by Ellin Carsta
“And the local Germans?” Vera wanted to know.
“Very diverse. One can get along fine with any of them. We have no complaints.”
“Martha has gotten to know a young man there,” Elisabeth announced with some pride. “His father is in the kaiser’s service, if you must know.”
“Really?” Vera appeared most interested.
Martha nodded happily and blushed. “His name’s Raimund.” She said nothing more, but the look she gave Frederike foreshadowed a more detailed report later.
“And you, Luise? How are things with you?” Vera asked, turning to her other niece.
“Luise is only interested in cocoa beans,” said Martha disparagingly.
Luise was annoyed but held back a sharp retort. Though Martha and she had actually gotten along well in Cameroon, at home she was transformed into the same old Martha. A disappointment for Luise.
“Luise was terrific in getting used to life in Cameroon,” Robert said. “She even helps out with the work and knows every single step in extracting the beans.”
“All of it is most unbecoming for a young girl from a good family,” Elisabeth interjected.
“Well, if Luise has helped so much with the work and understands cocoa beans so well, then we owe her a debt of gratitude,” Georg declared. “We’ve earned enough in the last few months to put the Hansen family back on its feet. If it keeps up like this, our financial worries will be a thing of the past. And will be for a long time.”
Eyes lowered, Luise said, “The work is fun.” It sounded defensive.
“Joy in your work is the key to success,” Georg said, “as our father used to say, right, Robert?”
“I’ll drink to that.” Robert raised a glass, and everyone else followed. “To joy and success!”
“To joy and success!”
Georg cast a smile all around. Then he stood up. “A letter from Karl came yesterday. We correspond frequently. I informed him that you were coming home on the next ship and would stay for several days. I’ll fetch the letter.” Georg returned, letter in hand, and passed it on to Robert.
“Would you like to read it to us?”
“Glad to.” Robert unfolded the letter.
Dear family,
I hope that Robert, Elisabeth, and family have arrived home safely by the time this letter reaches you. Welcome back to the homeland, dear ones! I so wanted to be in Hamburg for a few days, too, to see you again. But my work prevents me at this time, unfortunately.
Word of mouth seems to have spread about the excellence of our cocoa beans around all Vienna. As I have already telegraphed Georg, I will need a new shipment to be able to meet the high demand. There is an office available to lease, though I’m a little taken aback by the size of the building. It was used to store textiles, and there’s plenty of space, but it’s not in the best condition. On the other hand, the rent is low, and I’ve made some friends here who will help with the improvements. So we’re creating storage space and also a salesroom at the front of the building to sell beans in small quantities. The front windows make everything very bright and friendly. I think it will be a jewel, and I’ll do everything I can to make it one of the best businesses in the area. When we are ready I’ll write in the hope that you’ll be able to come to Vienna some day and see it for yourselves. I can hardly wait for that day.
And something else has happened that you absolutely must know. Therese, the café owner we met on our first visit, has been an indispensable help to me and become a vital part of my life. And for that reason—you will have seen this coming—I have asked her to be my wife. I am the happiest man in the world because Therese said yes.
The wedding will be a modest one until our whole family manages to come and share the real celebration of that day. Therese is looking forward to getting to know all of you. Maybe we can celebrate the event in a few months, before the next harvest time? If that won’t be possible, sometime next year is good, too.
Please work this out among yourselves and suggest some dates.
I send you warm greetings.
Karl
Robert put down the letter. “I don’t believe it. Karl’s getting married?”
“We’re all so happy for him,” Georg said. “Who would have thought he’d have such good luck in Vienna so soon? Perhaps it was fate that he had to get away from here to meet the woman of his heart.”
“You talking about fate? I don’t know you anymore!” Vera stared at her husband in amazement.
“Ah, I can still surprise you after all these years.” He clasped her hand.
And so they ate together, sharing their laughter, and it seemed as if everyone in the family was enjoying the reunion. But Luise kept looking around the room. She couldn’t describe her feelings and found it extremely confusing. Somehow she felt out of place, as if she weren’t part of this anymore. Her old home had become strange to her.
Chapter Eleven
Hamburg, March 1889
Georg and Robert enjoyed their time together. The brothers felt closer than they had in a long time, perhaps more than ever before. It was a joy for Robert to be in the office daily, to go through the inventory with Georg, to review the books, and to forge plans for the future. He became conscious of how much he’d missed interacting with a partner. He did, to be sure, discuss with Malambuku the state of the harvest, how much the different sections of the plantation would yield, and how much could be sent to Germany on the next ship. But that was different. In Cameroon he was the sango, the master, and Malambuku was the go-between for the Hansen family and the Duala people. And even though he appreciated and respected Malambuku, they couldn’t be equal partners, considering not the least their quintessential differences in cultures and mentalities. Being with Georg in the office created a very different sense of partnership for Robert.
One day they looked in on Herr Palm at the bank. Palm was sincerely delighted the brothers had come, despite the workload on his desk, and asked Robert how he liked life in Cameroon. Afterward, Georg and Robert went for a stroll along Hamburg’s streets, looking at newly opened stores and enjoying their time together.
“I’d really prefer to have you stay,” Georg mused as they meandered along.
“Right now I feel the same way. Why did we never take time to do this before? Or can you recall spending time like this when we both lived in Hamburg?”
Georg shook his head. “No, not a single occasion. We probably didn’t appreciate each other enough.”
Robert nodded thoughtfully. “Please tell me honestly: Are things going well?”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, it’s understandable that since Father died, and we were faced with all those problems, you’d be tense, on edge. Happened to me, too. But since then the financial pressure has let up and selling the villa isn’t a threat, I feel more relaxed, less tense. But I wonder if things aren’t actually getting any better for you.”
Georg thought about that. “Have you ever wondered about the meaning?”
“What meaning?”
“The meaning of our life, the meaning that Mother had to die such a painful death, Father’s death, business worries. Our own existence and actions.”
Robert thought for a few seconds. “You always were too serious, you know. You think too much.”
“I wish I could change. But there are days when I ask myself if that’s really all there is. Father worked hard his whole life and gave his all so we could grow up respectably and be safe. And in the end . . .” He didn’t finish the sentence, but Robert had a good idea of what it would have been.
“Do you know what the Duala think?”
“No.”
“They don’t think about the future the way we do. Malambuku has great difficulty in answering my questions about, say, planning. He doesn’t understand why we give it so much thought. The Duala live in the here and now. Their people don’t quarrel over yesterday the way we do. After all, that’s done and gone. And they don’t spend so much ti
me worrying about the future either. They have an almost unshakable belief in the good and are puzzled if other people don’t. Do you know why they even accept us in their country at all and help us with the harvest?”
“I suppose because of the treaties of protection.”
“No.” Robert shook his head. “I don’t believe Malambuku would obey what a tribal chief signed years ago without exactly knowing what it meant. No, they don’t regard us as conquerors; they don’t think we’ve taken something from them. That’s a big advantage.”
“But now the land belongs to us, the land that used to be theirs.”
“Not in the Duala’s way of thinking. Land belongs to nobody. We Germans came—and so did the English, French, and Belgians—and took the fruits growing there. That’s exactly what they themselves had always done—nothing to object to there. But we trade and exchange goods with them. Which is exactly what the wages we pay mean to them. They barter. They exchange money for things they need. They regard us as men who—exactly like them—cultivate the land. And we must see to it that they get something for it. That’s basically how the Duala see it. An interesting way of thinking, isn’t it?”
“Sounds enticing. Sometimes I’d like to let go of everything, too.”
“That’s the very thing I’ve learned during my months in Cameroon,” Robert continued earnestly. “I’m seeing the world through different eyes. Do you know what fascinates me the most?”
“What?”
“There’s no envy. At least not on our plantation. When we go to church on Sunday and meet with other Germans afterward, I notice women comparing clothes or jewelry. Or men who show off their medals and flaunt diamonds in their tiepins. But when I go back to the plantation, all that melts away. Malambuku reports on what’s been happening and whether the fencing has to be repaired to keep the chickens in. That’s it. No entitlement, no jealousy, no striving to get ahead, or trying to be better or richer—or at the very least to appear to be so. Simply existing, living, and working.”
“If you keep talking like that, I’ll pack my bags and go with you.”
“You’re most welcome to join us.”
“I think it’s the feeling of inadequacy that I can’t stand. I always believe I’ve never done enough, not sold enough, not provided enough to do right by everybody.”
“And will anything ever be enough?”
Georg raised his shoulders and lowered them slowly.
“No, I’m serious,” Robert kept at it. “Think about it. When is enough enough? Our two goals were not to have to sell the villa and to pay off the loan. And we got there. After that the goal was to stabilize our finances and revive the business. And we did it again. And now?”
“Well, let’s stay the course until we’ve paid Meyerdierks fully for the plantation, and then secure our incomes.”
“Yes, Georg, we’ll stay the course. We’ll pay Meyerdierks, buy our ladies beautiful clothes, guarantee our children a secure future. And let’s suppose we’ve achieved all that. We’re back at the point I was asking you: When is enough enough?”
Georg shrugged. “I’m afraid I can’t answer your question.”
“Well, I can. Because I really don’t want to have more and more, and some more after that. I’d like to be happy instead, to enjoy a sunset with a good glass of wine, and to be able to be happy with all my heart. I’d like to laugh, Georg, just laugh on impulse. I’d like good conversation, like to see that other people are happy and that I played a part in it.”
“Father would say you’re a dreamer.”
“He was a realist, of course, but I wonder if he was happy with what he had.”
They walked on for a while without saying anything. Then Georg spoke up. “Even as a little boy, I envied you, did you know that?”
“You—me?”
Georg nodded. “Can you remember the fight we had with the Schulze brothers?”
“Dieter and Kurt, yes, I remember. How old were we?”
“I must have been about nine and you seven, I think. They were bullies, and Father always said we should simply ignore them and stay out of their way.”
Robert chuckled. “I remember.”
“I did what he said. Even when they took my ball away, I caved in. But you didn’t.”
Robert laughed heartily. “I got into a bit of trouble with Father because of it.” He patted his rear end. “I think I can still feel that caning even today.”
“I admired you for getting my ball back and going after them. Good heavens, how Dieter looked afterward! He had that black eye for a long time.”
“I think he never looked better.” Robert laughed. “But if it was so hard for you, why didn’t you defend yourself?”
Georg shrugged. “Because Mother and Father said it wouldn’t be proper. They expected that I, their eldest son, should rise above such things and maintain my composure.”
“They told me something along those lines, too. They said, ‘A Hansen does not do such things.’” Robert wagged a forefinger and laughed again. “Worked beautifully in my case.”
“But that’s exactly my point. You just did not listen to them. I was never that brave.”
“It wasn’t bravery, it was defiance,” Robert summed it up. “I fought tooth and nail not to be like you.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Because I knew I could never meet your level, let alone be better than you. Everything you did was perfect. Your pants were less wrinkled, you stood up straighter, your whole appearance when you were a child shouted out that you’d be head of the family someday. I could never be like you, and didn’t want to, anyway. It was the easy way out for me to be the little brother who’d have his wild ideas knocked out of him at some point.”
“The head of the family,” Georg repeated Robert’s words dreamily. “I’ve the feeling that I’ve completely botched it.”
“But why?”
“You packed your bags and were decisive and confident when you took your family to Cameroon, fearlessly took over a plantation, though you didn’t have the foggiest idea about cocoa beans. And revenues from them are higher than they ever were in the coffee business—Karl’s having great success selling them in Vienna. Now he’s building up his own business, and I’m certain he’ll make it work.” He sighed. “Don’t get me wrong—I don’t begrudge you two your accomplishments. I’ve gained considerably from them, after all. But I feel consigned to the role of spectator, like a parasite enjoying a good life at your expense.”
Robert stopped in his tracks. “What on earth are you talking about? You’re running the business here in Hamburg.”
Georg also stopped, but then walked slowly on, so Robert had to catch up to him. “Yes, I run the office. But I’m not able to close the big deals.”
Robert put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Just for now, my dear brother. The good citizens of Hamburg are stolid, you know that. They aren’t frivolous or eager about trying something new. Give it time. Chocolate will become just as popular as coffee is now, you’ll see.”
“I hope you’ll be proven right.”
“I will be.”
They’d found their way back to the office.
“Do you know what? Let’s tell Fräulein Denker we’re finished for the day and go find a tavern and celebrate my last day in Hamburg together!”
“In the middle of the day?” Georg looked at him skeptically.
“Yes, Georg, in the middle of the day. Now push yourself!”
Georg dithered for a moment before opening the door and going up to the secretary’s desk.
“Fräulein Denker, my brother and I won’t be coming back to the office today,” he announced.
“Have you an appointment somewhere else?” she asked in surprise, immediately leafing through her calendar. “There’s nothing written in.”
Robert came up to the desk and stood beside his brother. “You’re right, Fräulein Denker, there’s nothing on the calendar. Hold the fort and enjoy a very fine day.”
He grabbed Georg by the arm and took him outside. “You wanted to backtrack—I was watching!”
“This damn conscience, I can’t get rid of it!” he shook his head.
“We’ll drown it in beer, one hundred percent of it,” Robert stated.
They both doffed their hats with a friendly hello as a man passed them.
“We wish you a good day’s work,” Robert said with a half bow.
Then the two smiled as they went to the entertainment section of town—the main square in Sankt Pauli.
The day they were to leave finally arrived, and Luise crept out of bed before five to get ready. She tiptoed out so as not to wake Martha. She recalled with longing her rising at the crack of dawn in Cameroon and sneaking outside to watch the sunrise. She didn’t even have to look out the window to know it wouldn’t be worth it in the Hamburg fog. She wondered where she could go at that hour without disturbing anybody. Then she scurried across the hallway and went into Uncle Georg’s study, silently closing the door behind her.
She thought she could still smell her grandfather’s scent in the room, though it was really the leather furniture that had been there all her life. She walked over to her grandfather’s beloved armchair and curled up in it like a cat. Just the way she had when she’d ask to stay there with him, if she promised not to bother him while he was working. She closed her eyes and imagined it was again the way it used to be.
She breathed deeply in and out and thought she heard the fountain pen in her grandfather’s hand, scratching on paper. Luise smiled. He was there, very near; she mustn’t open her eyes, so that everything would stay as it was. She saw him before her, large and imposing, in a dark-blue suit, matching vest, and a white shirt and wearing a cravat fastened with a pearl stickpin. As always when working, he furrowed his brow, scrutinizing the documents in front of him. Then he would make a note of something and place the paper on a pile to his right, open the next envelope, and read more of his correspondence.
He once told Luise that whatever she did in life she was to hold on to one thing: do not put off a day’s work until the next day. Under no circumstances, no matter how long the work was. “Postponitis” he called it and said far too many people had made it a habit. Luise lay still for a while, meditating on her grandfather and dreaming about the years of her childhood. When she heard the first sounds from the kitchen, she sighed deeply. Anna was starting to work, and gradually everyone in the house would begin their day. She’d have preferred to stay there a bit longer exploring her feelings. She reluctantly opened her eyes, stretched, and stood up. She walked to the door, leaned her forehead against the wood. “Goodbye, Grandfather,” she whispered, and pressed down on the latch.
