“I’ve had enough,” Valerie says, and stands up.
But Salif isn’t finished. “And let me add this, for what it’s worth, Mum. You haven’t asked us anything about Dad, what he was like as a father to us after you left. All you have done is create confusion in my head about the circumstances of his burial, urging me to act without even bothering to ascertain the legal and logistical implications.”
Valerie is at a loss for words. She stands there, looking too shocked to sit, too weak to remain standing. Padmini says, “What’s all this about?” Finally, Valerie, her face pale, pulls out a chair and sits. Dahaba takes her hands. “Salif doesn’t mean to make a monkey out of you, Mum,” she says in an attempt to placate her mother. “He is just like that sometimes. You know he loves you more than he can say.”
Bella plates the omelets and waits for the kerfuffle to die down. Placing a plate in front of Padmini and another in front of Valerie, she says, “Please. Here. Eat.”
Valerie hesitates, but Padmini starts to eat heartily. Bella slips out of the kitchen at last and goes upstairs, patting Valerie on the shoulder as she passes. She comes back downstairs with her bag and the keys.
“What’s in the bag, Auntie Bella?” says sharp-eyed Dahaba.
“Not much,” Bella says. She lets Dahaba lift the bag to see how light it is.
“Are you going shopping, Auntie?” Salif asks.
Bella looks at Valerie and Padmini. “I’d offer you a ride,” she says, “but I have to get going now.”
“For your appointment, right?” Dahaba asks.
Bella says to Padmini and Valerie, “Please allow me to treat you to a taxi back, as your host.” She opens her wallet and puts several bills on the table in front of Padmini.
Valerie’s nose twitches, and she hesitates. But Padmini takes the money, thanking Bella effusively for her offer and her hospitality in general. She apologizes for all the inconvenience they have caused.
Bella says, “Don’t worry yourself. I am glad that you came in the end. I’ll let Dahaba and Salif speak for themselves, but I can tell you that I enjoyed the visit.”
“But we haven’t even had a chance to talk about Aar,” protests Valerie. “I have so many questions.”
Bella thinks, why won’t this madwoman let go? But she only says reassuringly, “It’s still early days, and there are many things I am only just beginning to understand. I shall share what I know as I know it.”
Of course, she thinks, she won’t share everything. She will tell each of them what they need to know, what is appropriate for them to know.
More quietly, Valerie says, “You won’t even tell us where you are headed and whom you are meeting dressed up like that?”
Salif, looking mischievous, says, “You’re out of line, Mum. What if she is meeting a lover?”
“Darling, don’t be daft,” says Valerie.
“What’s daft about meeting a lover?”
“It’s not the right time of day!” Valerie exclaims.
“There’s a right and wrong time of day?” says Salif.
Even Dahaba has had enough. “For the love of heaven, Mum, who are you to demand total transparency? How about telling us what you and Padmini were up to last night?”
Valerie’s eyes narrow into slits. “What are you on about, silly girl?”
But Dahaba sails out of the kitchen in a fit of pique, leaving them all on tenterhooks. “Ask Salif,” she says in parting. “He knows.” Then she runs up the stairs, and they hear the door to her bedroom slam shut.
Valerie turns to Salif. “What is Dahaba on about?”
“I don’t wish to get involved,” he says in Somali.
Bella shakes her head in disapproval, reminding him to repeat in English what he has just said in Somali to his mother and Padmini. When he does, Valerie’s eyes widen in shock.
Bella, looking away from Valerie, reprimands him for not remembering what his father taught him: to be forever polite and remain considerate toward adults—“More so now to your mother,” she stresses.
Like the good boy he is, he apologizes to his mother.
It is obvious to everyone that things have got off to a bad start between Valerie and the children, and that it is time she made amends and spent quality time with Dahaba and Salif to set matters on a safer course. Bella asks Valerie, “What are your plans for the day? Maybe you would like to spend more time with Salif and Dahaba.” And then before Valerie has reacted, Bella says to the children, “What about you? Wouldn’t you wish to see your mum and Auntie Padmini for a longer time? They live in a continent you’ve never been to. Wouldn’t you want to know more about their lives in India, what young people of your age are up to in the subcontinent, maybe even plan to visit one day?”
“Yes, I would, Auntie.”
Bella say to Salif, “On a topic of housekeeping.”
“Yes, Auntie?”
“Please remember to get in touch with the maid and ask her to come as soon as she can. This house needs serious cleaning.”
“Yes, Auntie. I will do so.”
“And one more thing.”
“Yes, Auntie?”
“Please look after your mum and Auntie Padmini while they are here. Don’t forget they are our guests. One honors one’s guests always.”
“Of course.”
“Now here is cash for a taxi to wherever you are going and back again,” she says, handing him a wad of cash, which she knows to be far more than they will ever need for a taxi and a meal at a decent restaurant for four persons.
“What about Dahaba?”
“Let her come with you. That way both of you will get to spend time with your mum and Auntie Padmini,” Bella says.
On second thought, she fumbles in her shoulder bag and brings out a credit card. “Call me if there is a problem, any problem.”
She turns to Valerie and Padmini and speedily walks the short distance separating them, and she hugs now one, now the other, and then says to both, “You are welcome here. Please come visit again.”
Valerie says, “Thanks. That is kind of you.”
“You have both my numbers?” she says to Salif.
“You mean your Kenyan and the Italian? Yes.”
“Call me if there is need,” she says, and turns to go, then stops. “Remember to be here when I return,” she says to Salif. “There is only the one set of keys.”
And off she goes to meet Gunilla.
11
Within a few minutes, Bella finds herself in heavy morning traffic, the GPS notwithstanding. Above all, she does not know the shortcuts to avoid getting rush-hour madness, as local taxis might; nor does she know how to predict Nairobi traffic, where five minutes this way might make a great difference if you know the mood of the place. The traffic is utterly unpredictable though and very untidy, and this would tax anyone’s nerves, but it is also, she knows from Aar, a drag on the local economy in both obvious and hidden ways. She remembers that he told her that the city authorities were at long last waking up to the challenge, and a couple of Chinese and Japanese firms have been enlisted to find a solution to the problem, but their efforts plainly have yet to bear fruit. The problem, Aar liked to say, wasn’t only the large number of vehicles plying too few roads. It was the obstreperous drivers, each of them thinking themselves smarter than the others and behaving in the most undisciplined way with no fear of penalty. And Nairobi traffic is such a chronic condition that people have grown accustomed to it and in a sense rely on it. You can blame it for your lateness; you can catch up on your phone calls and texts; you can do your shopping from the peddlers making their way between the slow-moving cars. Incidents of road rage are rare because, while everyone is impatient, the opposite is equally true: Everyone is at the same time tolerant of everyone else’s wayward ways.