by Ruth Hartley
“Hello Lara!” he said smiling his wide smile.
Lara was so delighted to see him that she flung her arms around him. She might have chosen to be less demonstrative if his appearance hadn’t been so unexpected and hoped-for. She pulled back as she sensed Tim’s real pleasure in her affectionate greeting and tried to crack a joke. She mustn’t give him the wrong idea.
“Oh gosh! I really need an international reporter to write about my exhibition – thank God you’re here, Tim!” then seeing his eyes shadow she softened and added. “I have so much to tell you! You must tell me how are you and what your news is, Tim, but first come and tell me what you think of the exhibition and which paintings you think successful. I have saved a painting for you in lieu of rent for my studio. I hope that you like it.”
“Oscar’s not here?” Tim looked over one shoulder then the other.
“No. He is in America this time touting his safari camp. He’s back in a few days.”
“So have you succumbed to his charms, Lara?”
“Well – to his money, Tim. Well – I have a job with Enoch and a commission from Oscar – it is such a relief! I have another year paid for in Chambeshi with this exhibition and I can stay as long as I don’t spend everything I’ve earned – hey – look Helen needs me – I have to talk to my buyers – Tim – lets go out afterwards – can we?”
Afterwards, of course, there was a large party which went out to the new Manchurian-style restaurant. It meant that everyone was constantly up and down from the table as they selected new bowls of meat and vegetables to be grilled and spiced by the busy cooks. Lara felt obliged to speak to everyone there: Helen and Michel, Enoch and Inonge, Maria – on her own as Bill was busy at their camp – Chimunya and Pascal. It meant that she didn’t get to have a private conversation with Tim till the end of the evening when they were finally left alone together in the bar. By then, Tim, with his information-gathering skills, had found out about Lara’s plans to work at the Tin Heart Camp over the winter from Enoch and Inonge and he had heard from Helen about Lara’s commission from Oscar and the estimated success of sales of paintings at her Preview.
Lara had noticed that Tim was engaged in what seemed to be a very serious discourse with Helen’s boyfriend, Michel, in which the mouth of the Cultural Attaché turned down with even more disapproval than usual for a French diplomat. Later Tim and Pascal had an animated discussion. Pascal’s hands and head agitated emphatically as he laughed. Lara wondered for a moment about the ability of Chambeshians to smile and laugh while describing sad and bad events. What could be the subject of their conversation?
“Well that’s over – thank God!” Lara said with a smile at they leant against the counter, cigarettes in hand and a bottled beer gleaming with moisture in front of each of them. She looked at Tim properly for the first time and saw that he was very tired. The skin around his eyes was mauve, a muscle in his jaw tensed and jumped. He drew deep on his cigarette and closed his eyes for a brief moment.
“That’s better.” he said exhaling slowly. “I have pretty much had it tonight. I will have to crash soon or I’ll fall over.”
“What’s happening, Tim? How come you’re so stressed?” Lara asked in concern.
“Developments, my dear Lara! Things are building up in the region – and especially here.” Tim glanced suspiciously at the barman in case he was eavesdropping on their conversation but a heavily made up Chambeshian woman in a tight shiny red dress had the barman’s full attention. It was too early for her to start her night’s work of visiting the hotel bedrooms of lonely businessmen.
“I don’t suppose you know what’s going on here in Chambeshi, do you Lara?”
“Sort of,” Lara said vague and defensive.
Tim raised an eyebrow at Lara then explained.
“The President’s support for the liberation struggle in Southern Africa has wrecked Chambeshi’s economy – you know that. Unrest is building up and money is coming in to support the dissidents here – there is even talk of money to fund a coup. General Miyanda, the head of the army, is tipped as the possible coup leader. The trouble further west in Angola has spread across the borders into Chambeshi and the rebel leader from there – General Njoka, as he styles himself – is talking of taking over the whole of the Western province of Chambeshi and setting up a breakaway state. Anyway it’s all happening on at least two fronts at the moment. I am here to try and get an interview with President Chona this weekend and then I am off to explore the Angolan side of things on Monday. It’s very serious, Lara – Michel was dropping big hints about the sources of the money that is coming into Chambeshi and Angola – Russia one side – CIA the other – Israel has Mossad agents in the region and it has also been buttering up President Chona – wish that strange friend of Oscar’s, Natan, was not so close-mouthed – bet he knows a thing or two.”
“But why, Tim? What is the reason to cause all this trouble? Who stands to gain and what do they think they’ll achieve?”
Lara was not unaware of the situation but, being single-minded about her exhibition, she had chosen to ignore it and to avoid even buying the local paper. Perhaps it was now time for her to give Chambeshian politics some practical consideration.
“Oh well – it’s all rumour and gossip right now.” Tim continued with a tired sigh. “The CIA wants simply to destabilise the whole region rather than let it become socialist or communist. They are terrified about South Africa being run by Reds – God – dare they allow Africa to develop at all? Anyhow the mines are immense and valuable sources not just of copper but of plutonium and uranium and there’s possibly even oil – whoever exploits these resources could tip the balance of world power – so better no power in control than the wrong power – it’s very cynical. Israel and Holland between them manage the precious gems market and that is probably the easiest trade for smugglers to exploit in a war situation. The Cold War is very hot in Africa believe me!”
“So what should I look out for then – what should I do? I don’t want to leave – I don’t have to – do I?” Lara asked slowly.
Tim shook his head.
“It all may come to nothing Lara, but you are well-placed to keep abreast of any developments and get out of Chambeshi if there’s a coup. Chimunya and Pascal, Pascal especially, both have their ears to the ground – Helen probably knows an awful lot too. That’s the reason that Michel is so friendly with her – I think he really prefers young black boys to women. Helen’s bar is the place to go to get the latest on Chambeshian politics and Helen is still friends with her ex-husband – he’s a wheeler-dealer if ever I saw one. You though, are the one, Lara, who can find out about things -”
“Me! How?” Lara felt indignant and confused.
“Why – through Oscar of course – I think he must know exactly what is going on in Chambeshi and I am sure he has a finger in every pie.”
Lara’s face creased in distress.
“Tim – honestly – I just don’t think he is a bad person – he’s kind – and he has a sense of humour – besides don’t you like him yourself?”
Tim’s face relaxed and he smiled.
“I guess we all go on instinct in the end. I guess Hitler didn’t have a sense of humour. Maybe it’s good that Oscar does have one. Yes Lara – I like Oscar too – maybe I’m just jealous of him!”
“You don’t need to be Tim – you are my very best friend!” but Lara knew that wasn’t what Tim meant and she also knew she wasn’t being quite truthful though she wasn’t quite sure in what way she was being dishonest.
“I’m so tired I no longer make any sense.” Tim said. “I could ask you to sleep with me tonight Lara and it wouldn’t be a euphemism. I don’t think you’ll see me for 24 hours at least. I hope I don’t fall asleep in the taxi going home because I won’t wake up.”
Lara hesitated. Right now she wanted to put her arms arou
nd Tim and invite him to come home and sleep in her bed at the latest place where she was house-sitting. That would be all – just friendship – but there was tomorrow to think about and the week after that Oscar would return from Berlin.
Enoch, Inonge and Oscar were planning to drive up to the Tin Heart Camp I the next week. Lara was to travel up with them and stay there on for several months.
“It’s time to move, Tim.” she said. “I could use some rest too.”
Part Eight
The Tin Heart Gold Mine 1985
Chapter One
Buffalo
The National Park was opening for the winter season. The rainy season was over except for occasional light showers and it was time for the various safari businesses to set themselves up again. Oscar and Enoch were to be among them for the first time. Their Cruisers had been packed up ready for the trip the night before. Enoch and Inonge would go on ahead leaving right after breakfast and arriving at the camp in the early afternoon. Following his trip, Oscar said he had office work to do first and would leave later.
“You’ll travel with me, Lara.” he said. “You’re okay about that? If you can get here about 11 o’clock we’ll set straight off.”
So she wasn’t being invited to his bed the night before they left then? Would she be invited again? She refused to feel bad about her behaviour that Sunday a month ago. It had been wonderful even if it only happened once but what did it mean for her relationship with Oscar?
Since the day they had spent making love to Stravinsky’s music, Lara had not been alone with Oscar and he had not shown by words or manners that he remembered it or that it had changed their relationship. He greeted her as he always did with a continental kiss that now seemed cool – even indifferent. He wasn’t in love with her. They had had sex. For a while she had had to fight back her feeling that she was in love with him. That was how sex made you feel. You became so aware of someone – so attuned to them, so wired to them physically and emotionally that it seemed like love. But Lara knew she couldn’t be in love with Oscar. They had nothing in common except maybe an interest in art and not the same art either.
Lara swallowed hard. She found it difficult to appear neutral and unmoved when her body became electric in Oscar’s presence and remained that way for hours after. She willed herself to keep focussed on their discussions about the first rough paintings she was developing from her sketches of Kasama.
“Sure!” she said and smiled directly at Oscar.
“Good!” he confirmed and returned her gaze as directly.
I’ll show him that I’m his equal in sex at least. Lara thought. But, of course, I can’t be. I don’t know what he knows. Maybe I don’t even want to know. I do like the sensation of my body burning up and fizzing with sexuality though – but what do I do with this feeling – .
Lara noticed that her heightened awareness of herself had an impact on all the men she knew. Whatever they did or did not understand about her, they all reacted to some degree at least by noticing her more.
Lara arrived promptly for the trip as she had promised. She parked her small jeep, lifted out her rucksack and the sketchbook and materials that she liked to keep to hand, and went to stow then in the space behind the passenger seat. The larger part of her studio equipment was already in the back of the Cruiser. She waited for Oscar by the Cruiser and watched as he left the house and came to greet her, trying to see him dispassionately. She saw again the physical ease with which he moved, his alertness, the way he exuded energy and zest for life and how his cropped grey hair was thinning. She was surprised to feel anger building up in her.
“Lara! Hello. You should have come inside.” he said. He put down his bag and took both her hands in his. As usual he kissed her on each cheek but she didn’t smile in response. Oscar folded her hands up palms together and kissed each upward-facing thumb. Looking up at her face, he turned his head sideways.
“You are angry with me, Lara.”
Then he bent and kissed her at the base of her throat.
“Can I make love to you again, Lara?”
“You are a bastard, Oscar!” Lara didn’t feel in control of her voice. She coughed a little to clear her throat and smooth her words. “Do you think you can just make love to me when it suits you? You bastard! What about me? What about when I want to make love? Do you think you can just leave me and pick me up when you want? I am not just a convenience! Suppose I want to make love to you, Oscar!”
She stopped, suddenly uncertain.
Was Oscar appalled by her? She was appalled by what she was saying. She hadn’t even known it was what she thought. Should she take her case out of the Cruiser again? It must be his turn to be angry.
“Lara, my dear Lara!” Oscar said looking straight at her. “As long as you promise never to fall in love with me – I will make love to you as often as you want.”
Lara was silent.
“Now we must leave – are you coming?” and he stroked her cheek once again with a soft swift touch.
Lara stared at him, hesitated, then turned and climbed into the Cruiser.
Oscar climbed into the driver’s seat. He turned to Lara. She saw again that his eyes were blue but she could not read his expression at all.
“Lara – don’t feel you have no choices. You can still make the paintings for me without coming to the Tin Heart Camp. You are free to go, you know. You can come if you like and we won’t have sex if you don’t want to.”
Lara looked away. No sensible course of action suggested itself. She wanted to be in the bush. She wanted to paint.
“Okay. Let’s go and let’s not have sex any more, Oscar. It’s impossible not to care about the people one has slept with – at least that’s what I find – so it’s better for me not to have sex with you.”
“You find that do you Lara? I don’t have that problem.” Oscar said. “That’s the deal then – no sex – and no hard feelings?”
Lara glanced at him quickly. If she could have killed him with a look she would have done it right then. Anyway Oscar wasn’t staying long at the camp. In a few days she would be shot of him.
“Yes!” she said. “That’s definite.”
Lara had the feeling that Oscar was laughing at her but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of looking at him to check his expression. She stared straight ahead as Oscar manoeuvred his way out of Chambeshi past the illegal street markets, roadside stalls and crowds of buyers, sellers, thieves and beggars on the fringes of the shanty towns. They were facing a 5 hour long drive to the camp site. For the journey to be endurable she would have to pull herself together and at the least appear to be relaxed.
After a time Oscar began a conversation about art.
“When did you know you wanted to be an artist, Lara?”
“I didn’t know I wanted to be an artist.” she answered giving in to her need to chat in a normal way with Oscar.
“It was just how I was – how I am. It was like – well – I was carried by a river that I didn’t choose. I had to learn to swim in it – or float – or make a raft and paddle – I just had to ‘go with the flow’ – sounds a bit crap I know – I think there is a lot of debris in the river and I do get pushed into back currents and eddies sometimes -”
“As long as you aren’t trapped in a stagnant oxbow lake that’s drying up – there are plenty of those around the Tin Heart Camp.” Oscar contributed, smiling. Lara smiled too.
“There’s a lot of rubbish that I don’t want that seems to be part of the river -”
Would Oscar take what she said personally? Did she care at this moment?
“I need people to look at my art – and – and respond somehow – but every time I have an exhibition I feel as if I have taken off all my clothes and people are looking not just at naked me but inside me too. Maybe that’s part of the river – som
e of it I really hate!”
That was how she felt but should she have said that to Oscar when she had taken her clothes off for him? She felt an uncontrollable desire to laugh and shot a quick glance at Oscar. He was smiling too but with her not at her. They were friends again. It felt good.
Oscar looked serious for a moment.
“You are very hard on yourself, Lara. Sometimes you are too honest – too outspoken. That makes you a better artist but it can make your life more difficult.”
“Mmmh. I don’t know. What can I do to change anything? Anyway I just want to paint.”
Oscar nodded.
“When I was 9 years old I wanted to be a painter. My grandfather encouraged me but that kind of future wasn’t possible after the war – I lost a few years of schooling in my early teens too.”
“What happened to your family then, Oscar?”
It was not a good question. Oscar’s expression hardened, a jaw muscle twitched, but he answered calmly.
“Both my parents died in the war. My father fighting on the Russian front. My mother when the Russians advanced on Berlin. My grandfather looked after me and my sister. He made all three of us walk south-west to a camp for displaced persons in the American occupied sector. It took us weeks. When Grandfather died, Hanne and I immigrated to South Africa. Art wasn’t possible for me in South Africa either – but it is for you here, Lara. Tell me more about what you want to do with your art – how about a trip to sell art in America?”
“Oh well – dream on Oscar – but how would that help me and the kind of art I want to make?”
“It would give you a substantial income Lara.”
“I’m not going to get there, am I?” Lara said throwing up her hands. “What would I have to do to get that kind of money?”
“We’ll find out.” Oscar replied.
They were a good three-quarters of the way to the Tin Heart Camp when the Cruiser began to sound as if it was choked for fuel. Oscar checked the fuel lines and injectors.