‘You are insulting Islam because you are insulting all religions. You have just made that very clear.’
‘Well, you have me on a technicality there, but if you’d suffered an alternative form of child abuse and been baptised a Catholic, say, rather than having been recruited to the cause of Islam, you’d be getting upset that I was insulting Catholicism…’
‘Child abuse!’
‘How can pressganging children into something they can’t possibly understand and then lumbering them with one or other form of nonsense while they’re still infants be anything other than child abuse?’
‘What’s “pressganging”?’
‘It’s what our missionaries did and what your lot did as well. And if you don’t understand what I mean, then let me just tell you that with pressganging, once you’re in, it’s almost impossible to get out.’
Ghassan glared at Dan. There was real hate there, but also incomprehension. He was obviously finding it impossible to come to terms with how this weak and defenceless creature before him could take up such an antagonistic position in such a precarious situation. Did he not know how much danger he was in already? Did he not know that he could get himself killed? And did he not know that he should not exacerbate his predicament by opening his mouth again? Clearly not, because that is exactly what he did.
‘Why don’t you argue your case?’ started Dan. ‘Why do you just throw insults? Well, I’ll tell you why. It’s because you have no argument. No rational argument. You just have a conviction or a “faith” or some sort of unwarranted sense of superiority, and with your human capacity for self-delusion that’s all you need. Reason doesn’t get a look-in, does it? And if there’s no reason, there’s no legitimate defence. Instead you just resort to calling me a bastard…’
‘You talk shit,’ proclaimed Ghassan, ‘because you are a shit.…’
‘There you go again. Just insults. And you just cannot grasp that all religions are indefensible and have nothing but a negative impact on humanity. An enormous negative impact…’
‘Shut up,’ advised Ghassan.
But Dan didn’t shut up. He wanted to upset Ghassan’s day just a little bit more.
‘Some scientists have recently identified something called “moral licensing” – of which news might not have reached you yet out here in the forest. But anyway, what this moral licensing is all about is the tendency of people to use something “good” to justify something “bad”, often without even realising they’re doing it. So you religious types come to believe that you’ve done something good just by being good adherents to your particular religion, and that this then gives you the licence to do something bad.
‘Yes. Some of your fellow believers even think they’re so good that it’s quite OK for them to go off and kill people. Even if these people have done them no harm and haven’t even insulted their religion. They think nothing about going off and blowing them up.’
That hit home. It got all three of them in the one shot. Dan had his eyes fixed on Ghassan, but he could sense that both Fadi and Shafeek were looking at their leader and waiting for him to make a response. Initially he failed to make any response at all. He just looked very unsure of himself, and Dan thought he could even detect a hint of fear in his eyes. It was just what Dan had wanted.
Ghassan finally managed to get some words out of his mouth. They probably didn’t impress his two underlings.
‘Your fever must be worse. You talk only rubbish.’
He then got to his feet and went over to the fridge. He opened it and took out another can of beer, at the same time giving an order to Fadi.
‘Take our guest to his room, Fadi. I don’t think he’s well.’
Dan rose from his seat in readiness to be escorted back to his cabin. He felt a little unsteady on his feet, but quite secure enough in his mind to make a parting statement to his hosts.
‘Gentlemen,’ he began, ‘I feel I have been a little discourteous this evening. You have shown me hospitality and I have reciprocated with only complaint and offence. I therefore apologise unreservedly – but not for my views on the stupidity and barbarity of religions, which I know are indisputable. And may I now bid you goodnight.’
He ended this address with a smile and then turned to move towards the door. Nobody returned his goodnight wishes, but Fadi joined him immediately and they both walked out into the night and back towards his cabin. When he had been locked in there, he began to relish his elation. It had, he thought, been a splendid evening. Albeit he very much doubted that his hosts would invite him again. Ever.
thirty-five
He woke before it was light. He realised immediately that he felt terrible, and so terrible that he doubted he could get out of bed. But he needed to. He needed to pee – desperately. So he eased himself into a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the bed. That was when he registered that he was still fully clothed. He must have collapsed the previous evening without bothering to undress. But that hardly mattered. What mattered now was dragging himself to the loo and dealing with the immediate pressing business.
He stood up and harnessed an impending forward slump to stagger forward very unsteadily, but with just enough momentum to deliver him to the loo. There he managed to do what he needed to do before tottering to the wash basin, where he immediately vomited. It was like some bad morning from his youth, he thought, the sort of morning that comes after experimenting with lager, whisky and crème de menthe and is accompanied with a promise to oneself that one will never drink too much alcohol ever again, or at least not until the next time. However, he knew very well that this was on no student learning curve. Instead he was experiencing the intensifying symptoms of a serious disease and they would only get worse. And that was why he thought he would retire not to his bed once again but instead to the sunken bath near the grille. It had the advantage of being next to the wash basin and loo and, if it came to it, he could probably crawl to these facilities rather than risking mechanical injuries to his body by climbing off and then back onto a bed. Apart from anything else, it would also provide him with a better view of the outside world than that which he could manage from his elevated berth.
So, as the sun began to flood his scruffy cabin with the light of a new tropical day, Dan was propped up in the sunken bath scanning the little slice of Gabon that was visible without. Initially there was little to see. There were a few bird movements in the trees that encircled the lodge, but without the assistance of a pair of binoculars, these birds were just too far away to identify – or to relish. But then some more birds arrived, a whole flock of them, and they began to settle at the edge of the trees. They were unmistakable because they were African grey parrots – birds who, as their name suggests, are predominantly grey but, as their name does not suggest, are also irresistibly attractive.
That is why one of their biggest threats, Dan reminded himself, is from the pet trade. It seems that “bird lovers” are still stupid and selfish enough not to admit to themselves that their choice of a grey parrot as a “companion” is threatening the very existence of this bird in the wild. It is also condemning thousands of their number to death as they fail to survive the process of being brought to market from the depths of a forest. It was, of course, just another example of the myopia of mankind and its callous disregard for other creatures in satisfying its own selfish demands.
Dan started to giggle. Here he was, feeling liked a slightly animated cadaver, wracked with pain, and all he could do when presented with the magical sight of a flock of grey parrots at dawn was to indulge in a gloomy consideration of their fate. And, as he very well knew, he could do nothing about their fate. No more than he could do anything about his own. So wasn’t it about time he shed that melancholic gown once and for all and focused instead on savouring whatever delights presented themselves over the next few hours?
He did take his own advice, but it was d
ifficult. And it wasn’t until he saw another bird landing on the top of a tree that he was really able to replace anguish with pleasure – and fascination. Because this was a vulture and, moreover, what might genuinely be described as a handsome vulture. It was predominantly white with black on its wings and tail, but it had none of the acute baldness and exaggerated features about the head that characterises other breeds of vulture and that earns them the status of “just plain ugly”. On the contrary, this palm-nut vulture was more like an eagle than a “conventional” vulture, and as its profile was accentuated by the low morning sun, Dan thought it was one of the most beautiful birds he had ever seen. It didn’t look pretty, but it definitely looked elegant and not a little imposing. The sight of it was quite enough to distract him entirely – and to begin to make him wonder whether it was here for the parrots.
Palm-nut vultures, unlike most of their cousins, do not feed off carcasses and the like, but instead mainly on the fruit of oil palms – as their names suggests. However, they do supplement their diet with creatures such as locusts and crabs and they are not unknown to take the occasional grey parrot. So had this guy arrived for an early parrot breakfast? Dan became captivated by its presence and by the thought of how it might take a parrot. There were, after all, scores of them still around and conveniently situated on the ground just below where the vulture had chosen to perch.
He – or she – must have been full or in no mood for a confrontation with a burly parrot. Because, after twenty minutes of perching, it stretched out its wings and took off – but away from the parrots and into the depths of the forest. The parrots had been left to go about their business and Dan had been left with a minor sense of relief. Whatever torment and mayhem might overtake this lodge in the near future, it wouldn’t involve the suffering of any of those splendid grey parrots.
At this point Dan didn’t start to giggle again, but he did start to smile. He was bird-watching! From a sunken bath and while feeling like shit, and very probably destined to feel a great deal shittier very soon – if his Lebanese hosts didn’t just kill him some time later today. And on top of that, he had just found some real comfort in observing what might possibly be interpreted as a stay of execution granted by a bird of prey – if one was either ignorant or irrational. Well, he told himself, he wasn’t ignorant, so maybe some irrationality was now creeping in. And that wouldn’t be surprising. After all, as well as his catalogue of pains, Dan was now more feverish than ever. It was why he decided to switch on the taps in the sunken bath and bathe himself with cold water – while still fully clothed. And maybe that was irrational as well.
It was as he was doing this that Fadi appeared with a bottle of water and a lump of bread. Dan hadn’t even heard him letting himself in through the grille, and although he said a few words as he threw the bottle and the bread onto Dan’s bed, Dan didn’t hear what they were. And it didn’t matter. Dan was now a condemned prisoner, and all that was happening was that he was being treated as a condemned prisoner. That suited him fine. Especially if it meant he would be left alone – to his bird watching and his thoughts.
As the morning wore on and the bird life retreated into the forest, it was more of the latter than the former, and Dan found himself thinking about any number of things. He wondered, for some time, how Svetlana was getting on. Whether she had broken any of her long fingernails yet – or her sugardaddy’s nose. Had she not been able to resist a physical assault on Bruce, the architect of her “trial by jungle”, who must, thought Dan, have been so naïve to expose a plastic woman to a genuinely real experience? And what of Mike? Was he even still in the Congo? And if he was, what were his duties now, now that he had let loose his little lapdog of war? Oh, and would he be worried about Dan or just professionally detached, capable of being dispassionate about his charge once his charge had been released?
Dan hoped he might still be thinking about him, that he would never forget the funny middle-aged curmudgeon whom he had known for only a few days – in just the same way that Dan would never forget his beloved Kim. Those two relationships were hardly comparable in any way, but a bond had been formed between Dan and Mike, and bonds, whether forged with a little-known companion over just a few days or with a soulmate for life over many years, should not, he believed, be set aside lightly. Nor should his memory of Kim…
As time went on, it was thoughts of her that filled his mind. Not thoughts of how she was robbed of life and how he was robbed of the love of his life, but of how she was when she was very much alive, when his whole existence was a shared existence – and when that existence was so much more than just living. He had known her for over thirty years, and had laughed with her, cried with her and, of course, slept with her during all that time. There were just so many memories, and so much to fill his mind now that his mind craved her companionship and wanted nothing more than to be with her, if only through the agency of recollection. So he ultimately became consumed by reflections of their time together, by thoughts of when they were both alive and both one – and both absurdly in love. Indeed, he was only dragged back to the reality of his present circumstances when Ghassan arrived, armed with another bottle of water, another chunk of bread – and a handful of blunt questions. The first concerned Dan’s health.
‘You had malaria before?’ he asked.
Dan shook his head.
‘Well, if you want to stay alive, you’d better eat something. You know, like some of that “non-halal” bread, for example.’
He was now pointing to the bed. On it was the bread he’d brought, right next to the bread Fadi had brought earlier. Dan had eaten nothing. Nor had he touched the water that Fadi had brought.
‘I couldn’t give a shit whether you live or die,’ continued the principal gaoler, ‘but you might, and you must know we have no medication. Your only hope is getting out of this place. And to do that, it will be very helpful if you stay alive.’
‘Very thoughtful of you,’ responded Dan in almost a whisper. ‘I must let TripAdvisor know that the management of this lodge is very solicitous, even if it doesn’t like to engage in debates…’
Dan was still lying in the sunken bath, with Ghassan towering above him. Had he been more accessible, Ghassan would probably have struck him. Instead, the brute settled on a well-aimed spit. It hit Dan on his right cheek and dribbled down his neck. It didn’t, however, have its desired effect. Dan just regarded it as a fitting response to his own culinary embellishment of the previous day – and he smiled. This reaction wasn’t received well.
‘You fucking shit!’ shouted Ghassan, and then he posed his second question.
‘Are you fucking mad? You come here. You shit on our hospitality. You insult us and you insult our religion. And you seem to ignore that we’re the only passport you’ve got…’
‘Maybe I don’t much like you,’ interrupted Dan.
‘Fuck. You really are mad. And it’s not just the fever. I should just fucking leave you…’
‘But you came for a reason,’ observed Dan. ‘And not to enquire about my health. So why don’t you…’
This time it was Ghassan interrupting – with his third question.
‘What do you know about our comms going down?’
‘Eh?’
‘Fuck it. You know what I’m talking about. I’m talking about our not being able to speak to anybody outside this fucking shithole. Our not being able to call in a chopper. And the more I think about it, the more I think that you coming here and our getting stuck here are in some way connected.’
‘Well,’ responded Dan, wearing on his face a bigger smile than ever, ‘that just demonstrates that thinking, in the wrong sort of hands, can lead to all sorts of trouble. If I were you, I’d give it up. That way you won’t come to any more stupid conclusions.’
It was inevitable and very sudden. Almost before Dan had finished proffering his advice, Ghassan was in the huge sunken bath with him, punch
ing him about the head while at the same time trying not to slip over on its water-slicked floor.
Dan fell to one side, and Ghassan settled for a bout of hyperventilation in place of continued thumping, and then he put his final question to a half-conscious Dan before he left him alone.
‘Are all you atheist fuckers this fucking stupid, or are you something special, somebody who’s worked on it for years?’
Dan didn’t answer. He was quickly becoming fully unconscious and already unaware of Ghassan’s presence. So Ghassan made a few final grunts, spat at Dan one last time, and left him to his fate.
– o –
Fadi could tell him in the morning whether their guest had made it through the night or died in the night. Not that he’d be bothered one way or the other. After all, people like Dan were worthless. And fucking arrogant and fucking smart-arsed. And so fucking sure of themselves…
And then he changed his mind. He wasn’t, he decided, not bothered. No. He hoped that in the morning, Fadi would find him dead.
thirty-six
Fadi didn’t arrive to check for signs of life until about ten. When he did, he found Dan back on his bed. Somehow his guest must have managed to drag himself out of the bath and back onto his berth, and he was now lying on it with his head propped up against its headboard – and he was grinning.
Fadi observed this through the grille. He didn’t open the grille and he hadn’t brought with him any food or any water. It confirmed what Dan had suspected: that they had given up on him and were now just waiting for him to die without going to the trouble of actually killing him. Fadi was no doubt here just to discover whether death had yet arrived, and the look of disappointment on his face when he’d discovered it hadn’t made Dan’s grin widen just a little bit more. It pleased him that on top of everything else he was visiting on his horrible hosts, he was also providing them with an unsettling irritation. Maybe it would be enough to encourage another visit, maybe this time from Ghassan, and to expedite his passing and so remove the irritation. He would have to wait and see. Now that Fadi had disappeared to make his report, he had little else to do other than puzzle out how he had got back on this bed and why he was still alive.
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