Sahara

by Oscar Luis Rigiroli

  “Cristian, ma soeur Charfadine. She was only five years old when I left home.”

  The young man shook the girl´s hand trying to hide how much her beauty had affected him.

  “Now I am the one who has forgotten manners.” Said Souady after a moment. “please Zoubaida, say goodbye to our neighbors and let´s enter the house. From now on you will have plenty of time to socialize with them.”

  The Djalali clan members were gathered around a table.

  Zoubaida and her mother were trying to keep the conversation in French -which everyone including Cristian could understand- but the dialect mixed spontaneously making translations necessary.

  Souady had already explained that her husband Ousmar Djalali head of the clan and in reality of the entire ethnic group was traveling in the area of Savannas of the South where he had important trading partners. However, upon learning of his daughter's coming he had rushed his return and he would be in the village in a couple of days during which he would have to travel partially by camel. She finally asked.

  “And well Monsieur Colombo, where are you from?”

  “I am Argentine. I was born in a town of the Province of Santa Fe called Venado Tuerto.” Cristian translated the name of the town the best he could and thought that the meaning would be alien to his partners, but in reality it was accepted naturally in a rural environment as the Chadian society.

  “Your surname sounds Italian.” Souady was orienting the conversation.

  “Yes, they are fairly common in Argentina and in Santa Fe in particular.”

  “And how is it that you speak French?” For the first time Cristian heard Charfadine velvety voice.

  “My grandmother was born in France and lived in my parents´ house. She taught me her language when I was a boy, but I have very little practice.”

  “And what is your profession or job?” Souady resumed the control of the conversation.

  “Maman!” Rebuked Charfadine “M. Colombo will believe that we are interrogating him.” You tell her!” Emphatically asked her sister.

  “Oh! Non, non. It is logical that Maman wants to know who I brought home and who is the father of the child in my womb.” Answered amused Zoubaida waiting to see how her boyfriend got away without mentioning his activities in New York when they first met.

  “Well. I am a graphic designer...”

  After Cristian´s presentation the conversation revolved around events of the past, prior to the departure of Zoubaida to America, which somehow had been a milestone in the family history.

  “Actually I'm not surprised to see the groom you have.” Said Souady to Zoubaida, who got prepared for an episode of embarrassment “He looks very much like to that French lieutenant by whom you were fascinated at the age of fifteen. Remember him Nye?” inquired addressing one of the aunts of Zoubaida and Charfadine.

  “Yes, but the truth is that with that uniform he had fascinated all young women in town, and some who were not so young including me!” Replied the loquacious and funny Nye.

  The meeting continued for two hours, until Souady ruled that the newcomers would be fatigued and deserved a rest before dinner.

  They had accommodated temporarily in one of the bedrooms of the House of Zoubaida´s parents and had just arranged their belongings, while most of the clothes still remained in the suitcases. Zoubaida was tired by the succession of air and ground travels and leaned on the large bed that had been prepared for them. Cristian was still placing his clothes in a rustic wardrobe, when he observed his fiancé, who had made an intriguing gesture with her finger, Zoubaida had indicated him to approach, and in her expression the man could read what went through her head. He sat down on the bed and tried to come close to her, but the woman stopped him by placing one foot on his face, keeping him at a distance. His feet were small for the size of the African, and were well formed; Cristian kissed the soles of the feet and she introduced one thumb in his mouth.

  “Would you like...?”

  “I want to repeat what we did at the hotel in New York on the day that we met, and we have not repeated since then. Without so many stunts by my pregnancy, of course.”

  He continued his loving exploration with the ankles, calves and knees, Zoubaida shook emitting small groans that the man knew were caused by passion. Indeed he knew that Zoubaida would never pose an orgasm or excitement to stimulate her lover, as that would not be in accordance with her demanding character in sex and in anything else.

  Arriving at the thighs the groans of Zoubaida grew in intensity and frequency. After a few moments she sat on the bed, took her man by the shoulder, and laid him flat and then lowered his pants and underwear. Cristian then realized she had already taken out her panties, which confirmed that the whole performance was premeditated, what did not surprise him in the least.

  Zoubaida sat on the erect penis and began moving her hips in a rhythmic and slow manner increasing the penetration but the movement soon turned faster confirming her state of arousal, the pace increased until it became frantic. At that time was heard a noise in the house hallway leading to the bedroom where they were; Zoubaida quickly changed her position contorting her body in such a way that ended up sitting on his face. Always in a hurry she took several blankets surrounding her and covered the entire body of the man and his own lap. Instantly appeared Souady with her usual and imposing tribal attire.

  “Zoubaida.”

  “Oui, maman.”

  Souady continued talking in dialect although jumping as usual from one language to another in the course of their colloquial chats. They talked for a long time while Cristian- who was immersed among blankets and half suffocated by them and by the buttocks of his fiancé- could not follow the conversation. Finally Souady went to the door, but before she said.

  “Zoubaida.”

  “Oui, Maman.”

  “Remember that you're heavier because of your pregnancy and let that man who is under you at least breathe.”

  The matron became closer to the bed and flipped the blankets away, exposing Cristian.

  Her mother was one of the few people who were able to make Zoubaida jump by surprise, since she had believed that the coverage had been effective to disguise the situation.

  “Maman, is not what it seems.” She managed to say.

  Souady, unnerved by the absurd answer of his daughter again resorted to dialect.

  “Your father is a warrior; I never had him buried between my buttocks.”

  “Then you don't know what you've missed.”

  The mother shook her head and came out with an angry -partly real, partly fake- gesture. Zoubaida emitted a sonorous laugh while Cristian, quite confused, tried to emerge from his submitted situation.

  “Stay where you are. I haven't finished with you yet!” Was the emphatic order received.

  Satisfied Zoubaida´s desire the man asked about the dialectal talk with her mother.

  “So she caught me in a position that she considers humiliating. She will feel contempt for his future son-in-law!”

  “She rather feels envy of her daughter. But don't worry; all she understood of your presentation is that you're Italian.”

  “.. .but I never...”

  “.. .and the Italians are known in this part of Africa as men of insatiable and extravagant sexual instincts.”

  “... insat... extrav... but who of us was...?”

  Zoubaida placed one of his long fingers on the lips of the man silencing him, as she said

  “Don´t you dare to divulge our couple secrets! Remember always that I am a Princess, so the only possible culprit is you.”

  Then she kissed him on the mouth and took one of his hands and placed it between her thighs.

  “... insatiable. All right, blame the bloody Italians.”

  CHAPTER 5

  From far away they saw the cloud of sand raised by the old Toyota wheels, and numerous villagers who had not tasks to perform gathered around the diffuse road leading South.

  When the vehicle arrived
several people got out of it looking tired and filthy after their long trip. Among them was a tall white bearded man showing regal attire despite the dust that covered him.

  Zoubaida, who had been warned of the arrival and had gone out of the house approached the newcomer and stood up a few feet away from him. The man watched her from that distance, hesitated a moment and then opened his arms. The young woman threw herself into them and both were confused in a long, silent hug.

  Cristian, located to a certain distance could not hear what father and daughter said to each other and waited quietly until she turned and beckoned him to come closer.

  The two men shook hands silently. Cristian felt scrutinized by the elder, whose presence was overwhelming but did not let the patriarch intimidate him and returned his steady gaze. If Ousmar Djalali had tried to frighten his future son-in-law he had to recognize that despite his fragile appearance the attempt had failed. If on the contrary had tried to measure his resiliency he had been more successful.

  In any case, the tribal chief, who on other occasions had managed to assess at first glance the reliability of a man this time had to postpone his decision.

  Zoubaida made the presentations, and Cristian got to whisper:

  “Enchanté.”

  Ousmar Djalali surrounded her daughter's waist and together they walked towards the house; Cristian followed them a few steps back and could barely perceive that they were speaking in the African dialect.

  That morning, Zoubaida returned to the rooms with her boyfriend and remained silent while she changed her footwear.

  “Well.” Said expectant Cristian.

  “Well, by now you´ve passed the test, which is not a minor thing.

  “But I hardly opened my mouth.”

  “No need. I already told you that I have always been the favorite of my father, in the absence of a son. The fact that I appeared fifteen years later, pregnant by an alien necessarily would produce rivalry between both of you. I already knew it.”

  “You could have warned me!

  “You already know me; you had to prove yourself with your own resources. And you've endured the first encounter. Although I repeat that the opinion of my father upon you is in formation.”

  “Zoubaida, I understand your father's central role in the community and in your life, but I am not going to allow him to determine my actions and behavior, I will continue being myself.” Cristian tone had turned tense.

  Zoubaida smiled

  “That's what baffles me and at the same time what I like in you, that mixture of apparent helplessness and internal control. I'm glad Ousmar Djalali has clashed against that unpredictable wall, and is now perplexed.” She approached the man and kissed him with passion. “Many brave warriors turn submissive and lower their eyes when confronted with my father, but you stay still and defiant.”She then stood apart and suddenly remembered.

  “By the way he told me that he wants to talk with you before dinner.”

  “So be it.”

  At the time of the appointment Cristian approached the living room where Ousmar was waiting for him. On the way he saw the back of a woman dressed in a bright blue robe. As he recognized her his heart began beating rapidly against his will. Unconsciously he quickly stepped up until he was by her side. The woman turned around looking at him and their eyes met briefly, but hers lowered immediately while blush dyed her dark cheeks. Cristian, although also affected could not stop beholding her face, beautiful as only that of a daughter of the desert can be.

  “Hi Charfadine.” Said in a voice that intended to be firm.

  “Alo, Monsieur Cristian.” She had regained composure and looked him in the eyes, after which continued her course towards the kitchen.

  Ousmar Djalali expected him sitting in a large armchair, since he was with hip pains due to travels in camel and horseback during the previous days. Cristian could perceive a subtle difference in the attitude of the African compared with that of the first meeting. He was also showing his authority but without the aura of contemptuous indifference that the youngster perceived then.

  The conversation developed in French and in English when the limitations of the young in the first language required it. The old man led him through a series of issues that necessarily produced varied responses and reactions in Cristian, who soothed as he realized that it was not a hostile interrogation but a skillful exploration about his knowledge, attitudes and ultimately his character.

  Djalali was discarding motives of ideological, political and economic interest in his relationship with Zoubaida, and did so with a mastery of a true leader of men. Cristian realized the true meaning and implications of many of the questions and worried about answering with the greatest possible candor. He had the growing conviction to be performing a test and that he was approving it.

  At one time Souady appeared in the door; she waited a few moments to avoid cutting the conversation and perhaps to perceive the tenor thereof, and then with a smile announced dinner.

  A month later Zoubaida and his mother made a mysterious trip to Cairo, from where they returned three days later. An air of satisfaction was perceptible in both women although the cause was not reported immediately.

  Cristian asked his girlfriend about the details of the trip, and after some evasive received his answer.

  “We went to do a gynecological study and to see the evolution of pregnancy, as the sixth month was fulfilled.”

  “So?

  “The pregnancy is going very well, and it is a creature of good size.” Replied enigmatically Zoubaida.

  “Aja, what else?”

  “Is a male.” Added the woman barely containing her joy.

  “Ah! Well, there will be one more Colombo in the world.” He said with a smile. “I always wanted that my firstborn to be a male.”

  “But no, he is not just your firstborn Colombo! Do not you realize the dynastic and political implications this pregnancy has?”

  “To hell with dynastic implications!” Replied the angry man “This is in the first place about our family.”

  “Yes, but not only about our family.” Zoubaida used a conciliatory tone and stroked her boyfriend in the cheek. “Cristian, my people are surrounded by historical enemies; we need to be held together. An assured descent of their leaders is an important agglutinant element for their survival.”

  “In my country we have precisely the problem of families who wish to perpetuate in power.”

  “Do not compare completely different cultural traditions. In addition, your country is neither determined by an ethnic group nor surrounded by enemies.”

  “I do not buy the Savior role of leaders; we have already had enough examples that fatally end in corruption.”

  Unexpectedly Zoubaida took his face between her hands and smiled.

  “I understand your feelings; don't forget that I've been educated in France and the United States. I understand the Republican ideal. I only ask that you accept that there are other ways in which people can get organized. I'm glad that our son has both genes; so he will be open to traditions and the future simultaneously.”

  This reflection left boy pondering. Zoubaida was a wellspring of surprises, even in the political field; her thoughts were always original and personal, never attached to clichés. On the other hand, he had to admire once again the way she had driven him, his values and his emotions. The woman always found fair attitudes to smooth out difficulties and overcome resistance.

  “But we must return to the theme of our son.” She continued. “His coming will overcome my father´s resistance. Now is the time to speak of our marriage.”

  Again the phrase took Cristian off guard, but this time he had already elaborated the theme. He responded immediately.

  “I am ready when you are.”

  Ousmar Djalali sent a message to Christian inviting him to a meeting in the ceremonial tent of the tribe. Zoubaida immediately alerted her boyfriend about the implications of the meeting. No doubt the purpose would be to intro
duce Cristian to the other elders and other dignitaries of the ethnic group and allow these to interrogate the stranger about his background and intentions. It was a rite that was performed with all those who wanted to join some of the clans in general by exogamic weddings.

  “And what can they ask me?” Wondered the young man. “What can be of interest to them?”

  “I have no idea, because it is a purely male space. I only know the female activities. In addition, even if I knew I would not tell you, because it is also my intention to see how you manage. All, more importantly that what you say is how you behave yourself, especially your self-confidence. I will only say that I totally trust you.”

  The tent was a spacious circle made of embroidered fabrics, about seventy feet in diameter set in the Northern access of the villa, in a desert area. Its sight emphasized its ritual importance due to its size compared to the huts of the majority of the villagers, and its eye-catching appearance.

  Inside there were unfolded carpets and some ample cushions placed directly on the sand. When Cristian entered about fifteen men were already seated, all around Ousmar Djalali. They were elderly men except three warriors who were equipped with curved daggers in their belts. The costumes of all of them were luxurious and colorful. They were drinking coffee in small cups and offered one to the young visitor. Coffee was strong and had sediment at the bottom but its aroma and taste were exquisite.

  “Well young man.” Ousmar opened the meeting “We have gathered today to meet you.” His tone was neutral and did not produce Cristian any particular emotion. “Although you already had a meeting with me, I will repeat some questions because I desire that other attendees have the same information I have.”

  Before beginning with the questions Ousmar introduced each and every man present at the gathering with their names and titles, of which Cristian understood little and retained less. Anyway the one who was being evaluated was he, that was clear enough. Ousman then he introduced the stranger and made a short introduction on the circumstances of his arrival to the village. A silence followed his words.