A Sorority of Angels (20 page)

“How well I know it. Can I be personal?”

“Sure.”

“What’s in it for you, for all the girls? Or is my question naive?”

“We love it here. For us, it is plush living with minimum demands. It beats living in La Cite.”

“I can’t say I blame you. I grew up there.”

“Besides, the pay is good, on the government payroll. Kintubi pays us top dollar plus extras like clothes, jewelry, and cars.”

“Tell me about tonight. I mean, what can I expect?”

“There’s nothing distasteful. We socialize with the President and have a pleasant social evening. No public display if that is what you mean. After a few drinks later in the evening, one or two may take a swim in their birthday suits.”

“Who entertains the President? Whose is he?”

“Mine, rarely all the time. I understand his problem.” She smiled. “When he forgets he’s the President, he’s a pussycat. He loves sex and his bad heart restricts him. He huffs and puffs a great deal. I have my period today. I’m sure he’ll look elsewhere, or ask for oral.”

Shaba spent a pleasant afternoon with Janan and the girls. At six o’clock, she napped upstairs.

Shaba formulated a better perspective of the President. Her conversation with Janan made him less a stranger.

She expected appropriate courtesies as his general’s wife.

The question Shaba wrestled with was –
How would I react if the President made advances towards me?

Shaba had dressed when Kintubi came up at eight o’clock.

“How long before you’re ready?”

She sneaked a last look in the mirror. “Ready. Let’s go.”

Shaba heard conversation and laughter from the living room as they descended the stair. Soft music played. They entered the room. Janan sat with Busambi on the soft sofa. The other women and three men gathered around the bar.

President Busambi’s eyes glittered with surprise on seeing Shaba, beautiful beyond his expectations. He struggled sideways to raise his wide frame and heavy weight. He wore a tan suit with an open neck colorful shirt. After great effort, he stood, and waited for Kintubi to introduce her.

“Mr. President, may I present my wife, Shaba? Shaba, this is President Busambi.”

“Shaba, I’m honored to meet you.” He bowed slightly. Shaba extended her hand. He clasped it firmly. “Welcome back to our beloved country.”

“Thank you, Mr. President. I looked forward to meeting you.” He released her hand. Busambi was average height and in his early forties. The crescent shaped stomach made him appear shorter and older. “I must compliment you on how different and better I found our country since I returned.”

“That’s gracious of you. If better, it is because you have returned. I hope you planned an extended stay.”

He impressed. Maybe Kintubi was right about him. She laughed politely, cordial.

“I see why Kintubi admires you. I must return to New York within a month. Thank you for arranging my appointment.”

“Kintubi told me that you spoke English and I appreciated the reasons for the necessity. Are you happy there?”

“I feel useful and productive. And I’m serving my country the best way I can, and serving your leadership.”

“The ambassador is pleased with you.” Then he grinned. “Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you. Do you know Janan?”

Shaba and Janan smiled to each other. “Oh, yes,” Shaba said.

“Good. I am certain Kintubi wants to introduce you to the others. We can talk later.” He sat with a groan, crushing the sofa.

As they headed towards the bar Kintubi whispered, “What do you think?”

“A good opening. He seems nice.”

The three men were government officials, Busambi’s trusted confidants, one in his forties, two in the fifties. With five men and six women, Shaba felt like the spare tire on a ten wheeler. The conversation mixed. Two couples drifted out to the patio. Kintubi and Shaba sat by the President and Janan. When Shaba sat, Kintubi motioned to Janan to leave.

“Janan, I need your help. I’m unhappy with the kitchen’s performance and canapés. We’ll be right back.”

Shaba hated Kintubi’s hasty departure. She cast a quick nasty glance at him conveying her feelings about leaving her alone with Busambi, but saw it as an opportunity to talk to him alone. She turned and faced Busambi as he said, “Kintubi never mentioned he had a beautiful wife. I can’t imagine how he can approve your returning to New York.”

“We have a compatible understanding.”

“Compatibility should make both happy. Kintubi is invaluable in my Administration, a close confidant. He told me of your separation.”

“You’d know sooner or later.” Shaba looked around the room and extended her arms to indicate awe. “I see some of his success.”

“And you still want to return to New York?”

“Even with all this.”

“By the time your vacation ends, you may change your mind. We need good people here. Would you like to work for me?”

“I’m already working for you in New York.”

Busambi grinned. “You know I mean here.”

“Maybe after three weeks we can discuss the subject further.”

“I look forward to the meeting.”

The others in the room left for the patio. Shaba and Busambi were alone. Shaba considered this an opportunity to talk about hunger and poverty while he was a captive audience, and before Janan and Kintubi returned.

“I’m concerned about our country’s future and freedom. My children died for its freedom.”

“I assure you democracy will always reign as long as I’m president.”

“There’s a project I’m involved with at the United Nations, primarily UNICEF. UNICEF is alarmed at the increasing rate of hunger and malnutrition of children around the world. The number of deaths is staggering, in the hundreds of millions. Poverty and hunger exists in our country. I’m curious as to what your Administration is doing about feeding the needy. Is the elimination of poverty and hunger a part of your long range plan?”

“All will be done in due course. The problems of our country are overwhelming. We are trying to catch up with the twenty-first century. The problem is more than feeding the people, but also educating them. I can tell you that I am working with the International Monetary Fund and World Bank to help with an economic plan. I have already implemented reforms. Some things take longer.”

“I know what the many problems are, Mr. President. Can you tell me your plan about poverty and hunger?”

“As I said, those problems will be dealt with in turn.”

“There’s no specific program?”

“Not yet, but in due time we’ll have an outstanding program. Poverty, hunger, and illiteracy have been here for centuries. I’m sure they can wait a few months longer.”

“I wouldn’t appreciate the statement, Mr. President, had my children died of starvation instead of in the war.” He felt the coolness of her cold tone. “My children died in your war to make you president. The way you can repay me for their sacrifice or anyone else who lost someone, is to serve the people in a humane manner; to improve their standards with freedom, and democracy as well.”

“Do I sense dissatisfaction?”

Shaba realized her attitude leaned toward chastisement and bitterness, early for acrimony.

“Goodness, no. Kintubi has told me of your accomplishments and the great goals to come. No, I approve what you’re doing. I just wish you could implement the programs faster especially eliminating hunger.”

“For you, dear Shaba, I will establish a committee to look into the solution. You can count on that.”

He smiled looking pleased with his reply.

She didn’t believe him.

Shaba had lost the moment to discuss the country’s affairs effectively, hoping another opportunity would arise, better prepared to defend and implement her causes. She deemed it nauseating that adults would wantonly allow children to starve, especially fat adults.

“I’d like a drink to toast your future, Mr. President. Shall we join the others outside?”

“As you wish.” He used practiced calisthenics to stand, mixed rum and Coke for her and a martini for him. He said, “Here’s to our country’s most beautiful representative.”

“Thank you for the best president ever.”

They clanged glasses then joined the others.

A couple danced. Kintubi and Janan returned holding hands. Shaba approached them and nudged Kintubi with an elbow. Kintubi received the message, released Janan’s hand and moved closer to Shaba. They sat near the pool.

Banter and camaraderie among the group continued for another hour, restrained with Shaba’s presence. Alcohol chipped away at the formal barrier. Busambi continued to focus on Shaba, his glances obvious as his drinking increased. Dance music continued and stimulated. One couple disappeared. Shaba kept Kintubi contained by her side. The surroundings felt awkward to her and to Kintubi, who looked restless.

He leaned over and whispered, “Must I sit here all night?”

“No.” She stood. “Dance with me.” The order provided an opportunity to glide and face away from Busambi’s eyes. Kintubi stood, reluctant. They danced.

Shaba asked, “You can’t wait to start humping, can you?”

“Your conservative posture is stifling.”

“Should I leave? Listen, if your beloved president doesn’t stop leering at me, I’m going to kick him in the balls.”

“You’re reading him wrong. If he likes you, it’s only looking. You do look beautiful, and he’s admiring you. He’s taken by you.”

Her right index finger made sarcastic circles. “Wooo-weeeee!”

“Don’t let it get to you.”

“Maybe I’d better leave and let the party really start.”

“Don’t go yet. You should dance with him at least once, as a courtesy.”

“I don’t care about him.”

“But I do. Why can’t you be friendlier?”

“You mean sociable and lovable? Do you realize if he ever lay on me, he would kill me? You’ll have to pick me up with a scraper.”

“Only sociable. I have no intentions demeaning you by suggesting anything else. He’ll never make an initiative to violate our marriage.”

“I believe you. If I’m holding up this pending sex orgy, I’ll leave.”

“Don’t, but you are stifling.”

“In an instant I’ll bid goodnight to all and vanish with a headache, which I have.”

When the dance finished, he held her there.

“Don’t go yet.”

“Why not?”

“It may appear rude for you to leave early.”

“I can’t help it if I have a headache.”

“Act civil and smile. Busambi is watching us.”

“Welcome to the club. Have one of the girls cool him off when I leave. He’ll soon forget me.”

Busambi approached them. Shaba sensed he wanted to dance and quickly reacted to cut him off.

“Mr. President, I have to leave, a terrible headache. Would you please excuse me? I’ll be back later, after I take aspirin.”

“I hoped we would dance.” He grabbed her hand. “One dance.”

Shaba smiled to avoid rejecting him in front of the others.

“Mr. President, you’re irresistible. Do you have a favorite dance?”

“Something easy.”

“Kintubi put on slow music.”

Kintubi reacted afraid Shaba would change her mind. Busambi held her as close as his stomach allowed. Surprisingly, he danced light on his feet, graceful. His right hand slid up and down her back. The dance progressed in silence.

“You’re a good dancer, Mr. President.” It came out; something to break the quiet before the music ended.

“I should dance more. How’s your headache?”

“Better but still there. Forgive me if I leave. I should feel better after the aspirin.” The music ended. “Thank you for asking me to dance. I’m honored. I’ll return soon.”

Shaba left before he could offer what she considered his saccharin compliments.

He called after her.

“Feel better. It’s early. We’ll be here.”

She walked slowly as if in pain to add to her act and continued up the stair. She exhaled relief after she closed her bedroom door, escaping an awkward scenario.

The few drinks plus inhalation of second hand cigarette smoke added to her headache in the bedroom. She undressed, showered, swallowed two aspirin and lay nude in bed. Staring in the mirror, her mind scolded her poor effort in pursuing her causes with vigor and a better debate. Next time, she would make a persistent and emphatic presentation hoping to budge Busambi’s immovable mentality.

The aspirin worked; headache receded, giving way to drowsiness.

Shaba confirmed changing to a hotel. The party scene proved uncomfortable. Group hooking up had no place in her new life. She had no intention having sex with anyone except Kintubi and his head roamed elsewhere. No. This lifestyle had no place in her present life or in the future.

She shivered at the future thought of Busambi touching and making love to her. Tonight he may have become more outspoken and brazen as the evening wore on. She escaped on time, happy that her evening with Busambi ended.

Shaba wondered about Kintubi’s reaction if she offended Busambi. To hell with Busambi, her scruples were more important.

The tide of drowsiness came stronger making her lethargic to turn out the light. Shaba floated with the flow and slept.