Hiding in Plain Sight

18

Bella is up very early, while the rest of the household is still asleep. She enjoys the quiet as she sits at the kitchen table and writes the phrase “home processing” on a pad and then underlines it. She is designing a very simple darkroom where Salif and Dahaba can learn to process film and have a bit of fun. Later, she can modify it so that it will serve her professional requirements. Since before dawn, she has been moving about with stealth, taking measurements. She settled on the spare room as sufficient for this purpose. Ideally, she would have preferred a basement or a room directly under the stairway, or an outbuilding or a stand-alone garage, as these are easier to black out using masking tape to block the light entering through any cracks. But none of these exist, and the bathrooms are too small for the purpose she has in mind. The spare bedroom will do, with an extractor fan installed to provide adequate ventilation. In addition, she will need an electrician to install more outlets for the enlargers and the dryers, and a plumber for the water supply needed for washing prints. Mahdi will know the right people to hire; she writes his name on the pad and then underlines it twice to remind herself.

Over the years, she has overseen the construction of many darkrooms, starting with the simple black-and-white processing setup Giorgio Fiori’s colleague helped her to make in that closet back in Rome, when she was twelve. It is such an arrangement that she intends to start with here.

Before digital cameras came into vogue, darkrooms were fairly common, and most photo shops had one in the rear. As demand grew, though, little shops tended to outsource processing to larger, more sophisticated ones of industrial size. But remembering those simpler setups, Bella adds more items to the list she is drawing up: enlargers, three large trays, an eight-by-ten easel, a red lightbulb.

She hears the soft tread of someone approaching the kitchen, and when she looks up, Salif is there in his pajamas and robe. He looks surprised to find her already dressed and writing lists on a notepad.

“Morning, Auntie.”

“Morning, darling.”

“What’s up?”

“A darkroom, that is what’s up, today’s priority.”

A sweet smile later, he sits down. “That’s good, bright and early,” he says.

Bella pushes the notepad aside. “What would you like for breakfast?”

“I can make my own if you are busy.”

“Good. Will you make my espresso for me too?”

“I would love to.”

Salif busies himself making the espresso for her and an omelet and toast for himself. The household seems to be at peace with itself since they all went to their rooms last night, although Bella slept fitfully, listening for Dahaba’s movements and reflecting on all that has happened so far. On the whole, she feels reassured about Valerie, who now seems much less in a position to muck matters up. The image that comes to her mind is of a hurricane, once strong and menacing, losing its ferocity as it hits land.

Salif asks, “Is it very complicated to organize a darkroom, Auntie?”

“It’s not rocket science. I just need the help of an electrician and a plumber. And I’ll need to go to a camera shop to purchase a supply of chemicals and paper.”

The espresso is not to her liking — a bit watery — but she makes enthusiastic noises when she takes her first sip. She looks up when Salif’s toast pops up but says nothing when she observes that his omelet is a little burnt. She clears space on the table for him to join her with his breakfast. When she sees that he has emptied the remainder of the ketchup onto one side of his plate, she adds “tomato ketchup” to the list on her notepad.

“Which room will we use as the darkroom?” Salif asks.

“The spare room is ideal,” she says. “It is a corner room, set apart from the other rooms, it is spacious, and it has its own toilet so it already has a water supply.”

“Super,” he says. “Can’t wait for it to be built.”

Padmini is at the kitchen door. “Morning, dears,” she says to them. “Did I hear the word ‘build’? Build what, if I may ask?”

“A darkroom,” says Salif.

“How forward looking,” Padmini says. “Where?”

“In the spare room down here.”

“Brilliant,” Padmini says. “How exciting!”

Salif is up on his feet. “Breakfast?”

“Yes, please.”

“What can I offer you?”

“Tell me the available options.”

“Tea or coffee to begin with. And then you can tell me whether you would like oatmeal or an omelet.”

“I would like tea with milk and oatmeal,” says Padmini.

“I’ll make the tea, then, and Auntie will make the porridge.”

“You surprise me, darling,” says Bella. “Making oatmeal porridge is a lot easier than making an omelet.”

“I’d be happier if you made it,” he says all the same.

Just as Bella rises to oblige him, Dahaba walks in with Valerie not far behind. “Morning, everyone,” says Dahaba. Valerie silently waves and then slumps into a chair. She says, “I had an almost sleepless night, my daughter kicking me every time she turned. And when I tried to get away and return to my bed, she wouldn’t let me.”

“Mum snored as loud as a coal train,” says Dahaba.

“How did everyone else fare?”

“Very well,” says Salif.

“And you, Pad?”

“Slept well, thank you.”

Dahaba is leaning against the back of Bella’s chair. Bella says, “Come sit, my sweet, and I will make breakfast for you and your mum.”

Valerie asks for bacon and eggs, and Dahaba opts for the same. Bella shoos Salif away and brings Padmini her tea and then her porridge. She steals a furtive look at her watch and reminds herself to call Mahdi soon. Once she has served breakfast to the stragglers, she goes upstairs for her credit cards and wallet, and then takes her leave of everyone, saying, “I’ll be back soon.” She gets into the car and turns on the engine; then, while waiting for Cawrala to respond, she rings Mahdi. He promises he will call her back with the name of someone who can get the job done quickly.

He calls her back when she is in the process of leaving the camera store with her purchases. He tells her the name of a contractor he recommends and says the man will call her shortly. And he does when she is on her way to the supermarket to buy more milk, fruit, soft drinks, sugar, tomato ketchup, and bacon and eggs. He says, “It’s your lucky day today because, as it happens, we’ve just had a cancellation of a big job; the building where my electricians and plumbers were working collapsed. We can have an electrician and a plumber at your place in the next couple of hours if you give me your address.”

“I’ll be there,” she says.

“Mahdi is a good friend,” he says. “We’ll look after you.”

When she gets back home, she is delighted to see that she has hardly been missed. The four of them are playing cards, Valerie and Dahaba as one team and Padmini and Salif as the other, their rowdy noises reaching her even before she comes through the door.

She takes some of her purchases into the spare room and stores the rest in the pantry and fridge.

She says, “Anybody need anything?”

Dahaba asks, “Like what, Auntie?”

“Tea, coffee, some other drink or food?”

Salif says, “We’re okay, thanks.”

“We’re not okay,” says Dahaba. “I would like a Diet Coke.”

Valerie says to her, “Can’t you get it yourself?”

They stop playing cards while Dahaba gets her drink, and then Valerie’s mobile phone squeals. She looks at the identity of the caller and then she says, “I must take this call.” She leaves the room for privacy, and when she returns a few moments later, she is wearing the expression of a mourner. “Something terrible has happened,” she says. And then she says to Padmini, “That was Ulrika. We need to get back to the hotel pronto.”

“What’s happened?”

“BIH has been raided and there have been arrests.”

It is as though the two of them were speaking another language that the others cannot follow.

Bella offers them a lift.

“Can I come with you?” asks Dahaba.

“Not this time, darling,” says Bella.

But Valerie and Padmini decline her offer and insist on calling a taxi instead.

—

The electrician and the plumber show up half an hour or so later, not only the two of them but the contractor himself and two additional workers. Bella gives them the sketch of what she wants done, and the men unload their tools. The plumber and the electrician write up the list of what they will need, and the contractor takes off to get the materials. Before long, the sound of hammering and male voices brings Dahaba and Salif down from their rooms. Before nightfall, Bella tells them, they will have a darkroom.

“Super,” says Salif. Bella begins to explain the process to them, but Dahaba loses interest in the technical difference between pre-digital and digital photography, and the mention of landmark names such as Kodak does not excite her. “It sounds like the difference between typewriters and computers,” she says, before she drifts back upstairs.

Bella tells Salif about the darkroom Giorgio Fiori’s friend built her, and how Fiori taught her the basics of photo development.

“He wasn’t a photographer, was he?” asks Salif.

“My father taught jurisprudence, and his specialty was the theory of law, or rather the principles on which Roman law is based. Photography was just a hobby for him. But what got him initially interested in photography was his enthusiasm for the history of image making and his interest in the reproduction of images in a variety of forms: in photography, in drawing, in painting, and in design patterns borrowed from African traditional societies. He had an early hand in the design of the fabrics that would become fashionable in West Africa.”

“He was a brilliant man, your father?”

“He was indeed.”

“I thought he taught in Somalia, where he met your mother,” Salif says. “How did West Africa figure in his life?”

“He taught in Mali before coming to teach in Somalia,” Bella explains, “and it was in Mali that he developed his interest in Dogon art.”

“Dogon? What is Dogon? Who is Dogon?”

Bella answers the question with exemplary patience, as if she were a teacher. “The Dogon are a people known the world over for their exceptional wood sculpture, and their art revolves around their high ideals. Theirs is an art not meant for public viewing, so it can be seen only in private homes and sacred places. Dogon society puts great value on the symbolic meaning behind every piece.”

Salif nods his head in appreciation, and Bella recalls how Aar spoke in an adult, sophisticated way to his children even when they were tiny. He would say that it was important that you talk to children the same way you talk to grown-ups. Children have the ability to catch up to you faster than you can imagine, he believed, and they remember tomorrow some of the things you speak about today.

Bella says, “So my father was the first to show me sculptures from the Dogon in Mali, sculptures whose forms excited my young mind. I decided then to become an artist. At first I thought I would pursue my ambition as a sculptor or painter, but finding my pursuit of these two modes of artistry challenging, I lowered my expectations and tried my hand at photography.”

“And he built you a darkroom?”

“He taught me to treat the darkroom as both a sacred space and my own domain, my secret place,” says Bella. “He discouraged me from allowing anyone else access. He spoke of the darkroom as though it were a tomb, a secret space not to be exposed to the eyes of others, lest it should be compromised.”

Just then the doorbell rings. It is the contractor, who has come back with the items needed for the darkroom. Now the noise the men are producing increases tenfold. Bella hears the contractor shouting, “What have you been doing all this time? I don’t want to disappoint Mahdi, who will be expecting a good report from her on our work. So get on with it.”

Salif asks, “What do you think happened that made Mum and Auntie Padmini go into panic mode this morning?”

Bella tells him she has no idea.

“I hope they are okay.”

“I hope so too.” And she means it. She doesn’t wish Valerie and Padmini to be subjected to further harassment of the sort they endured in Kampala. On the other hand, she will not be sorry if this turn of events makes them hasten their departure for India. After all, her motives in paying their hotel and legal bills were not entirely altruistic; she had hoped to get them closer to the exit door. Not that Padmini is likely to let Valerie know who their unnamed benefactor is. Pleased with her own discretion, Bella can’t help but allow herself a smidgen of mischievous curiosity at how things will pan out. You never know if a given development will pique Valerie’s rage or elicit the grace to admit defeat, say “thank you,” and then depart.

The contractor enters the kitchen, rubbing his hands together and looking happy.

“We are done,” he says. “Please come see.”

At first the room is too dark for them to see. Then the contractor, who is behind them, turns on the light. Bella likes what she sees: plenty of room for their immediate purposes, as well as for improvements for her professional purposes. The contractor says to Bella, “Give it until tomorrow for the putty to harden and the grout to set, and then it will be ready for use.”

Bella pays in cash, giving each of the workers a generous tip. The contractor gets Mahdi on the line. “Listen,” he says to him, “there is a happy lady here who wants to have a word with you.” He passes her his phone.

Tears well up in Bella’s eyes unexpectedly, and her voice is tender with unreleased emotion. She tells Mahdi how delighted she is with the result his contractor has managed in such a short time.

Just as the men are leaving, Dahaba comes back downstairs. “Is it done, the darkroom, done, done?”

“Yes, it is,” says Salif.

“What’s it like?”

“Amazing.”

“Can I see, Auntie?”

Salif tells her, “Not until tomorrow.”

“Auntie, let me have a quick peek, please.”

Bella allows Dahaba to stand in the doorway but no farther, lest she ruin the work before everything sets.

“A celebration is in order,” says Dahaba.

“How do you want us to celebrate?”

Bella makes herself some tea and they toast each other with tea and soft drinks. Then Bella, exhausted, goes upstairs to bed.

She dreams that she is dressed to the nines, but the heels of her shoes are broken and she can’t find a cobbler anywhere to repair them for her. It is raining very hard, so she shelters in a low shed with huge cracks in its zinc roofing. Wet and miserable, she sets out to seek better shelter, but her way is blocked by several stray dogs that bark viciously at her then attack her. She defends herself the best she can, but the harder she fights, kicking away at them, snarling, cursing, and screaming for help, the more dogs join in the attack. Eventually, she employs the shoes without heels as a weapon and hurls them at the dogs.

She retreats back into the shed and her bare feet come into contact with a bag. It seems to have been pushed into a corner and abandoned. She hasn’t the time to investigate, however, before one of the smaller dogs makes its way past her, snarling, as likely as not to lead the attack from the rear, she fears. But when she kicks at him, she misses and kicks the bag instead. It breaks open, revealing bones. Is it possible, she thinks, that it was the bones the dogs were keen on instead of her?

She makes the opening in the bag bigger, then takes a handful of bones and scatters them over a large area outside the shack. The dogs fight fiercely over them and tear hungrily into them. While the dogs are busy fighting over the bones, she tries to scuttle away, unobserved. But a big bloodhound seemingly uninterested in the bones impedes her progress. Scared stiff, she searches for something to defend herself with — a stone, a stick big enough to strike with. She finds nothing. She lives on the edge of her nerves for a few minutes, trying frantically to imagine what it is about her that is drawing the hound’s attention. Via a process of elimination, she focuses on the necklace of bones she is wearing. She unclasps the chain and throws it at the bloodhound, and at last he lets her leave.

She wakes up, heavily perspiring.

—

A couple of hours later, after a hot shower, Bella comes down to the kitchen. She makes herself some porridge and brews some strong coffee. The children aren’t yet downstairs, but Bella has an appointment with Gunilla at the UN office this morning. Before long, Salif wakes and comes down to have his breakfast, and eventually Dahaba saunters in, holding a toothbrush aloft.

She says, “Somebody give me toothpaste, please.”

Salif scoffs at her. “You’re in the wrong room.”

“Who says this is the wrong room?”

“A kitchen isn’t where you want to be.”

“But there is none in the bathroom,” she says, and then she issues an abysmal groan, supplemented by a blob of phlegm that she spits into the kitchen sink. “Did I ask you to give me toothpaste? Please stay out of my way and keep your nasty comments to yourself.”

Bella rises from her chair in anger then dispossesses Dahaba of the toothbrush, takes hold of the girl’s wrist, and leads her out of the kitchen and back up the stairway toward her bathroom, where Bella is certain there is toothpaste.

When Bella returns to the kitchen, Salif says to her, “Why must you give in to every one of her vagaries, Auntie? This is no good. She will never grow out of it, you are spoiling her rotten.”

“I know what I am doing, darling,” says Bella. “Trust me.”

She sits down to resume the notes she was making, but her millet porridge has hardened. She adds a lump of butter to it and microwaves it, but just as she takes a spoonful, Dahaba reenters the kitchen. Without asking for help, she sets about making her own breakfast this time. Bella wonders which of them is right. She’s certain Salif believes that it’s the pressure he has been putting on Dahaba that will ultimately pay off. And Bella thinks he may well prove right, although it is too early to determine how consistently Dahaba will do anything. She remembers that Hurdo used to say that raising a child is a long-term project, the nature of the child’s needs changing as the child grows, but not the need itself.

Dahaba brings out the bread and puts two slices in the toaster. Then she takes out the marmalade and margarine, and when the toasts pop up, she picks them up with her forefingers. Although she flinches, giving the impression that her fingers are burned, she is pleased when she sits down with her toast. You would think she is expecting applause, so delighted is she with her achievement. She spreads large dollops of margarine and marmalade on the two slices and eats them, getting food all over her mouth and chin.

She says to Bella, “You going somewhere fancy?”

“I’ve an appointment.”

“Where and with whom?”

“With Gunilla, at your dad’s place of work.”

“What’s going on?”

“We need to sort out a few things.”

“Would you like to tell us more?” Dahaba says.

Salif says to Dahaba, “Are you mad?”

Dahaba carps, “What have I done this time?”

Salif says, “Next time you’ll ask Auntie to tell you how much money there is in Dad’s bank account and how much of it is coming your way and how much my share is and how much, if any, will go to Auntie Bella.”

“There is no harm in knowing any of these details, is there, Auntie?” Dahaba says. “Or asking questions of this kind?” Then she turns on Salif. “Why do you mouth off at me? What right have you got to talk to me like this?”

Bella says, “Please,” to no one in particular.

“Am I out of line wanting to know, Auntie?”

Bella replies, “No, you’re not.” And to Salif she pleads, “Let it be.”

The dream of last night has suddenly come back to her, and she feels despondent. She remembers now too that BIH is shorthand for a lesbian bar called Bar in Heaven and that Ulrika is a German active in the gay community in Nairobi. She has read all this online — the recent raid of the bar has been all over the news. She considers whether to call Padmini and ask if all is okay, but she thinks better of it and, opting for inaction on that front, turns her mind to matters closer to her heart.

She glances up and sees that Salif is looking as disturbed as she feels. His shoulders are hunched and he is clutching a knife in his right hand while his glassy eyes stare at a bit of uneaten omelet attached to the end of his fork. There is something blank about his gaze that puts Bella in mind of a mirror that has lost its quicksilver backing. He doesn’t have much self-restraint: You annoy him and he will come after you until he unsettles you. Maybe he is the sort of person who believes that when you are bad, as bad as Valerie, say, you deserve to get your comeuppance. Like Salif, Bella finds Dahaba’s occasional unpleasantness tiring, and often she doesn’t know what to do about it. But Salif needs to learn that he doesn’t have to show his ugly side so quickly and that he doesn’t need to zero in on other people’s weaknesses, as if he were a dog chasing the fear in those who are afraid of him.

Just before Bella goes out the door to meet Gunilla, Dahaba comes back downstairs, holding her phone. The girl is shouting, “Mummy, where are you?” An instant later, Dahaba passes the phone to Bella, saying, “Auntie, it’s Mum, she wants a word.”

What follows is so bizarre and happens so quickly that Bella will be confused about it for a long time to come.

Bella’s first words are “You were in my thoughts. In fact, I nearly called you half an hour ago to ask how you both were.”

“Cut the crap,” Valerie says. “I want you to go upstairs and close the door to your room. I have questions to ask you and I want true answers. I don’t wish the children to hear what I am saying.”

Bella is in suspense to learn whether all this is provoked by the payment she made yesterday when she settled the bill at the hotel. Or could it have something to do with the raid on BIH and the resulting arrests? Is Valerie in deep trouble and in dire need of help again? She remains silent until she is in her room and then she says, “What is this about, Valerie?”

“Do you know — have you ever known — a Ugandan woman called Helene Nsembemba, with legal chambers in Kampala? And have you ever wired funds to her in your capacity as the Good Samaritan, working miracles and setting free two women in a Kampala lockup?”

“I’ve never met this Helene you speak of.”

“I know you know Gunilla the Swede and that you’ve met with her a couple of times, so don’t tell me you don’t know her. Tell me what role the Swedish woman played in all this.”

“I suggest we talk about this another time.”

“Here you are fobbing me off again. Tell me truly, did you pay to have us released?”

“I’ve no idea what you are talking about.”

Valerie says, “I’m told you paid the bond, wired the funds to pay off the Ugandan police and paid for our ticket, all through your lackey Gunilla. Is that true?”

“You are imagining things, Valerie.”

“I have it from reliable sources that you are involved in much deeper muck than you are prepared to accept,” says Valerie.

“Who is this reliable source?”

“A gentleman in the Ugandan legal fraternity.”

“I insist I have no idea what he is on about.”

There is a pause.

“Padmini and I are coming over to see the children. And I never want them to know about this terrible thing you’ve done, paid secretly and maliciously a bill you did not incur,” Valerie screams into the phone.

There is a knock on the door. Dahaba says, “Is everything all right? I hear some shouting, are you shouting?”

“Dahaba, darling, I didn’t mean to shout. Okay?”

Valerie asks, “What is happening?”

“Dahaba is at the door to my room, wondering why I am shouting and asking if everything is all right,” Bella says.

“I want you to listen to me carefully, very carefully. Not a word to Dahaba and Salif about this. You hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“Not to a living soul, you hear?”

“I said I hear you.”

“No shouting, because you are still shouting.”

Bella chokes on her words of self-explanation, thinking that one can never win when one is at war with Valerie. She is adept at turning the tables and making you sound silly and forcing you to apologize even though you have no idea why you are apologizing or why you got yourself into tangles and your tongue into knots.

“I’ll see you soon enough,” says Valerie, and she hangs up.

With the phone now dead in her hands, Bella opens the door to her room and finds she is face-to-face with Dahaba. Bella has no idea what to do or what to say. Dahaba is too young to understand all this. So Bella only says, “Thanks, here. Your mum called to tell us she and Auntie Padmini are coming over in a bit,” and holds out the phone. But Dahaba notices and so does Bella that her outstretched hand is trembling and that she is shaking all over. Bella returns to her room and washes her face and hands, but she is still shaking.

When she comes out, Dahaba is still waiting for her. Bella embraces her and then says, “Let us go downstairs and see how the darkroom is doing.”

Dahaba says, “Wait. Tell me what’s happened.”

“There has been a misunderstanding, that’s all.”

And Bella leads Dahaba by the hand, virtually pulling her, and doesn’t stop until they are in the darkroom, where it is still night.

“May I turn on the lights, Auntie?” says Dahaba.

“Of course, my darling.”

Bella moves around, taking note of what else needs to be done to make the darkroom operational. But everything will have to wait until she gets back from her appointment with Gunilla.

Bella, still a little shaken, is unhappy being alone with Dahaba. The girl has a way of unsettling her with her questions, and Bella needs time to think of what and how to answer. She calls out to Salif several times. More and more she realizes how comforting she finds his presence. It’s not just that he is not antsy like Dahaba, who is demanding and unsure, but somehow being around him neutralizes things, balances them out. He makes problems bearable and often comes up with solutions to them, just like Aar.

Now he says, “Is it ready for use, Auntie?”

In his calming presence, Bella regains her composure. With her arms around Dahaba, whose small body is trembling against her, she says, “Between the items I purchased from the camera store and a handful of others I brought with me from Italy, the darkroom will be functional today. Later today, after I get back.”

Salif smiles. “Must be an important meeting. Because you are in your power outfit.”

“Wish me luck,” Bella says, hugging Dahaba a bit tighter.

“When will you be back?”

“I’ll return as soon as I am done. Your mum should be here by then.”

Then Bella heads out of the front door, gets into the car, and drives off, reminding herself that she will not allow Valerie or anyone else to deter herself from the tasks awaiting her.