by Les W Kuzyk
Chapter 41
Tamanna watched the streetscapes swish past on her last auto ride to the Nigerien airport. Men mostly walked the Niamey late night, leaving daytime to women and children. So many children, she sighed, like other cities across the Sahel. From Bamako to Khartoum, these born here were the least responsible for a sweeping global climate crisis. Yet these people paid the price, each meal eaten at a dearer cost as their rice fields dried with the shrinking monsoon rains. Like her cousins on the Ganges delta—how soon will they be leaving for crowded Dhaka? At least now they will together have a voice and an address to their misfortune. No longer will their officials attend global conferences as stage props. Every word they utter will be closely noted at the negotiating table.
The two presidential cars passed through the car park, pulling onto the runway beside the Canadian jet. Harry got out first, stepping up beside the boldly labeled Challenger 604. White with a blue stripe the aircraft pointed folded vertical wingtips up beneath the airport lights. She and Vince stepped from their car, and she watched Harry’s practiced wave to the pilot as he usher them up the steps into the jet. André motioned them to the plane’s midsection and the oval office conference chairs. Like those of the Gaweye boardroom. The trappings of luxury, Tamanna noticed, but now on a Canadian VIP business jet. They selected seats on the far side of the circle.
The plane taxied out along the runway, and Tami leaned over to Vince listening as he spoke in hushed tone. He wanted her evaluation of his simple numbers metaphor at the Hotel, and his volcano story’s attempt to drop engineering lingo. Tami winked and nodded, showing she’d been impressed. She felt the wheels lift off from the runway. Their ears popped as the plane gained altitude and then gradually leveled off allowing the seat belts sign to dim.
She glanced at Vince, then over at the Canadian representatives speaking among themselves on the other side of the circle of chairs. She leaned back, and forced her eyes closed for an imagined moment of Gunnersbury woodland tranquility. She must rest for what lay ahead.