Hiding in Plain Sight (12 page)

“What a stupid question to ask,” says Bella.

“Haven't they chopped yours off?”

Valerie adds, “That genital thing, she means.”

“What are you talking about?” Bella says.

“She means genital mutilation.”

“Or female circumcision,” Valerie says, “which has to do with the removal of the entire clitoris, if I understand it correctly. Is that what you meant, Pad?”

Padmini nods her head and falls silent.

“What is your question?” Bella asks.

“Do they feel anything?”

“I can't speak about what others feel or not.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Padmini asks.

“Go ahead and ask.”

“Were you circumcised?”

Some people are insensitive to the point of being ridiculous, Bella thinks.

“No,” she says.

Valerie says, “I thought you were.”

“Well,” says Bella, “then you are wrong.”

“I imagined every Somali woman underwent infibulation,” Valerie says.

Bella now remembers what Aar said after Valerie's sudden and unannounced departure. “You never know what you know until you realize that you've known it all along. One day the pin drops, and you see you had the knowledge all along!”

“Were you spared because you were special?”

Bella doesn't bother to answer the question. She should never have invited them to dinner, she thinks. But she keeps her cool, reminding herself there will be many more skirmishes along the way until they fall on their backsides and receive their just deserts. She now says, “Would either of you like another drink, dessert? Shall we ask the waiter to bring the menu again?”

Padmini says, “No, thank you.”

“Shall we share the bill?” Valerie says.

“You are my guests,” Bella says. “I invited you.”

She motions to the waiter to clear the table and prepare the bill, but Valerie stops him. She wants doggy bags.

As she signs the bill, Bella says to the waiter, “Lovely food. My friends here and I have enjoyed the food and the atmosphere.”

“But where are you from?” he says to Bella.

“I am Somali,” she says.

“I wouldn't have thought so,” he says.

“And why not?”

He says, “Somalis frequent the restaurants near the main mosque in the center of town or the eateries in Eastleigh. Also . . .”

“Go on. Also . . . ,” she encourages him.

“Somali women don't go to restaurants.”

She is not at all surprised that this young Kenyan holds nothing but generalizations about Somalis, who form about six percent of Kenya's population. After all, Valerie, who was married to a Somali man and gave birth to children who are part Somali, has just demonstrated that she knows next to nothing about Somalis. How she wished they had talked about Aar and not about so much other disillusioning nonsense.

“What are you doing now,” Padmini asks. “We would like to sample the nightlife in Nairobi, go to a jazz joint or something, or to a gay bar.”

Bella declines—she wants to get back to the children, but she doesn't want to go to Aar's car until they are gone.

Padmini asks, “You wouldn't know of any gay bars since you know this city well, would you?”

“No,” says Bella.

Outside, Padmini and Valerie engage in some quick brainstorming and decide to ask a taxi driver where they might find some nightlife. A driver in the queue, overhearing them, waves furiously at them. “Ladies, I am your man, here to take you where you want.” He offers to take them to a dance spot he knows, “where there are plenty of men, big and strong, and you ladies can have a good time.”

Padmini says, “We're not into men, thank you.”

The driver is unfazed. “Nairobi is a big town, especially at night. I know a couple of places you would like.”

“Now you are talking,” Padmini says.

Valerie turns to Padmini. “But before we go.”

“Yes, dear. Any problem?”

The driver takes a renewed interest in the way they are looking at each other and discreetly touching, and a knowing smile crosses his expressive face.

“Let me have a word with Bella,” says Valerie.

“About what?”

“About tomorrow evening's dinner with the children.”

“I thought that was done and arranged,” says Padmini.

“You see, I am eager to see them, that is why.”

Bella watches all the goings-on with amusement, especially the expression on the taxi driver's hatchet face, a lit cigarette dangling from his half-pouting lips as he trains his full attention on Valerie and Padmini.

Valerie, meanwhile, is a foot closer to Bella and says in a half whisper, “We're all set for tomorrow, are we, the children, you and I, for dinner?”

“We are and they are looking forward to seeing you.”

The sound of jollity wafts across from a group of young men and women in a festive mood after several hours' drinking; their noises are happy and everyone is in character. In fact, one of them, a young man who is too far gone to know what he is doing, opens the taxi Padmini is now sitting in, waiting for Valerie to join her. Padmini shoos away the young man and tells Valerie, “Time to go and party. Come.”

They go, and Bella feels a terrible sense of relief.

—

Bella picks up Aar's car from the parking lot. However, she is aware of the late hour and drives with unprecedented alertness, keeping a keen lookout for any suspicious vehicle following her home. In addition to being concerned about the valuables in the trunk of the car, Bella is
worried about driving at this hour in a city that she associates with terrible violence. But since she won't allow fear to dominate her life, she will trust her luck in hopes that all will be well.

And in fact, everything turns out to be okay. And when she gets home and lets herself in—Salif had the wisdom not to set the house alarm, for she wouldn't know how to disarm it—she can sense movement in their rooms. She wishes them good night before turning in herself.

Bella wakes with the sun in her eyes. She revels for a moment in the tropical warmth that she always relishes here, the open-ended feeling of the hour. Then the alarm of her iPhone goes off. At first she thinks it is someone else's, someone with something urgent to attend to. Here, there is no worry that she might oversleep. So what is the hurry? She tries to go back to sleep.

And then she remembers where she is, and why—in the master bedroom of her dead brother's house, the children in their respective rooms. A line from a poem by Dylan Thomas comes to her, uncalled: “After the first death, there is no other.” Of course, a great deal has happened since her arrival, some of it heartening to her, especially when it comes to her nephew and niece; some a little harrying, particularly when it comes to Valerie and her intentions. She remembers her evening with Padmini and Valerie, and how, ultimately, it disintegrated. Her throat feels tight as she wonders how much of Valerie and Padmini's life she should share with the children, to whom it will probably be news that there is more to the two women's partnership than business. She is sure, because he told her more than once, that Aar
simply never bothered about telling the children more than they needed to know, especially because there was no way of knowing how they would react if they knew the truth about their mother's sexuality. He once explained his difficulty dealing with this dilemma, saying, “At times, a child may direct undeserved hate toward the bearer of a message rather than toward the person the content of the message is about.” And because Valerie never communicated directly with Aar or the children, it was erroneously assumed that worrying about what to tell the children about their mother's sexuality was unnecessary. Now—now it is up to Valerie to deal with it, Bella decides, as she has other matters of grave consequence to worry about. The children are now grown—and they and their mother can sort things out between themselves as articulate adults. Even so, Bella is aware that indiscretions such as last night's will in no way bring them closer.

She gets out of bed naked and moves about the room soundlessly, as if there were someone else asleep in the room. And now she remembers her dream as well, a dream in which she shared a bed with HandsomeBoy Ngulu and they lay in each other's embrace, her heart beating furiously, as if it wanted to break out and flee. She walks into the bathroom and stares hard into the mirror, berating herself for having such thoughts so soon after Aar's passing. What sort of a person is she, giving in to desire when there is so much at stake, when there is a lot to be done?

The sight of her reflection surprises her. Her eyes are swollen and bruised looking, and she wonders if she cried in her sleep. She looks roughed up and sad, off-kilter on a morning when she needs to be efficient and at her faultless best. Despair is not an option. She scolds herself, speaking directly into the mirror, getting closer and closer until she can see a cloud of breath on the mirror's surface.

She takes a selfie, a habit that dates to long before she had an iPhone.
Whenever she was in a fix and unsure of how to proceed, she'd place herself at an angle to a mirror and take a photograph so that she could talk to it. Sometimes she would even tell herself folktales. It's working, she sees, as she looks at the photo on her iPhone. There's a little relief in her face, as if she's starting to have faith in herself again.

—

Bella slips on a robe. In preparation for Valerie's visit, Bella puts her belongings all around Aar's room. She doesn't want there to be any mistake about who's in charge here. She puts her clothing in the closet and dresser, pushing aside Aar's to make room and leaving her suitcases on the floor. She opens every drawer in the room, taking a quick inventory of the contents. Some things she buries away from Valerie's prying eyes; others she locks away in Aar's study, the key to which the children have given her and she stashes in one of her camera cases.

It strikes her how flat-footed sudden death catches its victims. Hurdo used to say that a woman must always be prepared for life's surprises—her toenails trimmed, her hands manicured, her underpants clean, nothing left to chance. She may have had an exaggerated sense of preparedness, but Bella has to agree now that perhaps her mother had a point. She sees Aar's unpreparedness everywhere—in the open documents in his study, in the packed suitcase he didn't take with him.

It does not take her long to open the larger suitcase. She is pretty certain that he uses variants on her name, nickname, or date of birth as his secret code for almost all locks, bank accounts, and other such things, just as she uses his. Inside, she finds several shirts, jeans, and underwear, along with his extra Mac, a wallet bursting with cash in dollars and several credit cards, and next to it is a printout of an e-mail addressed to Gunilla and signed “With love.” In the letter, he explains that he is going to be in Mogadiscio for three months and asks Gunilla
to please prepare all the legal documentation they've been discussing and have it initialed and then sent to him for signing before departure. He also requests that she make two copies of his “important documents,” keeping one set and sending the other to him. Bella can't follow all the particulars—if anything, the state of affairs mirrors a general sense of lack of urgency—a man behaving as if he had all the time in the world and that he will be around for some time. These signs are what his belongings convey. At the same time, the discovery mirrors a sense Bella's had since Istanbul that he'd been confiding in someone else. That someone else appears to be Gunilla. Bella has come to Nairobi prepared with all the legal documentation that she might need to prove her identity. On top of all this, she has a signed and notarized document attesting to the fact that she, Aar's sister, is also his one and only executor. But it is Gunilla who has in her possession the items he deposited with the liaison office in Nairobi, and for those, she must await Gunilla's return. Bella reminds herself to ring the Swede, who is supposed to be returning tonight, first thing tomorrow morning to arrange a meeting.

When Bella questioned Aar during their time in Istanbul if it made sense to sink all his savings in a house of stone in a volatile country like Kenya and not in Mogadiscio, where, even though things were bad, there was the possibility of peace returning and property starting to appreciate again, Aar told her that he no longer thought of Mogadiscio as home. “Home,” he said, “is where my children are, where they live and go to school and love to be. Besides,” he added, after a thoughtful pause, “I am uncomfortable affiliating myself with a country broken into fiefdoms, where there is no room for someone like you or me.”

They were at the Blue Mosque, where they admired the elegance of construction and the colorful tiles and silk carpets. They continued their talk while visiting the nearby Topkapı Palace. Aar said, “I am not
comfortable in a Mogadiscio run by a confederacy of clans that are in cahoots with religious renegades. There is a great ache in my heart every time I drive past the cathedral and the oldest mosque, both of which lie in ruins.”

A knock on the door gives Bella a start. Then she calls, “Come in,” and Dahaba walks in, leaving the door ajar. Bella realizes that she is instinctively blocking her niece's view of the rest of the room, perhaps because she doesn't want anyone else to know about the broad sweep of her own intentions.

Dahaba asks, “What are you doing?”

“N-nothing!” Bella stammers.

Dahaba walks farther into the room and looks around, as if checking that everything remains as her father left it—except for a half-open drawer, which she now goes to.

“You looking for something?” Bella asks.

“Do you have any tampons, Auntie?” While Bella rummages for some in her travel case, Dahaba says, “What is the word for tampons in Somali?”

Bella chuckles. “I doubt we have a word for it.” Then she remembers how in her youth, when tampons were not yet available in Somalia, women back home had to make use of strips of cotton, which had to be washed several times a day. In the Mogadiscio of the late eighties, they were again difficult to obtain; in those days, pharmacies would run out of all manner of daily necessities.

“Here,” she says, giving Dahaba several.

Dahaba dashes out of the room, and Bella pushes the door gently shut on the pretext that she will be changing. Then she resumes searching the room, albeit with consummate caution. But she doesn't lock the door, not wanting either Dahaba or Salif to suspect her of foraging among their dad's things. Bella is certain that even Aar had secrets
somewhere, but this is not something the offspring of a beloved parent find easy to believe.

Another knock on the door puts a stop to Bella's search.

This time it is Salif. “Would you like me to book a table at a restaurant if Mum and Padmini are joining us?” he says through the door.

Bella opens the door, but he is too timid to look at her because she is not yet decently dressed. What a charming, sweet boy, she thinks, as he stares at his fingernails.

“Which would you rather do, go out or bring in takeaway?” she asks. “For me, either is fine.”

“Let's eat in,” he says. “There is more privacy here.”

“I see your point,” she says.

“And they may be late.”

She wonders if she should mention that their mother was close to an hour late yesterday evening. But all she says is, “Fair enough. The food can wait if they are late, and we can warm it up in the microwave.”

He says, “You know that whatever we decide either Mom or Dahaba will fuss about it. But you know what?”

“What?”

“Fuss or not, they always eat the food you place before them.”

Salif suggests sushi and claims to know where to get the best in Nairobi.

—

After allowing Salif and Dahaba computer and TV time, Bella decides to be a taskmaster for a change. In the sweetest way possible, she reminds them of their mother's first visit here, and she says that given they haven't as yet been in touch with the maid and that the corners of the rooms have been gathering dust and fluff wouldn't it be a good idea for each of them to clean their room? Bella offers she will do her room,
two of the four bathrooms, and all the areas that are of common use—today, at least.

They each do their part, Salif playing heavy metal, Dahaba fussing a little and then playing her choice of rock, and Bella saying nothing to either of them. They take a break at about four and shower, readying mentally for Valerie and Padmini's visit. And since Bella has no idea what either woman would tell either child about her sexuality, Bella decides not to bother, much less worry about the matter.

Dahaba wants to know if she can invite friends home to meet her mother this evening, and Salif is of the view that the best way to welcome a person home is to cook—and maybe they should cook instead of bringing a takeaway. But when neither Bella nor Salif thinks that Dahaba's suggestion is good, and when neither Bella nor Dahaba is of the opinion that Salif's idea to cook will fly, Dahaba is the one who sulks briefly, retreats to her room and showers, then reemerges as if nothing has happened.

At six, it is time to pick up the sushi, but Dahaba doesn't want to go. “What did I tell you?” says Salif. He puts the alarm on downstairs and tells her to stay up in her room while they are out.

She says, “You think I am stupid?”

He promises to get her a Big Mac, just the way she likes it. He turns to Bella. “She has the woman's thing, I know,” he says.

Bella thinks about how the world has changed. As a young woman growing up in Somalia, she would never have told her brother about her “woman's thing,” as close as they were.

—

In the car on the way to pick up the food, Bella debates how much of her own suspicions about Valerie she should air to Salif. But they have been gone barely five minutes when Dahaba telephones, asking how
soon they will return. “Just stay put,” Bella assures her, “and we'll be back before you know it.”

Salif says, “Dahaba hates being alone.”

The food court offers an assortment of fast food, but also a variety of international cuisines, mainly non-African: Indian, Chinese, and Japanese. Salif swears by the Japanese place despite the unlikely location. Bella gives him a wad of cash for the sushi and goes to order Dahaba's Big Mac and some Indian food for good measure.

“I hope she doesn't change her mind when we bring her what she asked for,” says Salif. “She can be a terrible brat.”

Within the hour, they return, bearing a variety of dishes—far more than they can eat today even if Valerie turns up with half a dozen Padminis.

—

By a quarter past seven there is still no sign of Valerie. The children are hungry, but Bella is happy to see that their banter has lost its sharp edge.

“Here, Chipmunk,” says Salif, offering Dahaba a chip.

“Give it here, you beastly thing,” she says.

They have a taste of the tikka, eating with their fingers, and put the rest of the food in the oven to stay warm and in the fridge to stay cool. Then they go back upstairs—Bella to put Aar's room in order, Dahaba to continue watching a movie on the Internet, and Salif to learn the result of the Champions League game between Bayern Munich and Arsenal.

At eight-thirty, they reassemble in the kitchen and eat at the table. Salif says that eating at the table makes him miss his dad, who was a wonderful cook and made dinner for them whenever he was in town.

Bella recalls that Valerie can't cook to save her life, although she is a
stern critic of other people's cooking—the food is always too salty, too spicy, the steak too well done, the rice undercooked. But she refrains from badmouthing Valerie in front of Salif and Dahaba.

Salif offers to wash the dishes, Dahaba to dry them. Salif says to Dahaba, “Since you have a visitor, I don't mind if you go up to your room. I'll wash and dry.”