by Ellin Carsta
“Frau Therese Hansen,” she murmured.
Karl neatly hung his clothes up on hangers and climbed into bed beside her. “Good night, Therese,” he said, but she was already in a deep, deep sleep. He rolled onto his side and was likewise soon asleep.
“Are you mad at me?”
Karl had just opened his eyes and needed a moment to orient himself. Therese had brought him a cup of coffee. Karl sat up. “Thank you.” He took a sip. “Why would I be mad at you?”
“Because I was tipsy.”
“Tipsy, eh? That you were—hours before we went home. By the end you were hopelessly drunk.” Karl grinned broadly.
“Don’t tease me. I’m ashamed enough as it is. I don’t understand how it happened. Everything seemed fine in the café, but the moment we left . . .” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not even sure how I got here.”
“Well, with me. With your loving husband, who even managed to carry you across the threshold.”
“And I didn’t even properly celebrate our wedding night with you.” She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe it herself.
“What?” He looked at her in horror. “You don’t remember?”
Therese was wide-eyed. “But did we . . . I mean, I . . . of course . . . uh, it’s gradually coming back.”
Karl laughed loudly, almost spilling his coffee. “No, we didn’t,” he made it clear. “It was a little joke.”
“You are a bad man.” She gave him a playful slap on the arm. “Don’t ever tease me like that, Karl Hansen!”
“Oh, Therese.” He put his coffee aside. “Don’t give it a thought. Everything’s wonderful. I think we had a perfect wedding, and our marriage certainly won’t suffer if we consummate it a bit later.” He took her in his arms. “We’re the same today as we were yesterday at this time. Let’s laugh together and have fun and not take anything so terribly seriously. That’s not for us.”
“I’m so happy.” She pulled out of his embrace and looked at him intently. “And I love you.”
“I love you, too, Therese.”
They shared a tender kiss, which became more passionate, urgent. But suddenly Karl broke it off.
“Still, my dear wife, we have to get up so we can get to work on time.”
“Oh?” she asked, disappointed. “I thought we could . . .” She left the sentence unfinished.
He looked at his watch and shook his head. “I’ve got to be at our new office in half an hour.”
“I should have taken the opportunity last night,” she said, getting to her feet.
“We have many, many nights,” Karl responded, getting up and giving her another kiss. “At least I hope you won’t be drunk every night.”
“Karl Hansen! Go clean yourself up right now!” She acted angry, but was smiling. “And then get to the kitchen—I’ve made breakfast. If time is short, then take something with you.” She tossed her hair and left the room.
Karl gazed after her. No doubt about it: he loved that woman!
“Will these windows ever get clean?” Karl took a step back to study the facade of his new office building.
“Sure, but we haven’t gotten to it yet,” Martin explained; he was a friend helping out with the renovations. “We’ve just done the rough work and wanted to finish the painting next.”
“I’ll take care of it myself, then.”
“May I help?” Therese had come up behind him unnoticed. “Hello, Martin.”
“Nice to see you, Therese.”
Karl brightened up at once. “Therese.” He gave her a kiss. “What brings you here? Have you closed the café already?”
“No, not yet. I just wanted to look in. Frieda can manage for a while by herself. How are things going?”
“There are a thousand little things. The rough work is almost finished. So we can see that we’re making progress. But there’s always something and then something else, and I think we’ll never really be done.”
“That’s how it was at the café. And I’m still not finished. But it doesn’t matter, because nobody other than me knows what still has to be done.”
“You’re a ray of sunshine, did you know that?” He gave her another kiss.
“Are you hungry? I brought some pastries,” she said, pointing to the basket she carried.
“Your husband is absolutely right, you are a ray of sunshine, Therese. I’m starved.”
Therese held out the basket. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” Martin dug in with delight.
“That’s sweet of you. But I don’t want you to overexert yourself with all this extra work.”
“Do I look fragile to you?” she said incredulously. “I may not be tall or robust, but I can do the work of five men, believe me.”
“Oh, I believe you.”
Therese hugged her husband, said goodbye to Martin, and had them both promise to share the pastries with the workers inside the building. She stepped lightly out the door.
As promised, she returned two hours later when Karl was up a ladder, busily cleaning windows.
“You’re doing it wrong,” she called up to him. “You’ll never get them clean like that.”
“What am I not doing right?”
“You’re rubbing in circles and making streaks.”
“And you can do it better?”
“Absolutely! Come down, and I’ll show you.”
Karl came down off the ladder and handed her the rag.
She shook her head. “How can you expect to clean glass with a dirty cloth?”
He gawked at her.
“Exactly. Let me show you.”
She went inside to the large sink with a pump, where a few months ago fabrics were cleaned. She took a piece of soap and rubbed it into the rag until it foamed. She rinsed the cloth again and again until the soap was gone, then poured a little vinegar on it. She filled a pail half full with water, added a dash of vinegar, picked up some dry cloths and went back outside.
“Now I’ll show you how to do it.” She handed Karl the pail and climbed the ladder. After cleaning the first three upper windows, she climbed down to rinse out the rag. “Well? What do you say?”
“How did you do it? I scrubbed and scrubbed and didn’t see any difference.”
“I work magic,” she said with a peal of her bell-like laughter.
Shortly after Therese’s arrival, the three men working inside had called it a day, but only one of them could come back over the next few days. Karl didn’t anticipate finishing the renovation quickly; he hoped more of his friends would have time for it over the weekend.
Therese and Karl worked for another five hours. On the way home, exhausted, they could barely lift their feet; they made it home, but were too tired to eat. So they quickly washed the dirt off and fell into bed, dog-tired. Neither had the slightest thought of anything more.
They did nothing but work on the renovations for the next two weeks. Therese became worried that her husband really didn’t want to take her in his arms; she only hoped that it would change once the office was open. After all, they were married. But for now, it felt as though they were merely living in a shared apartment and were still the good friends they’d always been. Therese tried to curb her impatience, but she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she wasn’t pretty enough for her husband.
Chapter Thirteen
Cameroon, End of April 1889
Finally! Luise could hardly wait for the ship to drop anchor and the little boats to take her and her father to land. The voyage had seemed longer than their previous trips. Maybe it was because she felt the need to divert her father from his worries during the journey. Apparently he felt the same way; they’d never talked so much as during those few weeks on board the ship. At the same time, they prudently left the subject of Elisabeth off limits.
That she would miss Martha, she knew already, although her sister hadn’t been particularly kind to her in Hamburg. It was something about home that made her different, more petulant. Luise was sure t
hat Martha would tire of it soon and ask Uncle Georg for passage to Cameroon—he and her father had arranged for that possibility. Georg would also ensure that an adult accompany Martha and keep an eye on her during the voyage.
When they sailed into Victoria Bay, Luise immediately recognized Hamza, who, along with some other Duala, was watching for them. Her heart skipped a beat. She was home at last; everything would be good again. Luise had wondered many times, just before falling asleep, what it was going to be like to live without her mother. She’d listened to her inner self intently to find the least hint of sadness about it. But try as she might, she just didn’t feel that way.
Luise waved at Hamza as they caught sight of each other. He waved back, and she even thought she saw his broad grin at that distance. He was paddling one of the bright boats and helped Luise into it.
“Hamza!” Robert clapped him on the shoulder. “How nice you’ve come to meet us.”
“I’m so glad to see you, Hamza,” Luise said. “How did you know we’d be arriving today?”
“I came here often and waited.” He beamed at her.
Luise didn’t ask how many days he’d done this. She was just glad to see him again. “I’m happy to be home at last,” she said.
“And home is happy that Luise is here again,” Hamza responded. Then he craned his neck and looked around. “Your mother and sister not with you?”
“No, they’ll be coming later,” she said tersely.
“Did anything special happen at the plantation? Was there any trouble while we were away?” Robert inquired.
“There was a big rain. A lot of water.”
“Was there any damage to the cocoa trees?”
Hamza shook his head. “The beans were very happy about the water. Only the bad ones are gone. The good ones still as strong as ever.”
Robert wasn’t quite sure how to interpret his words and felt a little uneasy.
When they reached the beach, Hamza helped Luise out of the boat.
“I’d rather walk than be carried, Father. Is that all right?”
“Well, yes.” Robert hesitated. “If Hamza’s escorting you back, I may ride on ahead . . .”
Luise noticed he was worried. “Of course. Do go on ahead.”
“Fine.” Robert walked up to the horses. He had learned enough Duala to make himself understood, which in this case wasn’t necessary, because one of the men had selected a horse for him as soon as he’d arrived.
Hamza made sure the bearers would take Robert’s and Luise’s luggage to the plantation. Then Hamza and Luise started out together.
“Your German has improved,” Luise said as they walked together.
“Thank you, Luise,” Hamza said with a broad grin. “I keep hearing your voice in my head and speak the words after you.”
“Really improved.”
“Was it nice in your homeland?”
Luise sighed. “It was nice, but it’s not my homeland anymore,” she said pensively.
Hamza gave her a quizzical look.
“You know,” she continued, “everything in Hamburg’s foreign to me now. It’s all so dark and heavy. I don’t know how to describe it.”
“Heavy? Did you have to work hard?”
“No, I don’t mean it that way.” She thought for a few seconds. “I’ve shown you my room at the farmhouse, haven’t I?”
“Yes. Like the room.”
“It would be better if you say, ‘I find something nice,’ and not, ‘Finds something nice.’”
“I understand. I”—he pointed to his chest—“like the room.”
“Exactly.” She smiled at him. “You remember my little desk?”
“Yes.”
“It’s white and has one drawer. I could easily pick it up.”
He nodded.
“Now I have another desk in Hamburg. It’s made of dark wood with three heavy drawers on each side. I couldn’t move it a bit even if I wanted to. And that’s exactly the way it is with all the things in my homeland. Everything looks dark and heavy, while here it’s light and bright. It’s warm here, cold there.” She rubbed her arms. “I froze there all day long. And do you know what strikes me just now about Hamburg?”
“No, what?”
“Nobody sings.” Luise started to hum. “We do that here all the time, if we’re working or relaxing. We sing and hum and move to a rhythm. Almost nobody sings there, and they all make a face like this.” She put on a scowl and looked at Hamza.
Hamza laughed. “You are not so . . .”—he searched for the right word—“pretty when you do that.”
“And otherwise I am?”
Hamza looked astonished. “You are the prettiest woman I ever see.”
“I have ever seen,” she corrected him.
“I have ever seen,” Hamza repeated.
“Thank you.” She smiled at him again. “Hamza?”
“Yes, Luise?”
“Would you sing something for me?”
He looked at her sideways and started humming. Luise modified her pace. Still walking steadily, she moved to the rhythm of his humming, and then she started skipping. She spun around, spread her arms, and turned in a circle a few more times. She reverted to walking straight ahead but continued to follow his beat.
“I feel so free here, Hamza.”
He stopped humming. “What do you mean by free, Luise?”
“It’s hard to describe. You know the way you feel when you run too fast and can hardly breathe?”
Hamza nodded.
“It’s tight here.” She laid her hand on her chest. “That’s how I felt in Hamburg. There was this pressure, like I couldn’t get enough air.”
“Then it is good you are here again,” Hamza said. “There is air all around here. You can breathe, Luise. I will look out for you.”
“Yes, I know that. Thank you, Hamza.”
He hummed some more, then sang a song Luise had heard during harvest time. She hummed and sang along and was sorry when they came to where the road branched off to the plantation. She would have liked to go on humming and singing and dancing with him all day. She looked at the house that welcomed her, bright and friendly in the sunlight. She was back home. Finally!
She was mostly at her father’s side during the following days. On Sunday they had to face questions from the German churchgoers about Elisabeth’s and Martha’s whereabouts. The official version was that they would stay in Hamburg for a while because of important matters regarding Martha’s schooling, but they would come after it was sorted out. That Elisabeth would never again set foot in Cameroon could always be explained later. The rest was no one else’s concern.
Another thing had caught the interest of the local Germans a great deal more, anyway: there had been raids that were attributed to the Bantu. Until then, it had just been the theft of goods, but many Germans were worried it might not stop there. Felicitas Leffers, Raimund’s mother, feared that people who once thought relations with the natives were quite simple would soon suffer the consequences of their mistake. There was a general consensus among the Germans that an end must be put to these raids at once.
After church, Robert was monosyllabic on the way back to the plantation.
Luise couldn’t tell if he was concerned or angered at the derogatory way the other Germans spoke about the natives.
It was after the second harvest, so everybody had less to do. Hamza helped Luise construct a pen for the rabbits, where they could run around, find some shade, and cool off in a little watering hole.
“What do you know about the Bantu?” Luise asked as they pounded a post into the ground.
“We are Bantu,” Hamza answered.
Luise straightened up. “But I thought you were Duala?”
Hamza thought for a moment. “You are German.”
“Yes.”
“And where your homeland is, you are Hamburg.”
“I am from Hamburg, yes.”
“I am Duala. And I am Bantu.”
Luise c
ouldn’t quite follow.
Hamza picked up a stick and drew a small face in the sand.
“That is Hamza.” He drew a circle around it. “Hamza is Duala together with the others here.” Then he made a circle around it all before scratching a few more faces in the sand. “That is the Bakoko tribe.” He circled it again and drew more heads inside it. “That is Mabea tribe.” He dragged the stick around all the heads in a large circle. “Duala, Bakoko, Mabea, all are Bantu.”
“I understand,” Luise said. “I am from Hamburg. But there are people from Berlin, Frankfurt, Munich . . . and we all are Germans.”
Hamza’s face lit up. “Yes, exactly.”
Luise went back to the posts. “Then the Germans are absolutely wrong. They made it sound like the Bantu were a separate tribe. They are said to have carried out raids.”
Hamza shook his head. “The men who did steal do not belong to a tribe anymore. They were Oroko until the tribe chief throw them out.”
“Until the tribe’s chief threw them out.”
Hamza repeated her words.
“I understand. I’ll talk to my father about this. I think the Germans have a totally wrong idea.”
“I do not like the men who did that,” Hamza said. “My father says they are bad for the Duala, and everybody. They have not . . . I do not know the word . . . they do not help the tribe.”
“You mean they don’t feel associated with it?”
Hamza thought about whether her words could express what he was trying to say. “Associated,” he repeated. “Every one of them only takes things he needs himself. Not for others.”
“Sounds like us Germans,” Luise remarked with a shake of her head.
Hamza didn’t know what she meant, so continued, “Your father must tell the other Germans that the Duala do not like these men, too.”
“I will, Hamza, I promise.”
It was already dusk by the time they’d finished their work. Luise was satisfied and looking forward to putting Caesar and his still-unnamed companions into the pen. She wanted to help Hamza carry the cage, but he said no and went to get it himself. When they’d moved the rabbits into the pen, the animals quickly crept into their shelter, sizing up their new home. Luise and Hamza waited a little before deciding to leave the rabbits in peace and return to the farmhouse.
