Nuruddin Farah - Hiding in Plain Sight

Fatima asks Padmini where Valerie is, and Padmini explains that she has been held up but is expected in time for dinner.

Then Gunilla arrives. Again, the dynamic alters. Bella introduces her around as Aar’s colleague, and Gunilla goes around the room shaking hands with each of them until she reaches Catherine. The expression on Gunilla’s face suggests she regrets not opting to say “Namaste” and keeping her distance the way Indians do. Fatima and Mahdi, who have heard so much about Gunilla from Aar, forego the handshake and give her a hug. Salif and Dahaba warm to her instantly, recounting their camping trip and taking pictures of her.

Bella encourages everyone to move from the kitchen to the living room. In an instant, they break up into smaller groups, some with their drinks on their laps, chatting, others on their feet, listening. Gunilla is tête-à-tête with Fatima; Padmini talks to Mahdi with animation, with Catherine chiming in. Bella, watching the groups merge and unmerge, wonders how much of Aar’s relationship with Gunilla Mahdi and Fatima know about or suspect; or if Padmini, who knows about Gunilla’s part in her and Valerie’s release from detention in Uganda, will dare to raise the subject at all.

Having tired of taking pictures, Dahaba lends her camera to Qamar, who excitedly starts photographing everyone. Dahaba brings out the family albums, Gunilla’s and her own. More photographs are taken of people congregating around the albums. Fatima begins to weep, looking at the photos of Aar, and Mahdi pats her back and comforts her. Fatima vows to assemble the ones she has from their days together at school and university to make a gift of them to Salif and Dahaba.

Salif organizes a tour of the darkroom. Everyone is impressed, especially Catherine, who suggests that Bella teach a photography class at the school and that Salif and Dahaba become the school’s designated photographers. When they return from the darkroom, they find that Bella and Padmini have set the table and are ready for people to be seated. There is still no sign of Valerie. Dahaba says she will call her mum and tell her to hurry up, but Padmini says she will do it and steps out of the room.

When Padmini gets back to the kitchen to help Bella with the food, she says that Valerie is on her way in a taxi but is caught in traffic. Padmini further whispers that she is worried that Valerie may be lying.

“Why would she lie to you? This makes no sense.”

“That is the way Val is,” says Padmini. “I have the bizarre feeling she is not telling the truth because she told me in the same breath that she had packed her suitcases and booked a cab to the airport for five tomorrow morning.”

They bring out the food on large platters and put them on a side table in the dining table with plates, cutlery, and napkins. It’s quite a spread: Bella’s arrabbiata and arugula salad and Padmini’s chicken tandoori, plus a fish curry and a rich array of vegetarian dishes, including lentils, chickpeas, and an assortment of Indian finger foods. Everyone is seated except for Zubair, who is taking pictures. Mahdi is presiding at the adults’ table, Catherine having assigned him the duty “because you are the oldest man present.” The children are at their own table.

The guests serve themselves, and the dinner seems to be a hit. Catherine, Mahdi, and all the children help themselves to seconds, and Padmini and Bella receive the guests’ compliments gracefully. Fatima and Padmini are the only ones except for Bella who eat the arugula, however; Padmini asks for the recipe for the dressing. Meanwhile, wine, water, and soft drinks flow like nobody’s business, with Catherine emptying her glass as soon as it is topped up.

“How would you describe Kenyan cuisine, Mrs. Kariuki?” asks Mahdi. “No offense intended, but would you agree with the sentiments expressed by a Kenyan chef I once met who said that it is nothing more than bland peasant cooking?”

“The coastal cooking in Kenya is definitely not bland,” says Catherine, “but then you may not consider the coastal cooking as representative of the indigenous food we used to eat before all these foreign influences came in. Kenyan coastal cooking is more like Yemeni food, with a touch of Indian cuisine. I love it.”

“I would consider it Kenyan, but it is only a small area of the country,” says Mahdi.

Catherine is mulling over what Mahdi has said. “Could you define what you mean by peasant cooking?”

“A cuisine lacking cosmopolitan influence, where the main purpose is to satiate hunger,” says Mahdi. “I am thinking that in a place, a city, a country, or a region where there is a crosscurrent of cultures feeding off one another the kitchen becomes an amalgam of tastes. Like India.” He turns to look at Padmini as if to seek her support.

Catherine appeals to her as well. “What do you think about this assertion?”

“India has suffered a great number of invasions,” says Padmini. “It is a subcontinent with an ancient civilization, a huge population, and diverse cultures and faiths. I would say the cuisine reflects this multiculturalism. India boasts a cosmopolitanism far beyond that of many countries in Europe, including England.”

“But both India and Kenya were British colonies,” says Catherine.

“That’s taking hold of the wrong end of the stick,” Mahdi says. “In my visit to that island, I’ve found traditional British cooking rather bland and uninteresting, but more recently, Britain has benefited from the large influx of immigrants, especially from India and Italy, and British taste buds and cooking habits have benefited similarly.”

“What is Somali cooking like?” Catherine asks Mahdi.

“The cultural crosscurrents passing through the Somali peninsula have altered the way we cook in the urban areas of the country, but they seem not to have penetrated beyond the cities and the towns,” he replies. “I would say that we have borrowed freely from Arabia, India, and Italy, influences that set urban Somali cooking apart from peasant cooking. Our indigenous cooking rarely uses spices, and with its reliance on local grains, it sits heavy on the stomach. An ingredient like garlic is almost unknown. In cosmopolitan cooking, there is a variety of ways you can use the same ingredients to prepare a meal; peasants tend to eat the same food day in and day out. A Frenchman who taught at our school once complained that he had to come to Nairobi for his spices, even his garlic and lemon.”

Catherine’s mobile rings, and before answering it, she looks at her watch. Then she listens, nods her head, and get up from her chair with the suddenness of someone stung by an insect. Then she says, with equal abruptness, “It is my husband telling me that the chauffeur is ready to pick me up and that I must go.” As if her abruptness has dawned on her only now, she adds, “I didn’t realize it was so late, and I don’t want my husband to worry.”

She calls out to the children, who come round to perform what Bella refers to as their “salutations.” They take one last photo with “Madame Principal,” after which she pats them on either the head or the shoulders as if she were a pontiff delivering benedictions. Bella escorts her to the waiting car outside and thanks her for coming, sending her best regards to James. As the car moves toward the gate, which the guard opens, Bella notices that another car that is just arriving is blocking the exit.

This being Nairobi at night, the arrival of this unexpected car gives Bella a momentary worry. But then she recognizes the occupant of the vehicle, and in a moment, Valerie steps out, shielding her eyes against the headlights of Catherine’s car. I’ll be damned, thinks Bella to herself, the madwoman is here. But is she alone? Bella moves forward to greet Valerie, glad that Valerie’s path and Catherine’s have not crossed.