Nuruddin Farah - Hiding in Plain Sight

“Tea?” Mahdi says to Fatima.

“I could do with a cup,” Fatima says.

“What about you, Qamar?” her father asks.

“Not now,” she says, and then she bolts up the stairs.

Bella longs for something a lot stronger than tea, but she is not sure there is such a drink to be had in this house, and she doesn’t want to discomfit her hosts by asking for it. She hasn’t felt the need to take strong liquor since leaving Rome — not even in the plane. She will have sufficient time to make the cultural shift and knows not to expect to be served wine or other liquor in the homes of Somalis, and she reminds herself that she hasn’t been around her fellow nationals in a long time.

Mahdi says, “How would you like your tea?”

“Black, strong, no sugar, please,” Bella says.

Mahdi and Fatima are staring intently at Bella, who finds herself unable to recall how she got from the kitchen to the couch in the living room. She realizes she has been daydreaming of happier days, when Aar was alive and the children were young and all of them looked forward to a future uncomplicated by deaths, diseases, civil wars, and other sorrows. Her eyes closed tightly, she balls her hands into fists and sits still for quite a while, conscious of Fatima and Mahdi still watching her. The instant she sees them both standing, her fists unclench, and she pats the couch on either side of her, and the two of them take the free spaces she has indicated.

Bella says, “You give me strength. Thank you.”

As they take the time to contemplate the ruins of the world around them, Dahaba, prancing down the stairway with her camera in hand, breaks their reverie. Fatima looks up, amused by the girl’s expression, as serious as if she were ready to announce an important event.

Dahaba says, “I would like you to pose for my first picture of the three of you with the first camera I’ve ever owned, a gift from Auntie Bella.”

“How would you like us to pose?” Fatima asks.

“Please stand up and smile for the camera.”

Bella thinks it is an odd request to make of them at this point in time, but she decides to let it pass because Dahaba is unfamiliar with the etiquette of taking photos at a time such as this. The three of them stand and let her arrange them until she has taken the photos to her own satisfaction.

Then Mahdi brings the tea and, spoon clinking against saucer, Bella tries to think of the best way to broach the subject of Fatima’s cancer. She gets her moment when Mahdi takes his leave with a bow, on what she is fairly certain is a pretext that he needs to complete a piece of writing. He takes his tea and sets off up the stairs in the direction of his study.

“Would you like some biscuits?” Fatima asks.

Bella shakes her head no, wondering if Fatima is loath to burden Bella with her illness when she is already grieving.

“I hear their mother is here,” Fatima says.

“Yes, she is.”

“And I hear you hosted her last night.”

“Yes, we did indeed.”

“And I hear she is trouble.”

“We won’t let her cause disruption in our lives.”

Fatima says, “If marriage is heaven and hell, then Aar was heaven, where he now must be residing, and his widow — if she is entitled to such an office, which I doubt — is hell, from what my children have told me.”

Bella is a little miffed that someone, most likely Dahaba, has shared family secrets with either Qamar or Zubair, who must have passed them on to Fatima, the very thing against which she has been inveighing.

Fatima can tell Bella looks put out, and she guesses the reason. So she says, “Our children are very close, and they talk their hearts out to one another, especially at moments of great sorrow.”

“I understand,” Bella says, “but don’t we Somalis say that a secret known to more than one person is no longer a secret?”

“Aar guarded his privacy and so does Salif.”

“Not so Dahaba.”

“There is in each of us a secret chamber whose key we offer to those we choose — a husband, a wife, a brother, a sister, a lover, or lovers known to no one but ourselves. I am sure there are personal secrets that Dahaba won’t divulge to anyone, and with age, she will learn to know how to treasure more secrets, keep them hidden.”

“I do hope so.”

“If I may be so bold, might I ask who is the custodian of the key to your secret chamber?” But when Fatima sees the hesitation on Bella’s face, she says, “Consider it unasked.”

“I am no different from Aar, say, who entrusts a password to his computer to Salif, the details of his banks in Europe to me, having also given me power of attorney to them, and who then makes you and Mahdi serve as witnesses to his most recent will. We guard our secrets in different ways and entrust some to those we feel close to.”

“We’ve always wondered why you never married.”

“With a brother like Aar, how could I?”

“I can see where you are coming from,” says Fatima. It seems to be confession time. “Mahdi never tires of telling everyone that Aar was every girl’s favorite boy. But I can tell you he was very hard to get to know, and it was difficult to plumb his persona, a smart, lovely guy like him. It is sad that he ended up with a woman who walked out on him.”

“I may have fancied him too,” says Bella.

Fatima pours Bella more tea, and then asks, “So what are your current plans?”

“I am thinking of moving here,” Bella says.

“There is nothing standing in the way, is there?”

“How do you mean?”

“A love, a mortgage, a professional commitment?”

“Nothing I can’t clear away.”

“It’ll be great for all of us to have you here.”

Ill at ease, knowing what she knows, Bella shifts her position as if awaiting a blow. She stretches her hand to touch Fatima’s, and then tears well up in her eyes and, with words failing her, her Adam’s apple moves up and down and, her breathing agitated, she seizes her opportunity to take Fatima’s hand, which she kisses. Then she says, “Do I hear cancer?”

“Yes,” Fatima says. “We didn’t discover it in time, my fault. I was never in the habit of self-examining. With me, it all started with an unusual swelling of the breasts as well as a lump in the underarm. I consulted my GP, who, after examining me physically, sent me to the breast clinic. The results of the initial biopsy came back showing that mine was in an advanced stage. I was put on a chemotherapy with a drug called Doxorubicin. I am feeling a great deal better, but you can see how the combination of the chemo and the drug has caused my loss of hair, and I am weak and sweat frequently and am moody. Mahdi has been very supportive, my other friends also. We are going to England to see a consultant at Barts, and maybe we will go to France or America later.”

“This is most sad.”

“Aar knew about it even before I told Mahdi, in fact.”

What a touching tribute to their friendship! thinks Bella.

Fatima continues, “He was sorry he wasn’t here with us. He tried to bring his return forward, intending to visit me at the cancer clinic where I had gone for a minor procedure. In a way, I am to blame, though, because I kept postponing my mammogram until it was too late.”

“It’s good you’re getting a second opinion,” says Bella. “When are you off to Barts to see the consultant?”

“In a month or so,” replies Fatima.

Bella clears her throat and says, “I’ll want Zubair and Qamar to stay with us when you do go. And if there is anything else I can do, please let me know.”

“Qamar and Zubair would love that, I am sure.”

“It would excite the children to be together,” says Bella.

“And I hope for their sakes and everyone else’s that Valerie doesn’t cause further upsets in the existing harmony,” says Fatima.