Sahara

by Oscar Luis Rigiroli

  “Yes, in Central Africa.”

  “Right. I was born in one animist village, beleaguered by the wars between Muslims in the North and Christians in the South. These wars have brought massacres and endless suffering.” Zoubaida looked at the man and saw that he was carefully listening.

  “I was educated in France for a long period and ten years ago I came to the United States to study, and completed my Master degree in Administration. Since then I have taken care of the interests of the people of my own ethnical background, who live scattered in my village and other neighboring areas. My father is...let´s say, the authority in the entire region.”

  “Are you a resident in the United States?”

  “Yes, since two years ago.”

  The conversation lasted all afternoon. Zoubaida was subtly checking the intellectual and cultural level of the young and intimately was quite satisfied with her findings. He was a quick-witted man although at first impression he looked somewhat opaque. Cristian was under the strong magnetism emanating from the woman, who irresistibly drew him in a physical way, had captivated him with his enigmatic and overwhelming personality, and stroked him with her velvety voice. An invisible network hovered around the couple increasing their mutual attraction.

  After several hours both dressed up and went down to the restaurant located near the hotel. Zoubaida wore a very discreet dark set with pants, and for once went unnoticed among the passengers who filled the hotel's crowded lobby.

  When they returned to her room they stripped quickly and rested on the bed, the lady placed once again her slim foot at the youngster mouth saying:

  “Well, let's go back at the point we were...”

  CHAPTER 2

  As he did several times a week, Cristian entered the hotel that afternoon. The concierge barely paid attention to him and continued with his work. He was already well known.

  Zoubaida was expecting him dressed with a light negligee that highlighted her curves. From the beginning Cristian perceived a slight change in the woman attitude. He had placed a hand on her hip but she smiled and gently moved away. They had been meeting for two months walking around New York, roaming department stores to which the African was very addicted, taking tea in elegant lounges and had dinner together. Upon returning to the hotel, they made love as if it were the first time. The woman always found appropriate positions to achieve mutual satisfaction. Cristian was soon convinced that they were not part of a practiced baggage but instinctive gear that the lady came equipped with. He had already heard about the exuberant sexual ardor of black women and his experience just confirmed it.

  Zoubaida saddened for the scarce apparel Cristian had brought with him had purchased some formal clothing for his outputs and insisted in his trying them. However that day she looked a little distant.

  “Something troubles you Zouby? You look concerned.”

  “Actually I'm not worried, but I do have something important to tell you. Something that you have the right to know.”

  Cristian remained in an expectant silence.

  “I'm pregnant... logically of your child.”

  The man despite a barely perceptible slight shudder, as it was his custom made a respectful silence until she resumed her speech.

  “I can imagine that you must be thinking “you cannot lie down with a black woman without finding out the next day you're going to be a father"”

  “Not! No! I would never think that of you. What I want to know is what you intend to do; go forward or...”

  “Of course I intend to go ahead with the pregnancy. I am 34 years old and it is time to have a son. In addition, I will be honest with you; I have not taken any precaution to prevent pregnancy because ultimately I want to have your son.”

  “Well, this is flattering.” Said Cristian blushed as it was his custom whenever a mention regarding him was made. “Then it is good news.”

  “It is without doubt good news for me, but I don't want to tie you to a commitment you've not wanted. If you don’t want to recognize him as your son I will understand.” And she added “You don´t even have to stay with me against your will.”

  “No! In no way I would leave you. Depart from you in this situation would be something that I could never forgive myself.” He paused. “And how will you stand in front of your family and your people?

  “I became aware of the pregnancy already a couple of days ago. Yesterday I contacted my mother in Chad and told her. She was happy because it will be her first grandchild. My only sister is still young and unmarried. My mother was losing hopes of becoming a grandmother; what for an African is devastating in a country in which women have an average of five children. She is going to lay the groundwork for tell it to my father.”

  “How do you expect he will react?”

  “He hoped to marry me to a tribal chief, that is why I left Chad and came to America. I think that the idea of having a métis grandson will disturb him for a couple of days, but then he will rejoice also. I'm his favorite daughter and objectively he needs to have a numerous offspring given his role in the village. His may not be a sterile branch.”

  “Will he accept a métis grandchild as you called him?"

  “All the villages in the area are mixed to some extent for some time; ours is the exception. The Arabs and the French have left their mark... and well?

  “Well what?”

  “Can I count on you as the father of my child?”

  “Of course. I already said that I will not leave you. You already are a very important part of my life.”

  “Well. This will change a lot how things are between us. To begin I invite you to move tomorrow with me. I'm going to ask for a more spacious room at the hotel.”

  “I have paid my apartment until the end of the fortnight.”

  “To hell with that! You move out tomorrow. I don't want to be far away from you one more day.” Zoubaida could not tell whether her rage was real or simulated.

  Defeated his formal rather than real resistance, Cristian accepted finally to move, but he was still reflective and quiet, so the lady asked.

  “What´s now in your head?”

  “What do you would have done if I had answered that I preferred not to accept the responsibility of being a father?”

  “I would have thought of something to make you change your mind.”

  “Something like what?”

  “Persuasion, lust, threats, bribery...”

  New silence of Cristian.

  “Well, what are you thinking now?” She asked.

  “I prefer lust, it suits you best.”

  “You have not heard my threats yet!”

  Zoubaida dragged him to the bed and removed her negligee. While she lay down next to the man, she whispered some unintelligible words in his ear.

  “What you said?”

  “It´s our dialect.” She replied with a smile. “I said that the hart has finally fallen into my trap.”

  “And who is the deer?” Asked him playfully. “ And what's the trap?

  “You are the deer, stupid, and I have the trap between my legs.”

  “Have you planned all this in advance?” Asked him as they hugged and kissed passionately.

  “Meticulously. From the first day I saw you.”

  “And now you're boasting?”

  “Of course. We must celebrate the triumphs.”

  The man did not answer; Zoubaida realized that he was thinking.

  “Pondering again! What are you thinking now?”

  “In what you just said. What kind of threat?

  “Oh, no!” “the woman decided to give him a lesson. “ In my tribe unfaithful husbands are ritually castrated.”

  Despite the joke tone a chill traveled the spine of the youngster.

  The following day Cristian came into the hotel early. He had warned his employers in the Puerto Rican Barrio House Organ that he was taking a day off for moving. Since it was an informal employment it was feasible to make such arrangements.

&n
bsp; The concierge of the hotel saw him enter with luggage for the first time, but he had been warned that Cristian was moving to the hotel so that it not surprised him. He greeted him with a friendly gesture; he had already taken sympathy by the scruffy boy who had formed a couple with the distinguished African lady.

  “Afterwards give me your name and passport number to write it down in the guestbook.”

  The new room was much more spacious that the one Zoubaida had before. Shea was hanging her clothes-very abundant and varied- in the broad closet. As Christian showed up with an old damaged aircraft suitcase equipped with wheels and a backpack for all baggage she whispered.

  “This is all you have?” asked “So much the better, so I have more room in the closet. This is your corner.” She added pointing to one end of the unit where there were already hanging garments Zoubaida had bought him and that had stayed at the hotel.

  After finishing accommodating all the possessions of both they went to lunch at the small neighboring restaurant. Upon their return both lay on the bed.

  “Cristian.” said Zoubaida “Now that we are going to live together we must establish some rules. You will be my man for as long as you want to be and I will not have another man” Cristian listened carefully “And you won't have other women unless I order you otherwise. Gone are the "ladies that you used to accompany”. Do you agree?”

  Cristian nodded and although the phrase "unless I order you otherwise" was indecipherable he did not make comments in this regard.

  They also agreed that the man would keep his work on the Latin publication but that he also would help Zoubaida in her unofficial representative of her ethnicity role in numerous forums. As he was an illegal immigrant Cristian could only go to sites that had no formal character. The woman began to explain the nature of the work she carried out, and before the boy she displayed a wide range of very varied high responsibility functions that influenced the welfare of many people from Chad residing in New York and other cities in the United States; the activities also included the management of substantial funds to pay for various services.

  As his participation in different negotiations unraveled in front of him the scope of Zoubaida´s actions in favor of Chadian refugees in the United States and residents in Chad, as well as linkages with other African countries a sense of admiration for the capacity of the woman began to grow in Cristian, as well as for the professionalism with which she faced her responsibilities. He could not stop comparing her with the idle, bored and parasitic women that had alternated with since he had left his house.

  Zoubaida used to go out early in the morning and performed her tasks until late in the afternoon so that only at night they got mutually abreast of the day developments.

  One day they resolved to go together to the United Nations building despite the irregular situation of Cristian in New York because Zoubaida had gained confidence in the skill of the boy and wanted to present him to certain African diplomats with whom she was linked in her activities, so that he could replace it when necessary.

  They took a taxi in front of the hotel, and immediately Cristian saw something that caught his attention. During the trip he was silent looking repeatedly through the rear window.

  Arriving at the U.N. building, he surreptitiously stepped out of the taxi and followed a short distance on foot. Then he clearly saw that the dark blue Dodge which had followed them from the hotel stopped sixty feet further back the taxi from which Zoubaida was descending. Cristian had already prepared his cell phone for taking pictures and got a half dozen from the back of the Dodge, passing beside the stopped car and from the front. There was no doubt, three black men were travelling in the car, two of them got out and mixed with the crowd, following Zoubaida in its entry into the UN. Cristian also took clear photographs of them.

  Once inside the building he called the lady cell phone, who told him to what office he should go to meet her and her partners.

  At the end of the meeting Cristian took the woman by the arm and led her through the halls of the building to make sure that they were not being followed.

  As they returned in a cab to the hotel Cristian told the woman his findings, and showed photos of Zoubaida´s persecutors.

  “I have no idea who they are, I've never seen them.” And after a few moments of silence she added. “As soon as we arrive at the hotel I will be in contact with a man my father knows in New York and whom he fully trusts for security affairs.”

  “Who is he?”

  “His name is Malik. He was born not on Chad but in the Central African Republic. He was a persecuted politician whom my father helped to escape to the US and then protected his family in our village until they could meet with Malik in this city. He would give his life for my father if necessary. I´ll ask him to dine with us.”

  They arrived in the restaurant at 7: 30 p.m. and sat at a discreet table, out of the line of sight of the door and windows.

  “Does he know you?” Asked Cristian.

  “Yes. We have met a couple of times. No doubt, we will recognize each other.”

  At that time a formidable looking man entered the local. He was as tall as Cristian but had twice his weight, wide shoulders and lengthy arms, with a round skull and bald head, his skin was as black as Zoubaida´s. The woman made the presentations and explained to Malik the reason for the urgent meeting. The conversation was developed in French and an African patois so Cristian understood very little.

  “Show me your photos.” Malik told the youngster in English, language that they continued talking.

  Malik observed meticulously the photos sliding them into the camera screen one after another, after which he said with certainty.

  “Princess, I know these people. They are extremely dangerous and responsible for countless refugees’ murders. I will take care of them, but it is necessary that you take precautions from now on. I'll call you tonight. Have your luggage prepared.”

  Zoubaida and Cristian were already sleeping when her cell phone rang which she had left purposely turned on.

  “Madame, I am Malik. I apologize for the hour. The men following you will no longer bother you, but I have consulted with my people and you must immediately leave the hotel because they have already located you. You must say to the concierge that you are living town. In an hour I will be waiting at the lobby and bring you to a safe place.”

  Zoubaida and Cristian prepared their luggage at full speed, paid the hotel bills and loomed to the cold New York night. A dark car flashed its lights and approached; Malik was inside and helped loading the bags in the large car trunk.

  “Princess, I have already made hotel reservations for both of you. The place to which we are going is safe but you must remain secluded for a couple of days until we ensure ourselves that there is no one lurking around.”

  The hotel was small, elegant and discreet, located in the Gramercy Park area. They booked in and thanked and bid farewell to Malik. Their room was located on the fifth floor.

  “What is this treatment of Princess?” Required Cristian “Is it not somewhat bombastic?”

  “No, it's actually the title they give me in my village.”

  “You belong to the aristocracy among yours?”

  “Yes, or is that the nobility only occurs among whites?”

  “I did not mean that. I told on the first day that you have a lordly appearance and manners”

  Cristian had lit the TV and at that time they were showing New York firefighters extracting from the East River a car with three black men bodies inside. Each of them had received a bullet in the front. The identity and the nationality of those killed were ignored, and was the incident was attributed to a settling of scores between drug gangs.

  “It is a dark blue Dodge... waits, it´s the dark blue Dodge.” Muttered Cristian shocked.

  Zoubaida removed the remote control of his hands and left it on a table.

  “Make me love like never before; very slowly and gently. I want your hands and lips all over my bo
dy. I want to burn of excitation. And then, only then, you will take me.”

  Cristian toured the splendid body yet not significantly deformed by the pregnancy. He fully met the requirements made by the woman. Although he was unaware of it, while burning with passion in the mating dance Zoubaida was leading him to perform with their bodies a dark African ritual celebrating the extermination of their enemies.

  CHAPTER 3

  For a few days they restricted their movements to the area surrounding Gramercy Park, the neighborhood was quiet and elegant, and its ambience captivated them immediately although they could not enter the square, latticed and with a door for which only residents had key. Malik finally called Zoubaida.

  “Madame, we have controlled the area and it is clear for now. You can cautiously expand your movements but you must avoid all sites where you can be detected. This includes refugee organizations and diplomatic offices, including the UN building.

  “And how shall I carry on my activities? There are many people whose safety and well-being depends on them.”

  “I suggest that you delegated in... your boyfriend as much as possible. As far as we know he has not entered into the radar of our enemies. Anyway, it is important that also he maintains a profile low. We can open the doors of many sites but from now on it will depend on his skill and discretion.”

  “Well, I will speak with him and then confirm his decision to you.”

  Zoubaida had conversed at length with Cristian, and had bluntly explained to him the dangers to which it would be exposed. The young man accepted immediately.

  “I think with your state of pregnancy it is also convenient that you may rest a little more.”

  “Nonsense, just going by the third month. Anyway, I will be working in a small office that we have rented in W4th Avenue, near here. In addition, staying at the hotel I would go crazy. As for you, I think that you should leave your work in the Puerto Rican neighborhood. These new activities are full-time, as you've seen with me.”

  Then disassociated from the Puerto Rican journal Cristian began to loop through the contacts of Zoubaida being introduced on numerous occasions by Malik or some of his partners.