Echoes From a Distant Land

by Frank Coates

  When she could get away from her mother in the afternoons, she would go to him, full of excitement and expectations, but as soon as they’d made love, he became remote. She wanted to hold him afterwards, to feel his body close to hers. And she wanted him to hold her, but he became restless and irritable. He was uninterested in her thoughts and feelings and plans. Recently, he’d been making more of those snide remarks about her friendship with Jelani; and their petty arguments were becoming increasingly nasty. She wanted to put a little distance between them while she untangled her thoughts. In spite of that, when he rang her at the Algonquin, she again agreed to have lunch with him.

  They met in the restaurant near NYU they’d chosen as their regular meeting place.

  ‘Where’ve you been, dressed like that?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘That blouse. Leaves nothing to the imagination. Every guy in town can see your tits.’

  ‘I thought you’d like it,’ she said, looking down at the blouse.

  ‘It’s not what I like to see my girl wearing when she’s out on her own.’

  ‘I’ve only been to my photojournalist class.’

  ‘And that’s another thing. What a fucking waste of time that is.’

  ‘It is not!’

  ‘In that whole roll of film at the march — no, two rolls of film — you only had one lousy photo that was worth anything. Why bother?’

  ‘I bother because one day I’m going to earn my living at it.’

  ‘Don’t make me laugh. You have no need to make a living. All you have to do is put out your hand and take whatever Mummy and Daddy give you.’

  Emerald was about to retaliate again, but held back. She didn’t like the way the conversation was going — or the way he seemed to think he could now take control of her life.

  ‘Why are you acting so mean?’ she asked.

  ‘Am I? Well, life’s like that. A struggle. Rich against poor. Workers against bosses. Privileged against the underprivileged. But you, little Miss Moneybucks, wouldn’t know. And probably wouldn’t care.’

  Emerald had heard enough. She pushed her chair back and stood, blinking the tears of humiliation and anger away.

  ‘You have no right to speak to me that way, Raph,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry I can’t live up to your socialist ideals. You make me feel like a traitor to the human race because my family has money. Perhaps we shouldn’t see each other until I’m able to overcome the sin of coming from a privileged background.’

  Jelani sat with Emerald in the rotunda by the lake in Central Park. It was late afternoon, and they had the popular picnicking spot to themselves.

  ‘It made me happy when you called,’ he said. ‘How did you know where I’m staying?’

  ‘I went to the Longshoremen’s offices,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t think of any other way to contact you.’ She smiled. ‘If my mother knew I’d gone there she’d have a fit.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She doesn’t approve of unions. Actually, it’s my stepfather who doesn’t approve and she just goes along with him. Anyway, someone else was looking for you too. The man in your office said a black man wanted to speak with you.’

  ‘Really? Maybe it was Randolph.’

  ‘No, Randolph was the one I spoke to.’

  Jelani puzzled over this. He hardly knew anyone in New York. And Randolph was the only black man who knew him.

  ‘Well, I’m glad you called. Raph’s coming too.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘After we spoke, I called him, and he said he’d love to come.’

  Emerald said nothing.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d mind,’ Jelani said, seeing her uneasiness.

  ‘Yes, of course it’s OK. It’s just that I didn’t know.’

  Her response was not as he expected and made Jelani think again about his conversation with Raph. The Englishman had actually said: ‘Then I’d better be there.’ Jelani thought it was his unfamiliarity with the English idiom, but the conversation became a little strained after that.

  ‘Tell me about Kenya,’ she asked him, interrupting his thoughts.

  ‘Why? It is only a small country, so far away,’ he said.

  ‘I’m interested. I was born in Kenya. I think it was somewhere near the capital … what’s its name?’

  ‘Nairobi. Then you are close to my homeland. I grew up near Embu, not far from Nairobi.’

  He told her of his childhood, and it emerged that they’d been born in the same year.

  ‘Eleventh of January, 1932,’ she said.

  ‘I don’t know the month,’ Jelani said, a little embarrassed at his ignorance. ‘The Kikuyu don’t take much notice of birthdays.’

  ‘I’d love to go there someday. Tell me about where you lived.’

  ‘Ah, now you are asking me something,’ Jelani began, smiling. ‘It is such a small village. Nobody knows we are there.’

  ‘Tell me anyway.’

  ‘Well … my home is called Kobogi. It’s in the big forest, high in the hills …’

  He could see the little village with its huts of mud and daub and thatched roofs. Drying racks for the hides. The kids and lambs bleating in their staked enclosure. Children running about, laughing. The wood smoke from cooking fires. Dry dung and damp earth.

  ‘You can see the Aberdare Ranges from the village,’ he continued, ‘and on a clear day, if you climb the ridge to the north, you can see Kirinyaga. Emma, I tell you, it is so beautiful.’

  ‘Kirinyaga?’

  ‘It means mountain of brightness. The Kikuyu people believe that God lives there. The white people call it Mt Kenya, but oh, it is so beautiful. You must see it if you come to my country.’

  ‘I will, if you take me there.’

  He laughed, not sure if she was joking.

  ‘My mother had a maize garden near the stream. And we had many goats. When I was a boy I had to tend them during the day and lock them in the pens at night in case of leopards.’

  Then he remembered Kobogi didn’t exist any more. His whole extended family now lived on Cook’s farm except for those, like Jelani, who’d left to find work in the cities.

  ‘What does your name, Jelani, mean?’ she asked.

  ‘It means mighty in Swahili.’ He smiled self-consciously. ‘Maybe everyone thought I was going to grow tall.’

  He remembered the fat Ugandan clerk at the administration office and his joke about his first given name, Zesiro — first born of twins. It had never left his mind that he might somewhere have a twin, possibly someone as light-skinned as he.

  ‘But you are tall. And very handsome, of course.’

  He laughed to cover his embarrassment. Emerald was always teasing him about his appearance.

  ‘Do you have a girlfriend in Kenya?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Tell me about her.’

  ‘We met when I was about thirteen or fourteen,’ Jelani said. ‘Beth was a little younger. Then something happened and she went away.’

  ‘Oh, how sad. What happened?’

  Jelani wondered how Emerald, or any white girl for that matter, could ever understand the Kikuyu culture. She would think all Kikuyu were savages if he told her about the old chief’s desire to have his Beth as a wife. Sitting in a park in New York made the whole matter of his culture too exotic — too strange for that day and that place. Such stories could only be understood in their homeland.

  ‘It was nothing. Her family … moved away, that’s all. But we’re together again now.’

  ‘Wonderful. Have you had a letter from her?’

  ‘No. I don’t think it would reach me before I leave.’

  ‘Are you in love?’

  He thought about it. He had no doubt that his feelings for Beth were different from those he had for any other girl. ‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘How can you know?’

  Emerald shrugged. ‘If you’re not sure I suppose it’s not real love. Aren’t you supposed to feel something really special about that person when you’
re in love?’

  Jelani shrugged. ‘Maybe. Yes, I think so.’

  ‘When you see her, does your heart jump?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes … I think it does. Like a gazelle.’

  ‘And when she smiles at you, does it make you feel special?’

  ‘… Yes.’

  His thoughts carried him into Beth’s arms. And even when I just touch her hand, I want to make love to her, he thought. His heart thumped inside his chest and at that moment he wanted to be home in Kenya with her. ‘I miss her very much,’ he said.

  ‘That’s another sign,’ Emerald added. ‘It certainly sounds like you’re in love.’

  He hesitated before asking, ‘Do you love Raph?’

  ‘Hmm … I’m not sure.’

  Jelani smiled. Emerald had failed her own test. He liked her, but Raph could be difficult at times. Jelani admired Raph’s commitment to the union movement, but he didn’t like the way he talked to Emerald. He was very demanding of her, and Jelani sensed she didn’t like it, although she said nothing. He would have liked to ask her more about her feelings for Raph because in Jelani’s view, he was not good for her.

  They sipped their drinks in silence.

  ‘When was the last time you went back home to see your family?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve not been back for so many years, I’ve almost forgotten them.’

  ‘Don’t you miss them?’

  He thought again about his family. Every time he’d done so in recent years he resolved to go back to visit them, but then he found reasons or excuses to defer it again. Cook’s farm was not Kobogi, which would have made it easier for him, but that, he realised now, was yet another excuse.

  ‘I do miss them,’ he said. ‘And being here in this great big city makes me miss them more.’

  She reached across the table, and put her hand on his arm. ‘Oh, Jelani, when you go back to Kenya, you must visit your home again.’

  The warmth of her hand on his arm made the skin beneath glow.

  ‘Well … isn’t this a cosy little scene?’ It was Raph, who was now standing at the rotunda steps. ‘Making a move on my girl, are you, Jelani?’ He was smiling, but the smile hadn’t quite reached his eyes.

  Jelani could see a flash of annoyance in Emerald’s expression, and he had his answer about her feelings for Raph.

  ‘Raph, don’t be silly,’ Emerald said, withdrawing her hand from Jelani’s arm. ‘We’re just talking.’

  ‘Oh, yeah … talking about what?’ Raph said.

  ‘Well, if you must know, I told Jelani I was going to visit Kenya one day, and he was telling me about it.’

  ‘Kenya? Huh! Another example of Mother England’s fucking imperialism.’

  ‘There’s no need for that kind of language.’

  ‘Oh, really? Listen to Lady Emerald Northcote-fucking-Middlebridge.’

  ‘Raph,’ Jelani said softly. ‘You heard Emerald. Please be quiet. She doesn’t like to hear you talk that way.’

  ‘She didn’t seem to mind it the other day in my bed — did you, sweetheart?’

  Emerald coloured; she snatched her hat from the table. Tears of anger welled in her eyes. She blinked them back, determined to be strong. She’d had enough of his crudity and his domineering attitude.

  ‘I’m going,’ she said.

  ‘Not until I’m finished,’ Raph said, grabbing her by the arm as she swept past him.

  ‘Raph! Let go. You’re hurting me.’

  ‘Leave her alone,’ Jelani said, this time with a hint of threat in his voice.

  ‘This is none of your business, nigger,’ he snarled.

  Jelani was on his feet in an instant, spinning Raph about and simultaneously landing a roundhouse punch to his jaw.

  Raph, stunned, hurled himself at Jelani, who sprang aside, swinging a wild punch that missed Raph by a foot as he went by.

  Jelani’s slim build gave him the edge in speed and agility over Raph, who was slightly heavier. They sparred; Jelani dropped into a crouch, circling. Raph swung a kick at his legs. Jelani caught his ankle and spun him, throwing him to the ground and then leaping onto his back. He slipped an arm around Raph’s neck and tightened his grip. Even Emerald could see that in a few seconds, Raph would be either unconscious or dead, depending on how long and how tight Jelani kept the hold.

  ‘No!’ Emerald screamed. ‘Jelani, stop. You’ll kill him!’

  He hesitated a moment and then let Raph go.

  Raph coughed and choked, spluttering obscenities and threats.

  ‘Come on, Jelani,’ she said, dragging him by the arm. ‘Let’s go.’

  She almost ran, dragging Jelani behind her by the hand. He followed reluctantly. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths, as if he was trying to get his rage under control. She’d never seen him in such a state. The young man — normally so shy and quiet — had become a frightening sight. A potential killer.

  When they were some distance away from the incident, she drew him to a quiet bench seat away from the path.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ she asked.

  He looked at his scraped knuckles. ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you for defending me. You won’t have to worry about Raph any more. That’s the last I’ll see of him.’

  He nodded.

  ‘Mother and I are leaving for Niagara Falls the day after tomorrow, and she’s decided that we should leave New York immediately we come back.’

  He nodded again. It was hard to read his emotions.

  ‘So, I may not see you after tomorrow …’

  Again he remained silent, studying his clenched fist.

  ‘Unless you can come to see me off at Grand Central. Would you do that for me … Please?’

  ‘I will be there.’

  She kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thank you, Jelani. And no matter what, we’ll stay friends, won’t we?’

  He nodded.

  ‘And one more thing.’

  This time he met her eyes. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I want you to meet my mother.’

  ‘Your … mother?’ His smile faltered.

  ‘Yes. Tomorrow. I promised her I’d introduce my friends and now I have to convince her we have to go to Kenya, so I can see the place I was born. And you, of course. It’s OK: we’ll just have tea at the Algonquin.’

  ‘You mean that big hotel in the middle of the city?’

  ‘Yes. You’ll love it.’

  CHAPTER 54

  Dana strolled down West 4th Street with plenty of time to spare. They were leaving for Niagara the next day, so she was pleased that her last-minute shopping excursion had been successful. She had an hour or so to kill before meeting Emerald for tea with her friend.

  A small banner slung outside an entrance to NYU caught her eye. It advertised a retrospective exhibition of African photographs. She decided to take a look.

  Most of the photos were large black and white prints, and the photographer — a man by the name of Ketterman — had been remarkably successful in capturing the essence of Africa as Dana recalled it. As she studied the photos of landscapes and wildlife, she realised most of the collection came from Kenya and, in a flash of recognition that took her breath away, she recognised Sam in the portrait of a young warrior.

  Dana’s immediate thought was that she had projected Sam’s likeness onto this image of a stranger — a Kikuyu man, in full traditional dress — because of a subconscious connection between him and the essence of Kenya that was portrayed in the photographs. But no, it was unquestionably Sam Wangira as a young man.

  She leaned closer, raising her hand towards the print, feeling an urge to touch it; to touch him. Her fingers hovered near his torso; she remembered the silky hardness of his body. She sensed his maleness and she could smell the scent of wood fire, dry grass and sweat, when he came to her after a long trip from Abyssinia with his horses.

  There were others of him. Sam in a uniform — perhaps as a safari porter. Another in a bush shirt, staring into the lens with a look of intense
concentration. Something had enthralled him in that moment as the photographer snapped the shot. Her eyes roamed around the gallery. There was a significant portion of the body of work devoted to Sam. Dana went from print to print.

  She again contemplated the life she and Sam might have had if she’d sent for him or merely told him she was expecting a child, for she felt sure he would have come to her. Her decision to give up one child to ensure security for the other could be seen, she knew, as brave or selfish.

  The passing of twenty years had done nothing to ease her mind. She had oscillated between the two over those years, but she had no doubt that if she and Sam had chosen a life together they would have been shunned by both white and black societies. It was an impossible situation.

  No one in her life had affected her like Sam. Merely thinking about him made her old desires, so long dead, stir in their crypts. But it was a thing of the past, and she was surprised that it still had such intensity.

  She looked at her little diamante wristwatch. Time had vanished. She would be late for her afternoon tea with Emerald and her friend.

  She glanced one more time at Sam the young warrior, and reluctantly headed to the exit.

  Emerald had delayed honouring the promise she’d made to her mother about introducing her friends, hoping that the passage of time and their departure for England would make the introductions unnecessary. Now that she had the ambition to visit Kenya, she had a reason of her own to introduce Jelani. Without the derisive Raph, and his caustic cynicism about the wealthy, it would be much easier.

  She had made arrangements with Jelani to meet for tea in the Algonquin lobby but the morning was quite fine after two days of showers, so Emerald decided to wait for him outside the hotel.

  He arrived on time, wearing a suit. She was pleased she’d worn her hat and gloves, but the suit surprised her. She didn’t know he owned such a garment.

  She gave him a hug. ‘Jelani, you look so handsome. What a nice suit.’

  He seemed pleased by the compliment, and looked down at his navy-blue suit, white shirt and blue tie with some pride.