Maravan had never met a child like Ulagu, who knew exactly what he wanted to be at such an early age – and was so convinced he would become it one day.
Precisely two hours later he rang again. The shopkeeper answered and put his sister on immediately.
‘Ragini?’
‘Yes,’ she said in a muffled voice.
‘Ragini,’ he sobbed.
‘Maravan,’ she sobbed.
They wept together at a distance of 8,000 kilometres, to the static accompaniment of the World Wide Web.
46
Andrea caught up with Makeda that evening and persuaded her to come back. Maravan had already left, and they had made up. But this morning they had already started bickering again.
Andrea had made breakfast in bed and, when they had got all nice and cosy, said, ‘From now on the name Dalmann is taboo, OK?’
Makeda smiled and replied, ‘It’s not that easy. He wants a Love Menu.’
Andrea looked at her, aghast.
‘I hope you told him there’s no way that’s going to happen.’
‘No, I didn’t. It all goes through Kull, you know that.’
‘Then I’ll tell Kull.’ Andrea had put her half-eaten croissant onto the plate and crossed her arms.
Makeda continued to eat calmly. ‘He’s not going to accept it just like that. Dalmann’s an important client, he says. An important go-between for other clients.’
‘And I’m an important service provider.’
Makeda put an arm around her. ‘Come on, babe, don’t be so unprofessional. He won’t manage it, despite all Maravan’s artistry.’
‘But he’ll have a go,’ Andrea sulked.
‘Hopefully,’ Makeda said determinedly.
‘What do you expect to happen?’
‘That he kicks the bucket in the middle of it.’
Andrea looked at her girlfriend in horror. Makeda laughed and gave her a kiss.
At that moment the doorbell rang.
‘I’m not expecting anyone.’ Andrea made no move to get up.
It rang again. And again. Andrea got up in fury. She threw on her kimono and stomped to the door. ‘Yes?’ she barked into the intercom.
‘It’s me, Maravan.’ He was already at the door to her flat. She opened it and let him in.
‘What do you look like?’
Maravan’s hair was dishevelled. He was unshaven, which, for him, meant it looked as if he had a three-day beard. Dark shadows hung below his eyes and his expression had changed. Something had been extinguished.
‘What’s happened?’
Instead of answering he just shook his head. ‘I’m stopping,’ he spluttered.
She knew exactly what he meant, but still asked, ‘What do you mean, you’re stopping?’
‘From now on I won’t be cooking for Love Food any more.’
Makeda was now standing at the bedroom door. She had wrapped a sheet around her and was smoking.
‘Your nephew?’ she asked.
He sunk his head.
Makeda went up to him and took him in her arms. Andrea saw his shoulders begin to twitch. The twitching spread to his back as well. Suddenly a sound burst out from his chest. A high-pitched, plaintive, drawn-out sound that seemed at odds with this tall, quiet man.
Now Makeda’s expression crumpled too. Her eyes filled with tears and she buried her weeping face in his shoulder.
An hour later Maravan had calmed down enough for them to allow him to leave.
‘We’ll speak about stopping another time,’ Andrea said at her front door.
‘There’s nothing more to say.’
‘At least that solves the Dalmann problem,’ Makeda remarked.
‘What problem?’
‘Dalmann wanted a Love Menu,’ Andrea explained, ‘with Makeda. At his house.’
Maravan left. But on the landing he turned round again and came back. ‘After Dalmann, I’m stopping.’
47
‘If someone meets an unnatural death, their restless soul has no peace and forever haunts our world as a ghost.’
‘Do you believe that?’ Sandana asked.
They had arrived at the highest point in the city reachable by tram and from there gone for a walk in the nearby woods. It was cold and there was snow at 800 metres. Maravan had hoped to find snow, because ever since his winter walk in the Engadin Valley he would sometimes long for that white silence. But everything was green or brown. It was only when the wind tore open the high layer of fog that he caught a glimpse of the shimmering white hills and woods.
‘That’s what I was taught. I never doubted our religion. I don’t know anybody who does.’
‘I do. If you grow up here you learn to have your doubts.’
With her quilted coat Sandana was wearing a pink woolly hat pulled down tight over her head. It made her look like a child. This impression was reinforced by the fact that, despite the seriousness of the subject they were discussing, she kept on opening her mouth wide to exhale, gazing in fascination at the cloud of steam.
Maravan thought about it. ‘Must be difficult.’
‘Having doubts?’
He nodded.
‘Believing isn’t easy either.’
An elderly couple were coming the other way. The woman had been nagging the man, but now went quiet. Maravan and Sandana interrupted their conversation as well. As they passed each other, all four of them said ‘Grüezi’, according to the unwritten law of forest walkers.
They came to a fork. Without wavering Maravan plumped for the path that went upwards, towards the snow.
They continued walking at the same pace. The effort increased the gaps, first between sentences, then between individual words.
‘Everyone says the war will be over soon.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ Maravan sighed.
‘Lost,’ she added.
‘But over at least.’
‘Will you go back?’
Maravan stopped. ‘In the past I was sure I would. But now, without Nangay and Ulagu… What about you?’
‘Back? I’m from here.’
The path led to a clearing, curving slightly. When they reached the middle, they suddenly saw a deer on the path. Terrified, it turned its head towards them, then ran away. It stopped, absolutely still, at the highest point of the slope and looked down at them.
‘Ulagu, maybe,’ Sandana said.
He looked at her in astonishment and saw she was smiling. He put his hands together in front of his face and bowed towards the deer. Sandana copied him.
Snow was now starting to fall from the white sky above the clearing.
April 2009
48
Some of the time-consuming things on the menu were easily prepared the day before. The erotic confectionery, for example, kept well in the fridge. Or the urad ribbons which needed time to dry and jellify. The essences from the rotary evaporator also kept well in closed, airtight jars.
Maravan was in the middle of these preparations when the doorbell rang. He opened the door. Makeda stood in the semidarkness of the hallway, tall and smiling.
‘Don’t look so terrified. Nobody saw me, apart from your neighbour on the second floor.’
‘That’s more than enough,’ he said, letting her in.
She took off her coat to reveal a traditional Ethiopian dress. ‘Suits this area better, I thought.’
‘What do you want?’ he asked.
‘I’d love some of your white tea – I don’t imagine you’ve got any champagne in the house.’
He nodded, although this was not what he had meant, and he wondered if she had really misunderstood him. She followed him into the kitchen.
She glanced at the confectionery in various stages of completion. ‘For Dalmann and me?’
Maravan nodded and filled the tea-maker with water.
‘May I?’ She pointed to one of the chick pea, ginger and pepper pussies yet to be glazed.