A Distant Hope

by Ellin Carsta

  The pharmacist looked at the lady. “Is he your husband?”

  “No,” Florentinus answered. “He’s my sister’s husband, my brother-in-law. This lady kindly helped us.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. We were on the way to his office when suddenly his eyes turned upward and he looked as if he was going to faint.”

  The pharmacist put his hand on Karl’s chest. “His heart’s beating too fast.” He fanned Karl with his hand. “You must breathe slowly, do you hear?”

  Karl swallowed hard, struggled to breathe, closed his eyes, tore them open again.

  “Karl, don’t worry! Everything’s fine, it’ll be all right.” Florentinus put his hand on Karl’s back, which only made him breathe faster.

  “Dr. Sulzbach, thank God!” the pharmacist said when the doctor opened the door and came in.

  “Stand aside, please.” The doctor knelt in front of Karl and looked up at his eyes. “Can you hear me, sir?” He asked Florentinus, “What’s his name?”

  “Karl. Karl Hansen.”

  “Can you hear me, Herr Hansen? Are you in pain?”

  Karl nodded, gasped for air, and bent over.

  “It could be his heart,” the doctor said. “What was he doing when it started?”

  “We were walking on the street, that’s all.”

  The doctor took out his stethoscope and motioned for the pharmacist and Florentinus to help the patient sit forward. Then he listened to Karl’s chest. “Your heart’s too fast, Herr Hansen.” He turned to Florentinus again. “Was he running or overexerting himself?”

  “No.”

  “Did anything frighten him?”

  “No, nothing happened.”

  “Peculiar.” The doctor laid his stethoscope down. “Herr Hansen, listen to me carefully. Listen to my breathing and follow my rhythm—it will improve immediately.” The doctor inhaled deeply, stretched his back, and exhaled slowly. “And once again. In”—he breathed in—“and out. That’s good, Herr Hansen. And in again”—he inhaled—“and out again.”

  They did this for a while until Karl was breathing in a regular rhythm and was visibly calmer.

  “Now, Herr Hansen, stand up carefully. We can take a few steps together back and forth.” The doctor helped him out of his chair.

  Karl swayed briefly; then he regained his balance.

  “May I have some water?” he asked.

  “Certainly.” The pharmacist handed him a glass.

  Karl took a drink, breathed deeply, and exhaled slowly again. “It’s getting better. Thanks to all of you.”

  “Are you sure? I’d like you to come to my office and let me examine you properly.”

  Karl shook his head. “That won’t be necessary.”

  The doctor looked him over once more and put his stethoscope back into a leather bag. “You know yourself best.”

  Florentinus handed the doctor some money. “Many thanks for coming so quickly.”

  The doctor accepted his honorarium with a nod. “May I speak with you for a moment outside, Herr Hansen?”

  “Yes.” Karl followed him out the door, and they took a few more steps.

  “Is this the first time this has happened?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I suspect you know what caused you to react so violently?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I’m a doctor, Herr Hansen. I obey a vow of silence. If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. But you must make sure you keep your feelings under control. All indicators point to panic caused by fear of something or other.” The doctor tried to look Karl in the eye. “You will know best what you were thinking or seeing when it happened. I can only urge you not to suppress that feeling. It will only get worse. You’re a strong young man, but your heart can’t handle these attacks. At least not if they occur frequently.”

  “Many thanks for your advice, sir. I will think about it.”

  “Do that. People often put off these considerations until it’s too late.”

  Karl looked at him thoughtfully, very much as if he wanted to ask him something. Then he shook his head and offered the doctor his hand. “Thank you. I’ll be able to manage now.”

  They said their goodbyes, and the doctor left.

  Florentinus came out of the pharmacy, followed by the owner and the woman who had helped them. Karl shook her hand and the pharmacist’s and thanked them for their assistance.

  “So what happened?” Florentinus asked and tried to look Karl in the eye as they walked along.

  Karl stared straight ahead. “I have made a decision,” he said. “We will no longer meet, never again! Except when your sister’s present.”

  “What? I don’t understand. What’s going on with you?”

  Karl stopped. “I don’t want to keep doing this anymore, do you hear? It’s over.”

  “But . . . ?” Florentinus raised his hands helplessly.

  “No buts, no maybes. What we did was wrong. Wrong and unfair. And this attack made that perfectly clear to me. I would like you to stay away from me, once and for all. Do you understand?”

  Florentinus stood there as if turned to stone. Still stunned, he softened his expression. “I love you, Karl,” he whispered, looking down at the ground.

  “And I love your sister, and starting immediately, we will have the marriage that she deserves. I want to have children with her, many children. And if ever you come to visit, you will be nothing more than an uncle.” Karl had started to move away but turned back to face Florentinus. “And if we have a son, I do not want you getting close to him, do you understand?”

  Florentinus closed his eyes for a second. “I’ll never forgive you for those words, Karl.” He spun on his heel and hurried away without looking back.

  Karl felt as if he had ripped his heart out of his chest.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Cameroon, End of September 1889

  Luise could finally breathe easily. The tribe’s chief decided that the Duala would continue to work on the Hansen plantation and would not move elsewhere. Robert had avoided a danger he didn’t even know existed. It had been difficult for Luise to keep the promise she’d given Hamza about not warning her father, and she was glad the pressure was off. She watched with pride as the first sacks from the new harvest were loaded onto carts taking them the next day to the first Hamburg-bound ship. Everything was the way it always had been; the daily routine was reestablished.

  Since the day Hamza told Luise that the Duala might move away, they’d been meeting every morning at sunup, sometimes talking, sometimes sharing the silence. Neither said it, but each of them felt something had made them inseparable. They did nothing more than hold hands while watching the sky’s varying colors. But the day before, Luise had given Hamza a kiss on the cheek after he’d told her about the chief’s decision. Presumably she should have been startled by her own reaction to the good news, but she wasn’t. Luise felt their intimacy was right and good.

  She’d come to realize that she was in love with Hamza. And she was just as sure she could never be with him the way other lovers were. But she would rather settle for sitting with him and holding hands for an hour every morning than lead her life with a husband she’d never love. The mere thought that someday the chief would order Hamza to take a Duala woman for a wife worried her. She decided to reject such a fate for herself. No matter how hard her father might push, she would never marry a man not of her own choosing.

  “I can imagine Georg going over the manifests and rubbing his hands,” Robert said as they watched two cartloads of beans depart for the beach.

  “Hamza was right. We’ll have a good harvest.”

  Robert put his arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “What do you think? Shall we tell Georg to give Martha the money to buy you a pretty new dress? They could send it on the next ship.”

  “Why have a pretty dress here?” Luise laughed gaily. “No, Father, many thanks. I’d prefer a box of writing paper.”


  “You’ll turn into a real author if you keep writing like this. What are you writing about, anyway?”

  “Oh, mainly my thoughts. Occasionally I draw things I like. I’ve already made some sketches of the church and Mount Cameroon and one of our plantation and the view of the beach when the ship was pulling in.”

  “Would you show them to me sometime?”

  “I’d love to.”

  They went back to the house.

  “Tell me, Luise, do you ever miss anything?”

  “What? In Hamburg?”

  “Hamburg, the family, your friends, school.”

  “I learn more with Herr Weidorf than any of my classmates do in Hamburg. Sometimes I miss my friends, I suppose. But as for the rest . . .” She shrugged. “No, not at all.”

  “Not even your sister and mother?” Her father had hesitated in posing the question.

  “I missed Martha at first, yes. But I got used to not having her around.”

  Robert waited for her to say something about Elisabeth, but she said nothing. “I’m wondering whether we ought to go to Hamburg for Christmas.”

  They reached the veranda and sat at the table.

  “Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, you and Mother didn’t part on friendly terms.”

  “At times it scares me how much you think like an adult,” Robert confessed. “I’d be lying if I said all is forgiven. But she’s my wife and your mother and Martha’s. A family should be together for Christmas.”

  Luise shrugged again. “It’s your decision, of course. But that would mean we’d have to leave before the end of November and wouldn’t be back until the end of January. There’s a lot of work to be done during that time.”

  Robert gave a loud laugh. “You’re more worried about it than I am. Really, Luise, I think perhaps you’ve grown up too fast being here.”

  Luise was speechless at that.

  “We also have to think of your future,” he added.

  “What about my future?” Luise had been leaning her head against the back of her chair but sat upright at once.

  “Well, look at the facts. You’ll be taking your final high school exams in a few years. Of course you can do that here with Herr Weidorf, but it would be better for you to be examined by a panel of teachers.”

  “That’s a long way off, and we’ve several harvests to bring in before then.”

  “You sound like Malambuku,” Robert joked. Then his expression grew serious again. “But we have to think beyond that. I’ve talked to your tutor, and he thinks you’re gifted. You could become the highly respected wife of a prominent husband.”

  Luise rolled her eyes, sank back in her chair, and stared into the sky. “In a silk dress with ruffles? Father, must we have this conversation now?”

  “Luise, I don’t like your tone of voice.”

  She sat up again. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. But be honest. I didn’t belong in society when we were in Hamburg. And even less now, for sure. I do not want respectability because of a prominent husband—I want to be free.”

  “Free to do what?”

  “Free to live the way we do here.”

  “You don’t want to live your young years entirely on a plantation in Cameroon, do you?”

  “Why not? What’s wrong with that?”

  “What about having your own family? The number of younger Germans here is negligible. I’m afraid you’ll regret it later, but later can be too late.”

  She frowned.

  “Young Leffers seems to be showing some interest in you. What do you think of him?”

  “Raimund? He’s nice.”

  “Luise, don’t make this so difficult for me! It’s your mother’s job to have this talk with you. But since she’s not here, you’ll have to put up with my clumsy attempts.” He struggled to smile.

  “Couldn’t we postpone it until I’ve reached the point of becoming an old maid?”

  Robert chuckled. “That’s exactly what I meant when I said that later might be too late.”

  “I’m still young,” Luise remarked laconically. “Malambuku compared me to a young antelope yesterday. If that turns into an old hippopotamus, then we’ll talk.”

  “You’re incorrigible, Luise.” He guffawed. Then he noticed somebody behind Luise. “Ah, Hamza. Say, are there any hippos nearby? Luise would love to see one.”

  Hamza had walked onto the veranda and looked indecisively from one to the other.

  Luise burst out laughing. “Don’t listen to him, Hamza. I’m not at all interested in hippos.”

  Hamza didn’t quite know what to make of the conversation, so he just told them why he’d come. “The last cart has been loaded and is on the way to the ship with the other two.”

  “Thank you, Hamza. Come, sit down and have something to drink.”

  Hamza was about to when they heard the sound of an approaching horse, and a few seconds later, Raimund Leffers pulled up in front of the house.

  “Good day, Luise, Robert, Hamza.”

  “Good day,” they responded.

  “Luise, I wanted to ask you if you’d like to come with me to the race tomorrow. The Bele Bele and Deldo are going head-to-head in their canoes. It’s supposed to be quite a spectacle and will surely be fun.”

  “You wanted to go, anyway, didn’t you, Luise? Hamza told you about it.” It was Robert who answered.

  “Fine. Then I’ll come by and pick you up.”

  Before Robert could respond, Luise quickly said, “We’ll meet each other there. Thank you, Raimund.”

  The young man looked a little disappointed but nodded. “Fine. Until tomorrow, then. I’m looking forward to it.” He spurred his horse on and departed as quickly as he’d come.

  “He’s making an effort with you. You might be a bit friendlier toward him.”

  Luise and Hamza shared glances after Robert spoke.

  “I must get back to work,” Hamza said, turning and leaving.

  How could she explain to her father that she and Hamza had already made a date to go to the race together?

  “Yes, Father,” she managed. “I’m exhausted and would like to rest before dinner if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not.”

  She stood up, kissed him lightly on the cheek, and went into the house. The concerns of her father that she thought were so far away suddenly seemed frighteningly near, close enough to touch.

  Hamza did not come at dawn to watch the sunrise with Luise. She would have liked to explain that she’d had no choice but to accept Raimund’s invitation. What could she have said with her father there?

  Hamza avoided her all the next morning, too. She was annoyed but wanted to resolve the issue as quickly as possible no matter what. She considered a quarrel needless and stupid.

  “Can I please speak to you, Hamza?”

  He was spreading the fermenting beans. “I must work.”

  Luise looked all around them. The other Duala didn’t seem to be paying them any attention, or else she didn’t notice.

  “Hamza, please. Or would you rather I talked to you right here?”

  Hamza did not look up from his work.

  “All right, then. I don’t know who else here can understand me, but I must talk to you,” she began.

  Hamza looked up in alarm. “I will come,” he hissed at her, grabbing her arm, and leading her out of the shed. “Some of them understand your language,” he said when they’d walked far enough away. “I can get in trouble if they hear you.”

  “Now see here!” Luise stopped with arms akimbo. “When your people are around you, then I’m supposed to keep quiet. But when it’s my people, then I’m supposed to stand with you? You hypocrite!”

  Hamza squinted. “That is something different.”

  “No, it’s not. If you’d like me to tell my father I want to go to the race with you and not Raimund, I’ll do it. Right now. And I’ll ride over to Raimund’s and tell him the same thing. You’re welcome to come. Let th
e horrible gossip begin. I don’t care!”

  “I understand you, Luise.”

  She’d talked herself into a rage. “Oh, I don’t think so. I don’t think you understand how serious this is for me. Look at me!” She slid her hands down over her body. “I’m not a noble nyango who struts around in fine clothes. I am Luise Hansen. I harvest cocoa beans. I live on a plantation in Africa.” She swallowed and then went on more softly. “And my heart belongs to Hamza. I don’t care who knows it.”

  Hamza looked down at the ground, then raised his head and gave her a smile. “It hurt me to see him and know that you will go with him and not me.”

  “Me, too.” Luise thought for a minute. “Couldn’t you escort me to the race, anyway? I was so looking forward to it.”

  “I will take you there. But when Raimund comes to be with you, I do not know how I can stand to see you together.”

  “Of course.” She sounded sad.

  “I have to go back to work. They will ask questions. I will say I had to help you with the rabbits.”

  “Very good. Is everything fine between us again?”

  Hamza looked at her and nodded. “It’s fine, Luise.”

  The sad undertone in his voice was unmistakable.

  Members of both tribes had come from all over for the canoe race. The men wore colorful face and body paint, the likes of which Luise had never seen. One side wore blue loincloths, the other red. For Hamza’s sake she chose not to wear a dress, which would have meant she had joined the ranks of the Germans. Instead she wanted to demonstrate that she was closer to him than to her compatriots, so she wore her work pants and blouse. Apart from that she’d just trimmed her hair a little. And she had a further motive. Raimund was a nice man, and she liked him. But she didn’t want him getting the idea that she was dressing up for his sake. She didn’t want to send the wrong signal.

  Hamza picked Luise up at the agreed time and brought her to the race, where Raimund was already waiting for her. After they’d said hello, Luise asked, “What’s the point of this race?”

  “It used to be just for fun, but eventually it turned into a real event,” Hamza explained. “The families, with forty to fifty men in each canoe, want to see who’s better but also to show off their wealth. It costs a lot to make a boat like this—they’re sixty-five to ninety-five feet long. And look at the tangue, the hand-carved figureheads on the bows! They’re commissioned by a rich patron and carved by specially trained artists. When a tangue is completed, the family keeps it as a gift.”