Sahara

by Oscar Luis Rigiroli

  “There is always an opportunity cost. I am pleased with what I do, but it deprives me of other things that my soul cries out for.”

  “Then the lights, the shining colors and brightness of the position have not seduced you.”

  “I accept it as a liability and a burden. But we are done philosophizing. We haven´t seen each other for almost a month.

  She extended over his pants a long and slender leg, while taking between her hands one of his and slipping it on her thigh. Cristian felt a surge of excitement for his wife and rushed over her.

  A week later the Djalalis returned to their village, including their daughter, grandson and son-in-law. The Princess and her first-born son ensured the future of the dynasty, and were at the top of their success. The reception was triumphant; the people that had recently emerged from the horrors of the civil war and were dedicated to a feverish reconstruction needed these signals of continuity and security and expressed their feelings in a clear and lively way.

  Charfadine had dined alone as she returned from classes at the Faculty, and sat facing the computer as did every night before watching TV. She opened the mail and gave a leap when saw a CrisColombo message in the Inbox. Opened it eagerly and read the single line:

  "I arrive Wednesday Air France 394 - Baires time 7:50. Do not- repeat do not- come to look for me.”

  The girl stroked her growing belly; needing to move to discharge adrenaline she stood up and looked involuntarily her image in the large closet mirror; then she saw her own serene and confident smile. Not for a moment she had doubted.

  EPILOGUE

  Charfadine waited the arrival of her husband with the dinner ready. The small Maxine was sleeping tired by the exercise of her first days in kindergarten. The woman heard the sound of the key in the lock and ran towards the door. Cristian looked tired from the days when you had to stay until eight in the evening in the editorial. He kissed her while he was pulling out his jacket and hung it on the rack. Then they disrobed and showered quickly, so symptoms of stress loosened whilst hose of tiredness exacerbated.

  Charfadine had awakened the girl to dinner together and so that the father could see her at least once a day.

  After dinner they kindled the TV, and going quickly through the local newscasts the woman set the French international channel, to see news that used to bring news of Africa.

  After a long stretch dedicated to French internal politics the news from abroad commenced. The broadcaster reported a meeting in N´Djamena of the Foreign Affairs Ministers of the Sub-Saharan African countries to find a solution to the bloodshed in the Central African Republic. The image showed the opening speech of the Minister of Foreign Affairs and Cooperation of Chad as host of their peers.

  “Watch.” Said Charfadine to the little Maxine while pointing her index finger to the screen. That is aunt Zouby.”

  Mirage

  Images and Delusion

  CHAPTER 1

  Étienne Lefevre reined his camel to slowly climb the high dune that stood before him. Every precaution was important in those times of danger, where irreconcilable opponents were mutually ambushed looking for the physical elimination of the tribesmen perceived as enemies.

  Since the proclamation of the Islamic State of Azawad in 2012 the situation had evolved into an uncontrolled manner, and low intensity warfare at the beginning was escalating into daily massacres between the warring factions. The State of Azawad -not recognized by the international community- was born in northern Mali including the historical and legendary cities of Timbuktu and Gao. It was proclaimed by the alliance of two Tuareg guerrillas were previously active as separate forces until then, the Islamic extremist Ansar Dine and secular MNLA (National Movement for the Liberation of Azawad) acting in a vast territory that occupies the north of the Republic of Mali, the fifth largest country in Africa. The regions of Timbuktu, Gao and Kidal, located primarily in the Sahara desert include two-thirds of the surface of Mali, but only ten percent of its population. Mali, landlocked country in central Africa, has two geographically, culturally and ethnically diverse areas with the great desert to the north Sudan savanna at the south, a relatively fertile area crossed by the Niger River.

  The two Tuareg factions, both with totalitarian conceptions but very different between them, soon fighting over the power structure, taken at the beginning by Islamists of Ansar Dine, which introduced the sharia and the law based on the Koran, a fact soon resisted by the MNLA. Complementing this ethnic, religious and political mix, the branch of Al Qaeda called AQIM, formed by ethnic Arabs and supported from the mountains of Kabylia in southern Algeria were patiently waiting for their chance and finally arrived at Timbuktu to contest the dominance the new state, forming an increasingly explosive cocktail.

  This context explains the precautions that Étienne took to approach the top of the dune in front of him. He dismounted from the camel and left it behind and continued on foot, and then crawling on the sand, hot at that time of the day.

  When he reached the highest point he could not help a smile of self-satisfaction; all his previous cautious approach was justified by what he saw about fifteen hundred feet to his forehead in a wide ravine before the next row of dunes. Two rows each formed by eight Bedouin tents lined a site crowded with artillery pieces and vehicles around which swarmed Arab busy loading trucks, which had their engines running, clearly noting that their departure was imminent. The sun reflected in a thousand metallic sheens, produced mostly by arms.

  Étienne sighed as his tension eased. If he had looked out the top of the dune mounting on his camel, he would have been immediately detected by the sentries that he presumed at the camp. He took his binoculars and carefully studied the situation. Ten trucks, four pieces of artillery and a hundred men completed the war picture. He took his camera with a powerful telephoto lens, and carefully recorded his finding. He still waited an hour and a half to follow the evolution of events, and when he saw the row of vehicles moving he returned to his camel, that was patiently waiting him as the shadows lengthened in the desert.

  When Étienne returned to his tent beneath the shade of some acacias near a source of water that in that season was actually little more than a muddy pit, found Ousmane taking care of dinner. The youth was with him since Étienne had come to Mali from his native Algeria, and served as assistant for all purposes. Ousmane was a survivor of a Songhai tribe village devastated by the Tuaregs years ago in a bloody ethnic conflict. It was he who had taught him the rudiments of the languages ​​of the north, and the customs of the place, which was essential to Étienne to go unnoticed merging as far as possible with the local population. This was particularly difficult by its height and the reddish color of his hair and beard, but he succeeded hiding under heavy Berber outfits.

  In the tent he pulled off some lumps covering his radio, and after a while spent in fruitless attempts he succeeded to communicate with Captain Guerin.

  Hervé Guerin had been his superior during the period when Étienne was part of the French Foreign Legion, and together they had served in Djibouti and Gabon. When at the expiration of his contract Étienne decided not to renew it Guerin unexpectedly offered to work for him in a never clarified employment status. As far as the young man knew, the Captain never been dropped from the Legion, but his functions corresponded rather to some intelligence agency, so that Étienne did not know for sure who ultimately issued the orders he received and who benefited with the dangers he was so often exposed to. He had a hazy belief that he was working to defend the interests of France, but could not be sure of that; in fact, his loyalty was primarily with his former captain and through him to his superiors. Guerin was born in the same region of Normandy as the youth´s parents and had advised them to stay in Algeria when the rest of the pieds-noirs had evacuated the country after independence. Étienne was born and raised there, and was well acquainted with the situation in the Maghreb. Somehow Guerin was not only his current employer but also her mentor and protector.

  Af
ter the contact was established, the radio operator passed him with Guerin, who had just arrived to the communications center.

  “Hey boy, how are you?” He always he addressed Étienne in a somewhat familiar way since their old relationship was known and accepted by the rest of the subordinates. Without waiting for answers to his rhetorical question, he went on.

  “Well, what news do you have today?”

  Étienne gave a detailed description of the movements of men and materials he had witnessed in the methodical and professional manner that Guerin much appreciated.

  “... And apparently moving in a southeasterly direction, presumably towards Gao.”

  “We've already identified other Tuareg and Arab movements converging towards Gao. Well done Étienne.”

  “Mon Capitaine would you like me to follow them at a certain distance?”

  “Non. We will confirm details with satellite data that will be enough for the moment.”

  He paused and continued. “Rather than following them I need you to scroll directly south in the area between Timbuktu and Gao before reaching the River Niger. We are receiving reports of persecution of Bozo tribesmen by the Tuaregs and Arabs.”

  “This is news. Ethnic tensions were always with the Songhai.”

  “Looks like now they are engaged to hunt blacks no matter what their tribe. I fear an ethnic cleansing.”

  Then Guerin gave instructions on next steps. At the end he said.

  “Don't forget to send me the

  pictures you got from the movements of the Arabs.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Moving to the point indicated by Guerin took them two days. The small caravan led by Étienne and Ousmane also included besides the Saharan camels that bore them two baggage camels, carrying the tents, food and water, weapons and communications equipment, all perfectly hidden under blankets to avoid potentially hostile stares .

  Both used chilabas, those typical desert robes that covered them from neck to ankles, and turbans that hid part of their faces.

  As they intentionally avoided the busiest trade routes -in reality mere paths in the sand- they did not find anyone as they moved in this stretch, which was reassuring because they could hardly expect to find a friendly community.

  The landscape was gradually changing from the typical Sahel semi-desert to the Sudanese savannah with acacia groves that were scattered at first but then covered more vast expanses with patches of sand between them.

  Several villages they passed through were deserted, completely deprived of people or animals. Finally they crossed a totally burnt village. Étienne paused to recognize the situation as precisely what Guerin had requested was looking for entrusted evidence of hostilities. Some raptors flitted among the trees behind the village in ruins.

  Ousmane looked questioningly at his companion certainly invaded by the same gloomy feeling that the latter had.

  “Stay here with the camels.” Étienne ordered the boy, as he walked toward the acacias.

  Despite the experiences they had crossed on his way through the life in the Legion and his stay in Africa the sight hit him hard. Tortured and beheaded bodies covering a ravine that ran between the trees; men, women and children mingled in the sinister orgy of blood. Embarrassed Étienne could not take his eyes from the horrible spectacle until he heard a noise behind him. He instinctively pulled the gun from the holster but as he turned he saw Ousmane kneeling on the ground vomiting; The boy despite the order given to him had followed Étienne and had been exposed to the show that his boss had tried to spare. A wave of compassion swept over him, knowing that the family of his assistant had been wiped out in a similar event a few years before, and that he had had witnessed the event. The sorrow was followed by indignation, until he managed to impose his usual self. Meticulously Étienne photographed the macabre spectacle, after which he prepared his communications equipment and contacted the operator within the Legion.

  ”Marcel, is Capitaine Guerin nearby?”

  Given the negative response he added.

  “Tell him to call me immediately, it is urgent!”

  “What happens Étienne? Are you in danger?”

  “No, it is not that.”

  As he interrupted the communication he took his map and geo-location gear to determine the position in which they were more accurately. After a few moments the radio buzzed.

  “Étienne speaks Guerin. What happens?” His voice betrayed an alarm tone.

  The subordinate gave a detailed description of the gruesome discovery, and then supplied the location coordinates. After a moment of silence at the other end of the line Guerin replied.

  “I do not know what village it is, I cannot find it on the map. How many bodies have you found?”

  “Forty-six, including eleven women and seven children.”

  “Merde. Well, send me photos. Continue marching toward the Niger River to see if you find survivors and witnesses.”

  “I´d rather bury the corpses.”

  “Don´t waste any time, for them it makes no difference, while other can succor other living people. Have some food to spare should you find survivors?”

  The two men left the dingy place and walked a couple of hours before they decide to camp for lunch. They wanted to put as much physical and psychological distance with the unfortunate village, that had disappeared without having even a name; a non-place wiped off the face of the Earth by the folly of man.

  As they resumed their way they noticed that the atmosphere was becoming warmer and damper and the greenery of the vicinity increased. Fleetingly they were able to see between the bushes spectral figures scurrying in the presence of strangers.

  “These people are terrified.” Said grimly Ousmane. “They do not want to be seen. They do not expect anything good from other human beings.”

  “I cannot blame them. God only knows what experiences they have been through. If we stop we will only get to alarm them.”

  A mass of vegetation in front alerted them of the vicinity of the River Niger, the only watercourse in that area. An additional half hour march led to the muddy banks of the stream. They saw about twenty people bathing in the river, while others were in the bank engaged in various preparations. The group was made up entirely of women and children. As they saw the newcomers all remained motionless until the youngest children to rush to their mothers for protection against a possible aggression.

  Ousmane raised an arm and spoke in dialect, after what dismounted making his camel kneel in the grass.

  The French were also dropped from the beast, but made sure to keep his distance and let the boy approach the tribesmen and converse with them. After a while he returned, while the women apparently reassured continued their washing tasks.

  “'I've convinced the women that they have nothing to fear from us.” Whispered softly to Étienne. “But they are too scared. They are not coming from the razed village we've seen, but from others more remote. The head of the clan decided that all women and children evacuated the villages for their safeties a week ago and they have been wandering ever since and now are running scarce of food since what they brought exhausted. Do not know what happened to the men of the villages. They are avoiding contact with those who stop by. We took them unaware while bathing.”

  “A neglect that could have cost them their lives.”

  They decided to camp a short distance of the villagers in order to be close enough to provide protection if required without interfering with their activities. At the same time they expected the women to put them on notice should any danger showed up in the watercourse.

  The men unloaded the camels that devoted themselves to drink and graze thus replenishing the water reserves in their bodies after the dehydrating march in the desert. As the shadows lengthened on the riverbanks, they put up the tents, at some three hundred feet of the women who had lit a fire in a gully scarcely visible from afar.

  The two men ate early, as is the custom of the desert. After dinner, while Ousmane cleaned
the dishes they had used, Étienne went for a walk with no apparent direction, but in his heart he knew he wanted to corroborate a fuzzy vision he had hours earlier. He approached the women camp in an indirect fashion so as not to alarm them, smiling at children who approached him with curiosity. The women dodged his eyes but he knew that they carefully followed his movements. He thought that approaching in an elusive way would be suspicious so he moved with determination to the riverbank and from there idly watched the work of the refugees, generally dedicated to camp cleanup and childcare. Then he saw her, also standing at the shore a hundred feet away.

  Tall and slender, about eighteen years old, very dark skin, thin but well-formed, dressing something that resembled an Indonesian sarong down to her ankles but evidencing her feminine silhouette. Her oval face, visible under a sort of turban -really little more than a blue cloth tied around her head- exhibited beautiful features. Dark eyes distant apart, a perfect nose not too wide, a mouth with full lips and white teeth shown by a sort of defiant smile that really was a permanent feature. In a haughty but not hostile gesture the girl stared back at him without fear, unlike the other women of the camp.

  Surprised, Étienne looked down on a momentary outbreak of timidity, but immediately turned to look at her and smiled, knowing that she had won the first encounter. He guessed that she had also marked him earlier when they arrived with Ousmane the river. They both stared at length, in a silent exchange of visual messages without precise content.

  “Truly magnificent.” Étienne muttered to himself. The poverty of her attire did not diminish but emphasized her beauty.

  Suddenly a movement to his right broke the intensity of the moment, so full of suggestion. A robust matron approached Étienne with a determined gesture and without fear, no doubt after having ruled hostile intentions. The woman spoke in French.

  “Do you have some food for us.” Asked with no circumlocutions. “We ended yesterday everything we brought from our village.”