Nuruddin Farah - Hiding in Plain Sight

She says, “Somebody give me toothpaste, please.”

Salif scoffs at her. “You’re in the wrong room.”

“Who says this is the wrong room?”

“A kitchen isn’t where you want to be.”

“But there is none in the bathroom,” she says, and then she issues an abysmal groan, supplemented by a blob of phlegm that she spits into the kitchen sink. “Did I ask you to give me toothpaste? Please stay out of my way and keep your nasty comments to yourself.”

Bella rises from her chair in anger then dispossesses Dahaba of the toothbrush, takes hold of the girl’s wrist, and leads her out of the kitchen and back up the stairway toward her bathroom, where Bella is certain there is toothpaste.

When Bella returns to the kitchen, Salif says to her, “Why must you give in to every one of her vagaries, Auntie? This is no good. She will never grow out of it, you are spoiling her rotten.”

“I know what I am doing, darling,” says Bella. “Trust me.”

She sits down to resume the notes she was making, but her millet porridge has hardened. She adds a lump of butter to it and microwaves it, but just as she takes a spoonful, Dahaba reenters the kitchen. Without asking for help, she sets about making her own breakfast this time. Bella wonders which of them is right. She’s certain Salif believes that it’s the pressure he has been putting on Dahaba that will ultimately pay off. And Bella thinks he may well prove right, although it is too early to determine how consistently Dahaba will do anything. She remembers that Hurdo used to say that raising a child is a long-term project, the nature of the child’s needs changing as the child grows, but not the need itself.

Dahaba brings out the bread and puts two slices in the toaster. Then she takes out the marmalade and margarine, and when the toasts pop up, she picks them up with her forefingers. Although she flinches, giving the impression that her fingers are burned, she is pleased when she sits down with her toast. You would think she is expecting applause, so delighted is she with her achievement. She spreads large dollops of margarine and marmalade on the two slices and eats them, getting food all over her mouth and chin.

She says to Bella, “You going somewhere fancy?”

“I’ve an appointment.”

“Where and with whom?”

“With Gunilla, at your dad’s place of work.”

“What’s going on?”

“We need to sort out a few things.”

“Would you like to tell us more?” Dahaba says.

Salif says to Dahaba, “Are you mad?”

Dahaba carps, “What have I done this time?”

Salif says, “Next time you’ll ask Auntie to tell you how much money there is in Dad’s bank account and how much of it is coming your way and how much my share is and how much, if any, will go to Auntie Bella.”

“There is no harm in knowing any of these details, is there, Auntie?” Dahaba says. “Or asking questions of this kind?” Then she turns on Salif. “Why do you mouth off at me? What right have you got to talk to me like this?”

Bella says, “Please,” to no one in particular.

“Am I out of line wanting to know, Auntie?”

Bella replies, “No, you’re not.” And to Salif she pleads, “Let it be.”

The dream of last night has suddenly come back to her, and she feels despondent. She remembers now too that BIH is shorthand for a lesbian bar called Bar in Heaven and that Ulrika is a German active in the gay community in Nairobi. She has read all this online — the recent raid of the bar has been all over the news. She considers whether to call Padmini and ask if all is okay, but she thinks better of it and, opting for inaction on that front, turns her mind to matters closer to her heart.

She glances up and sees that Salif is looking as disturbed as she feels. His shoulders are hunched and he is clutching a knife in his right hand while his glassy eyes stare at a bit of uneaten omelet attached to the end of his fork. There is something blank about his gaze that puts Bella in mind of a mirror that has lost its quicksilver backing. He doesn’t have much self-restraint: You annoy him and he will come after you until he unsettles you. Maybe he is the sort of person who believes that when you are bad, as bad as Valerie, say, you deserve to get your comeuppance. Like Salif, Bella finds Dahaba’s occasional unpleasantness tiring, and often she doesn’t know what to do about it. But Salif needs to learn that he doesn’t have to show his ugly side so quickly and that he doesn’t need to zero in on other people’s weaknesses, as if he were a dog chasing the fear in those who are afraid of him.

Just before Bella goes out the door to meet Gunilla, Dahaba comes back downstairs, holding her phone. The girl is shouting, “Mummy, where are you?” An instant later, Dahaba passes the phone to Bella, saying, “Auntie, it’s Mum, she wants a word.”

What follows is so bizarre and happens so quickly that Bella will be confused about it for a long time to come.

Bella’s first words are “You were in my thoughts. In fact, I nearly called you half an hour ago to ask how you both were.”

“Cut the crap,” Valerie says. “I want you to go upstairs and close the door to your room. I have questions to ask you and I want true answers. I don’t wish the children to hear what I am saying.”

Bella is in suspense to learn whether all this is provoked by the payment she made yesterday when she settled the bill at the hotel. Or could it have something to do with the raid on BIH and the resulting arrests? Is Valerie in deep trouble and in dire need of help again? She remains silent until she is in her room and then she says, “What is this about, Valerie?”

“Do you know — have you ever known — a Ugandan woman called Helene Nsembemba, with legal chambers in Kampala? And have you ever wired funds to her in your capacity as the Good Samaritan, working miracles and setting free two women in a Kampala lockup?”

“I’ve never met this Helene you speak of.”

“I know you know Gunilla the Swede and that you’ve met with her a couple of times, so don’t tell me you don’t know her. Tell me what role the Swedish woman played in all this.”

“I suggest we talk about this another time.”

“Here you are fobbing me off again. Tell me truly, did you pay to have us released?”

“I’ve no idea what you are talking about.”

Valerie says, “I’m told you paid the bond, wired the funds to pay off the Ugandan police and paid for our ticket, all through your lackey Gunilla. Is that true?”

“You are imagining things, Valerie.”

“I have it from reliable sources that you are involved in much deeper muck than you are prepared to accept,” says Valerie.

“Who is this reliable source?”

“A gentleman in the Ugandan legal fraternity.”

“I insist I have no idea what he is on about.”

There is a pause.

“Padmini and I are coming over to see the children. And I never want them to know about this terrible thing you’ve done, paid secretly and maliciously a bill you did not incur,” Valerie screams into the phone.

There is a knock on the door. Dahaba says, “Is everything all right? I hear some shouting, are you shouting?”

“Dahaba, darling, I didn’t mean to shout. Okay?”

Valerie asks, “What is happening?”

“Dahaba is at the door to my room, wondering why I am shouting and asking if everything is all right,” Bella says.

“I want you to listen to me carefully, very carefully. Not a word to Dahaba and Salif about this. You hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“Not to a living soul, you hear?”

“I said I hear you.”

“No shouting, because you are still shouting.”

Bella chokes on her words of self-explanation, thinking that one can never win when one is at war with Valerie. She is adept at turning the tables and making you sound silly and forcing you to apologize even though you have no idea why you are apologizing or why you got yourself into tangles and your tongue into knots.