Mou'aka at broad day light

An excerpt of the novel "An African sunset.

Although he passed a rather pleasant night Shatz woke up with a splitting headache, and suffered from unexpected weakness that troubled and worried him. He is still tired he thought on his way to the hotel's restaurant, or was it just some banal kind of a hangover, caused by the other day's intensive activity, and all the booze he poured down his throat in one single day. He was not used to it ever before.

Well why probe and bother my aching head?  He told himself.  A cup or two of black coffee would solve that acute problem.

Having his breakfast at one of the nearest tables to the entrance, in the wide hall of the hotel's restaurant;  he quenched his thirst with two cups of coffee to begin with. To his own surprise he found himself spreading butter on fresh and crunchy buns, which he devoured with zest one after the other. With two more cups of black coffee, he felt somewhat better. Leaving the restaurant Shatz crossed the short space to the lobby. There he stretched himself on an armchair, resting his head on its back support, and waited for Everon to come and pick him up.                               

When Everon arrived finally and was blowing his car's horn with impatience, Shatz pushed himself out of the comfortable armchair with both his hands, and went over to the broad glass door at the entrance, with apprehension and hesitation, scared of the heat and humidity outside.

Everon was blowing his horn again, and seeing Shatz at last, descending, half way the staircase, stopped and smiled his ambiguous smile of welcome mingled with scorn.

'Well then, and how's the feeling on a Mouaka first morning?' He asked after having watched Shatz descending the entrance's stairs, with some uncertainty.

'Tolerable I'd say’ Shatz answered him while slamming the car's door, and making an effort to spread a smile on his weary face.

'Mind you, I've seen enough men at this stage, who threw up their soul every morning just like a female after two weeks of pregnancy, so don't you whimper young man.'

'Who whimpers?' Shatz retorted raising his voice in anger. 'I'm still tired of that lousy flight!'                 

'R-e-l-a-x!' turned to him Everon surprised. 'I didn't mean to offend you you're okay, you're doing fine...' He added softly, slapping Shatz's thigh lightly with affection. 'Alright let's move, let's get to that Home Office of theirs and settle that urgent matter without delay.'

Mouaka's main street in broad daylight did not look bad at all. It was clean to start with, the small houses with the ornamented shops at their front, looked well tended. A regular stream of pedestrians filled it, road and pavements alike. The nobility or more accurately, the class of the well provided, used their cars or stepped out to their shops front and thresholds expecting clients. Their clients were just as noble as themselves, and made the short journey from their cars to a shop's door, to the bank or the post office on foot.

The morning was clear and bright, Mouaka's sky with its low hanging clouds, so typical to that part of the world; Everon’s quick and surprising retreat made Shatz feel much better. Sitting beside Everon in the slow progressing car, amid the mixed stream of a few cars and the local pedestrians; Shatz watched the sights that unfolded before his eyes, with eager interest. Their car like any other one crossing the main street had to stop still several times to let groups and individuals pass. The locals did cross and recross the road, hardly paying any attention to the passing cars. Blowing a horn with impatience or angry shouts, where answered with jeers and mocking laughter.

'Doesn't it remind you something?' Everon asked him, after having kept his mouth shut for quite a while.                      

'Yes it does, driving through a small town on a Saturday night, back home.'

'Back home eh? You've left Ben-Gurion airport three days ago and you are already home sick?' Everon asked with a snigger.

If he's one of those psychology minded pseudo intellectuals, may he be ever and ever satisfied with his little finds I couldn't care less! Shatz thought watching Everon with a look of feigned sympathy and admiration.                                      

'Well, that's the town's heart,' Everon was drawing Shatz attention, as they reached at last a round square of a fair size. 'This crossroads divides the town in its length and width, and is located as you may deduct right in its middle. As a matter of fact, this is the place where the only two stretches of asphalt in this country join into that lonely square. We've a left turn here.' He added, turning the car left and blowing the horn at the same time, scaring some of the pedestrians who blocked as if on purpose the car's way.                               

'We drove straight on at this junction yesterday, on our way to the ambassador's residence �" remember?'          

'Oh yes,' Shatz muttered indifferently nodding his head, turning right back his attention to the sights through the windshield and outside his door's window.                                            'Listen Reuven, the importance of these two stretches of asphalt, from our point of view is very critical. I wouldn't have bothered to mention that issue, if it wasn't of such importance.'

'I see,' Shatz answered stifling a yawn, he was bored already.

'You'd better listen carefully!' Everon remarked, throwing a quick glance at him. 'Suppose one of us or any member in our delegation reaches the end of his term here, after having having done his job and is about to return home. He has to sell his car first, right? Now then, if it turns up that during his stay, he had driven his car just once upon the Piste...'         

'Just a moment, what's that?' Shatz wondered aloud interrupting him.

It’s the French term for a dirt road, the dirt roads outside town. It’s not the unpaved lanes that you see here in town, on which one has to drive in a low gear. I mean the "Escalier" as the French nickname it; the rough cog-wise dirt roads out of town, on which one has to go at the speed of no less than fifty miles an hour, if he doesn't wish to get sea sick. So in short to sum the matter up, if one has through some reason to hit the Piste and do no more than a few miserable miles on it that same car of his even if it’s a brand new model, loses fifty percent of its value right afterwards! Got the message?'          

'Yeah I've got the message, but if someone did hit the piste with his car sometime who could tell he did, who could prove it?' Shatz wondered aloud again.

'It isn't as simple as you think!' Everon replied eagerly. 'Next week we'll have a few tours in the neighborhood, we'll use a Landrover for such rides of course, so you'll have your chance to see the “Escalier” with your own eyes; you won't need any further explanations, I can assure you! Yeah, these stairs as the French nickname these teeth, affectionately. 'He chuckled, enjoying his own little wisecrack.  'These horrid teeths, will shake any car apart, damage the shock-absorbers, am I saying, finish them off after one trip. What else, tear new tires into shreds in just three months time, fill the engine with dust and dirt and leave behind such traces, such scars no one is able to efface and that's not all; there are the locals and they're smart, they'll provide the relevant information such as whose car was it, on what date and where exactly that car was bound to anyone for a handful of coins.'

Slowing the car down and turning right, Everon stopped it and parked at the curb near quite a big liqueur and tobacco store.

'Do me a favor,' he asked Shatz while pulling his wallet out of his pocket; he took out of it two notes of a thousand francs each in local money and gave them to Shatz. 'Hop to that store right over there, and get me three packages of American cigarettes any brand will do. There's only one condition though, see that the lettering is impressive enough, bright red would be the right choice.’

Being the only customer at that hour, Shatz returned right away with the cigarettes and the change and handed it over to Everon.

'Switched your taste lately, I thought you are smoking Gauloise, don’t you?'

'Oh come-on, what do you take me for?' Everon turned to him with his sly smile. Raising his eyes to the mirror to check the traffic behind them, he engaged the first gear, and off they rode with screeching brakes to the home office their next destination.

'No I haven't switched to American cigarettes, if that's what bothers you. These packages are a token, just a gesture of good will.  The bare truth is that my presence is more than enough, all I have to do is be there and any matter is settled on the spot; but we had better bring along a thing or two, to warm their hearts with joy. Oh don't you worry. 'He added noticing the marked change in Shatz's features. 'I don't pay it with my own money, there's a special budget for such matters.'

© Haim Kadman 1989 �" all rights reserved.