A Distant Hope

by Ellin Carsta

  “Really?”

  “Yes. You said that he always does everything right, but whatever you do is never good enough.”

  “And that’s how it is. But that’s not Tino’s fault. He does his job well and deserves any praise he gets. I could never keep up with him. But as a big brother, he’s divine.”

  “I like him very much, too.”

  “I hope he keeps his promise and comes to Vienna more often. I’m only now recognizing how much I’ve missed him.”

  “I hope so as well.”

  They said nothing for a while as they pursued their separate thoughts.

  “What are you going to do for the rest of the day?” Therese broke the silence.

  Karl shrugged. “Selling cocoa beans the day after Christmas probably wouldn’t be appropriate. I’ve nothing planned.”

  “Shall we spend the day together?”

  “I’d be delighted.”

  “You can come with me now, and we can stay at my place,” she offered.

  Karl shook his head. “I’d like a change of clothes first. But I’d be glad to come after, if you’d like.”

  “Yes, that would be nice.”

  “Good.”

  They talked until Thomas let Therese off at her place before driving Karl to the widow’s home.

  Karl took great pains to go to his room as quietly as possible. He wished to avoid making conversation and was pleased when he eased shut the door behind him and locked it. Carefully hanging up his suit and vest, he peeled off his shirt and stripped down to his underwear. He dropped onto the bed facedown and closed his eyes, exhausted.

  Scenes from the night before danced through his mind. He could understand why Therese didn’t want to have much to do with her parents. A free spirit like hers wasn’t compatible with the Loisings’ narrow-mindedness. He couldn’t help thinking of his niece Luise. Unlike Frederike and Martha, she was a nonconformist and didn’t know how to live up to the ideal image her mother had in mind.

  Karl turned onto his back and folded his hands behind his head. He looked up at the ceiling, where the paint had yellowed in many places. Otherwise the room was flawless. His room in the Hansen villa was larger and substantially more luxuriously decorated. But the size of his present room didn’t bother him.

  And anyway, he’d never felt more at ease than he did right then in Vienna. He looked forward to that evening, when Therese would open the café and invite her friends to meet. He so liked the informal ambiance and the sound of Friedhelm’s guitar. And the Christmas he’d just celebrated was his best ever: no coercion, no communal family singing. He finally felt liberated. Free in a way he’d never experienced before.

  He’d always felt a bit as if he were performing on a stage. Not in a leading role but a minor one, not the focus of the audience’s attention. Here in Vienna, in the simplicity of a modest existence, he finally sensed what he himself was. He felt he was learning a little more about Karl Hansen every day, the one he’d seen in the mirror for all those twenty-nine years. He knew that there was more to discover in the eyes of this man than he had already seen. He was like a mystery to himself, and he wanted to know the personality hidden behind the facade of KH. He was confident he’d find the answer in Vienna.

  He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. When he got out of bed, he’d been asleep for two hours.

  Chapter Ten

  Cameroon, March 1889

  The last beans had been loaded on the ship, and Luise felt more miserable than she ever had in her life. She should have been happy to be returning to Hamburg after the eventful months in this faraway land. She consoled herself with the thought that they would only be in Hamburg a week; but when the journey was considered, she wouldn’t be in Cameroon again for two months. Moreover, anxiety whispered to her that something could go wrong, being away from the plantation so long. She didn’t even want to think about it.

  She’d even gone so far as to ask her father to let her stay in Cameroon. She’d offered to supervise the plantation during his absence. But Robert had laughed and promised that they would definitely return and not stay in Hamburg more than a week. In the end Luise accepted this—she had no choice. She looked toward the beach as the Carl Woermann weighed anchor and slowly moved out of the bay. About twenty Duala people had come to say goodbye. Malambuku stood at the front; he’d promised that he and Hamza would ensure the plantation ran smoothly during their time away.

  Luise raised her hand but was immediately scolded by her mother. “Luise, you will not wave to Negroes! What would people think?”

  Luise put her hand back down. She was ashamed to admit it, but she’d rather have her mother lying lethargically in bed than having returned to possessing the strength to point out her daughter’s mistakes and inadequacies almost hourly. Luise left the rail, unsure how long she could hold back her tears. She went to the other side of the ship; Martha followed.

  “If Raimund flirts with another girl while I’m away, I’ll go crazy!”

  “So what.” Luise rolled her eyes. “He’s not the least bit interested in you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s polite, that’s all. And everybody sees it but you.”

  Luise expected Martha to fly into a rage and turn on her heel, but her sister just folded her arms across her chest.

  “That shows how immature you still are. Not even close to understanding what love between adults is like.”

  “Well, I suppose that’s true,” Luise responded with equanimity.

  “You haven’t a clue what’s already gone on between us.”

  Now Luise was curious. “Between you and Raimund?”

  Martha put on a triumphant smile. “Yes. Between me and Raimund.” She looked at the ocean and raised her chin.

  Luise looked at her briefly before turning back to gaze at the water.

  “Would you like to know?” Martha kept looking straight ahead.

  “If you want to tell me.”

  Luise pretended to be more indifferent than she was. If something had happened between her sister and the son of the Leffers family, then yes, she was keen to learn more about it.

  “It was New Year’s Eve.” Martha leaned over to her in a conspiratorial way. “I noticed that Raimund was staying close to me all evening.”

  Luise resisted remarking that it was actually the opposite.

  “Everybody was saying Happy New Year when he drew me to him and kissed me.”

  “No!” Luise stared at her sister, dumbstruck. She hadn’t seen it coming. “Really?”

  Martha nodded sharply. “And then he whispered, ‘Happy New Year,’ into my ear and put his fingertips on my neck. I had gooseflesh all over.”

  Luise was impressed even though she remained a little skeptical: Would Raimund have told the same story from his point of view?

  “Does that mean you’re a couple now?”

  “Why certainly! You don’t think he’d do that with any girl.”

  “No, of course not.”

  Martha seemed satisfied; then her expression changed. “But that dreadful Maria Lehmbach’s always slinking around Raimund. I’m sure she’s out to grab him.”

  “Maria’s a year younger than I am,” Luise replied, baffled.

  “So what. I’ve seen how she looks at Raimund. And not everybody is such a late bloomer as you are.”

  “But I’ve only just turned fifteen.”

  “When I was your age, I was looking for potential matches in school. But you only have eyes for those awful beans.”

  Luise didn’t have a reply. So they stood together in silence.

  “Oh, don’t worry. If you make a bit of an effort, you’ll succeed at some point in getting a man to notice you. You’re not ugly. You’d have to learn to act more like a lady. If Mother hadn’t forbidden it, you’d have come on board wearing those dreadful pants you always have on around the plantation.”

  Luise reflected for a minute. “I don’t know if I want a man at all.”

 
Martha looked aghast. “What do you mean by that? Every woman wants a man!”

  “I don’t think I do.” Luise shrugged.

  “Who’s going to provide for you?”

  “I will, myself.” It sounded possible. “I could start a plantation and go into trading.”

  “As a woman?”

  “I’d hardly be able to pretend I’m a man.”

  “You’re crazy! Something’s really not quite right with you.”

  Luise didn’t answer, mainly because she was afraid there might be some truth to what Martha said. How often had her mother scolded her and told her to change her behavior if she didn’t want to become an old maid? And she never failed to mention how embarrassing her tomboyish antics were and that there surely wasn’t a man in the world who would waste time with a woman like Luise. She hardly listened during these rants anymore. But deep down inside she wondered what her future life would look like and whether it wouldn’t be better to listen to her mother’s admonitions after all.

  They anchored a few hours later in Calabar and then in Lagos, ports in British-colonized West Africa, where the crew unloaded some cargo and took on new wares. From there they traveled via Cotonou, a French-controlled port within the Dahomey Kingdom, itself a Portuguese protectorate; to Lomé in the German colony of Togoland. The next ports of call were Accra, the capital of the Gold Coast, a British colony; Takoradi; Abidjan; and Monrovia in Liberia. Each stop took a long time. Since steamers like the Carl Woermann had too great a draft and often couldn’t anchor in the harbor directly, so-called Kru boys, named for their ethnic group, would ferry people and cargo from ship to land in their small boats, which was very time consuming. Leaving Monrovia, the Carl Woermann proceeded to Freetown and to Dakar, in Senegal.

  At some point Luise became bored watching the cargo being loaded and unloaded. Eventually despite the monotony of everyday life on board, she realized that they’d left Africa and the Portuguese and Spanish coasts and that Bordeaux was their next port of call. After leaving the Bay of Biscay, passing through the English Channel, and stopping in Amsterdam, they at last approached the North Sea coast of Germany and, ultimately, the port of Hamburg—twenty-seven days after leaving Cameroon.

  A young boy—he might have been eight or nine—ran up to one of the men helping to unload.

  “Is this ship from Cameroon?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “I have to report it. Is this the ship?”

  “Yes.”

  The boy didn’t thank him but raced off as if the devil himself were at his heels. He ran all the way to a looming office building.

  “I want to see Herr Georg Hansen,” he said to the woman at the front desk.

  “Herr Hansen is a very busy man. What do you want from him, boy?”

  “I’m to report, told me so himself.”

  “Report what?”

  “When the ship from Cameroon comes in.”

  “And now it’s arrived?”

  “Yes, but you mustn’t tell him. I have to tell him or I won’t get the money.”

  “Wait a minute.”

  The little boy watched her go down the corridor toward the back. He wanted to follow to make sure Georg Hansen wouldn’t get the news from her and then deny him payment. But soon he saw the man who’d commissioned him approaching. Apparently she had told him, because he was smiling with delight.

  “You did a very good job,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “Here’s your money, my boy.”

  “Thank you, Herr Hansen.” The boy turned serious. “I can always tell you when ships come in. I’d like that very much. Really.”

  “I was only interested in this particular ship. But if I need you again, I’ll look for you in the port.”

  “Thank you, Herr Hansen.”

  The boy left the building, followed by Georg. They walked together for a while on the way to the harbor; then when he saw his friends waiting for him, he dashed away. Georg walked rapidly to the quay, waving a hand when he spotted Robert. When Robert saw his brother, he tried not to push past his fellow passengers. He’d barely found his feet on firm ground when Georg rushed up and embraced him.

  “Robert! It’s so good to see you!”

  They laughed as they held each other by the arm and clapped each other on the back again and again. Elisabeth, Martha, and Luise were greeted just as heartily and almost moved to tears.

  “You’re back home at last! Thank God.”

  Georg waved two carriages over. Robert and he took the first one, the women the second.

  “You’ve gotten so dark I almost didn’t recognize you,” Georg joked as he studied his brother more closely.

  “I see that better, now that I’m beside you. When you’re surrounded by black people, you always feel a little pale. But here . . .” He compared his arm to Georg’s. “Good heavens, it’s quite a difference!”

  “How have you been faring?” Georg asked. “Everything going well?”

  “You’ve seen it for yourself—the plantation’s bringing in more than I’d have imagined in my wildest dreams.”

  “Yes, that’s true. But that’s not what I meant. I mean how are you, the four of you? Have you gotten used to living there?”

  “Luise and I love it. Martha only has eyes for the son of the imperial envoy and finds she can put up with it. Elisabeth . . .” He hesitated. “Elisabeth hates it and is quite depressed.”

  “Really?”

  Robert nodded. “She often doesn’t get out of bed all day.”

  “For heaven’s sake! How do you cope?”

  Robert shrugged. “What can I do? There’s no alternative to the plantation. But it’s no life for my wife. She hasn’t even tried to settle in Cameroon. Her attitude was better at first, on Sundays at church with the other Germans. She’d complain to the other women there about her life of deprivation . . . But none of them seemed as concerned about it as she was.” He sighed. “I think she hates me for making her live that way.”

  “But, but maybe she just needs more time.”

  “No. She’ll never adapt. I hope our time here in Hamburg will do her some good and make it a little more bearable for her. I’m hoping that from here, from this distance away, she might learn to appreciate more about Cameroon.”

  “Everything will be all right.”

  Georg put a friendly arm around his brother’s shoulders. Then he became serious. “You’ve taken on a lot, more than Karl, to say nothing of me.”

  “How’s the office going? And what happened when you paid the money back on schedule?”

  “I admit I celebrated a little. A good feeling, no question about it. I only wish I could have contributed more to our success myself than just storing the cocoa and sending most of it on to Vienna.”

  “So sales in Hamburg are still not making headway?”

  Georg shook his head. “No, unfortunately. People here want coffee or tea, not chocolate.”

  “Have you bought back into coffee a little?”

  “Yes, some of it is supposed to be on your ship. But I didn’t want to risk too much. Revenue is steady, but we’re still on thin ice. We have to pay careful attention so as not to fall through it again.”

  “We’ll manage, Georg, have faith!”

  “I wish I could be as confident as you and Karl.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Georg slowly shook his head. “I’ve done a lot of thinking over the last few months. You two went to Vienna and came back with a complete, well-thought-out plan that you immediately implemented. I was a mere spectator. Nonetheless we all took the same share of the profits, although you took on and achieved far more than Karl or I did.”

  “You think too much, as always,” Robert said. “I like what I’m doing.” He grinned at his brother. “I’m just the best of us. You two simply have to adjust to that fact.” He laughed heartily and punched Georg’s arm. “Now wipe that expression off your face.”

  After some hesitation Georg chuckled. “Ni
ce to have you here.”

  “Yes,” Robert said. “It’s good to be home.”

  As the carriages drew up to the villa, Elisabeth burst into tears of joy. Before they had even stopped, the front door was flung open, and Vera, Richard, and Frederike came running out with Anna behind them. The drivers stopped the carriages, and the others ran out to greet them.

  “Vera!” Elisabeth exclaimed through tears, dismounting without even waiting for a hand to assist her. She lifted her skirts and ran to her sister-in-law. The women embraced as if they would never let go. Martha and Luise jumped down as well and hugged Frederike, and even Richard, who was otherwise not inclined to outbursts of emotion, gave the cousins a hearty hug.

  It seemed to Luise as if an eternity had passed since she’d been in the villa. A peculiar feeling. The family gathered in the dining room as they always had was something to celebrate or to discuss. In this case, it was both.

  “You must tell us everything,” Vera insisted. “Really everything. How did you get along?”

  “Cameroon is unbelievable,” Robert enthused, though he sensed his wife making a face. “The plantation is enormous, about thirty times the size of our property here.”

  “Thirty times! Including the park here?”

  “That’s right. The plantation stretches from the house across a huge distance filled with cocoa trees, all the way to the slopes of the steppe. Everything’s green and lush.”

  “I thought that steppe climates were dry,” Richard said, puzzled.

  “When you look out over the plain”—now Luise spoke—“everything’s a dark green. The odd thing is when you get closer and let the earth run through your fingers, the ground is quite dry. It’s amazing that the growth is so lush.”

  “And the people? What are they like?” Georg inquired.

  “The Duala?” Robert took a sip from the beer Anna had brought. “You have to learn how to understand their way of life. At first they were wary of us, just watching and waiting. When they understood we meant them no harm, they opened up and were very friendly. They’re extremely hardworking. You wouldn’t find better workers anywhere.”