Sahara

by Oscar Luis Rigiroli

  He then got in contact generally with informal and loose organizations of Africans from Chad and neighboring countries, but of the same ethnic origin.

  The cells in New York gathered funds collected inside and outside USA and channeled them in the form of shipments of food, medicine, equipment and cash to the huge refugee camps that survived in painful form to the wars and ethnic cleansing carried out in the center of Africa. They also dealt with people who arrived in the country from those fields of refugees, mostly women and children. Certain other activities were carried out personally by Zoubaida with people who interviewed her in her small office. Cristian boasted that it was about weapons although he refrained from asking his girlfriend. For the first time in his life he experienced the feeling of doing something important, whose effects would affect people other than himself. Moreover, that lives were critically dependent on what he did. The obvious satisfaction of Zoubaida with his work was just a bonus.

  The woman was in fact extremely pleased with the performance of the partner she had chosen. The fact that he had made a living on their relationships with older women had originated doubts about the ability of the young person to serve on important things. She was glad that her infatuation with Cristian had not clouded her judgment in terms of his qualities and potential.

  As they returned to the hotel and after a shower together they usually went out to visit the peaceful neighborhood, inhabited in different times by artists, writers and intellectuals seeking a haven away from the notoriety but still in the heart of the city of New York. They walked hand in hand by the tree-lined streets, she displaying her incipient tummy, for scandal of some decked up old Lady's who wondered how it was possible that this black woman dared to show her half caste pregnancy, but also the friendly smiles of residents of more liberal spirit. Zoubaida and Cristian would remember those months in Gramercy Park as an oasis of joy and fullness.

  Already winter had descended on the city of New York. Cristian had gone to a dilapidated building in the Bronx located in an area inhabited largely by recent clandestine immigrants, district of violent reputation; the man had reached the place not without some reservations. Young and old persons of Jamaican or African origin watched him with their huge eyes from rickety buildings stairs; small bands of unemployed teenagers looked at him defiant, some of which were certainly under the influence of various substances.

  Cristian pulled out his cell phone and called to the site where he was heading to let them know that he was arriving, caution suggested by Malik in the visits of the young white man to dangerous neighborhoods. A few blocks beyond he was about to enter a building that looked abandoned, when from the shadows two figures swooped and tried to immobilize him. Cristian did not see them coming but reacted immediately, applied a kick on the knee of one of the aggressors who gave a cry of pain while trying to deal with the second who however, surpassed him in weight and strength. The young man uttered voices asking for help, but saw that all the characters that were in the portals of houses disappeared inside of them. Finally the attacker knocked him on the ground and saw that the other man had incorporated and approached. Both men were very corpulent, one of them hit him in the face to reduce him and when he fell on the floor the biggest sat on his chest and began to suffocate him. Cristian then fainted. When he just had recovered a spark of lucidity he believed he heard a great noise, as of cans that fell and rolled. The weight on his chest is suddenly lightened and he could glimpse dark figures fighting stubbornly. A light reflected in the glass of a window and one of the solid figures fell in rales. He then heard two shots and someone jogging down the street as well as moans of pain. He felt then that they raised it with care and transported by a staircase, and then everything went out.

  Cristian woke up in a bed ramshackle, completely bewildered and lost. He saw a black man who approached and whispered something in French. At that time he felt severe pain in the chest.

  “You have crushed ribs and bruises throughout the body.” The voice was familiar, and after a few seconds he identified it as Malik´s. Indeed the African came and put his big hand on his shoulder. “Other than that don't have anything serious. You'll be sore several days, even more than now.”

  “You got away of a good one.” He said.

  “What happened?” Asked Cristian.

  “They tried to kidnap you, perhaps to know the whereabouts of the Princess. You did very well letting us know in advance that you were coming and my friends were waiting. As they noticed that you did not arrive in time they got worried and as they heard noises in the street they realized what was going on and left armed. One of the attackers shot twice without hitting the target but one of our stabbed the other. He will not stand up again.

  At that moment they heard coming from the street the siren of several police cars that were coming to the scene of the fight.

  “Don't worry”. Continued Malik “They will find the body several blocks away, and there will be absolutely no witnesses, all were watching TV and there was no one on the street.”

  Cristian incorporated with a moan.

  “How did you found out?” He asked Malik.

  “Ives called me immediately.” Malik answered pointing to one of the Africans who were in the room. He also called the doctor.” This time he pointed to a fat man who was closing his case. “He had to give several stitches on the face and shoulder, but you will be well. Can you move?”

  “I hope I do.” Responded Cristian with not much confidence.

  “Well, I'll take you personally along with the Princess; we will give several turns to make sure not to follow us. Still I do not know if you were attacked because you are related to the Princess or it was a blow at random. But we must certainly assume the first hypotheses and redouble precautions.”

  “Four men already killed around me.” Added Cristian with affliction

  “Fortunately, the dead were bad people.”

  “Malik, don't tell Zoubaida that today another man died

  “I see that you don't know the Princess; she will celebrate the extinction of our enemies, and although it is not going to scare her can however contribute to convince her to accept the new security measures we are recommending.” The mind of the young man suddenly made a U-turn. “Perhaps she will think of celebrating again.” Thought excited.

  Three days later Malik and another man of stately aspect showed in the lobby of the hotel where they were staying. Zoubaida knew the man and said ceremoniously to Cristian.

  “Let me introduce you to Monsieur Daoud. He is the guide of all Chadians abroad. He has much spiritual ascendancy and is a man of peace. He does not speak English. I am sorry but we will talk in our dialect.”

  Then the three Africans spent some time talking in their language. Malik did not understand certain paragraphs which had to be translated into French for him. Daoud had a deep voice and spoke gently, and his intonation was relieving; no doubt he was a persuasive man.

  At the end of the conversation Zoubaida translated the core of the chat to Cristian.

  “Daoud prevents us that a command of murderers, belonging to the Muslim Government of Chad has moved to New York. It is believed that they are trained by a cell of Al-Qaeda active in Sudan and Central Africa. One of its purposes is to hinder the efforts of the non-Islamic ethnic groups to obtain independence. They have already killed several Chadians, Sudanese, Central African and exiles from Mali and Niger. Daoud believes that it is necessary to reduce interpersonal contacts that can expose us. Watching one of us they discover with whom he gets in contact. To avoid their actions our organization in this country will take a cellular structure and we´ll fully use our electronic media and social networking contacts.

  “And social networks are safe?” Asked Cristian.

  “Precisely because they are open to everyone.” Replied Malik “The security services and repression forces of Egypt and other countries in the region failed to curb the popular self-organization. Unfortunately in Chad we are not at the tec
hnological level of those countries, but we can organize ourselves outside.”

  “This will allow me to spend more time with you.” Cristian whispered in the woman´s ear.

  “There is another distinct concern that Daoud transmitted us.” Replied Zoubaida “Processes are accelerating in our homeland. As already told you my father only has another daughter younger than I, and he will need support.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Then we must start planning our trip to Chad that is, if you want to come with me.”

  “To stay there?”

  “Yes. At least in my case.”

  “But in a few months our son will be born.”

  “The Chadian women usually give birth at much more precarious conditions. My father is a man of resources in Chad. We will be taken care of.”

  “In addition...” Malik´s sentence remained truncated.

  “In addition what?” Asked Cristian.

  “In addition. Our son, your son, will be the stem of the eldest daughter of my father, the Chief of my people. A true firstborn. Therefore he will be in the direct line of succession.

  “Will he not be a metes, kind of impure?”

  “I already explained to you that miscegenation is very common in the area. And no, no one will consider that your blood is impure. Your son is called high destinations in my homeland.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Zoubaida and Cristian were walking through Central Park in one of the farthest from your hotel rides which they had carried out. They sat on a bench and took each other hands. The original relationship based almost exclusively on hormones had given way to a much more complex and rich bonding which included a healthy dose of tenderness. The strict restriction to their outings had enabled them to live intimately so that their mutual acquaintance had grown. Also it had reinforced Zoubaida´s prevailing role based on a certain indecipherable trait of her character equipped with an intense determination, and her superior psychological resources. Moreover, she had found that Cristian was a young, intelligent and lucid man, resilient in the development of his tasks, to whom the obstacles did not discouraged easily. The woman was aware that the youngster had placed her on a pedestal which had its risks and imposed her certain burdens.

  “Zoubaida, what do we do now?”

  The woman interpreted that question in a broad sense, referring basically to the future course of their lives. She had in fact been meditating in this regard, and this time seemed timely to share her thoughts.

  “I wanted to discuss this issue with you, and I was looking for the right time. It's something that we started talking about a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Regarding to the role of our son?”

  “Yes. I explained that my father is the leader of our ethnic group in Chad; as you have realized already our people are subjected to many pressures and dangers. According to our customs, the leader must be at the same time head of a solid family which ensures leadership in the future. It is there where our son gets into the picture. It ensures a kind of dynastic endurance which my father already despaired of getting. But...”

  “But what?

  “The stem must be born in our country and in our territory.”

  “You confirm that you intend to return to Chad?”

  “Yes. Two days ago I talked to my mother on the phone; she told my father of our situation and could convince him to accept it.”

  “That means that the big boss is ready to receive you back?”

  “With a condition.”

  “Which one?

  “That we get married. A future boss cannot be a bastard.”

  Cristian´s face changed imperceptibly his expression.

  “I see that you don't like the idea.” Challenged the woman without showing the high degree of tension she was under.

  “No, it is not that. It happens that he had never considered seriously the possibility to marry. This takes me suddenly....”

  “The question is would you marry me?” Zoubaida´s voice finally betrayed a hint of anxiety, strange to her temperament.

  This time Cristian did not hesitate.

  “Yes, of course.”

  A deep feeling of happiness swept through Zoubaida body. The man who she had chosen would be finally hers.

  “There is another condition: the marriage must be in accordance with our ritual.”

  “Do not worry, I have no religious preference.”

  The trip to N'Djamena, capital of Chad took place in several stages. First they from New York to Paris where they stayed for a few days always avoiding any exposure to prying, as Malik had already warned them that the French capital was riddled with agents of all nations and ethnicities of the former French Equatorial Africa, who perhaps would have already been warned by their contacts in New York over the fact that the daughter of a powerful Chadian chief was in motion, and it was easy to foresee that in the possible trip to her country Paris was a scale little less than inevitable.

  The ulterior trip by plane led them through the desert of the Sahara, which occupies all of northern Chad, journey in which Cristian could realize the desolation of this vast wasteland, not suitable for human life except in few isolated oasis.

  In N'Djamena agents of the father of Zoubaida were waiting them, which sped up the process of entry to the country and erased its traces in such a way that it could not be tracked by potential hostile elements. Ultimately, those who arrived in N'Djamena were Mr. et Mme Colombo. Even after the precedent in New York Cristian was surprised by the drastic security measures and the means deployed by his future father-in-law people.

  They immediately brought them up and loaded their suitcases in an old and ramshackle Citroen van in intent not to draw attention. They traveled in the vehicle through the shrubby plains of the Sahel, intermediate area between the Sahara desert and a little more fertile savannas located in the Southern part of the country. It was a grueling trip, which forced them to drink liquid continuously to avoid the always threatening dehydration, and which Zoubaida endured stoically the inconvenience pregnancy produced her in these circumstances, particularly because of the continuous jumps of the vehicle tripping over loose stones.

  Eventually they began to see the first groves of acacia and other thorny bushes which introduced a note of greenness in the arid landscape. Shortly thereafter appeared the first huts, isolated at the beginning and then forming villages of a certain size.

  At one point, Zoubaida pointed with a certain excitement a human complex in front of them and exclaimed.

  “There, that's my village, my true homeland!”

  Cristian watched amazed as tears ran down the cheeks of his woman. For the first time Zoubaida showed in his eyes a sensitive and even vulnerable side. It was a strong experience for the young man to discover the more human side of the woman with whom he had already shared five months and that until that time had been the cold and fearless daughter of a powerful African chief. Instant revelation showed an aspect that had eluded his perception that long.

  As they descended from the vehicle a crowd met spontaneously to celebrate the return of the Princess, who so much aid had procured her people from abroad. Children and young people who were not even born when Zoubaida had gone saluted her with joy and enthusiasm. Zoubaida replied to the greetings with an upright posture and with a somewhat rigid and invariably smile, while a knot formed in the throat of Cristian by the thrill of the unexpected welcome. He looked at his woman and saw her looking forward with dignity as if she were looking through her subjects, but the strong emotion that Cristian had witnessed an quarter of an hour earlier at the first sight of the village made him think.

  “You do not fool me, you are adopting a regal pose but ultimately you are moved to the bone.”

  The reception of the villagers was warm and enthusiastic and increased the strong emotion Zoubaida was going through, and surprised Cristian since he knew that they had not seen their Princess for about fifteen years. The young man began to meditate on the intensity of
tribal ties, an unexpected feature of reality.

  After a while a figure emerged from one of the houses made of bricks and concrete located in front of them. It was an elder woman of magnificent aspect, beautifully dressed with a violet silk outfit covered with small shiny stones, and on whose head wore a hat in the same colors. Cristian, no expert in fashion and even less in African costumes could not less to admire the picture of the person who approached surrounded by a retinue of ladies and children.

  “Maman.” Moaned Zoubaida, with her pride completely overtaken by her heart and her face flooded by tears.

  The two women hugged each other without being able to articulate a single word for a long time, during which groans and cries were mixed. Cristian and the rest of the bystanders also crossed by the emotions kept a respectful silence.

  The matron walked away slightly and told her daughter in French in a tone that was intended to be of reproach.

  “And well Zoubaida in fifteen years out of home have you forgotten your manners? Are not you going to introduce me to this gentleman?”

  “Bien sûr, maman. Let me introduce my fiancé, Monsieur Cristian Colombo.” Then she turned to the man.“ Please meet my mother Madame Souady Djalali.”

  Cristian followed a hunch and took the matriarch hand and slightly leaning kissed it. Although the woman's face did not reveal any emotion he felt she was surprised and pleased.

  Then Zoubaida completed the introduction of her fiancé to the remaining members of the entourage that surrounded Madame Souady Djalali. In the case of younger members, it became expedient that her mother made submissions because they were born after Zoubaida´s departure.

  Finally it was turn of the last person of the procession, a young woman adorned simply with a wide deep blue dress that partially covered her head, but exposing a beautiful African face in which highlighted two huge eyes that stood out against the dark skin and her lips that were painted in the same color of the dress. Zoubaida jumped in her arms and both wept profusely with joy.