Baking Cakes in Kigali

by Gaile Parkin

  “Thank you,” said Jenna, perching on the edge of the sofa and clasping her hands together in her lap.

  Angel looked at her guest. She was an attractive young woman with short dark hair and big green eyes. Her smart cream-coloured trousers and long-sleeved white blouse indicated that this woman knew how to dress respectfully in a country where women were modest. Her only piece of jewellery was a delicate gold cross that hung from a thin chain around her neck.

  “These apartments all look the same,” she said to Angel, her eyes darting around the room. “We all have the same furniture and the same curtains.”

  “Yes,” agreed Angel. “Sometimes when I’m with Amina, after a while I find myself thinking that it’s time for her to leave so that I can go into the kitchen and start baking. But then I realise that it’s me who must leave because we’re in Amina’s apartment, not mine.”

  Jenna laughed. “I’ve made that same mistake myself. Sitting on the couch at Ken’s or Linda’s I could just as well be sitting on the couch in my own apartment.”

  Angel experienced a sudden feeling of discomfort at the mention of Linda, whom Bosco had seen kissing Jenna’s husband. She must change the subject at once. “I’m happy that you can feel at home in my apartment!” she declared, smiling warmly. “Let me make some tea for us to drink.”

  “Oh, no, Angel, I don’t want to disturb you for very long. I only came to order a cake.”

  “But ordering a cake is something that takes time and care,” countered Angel. “It’s not a matter to rush. And when you’re bringing me business, then you’re not disturbing me at all. Here, let me give you my photo album to look at while I make tea. You can see pictures here of other cakes that I’ve made.”

  “Thank you. But do you have coffee instead? We’re not big on tea in the States.”

  “No problem. My husband prefers coffee sometimes. I’ll make you some coffee that comes from my home town of Bukoba, on the western shore of Lake Victoria. It’s very good.”

  When Angel returned to the living room with a mug of coffee, another of sweet and spicy tea, and a plate of cupcakes, Jenna pointed to a few of the photos in the album. “I’ve seen these cakes,” she said. “I’ve eaten them, too. At Ken’s place.”

  “Ken is one of my best customers,” said Angel. “I’ve almost lost count of the number of cakes I’ve made for his dinner parties. Do you want to order a cake for a dinner party of your own?”

  “Oh, no, I’m not a good cook. I couldn’t possibly give a dinner party. If Rob wants to invite people, then we take them out for dinner. No, I’m actually here to order a cake on behalf of the American community.”

  “Eh, that’s an important job, to speak on behalf of the American community.”

  Jenna laughed. “Yes, I suppose it is important. I hadn’t thought of it like that!”

  “And why does the American community want a cake?”

  “It’s for our Independence Day celebrations. We want a big cake decorated to look like the American flag.”

  “Eh, that’s a good flag!” declared Angel. “It has red and blue and white, and there are stripes and stars. It’s not boring like the Japanese flag. Did you see that photo? I made that cake for Ken.”

  Jenna found the right page in Angel’s photo album. “Oh, I was wondering about that cake. It looked different than all the others. Now I see it’s the Japanese flag. This one here is nice, though.”

  Angel looked at the photo that Jenna was indicating. “That’s the flag of South Africa. It’s a very fine flag; it has six colours. Six! That cake was for someone who works at King Faycal. There used to be many South Africans working at that hospital, but most of them have left now. They say there was some embezzling or something like that. You know, one thing I enjoy about Kigali is that you can meet people from all over the world here.”

  “Yes, it’s possible to meet people from all over the world here,” agreed Jenna. Then she hesitated for a few moments before adding, “But it’s not like that for everyone.”

  Angel was confused. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I’m sure people from everywhere come and order cakes from you, and your husband probably has colleagues from everywhere, and I guess anyone who has a job here is able to meet people from everywhere. But I don’t have a job.”

  “What kind of job are you looking for?”

  Jenna gave a small, strained laugh. “Oh, I can’t take a job. Rob doesn’t like me to leave the compound without him. It’s not safe.”

  Angel had been about to swallow a large sip of tea. She fought the shocked urge to spray the tea out of her mouth and, swallowing it badly, she began to cough. Jenna tutted with concern. Eventually Angel managed to calm the coughing with a few small sips of tea, but by then her face had grown very hot and her glasses needed a polish.

  “Are you okay, Angel? Shall I bring you some water?”

  “I’m fine, really.” Angel dabbed at her face with a tissue before rubbing her glasses with the edge of her kanga. “It’s only that I was surprised when you said it’s not safe here. Personally, I’ve found it very safe.”

  “Well, Rob has told me not to go out without him,” shrugged Jenna.

  “And when you go out with your husband, where is it that you go? How is it that you’re not meeting people from everywhere in those places that you go?”

  “Oh, we go to the American Club every Friday night. That’s when all the people from the States get together. Others are welcome, of course, but usually there are just a handful of people from other places—England or Canada, mostly. And often we go for dinner or parties at the homes of other Americans, or we take them out for a meal. And of course there are Ken’s parties here in the compound.”

  “And what is it that keeps you busy when you’re not out with your husband?” asked Angel.

  “Oh, I read a lot,” replied Jenna. “My family sends me books and magazines from home. And I have a laptop, so I spend hours emailing friends and family back home. And I’m on the committee of wives who organise social events for the American community. We meet in my apartment over coffee every two weeks.”

  “You know, Jenna, I’ve always found that tea and cake make a meeting run more smoothly, and I’m sure that for Americans coffee and cake can work just as well. You can order a plate of cupcakes like these from me any time. I can even make the cupcakes taste of coffee, or I can make the icing taste of coffee.”

  Jenna laughed. “I’ll remember that, Angel.”

  Angel continued to rub gently at her glasses with the edge of her kanga. They were not yet clean. “Tell me, Jenna, do you like to stay in your apartment so much? Do you never wish that you could just go out by yourself?”

  Jenna breathed in deeply and gave a long sigh. “Sometimes. Sometimes I feel like I’m going to go mad with boredom. Sometimes I wonder what on earth I’m doing here. But I knew when I married Rob that his work would take him all over the world. We talked about it, and he made it clear that he wanted me to travel with him, he didn’t want a wife who was going to insist on staying at home in the States. He told me it wouldn’t be easy for me. He was married twice before, you see, he’s quite a bit older than me, so he knows about life and about the world, and he knows what to expect. But I’m just a small-town girl. I lived at home with my mom and dad the whole time I went to college, and then I married Rob, and this is the first time I’ve ever been out of the States. So he did warn me it wouldn’t be easy. I can’t complain. And he would never let me do anything that would put me in any danger, because he really loves me. So if he says it’s not safe for me to go out, then I have to respect that. He … he knows a lot of stuff.”

  Angel thought that it was only to be expected that the CIA knew a lot of stuff, because knowing a lot of stuff was the CIA’s job. But she also thought that he might be making up a lot of stuff to make his wife believe that it was not safe to leave the compound. That way he could be certain that she was never going to be in the car park of the Umubano Hotel w
hen he was there kissing Linda.

  “Okay,” said Angel, “let’s imagine just for a moment that your husband didn’t bring you here to Kigali. Instead, you went with him to another place, any other place, and he said that place was safe and you could get a job there. What job would you look for?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Jenna thought for a while. “At college I got a degree in modern languages: French and Spanish. But I married Rob as soon as I graduated, so I’ve never worked—except for teaching kids at Sunday School.”

  “So maybe you’d like to teach languages at a school?” suggested Angel.

  “Oh, no, I don’t think so. I know this’ll sound crazy, but to be honest, I don’t like kids much. Before we got married, Rob told me that having kids just wasn’t going to work for him … in his line of work … I mean, with all the travelling … and that was a relief to me, because I don’t want kids myself. But I think I could be a good teacher to adults. I thought of offering to teach French to some of the American wives here, but Rob said it wasn’t a good idea. He said if I became their teacher, then I couldn’t be their friend. He said they’d have all kinds of expectations of me as a teacher that I might not be able to meet because I’ve never taught before, and then they’d feel awkward around me and it would make things difficult for me socially. He said his second wife tried something like that and it ended in disaster for her. He said he doesn’t want me to make the same mistake.”

  Still not sure that her glasses were properly clean, Angel continued to worry at them with the corner of her kanga. “And what is it that you say, Jenna?” she asked with a smile. “You’ve told me many things that your husband has said, but he’s not the one who’s sitting here with me this afternoon. You told me that you’re here on behalf of the American community, but you didn’t tell me that you’re here on behalf of your husband.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Well, imagine that I was sitting here telling you that my husband says what-what-what, my husband thinks what-what-what, my husband knows what-what-what. Then you’re sitting there telling me your husband’s what-what-what. Then our husbands may as well be sitting here talking together instead of us. Really, we would just be mouths to speak our husbands’ words.”

  Jenna looked surprised and did not speak for a while. Then she said, “I guess I do spend a lot of time repeating what Rob says. I never noticed that before.”

  Angel put her glasses back on. “That’s why I’m asking you about Jenna, because it’s Jenna who is visiting me now, not her husband. What is it that Jenna says? What is it that is in Jenna’s mind? What is it that is in Jenna’s heart?”

  Jenna opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Her eyes began to well with tears and to become as red as Prosper’s after too much Primus. Angel was alarmed: making a customer cry could surely not be a good thing; she must try to fix her mistake at once.

  “Eh, Jenna, I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m very sorry. Let me make you another cup of coffee and we can talk about other things. You can tell me all about the independence party that the American community will have.”

  Jenna dabbed at her eyes with a tissue that she had retrieved from the pocket of her smart cream trousers. “I’m sorry, Angel. It’s not your fault that I’m crying, really it’s not. It’s … well, it’s Rob. You asked me what’s in my mind and my heart, and … and I know I talk about him all the time, but … but …” She sniffed loudly and then blew her nose. Then she took a deep breath. “Angel, I suspect … I suspect that my husband …”

  Jenna did not finish her sentence, but Angel could have finished it for her: I suspect that my husband is having an affair. This was a suspicion that needed some very sweet tea. “Jenna, I am going to let you sit here and calm down while I make tea for both of us. I know that you prefer coffee, but really, when someone is upset it is only tea that can help. When someone is unhappy, tea is like a mother’s embrace.”

  Angel went into the kitchen and set about boiling some milk, leaving Jenna on the sofa to blow her nose and to take deep breaths. She was visibly calmer when Angel returned with their mugs of tea.

  Jenna took a sip. “Hey, this is good. Spicy.”

  “It’s how we make our tea back home.”

  A short silence followed, during which Jenna savoured the tea and prepared herself to speak, and Angel nibbled at a cupcake and prepared herself to register surprise at what Jenna was about to reveal.

  “Can I speak to you in confidence, Angel?”

  “Jenna, you are my customer and I am a professional somebody. I do not spread my customers’ stories. Tell me what is in your heart.”

  “Thanks, Angel. It’s a real relief to have someone to talk to about this. I don’t even know if what I suspect is true or if I’m just imagining it, and I know that if I voiced my suspicion to anyone in the American community, the news would spread like wildfire. God knows what would happen …”

  Angel thought of the gun that Bosco was sure Rob had. “It’s always wise to confide in the right person,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “So what is it that you suspect, Jenna?” Angel put down her mug of tea so that she would not spill any when she pretended to be surprised.

  Jenna sighed heavily. “I suspect that my husband has been hiding something from me, Angel. I think he’s been lying to me about where he’s been and what he’s been doing. And you know, he always told me that he left both his previous wives because he caught them having affairs, but now I’m sure they were the ones who left him. I bet they both found out for sure what I suspect now.”

  Angel wanted the surprise to come, and to be over. A pain was beginning to knock quietly on the door of her head, asking to be let in. She wanted her tea. “And what is it that you suspect?”

  “Do you swear not to tell anyone?”

  “I swear.”

  “Oh God, Angel, I suspect … I suspect that my husband is working for the CIA.”

  Angel did not need to pretend. Surprise shot through her body like a bolt of lightning, causing her to jump in her chair and knock the coffee table with her knees so that tea slopped out of both mugs and the cupcakes shook violently on their plate. “Eh!” she cried, getting up and rushing into the kitchen for a cloth, and “Eh!” again as she mopped up the spilt tea. Then she sat down again and took a big swallow of tea before she could look Jenna squarely in the face. “The CIA?”

  “Yeah. I know it sounds crazy, and I keep trying to convince myself that I must be wrong, but I’ve overheard bits of phone calls and I’ve seen Rob locking documents in his briefcase, and I’ve often felt one hundred per cent sure that he’s lying to me when I’ve asked him where he’s been. His colleagues have let slip at socials that he’s been one place when he’s told me that he’s been another place. Like he’s had meetings at night that he told me were with a particular colleague, but then I hear from that colleague’s wife that she and her husband were at someone’s house for dinner that night. And Rob won’t ever discuss his work with me, he won’t ever tell me about his day. He’s so secretive.”

  Was it really possible that Jenna only suspected what everybody else knew? Was the woman really so naive that she did not think that all these signs could be telling her that her husband was having an affair? Angel took her glasses off and looked at them. Did they really need cleaning? She put them back on again. This was a very awkward situation indeed.

  “Eh, Jenna, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Yeah, it’s a shock, isn’t it?”

  “Eh, I am truly shocked.” Angel reached for another cupcake and slowly peeled away its paper casing. She thought carefully before she spoke. “You know, when I was at school in Bukoba, I had a teacher who told us that when you see smoke you can always be sure that it is coming from a fire.”

  “You mean there’s no smoke without fire?”

  “That’s what our teacher told us. But, you know, it wasn’t the truth. When I grew up, I found that there is something called dry ice. D
o you know it?”

  “Sure. It keeps ice-cream cold out of the fridge.”

  “Do you know that when you put water on dry ice it makes smoke?” Jenna nodded. “So it’s possible to see smoke and to think that there is a fire, but really the smoke is from dry ice that has got wet.”

  Jenna thought for a moment. “Are you saying that I might have jumped to the wrong conclusion about Rob?”

  Was Angel saying that? No. Rob did work for the CIA; everybody knew it. That was not a wrong conclusion. But at the same time, Jenna had not reached the right conclusion, the conclusion that her husband was having an affair.

  “Really, Jenna, I’m not sure what I’m saying. What you have said to me has come as a shock, and it has certainly confused me.” Angel took a bite of cupcake and chewed and swallowed it without even tasting it. “Maybe what I’m saying is simply that you must think very carefully about what you’ve seen and heard, and what it might mean.”

  “I’ve done nothing but think about it for weeks. It’s not like I have much else to do with my time.”

  “It must be very difficult. But I see from the cross around your neck that you’re a Christian. Perhaps if you pray for guidance at church tomorrow …”

  “Oh, I don’t go to church here. Rob isn’t a churchgoer and he says it’s not safe for me to go without him. And if it’s true that he’s with the CIA, he must surely know how unsafe Kigali really is. That’s why he doesn’t let me do what other husbands let their wives do. The other husbands don’t know what he knows.”

  Really, this was becoming too complicated. The pain was inside Angel’s head now, walking around in heavy boots. It was time to move away from all of this and head back towards the safer business of ordering the cake.

  “You know, Jenna, I cannot give you God’s guidance, but I can give you my own—and I think that’s why you’ve spoken to me about this. Number one, you need to find out the truth about your husband. Number two, you need to decide what to do with the truth that you find. Those are both things that are between you and your husband. But there is also a number three, and I think I can help you with number three. Number three, you must find a way to keep yourself busy at home to stop this thing eating at your mind like a plague of locusts. You have said that you want to teach adults, and your husband has said that you cannot go out of the compound and you cannot teach the American wives. To me, the answer is clear: you must teach Rwandan women, and you must teach them at home in your apartment.”