"Yeah, I'm still jet lagged a little bit," David could tell that usage amused him.
"Do want to come to dinner or go back to sleep?" Uncle offered.
"I'm hungry, and I'd like to meet my host, but will it be rude if I don't socialize very late after the meal?" David asked.
"Not at all, talk will just be around the table after we are finished. There isn't going to be any entertainment. You can announce you are tired and retiring any time. If anybody wonders I explain you are jet lagged," Uncle said, still amused with the expression.
"Let's join them then," David agreed.
"Just him, not them. Only my nephew, Ibrahim. There will be just the three of us. His younger wife will serve us. You already met her. But she will not be eating with us. Come, we'll wash," Uncle said, doing a hand scrubbing pantomime.
* * *
Supper was a rice dish with lots of finely chopped vegetable and lamb. It was rich with oil and pungent with savory spices. They didn't share a common dish however, eating western style with their own plate and utensils.
A cold dish of chopped green vegetables was served as a side dish. It reminded David of coleslaw, but better. It was dressed with a slightly sweet sauce with caraway seeds, but not creamy. The household had refrigeration, which David wouldn't have predicted with any certainty. He suspected that placed them firmly in the middle class.
It was no surprise then when dessert was ice cream, but David had never had Pomegranate ice cream. It was served with traditional coffee and he ate far more than he’d planned. The younger wife didn't speak with him, but he caught her looking with approval when he'd managed a small third helping of the main dish.
Ibrahim seemed a gentle soul, and he obviously held his uncle in genuine high regard, not just the display of respect for his elder his culture demanded. He was politely interested in David's quest, and remarked he’d walked the hills with Bouh, but he had no talent to be a Sahar. David wondered what talent one needed? The way he said it reminded him of an Italian friend. He'd remarked that younger brother had gone into the priesthood, but then his friend had shrugged, and said he had no calling. Ibrahim seemed similarly comfortable with his station.
Ibrahim seemed much more interested in David's business life. He was amused at David's description of the panic his leaving had created among his executives. He related similar stories that showed he had experienced the same thing with his subordinates.
When Ibrahim wanted to know what his company made, he described what the devices did looking down from high above. David was careful to not talk down to Ibrahim. He'd figured out by that point in their conversation that the man might not know electronics and signals jargon, but he was an astute observer of human nature and foibles.
"So these machines, how widely do they look? Can they look at every house in a city? Every city in a country? Every country in the world? And how can anyone ever look at everything they collect?" he wondered.
It was a very good question.
"They can look anywhere in the world, but the men who buy them don't really confide in me where they look. They don't even confide in each other much," How paranoid that must sound made David smile at himself.
"The machines can be made to look for certain things. If a building uses a lot more electricity than it should, or in a residential neighborhood a house has fifteen or twenty computers. But a person has to tell it what to look for, and a person has to examine whatever it found odd when searching for them. The whole thing is limited by how many good analysts you have working for you, because the machines don't have any wisdom or judgment at all. I assume the government uses them mostly to watch high officials and people they consider dangerous. Spies spying on spies a great deal," David concluded.
Ibrahim looked thoughtful, like he was weighing whether to say something.
"Can you be sure they won't use your own machines against you?" he wondered.
"I'm sure they would," David agreed. "But, if you had a strong unfriendly neighbor above you on a hill, and you knew they sat and peered in your courtyard with a telescope. What would you do?"
Ibrahim looked surprised at the problem, then he smiled.
"I'd go to the gunsmith and pay him to come at night with a variety of weapons. Then I'd have a bunch of my cousins walk past the windows and switch clothing and guns several times to make it look like there was a formidable force living here. I'd have someone make a show of discovering the watcher, pointing and handing binoculars around. I'd look angry and indignant, and order the windows be covered with screens and louvers with many gestures."
"Exactly, I could shield my buildings since I know how the machines work. But this sort of men couldn't stand that, seeing nothing. When they look down on my home or business they instead see a false picture of what is happening inside," David assured him.
"That's a marvelous story," Ibrahim said. "Thank you for sharing it.
"Uncle, this one may be an apt student," Ibrahim told him. "He already peers into the shadows for a living. I confess I never had much imagination for the unseen."
"His father had a small talent," Bouh told his nephew. "He couldn't roll the dice and make them fall to his will, but he could name how they would come to rest on their own."
That stirred a memory in David. When he'd played board games with his parents his mother always went to the kitchen and got a cup for his father to roll the dice. She insisted he cheated if he got to hold them. His father had always laughed and won anyway. It made David wonder if this was some predictive routine that would apply to things like stocks? It might explain his father's uncanny success.
All that heavy thought and the rich food caught up with him, and he had to cover a mighty yawn.
"Take him off to bed," Ibrahim insisted. "He still isn't adjusted to our time. I know you. You'll march him into the ground tomorrow, Uncle."
"A frail old man like me?" Bouh asked. "He may have to support me on his arm along the way." David didn't trust his grin at all.
* * *
They left the house in the morning without any breakfast, and no more visiting with their host. David felt stressed and near naked to leave his phone behind. He'd pulled the card and battery from it, even though he left it inside his bag. Now none of his needy employees could wheedle his personal number from the few people who had it and ring the phone. The credit cards and other papers and money he left much easier than his phone. It all went in his bag with the fudge bag Uncle finally allowed him to stuff in there too. He did insist on keeping his passport to Uncle’s amusement. He said it would be more trouble than help if that’s all he had but David insisted. The younger wife let them out and handed Uncle a sack David presumed was lunch. Uncle handed it off to him. She carefully didn't speak or stare at David, but he took that for cultural necessity rather than a sign of hostility.
They walked along the road going out of town. The buildings thinned out rapidly. Uncle walked with traffic instead of against it like David had been taught. He was uncomfortable but decided not to say anything. They walked a long time until there were no buildings in sight. David was starting to doubt the wisdom of it. The land was quite arid and they had no water at all unless there was something in the package David supposed was lunch. The sun was quite high in the sky and it felt like lunch time, but he wasn't going to ask for a break unless he fell on his face.
There was traffic, trucks and a few cars, once a bus. Most swung out away from them as they passed. A few didn't bother. The shoulder wasn't very wide to let you get away from the edge of the pavement before you'd be walking on uneven rocks. I should have been counting off my paces, David decided. He wasn't experienced at this to know how far they'd come. It seemed pointless to start now.
An old truck with a cab like a pickup, but a flat bed in the rear passed them. It braked but stopped well ahead and didn't back up. Uncle looked up at it but didn't pick up his pace. He kept going steady to close the couple hundred meters. When they came up next to the truck it was a middle
aged man dressed much like Uncle. He had concern written on his face and addressed Uncle in Arabic.
"Grandfather, there is almost nothing ahead for a very long way. You can't walk to the next town. You'll give out."
"I've walked across the empty land before there was a road," Uncle informed him.
"With supplies on a camel and, if you will forgive me saying so, as a much younger man I'm sure. Perhaps the memory fades of how very far it is. If you must go on allow me to give you a ride. There is a place for the trucks to stop a bit over two hundred kilometers ahead. You can at least get water there when I fuel the truck."
"We have no money to pay you," Uncle said. "And I doubt I'm of your tribe from your accent."
"I'm going down the road anyway," the driver said, with a hand fluttering gesture. "I would not want others to pass my father's father on this road and ignore his welfare. If we aren't cousins neither do I know you for an enemy. Climb on the back and do this the easy way, Grandfather."
"Very well. Thank you for your concern." Uncle hopped up on the rear platform with a grace that belied his age. He put his back against the rear of the cab not all that far from the edge behind the driver. There was a bundle of burlap bags under a tie-down strap in the middle. David took a similar position on the other side, but passed control of the bag back to Uncle. It was a relief to stop walking.
"Eat this," Uncle instructed, handing him an orange from the bag. David wasn't about to argue with him. He was hungry and thirsty both, and surprisingly tired already.
When David had it peeled he glanced at Uncle and saw he wasn't having anything. He split the sections in halves and offered half. Uncle took it without comment or thanks.
When they got to the border with Ethiopia the officials spoke to the driver briefly in a language David didn’t know. To his astonishment they ignored him and Uncle like they were invisible.
David felt much better after a bit. It bothered him to have no way to tell time but the sun. If he'd had his phone he'd have looked at it automatically when they climbed on the truck. Then likely again when he noticed he felt better. Not that it meant anything when he had no control over when they went and when they stopped. He hadn't realized until now how that had become a habit, timing everything all day long. What exactly was the point of it?
When he was at home in Atlanta David remembered how he'd glance at the clock when he got in his car at home and again when he arrived at work. There wasn't much he could do to change how long his commute took. There wasn't any practical alternative route. He was pretty much at the mercy of traffic and the occasional accident causing delays. He'd never thought before on how pointless it was to time things over and over.
When someone came into his office he'd glance at the time too. People weren't stupid...well, yeah they were but not that stupid, not any he’d hire, to not know what that quick shift of the eyes meant. All of a sudden it seemed like a terrible idea. It was just a habit, but it might signal he wouldn't hear a person out, or resented taking time to listen to them. He resolved to change that, even if he had to remove the clock on his computer screen to break the habit.
The truck hit a big bump. Hard enough to bounce David's head against the cab, and he was shocked to find he'd been sleeping. The sun was starting to lower in the sky and they seemed to be headed slightly west going by the shadows, rather than south like they had started, but there were several hours lost to his nap with the sun high overhead that he had no idea which direction they had travelled. It felt odd to have no idea where he was within hundreds of kilometers. Usually he had his phone and could run the GPS to locate him within meters.
The land had been flat rocky desert with almost no vegetation when he'd drifted off to sleep. There had been plateaus in the distance with steep bluff sides, but the road avoided them staying on the flat and winding around so they didn't even come close to the bottoms of the slopes. David wondered if that had once been to avoid places where travelers could be ambushed. After thinking on it further he decided that might not be just an ancient concern.
Now the land was different than when he'd fallen asleep. The hills were rolling and covered with more vegetation including clumps of trees in the low places where there must be water. There weren't any big flat areas between the gentle hills. Looking carefully there were several areas in the far distance with rectangular boundaries. Too far away to make out any fencing, but the different color suggested they might be paddocks or pasture. Turning and looking through the cab windows it looked like the land ahead was higher and greener. They no longer had a straight road ahead of them clear to the horizon like before.
Uncle was relaxed and had his eyes closed. David couldn't tell if he was sleeping. There wasn't really anything to ask that wouldn't sound like childish chatter, so David leaned back and did like Uncle, conserving his strength and staying rested.
When he woke up again it was because the truck was slowing and the motion and sound of it on the road changed. The land around them struck David as very much like an area around the Grand Canyon he'd visited as a boy. They were coming into a fueling station and small town. There were homes visible in the distance and a few clustered behind the truck stop as well as some other small businesses with garish bright signage.
Uncle thanked the driver again and started walking without a word to David. He got a few steps away before David realized Uncle was done riding and expected to be followed without demanding it. Rather than run to catch up he just stretched his pace longer until he was close but still behind. It seemed pointless to be side by side. The pace was tolerable but not so slow he wanted to waste his breath on mindless chatter.
There was a public water faucet near the fueling station. A short hose dangled above the ground and an iron grid to keep the area under it from becoming a mud hole. They waited, while a young boy finished filling a large plastic container with the hose. The square container was yellowed with age and stained and scuffed all over but it didn't leak. Uncle drank more than David expected and urged him to drink more than his thirst moved him to want.
The local street ended nearby without any line to mark it except the soil was no longer as flat nor cleared of rocks. There was far more vegetation than back where the truck had picked them up, but not enough to cover the ground between clumps of bushes. Uncle, despite being older was far more nimble on uneven ground than David. His balance and recovery were untrained by a steady diet of floors and sidewalks.
David had never studied botany or been an avid gardener. The country looked very much like the southwest US, but he couldn't swear what any of the plants were the same except the prickly pears, those had to be the same, although the fruit wasn't the color he expected.
"The low cacti with fruit, we have some in the US nearly the same," David told uncle, pointing at them, "except the fruit is a deep purplish maroon color."
"They are of foreign origin. There is an English word for such invaders, but I forget."
"Exotics," David supplied. "They have vast campaigns to eradicate some invasive exotic plants and animals, but usually it is a lost cause once they become established."
"These are not without benefit," Uncle assured him. "They are a market item, but more importantly the cattle eat them. They do displace local plants." He however added a shrug, as if to say - What can one do?
The sun was getting low and Uncle hadn't shared anything from the lunch sack since the orange. David was tired and he was pretty sure Uncle had slowed down to accommodate him. He'd caught Uncle glancing at him longer than needed to just check that he was still there. Just his footsteps would probably tell him that. David was also aware the old man walked much quieter than he could. He'd tried to do so a ways back and found it required more effort. He was probably looking at David to make sure he wasn't going to fall on his face from fatigue.
The sun was near the horizon when Uncle turned abruptly from the direction he was following and took a harder route uphill. It dismayed David, but he didn't object, rousing him
self to meet the challenge the older man met easily.
He finally stopped in a bit of a hollow in the hillside. It would have provided shelter from the wind, if there had been any. There was a small pit dug that had the remnants of a fire, but it didn't have that fresh look of recent use. The ground was cleared of large rocks uphill of the fire pit. When he turned back the way they'd climbed the view was remarkably narrow. The opposite was true too. They weren't very visible here from below. Not even if they lit a fire.
Chapter 5
"We'll stay here for the night," Uncle informed him. He then proceeded to school David on where he could relieve himself and how he should cover it. Looking around David had a brief yearning for a Holiday Inn, or maybe even an old Red Roof sold off as an independent and gone downhill a bit . . . "You may gather some boughs of the bush that has a bluish tint to the leaves if you wish to make a bed. It has a pleasant odor when crushed, will not irritate your skin, and it isn't favored by insects. I'm used to sleeping on the ground, but you may have difficulty getting comfortable since you are used to a fine bed. Later we will be some places there isn't anything to make bedding, but there is no merit in asceticism. If you do so, go off a bit, and don't strip the bushes close around this site."
Uncle sat with his knees up in front of him, as relaxed as David would be at home in his recliner. Just looking at him David knew he couldn't sit the same way so comfortably, although he certainly wasn't fat. Turning and looking the same direction as Uncle he was struck with how pretty it was. The low sun gave it a golden glow now, but the other colors were still striking, the more so not hidden behind a midday glare. He went to make his bed before it was too dark. The small knife Uncle made him buy was very useful for cutting boughs.
When he was done Uncle produced a couple pieces of flat bread and divided cheese and preserved meat on them. He also drew one bottle of water and took a sip and offered it to David to share. There were still a few items in the sack, but Uncle didn't feel any need to reveal what or when he intended to dispense them.
The Way Things Seem Page 4