a senior official of the UN Food and Agriculture Organization, the Secretary of Agriculture and Livestock said efforts to fight the plague throughout Africa had cost at least $100 million and that additional funds of over $145 million will be needed in the coming year.
2
At work Duniya meets her colleagues, including Hibo, a senior nurse, and Dr Mire. The morning brings troubles and joys. Duniya meets Bosaaso on her way home.