by Ellin Carsta
As if on command, the two teams brought out the long canoes. Each had been dug from a single tree. Luise looked closely at the beautiful figureheads that were decorated with stylized animals and some European-influenced motifs like a cannon, a ship’s bell, or a schnapps bottle—all shimmering in black and gold.
“The canoes and the equipment are the property and inheritance of the families, and the boats have their own names, even personalities. And there are songs about them. But”—Hamza pointed again at the figureheads—“the tangue are very special. They are guarded all year long by a mutatedi, a safekeeper, and only brought out for races. There used to be races between the families more often. But your kaiser wants them to take place only once a year, on the twenty-seventh of January, his birthday. But that hasn’t happened yet.”
Luise and Raimund listened in amazement as they watched the preparations, the brightly clothed canoeists, and the boats themselves.
“Does the winner get a prize?” Raimund asked.
“Not directly. It used to be that seers would use the race to predict the future, and that was an honor for the winning family. But look!” Hamza pointed at the canoes. “It will begin any minute now.” He was standing to Luise’s left, Raimund to her right.
A horn blast signaled the start, and the two crews immediately stabbed their wooden paddles into the water. The boats had no keel and were too heavy to gain speed quickly. As the paddlers swung into a rhythm and paddled harder, the boats moved faster and faster. It became apparent that the blue team was stronger, as their canoe inched farther away from the red boat among shouts from the many hundreds of cheering spectators. In spite of a desperate effort, the red team couldn’t catch up, and shouts of triumph greeted the blue boat and its team.
“I should have put money on it,” said Raimund. “I said earlier the Bele Bele would win.”
“Well, you’ll just have to make do without all that money.”
“Let’s go to the Germans and have a drink,” Raimund suggested.
Luise turned to Hamza.
“I wish you a good evening,” he said. “I will now go to the Duala.”
“Goodbye, Hamza.”
Luise wondered if she would get a chance to talk to him later. She would have asked if he was coming tomorrow morning to their meeting place. She sighed and turned to Raimund. “Love to. Let’s go.”
“Luise, Luise,” Raimund’s mother scolded her. “You must wear something more suitable to an event like this, shouldn’t you?” She looked at Luise’s clothes with disapproval.
“Well,” she replied, “actually, this was the best thing in my wardrobe.”
Raimund laughed loudly.
“I did have the impression that your sister was more partial to the finer things in life” was Raimund’s mother’s reply.
Luise had a rejoinder on the tip of her tongue but didn’t want to aggravate the situation needlessly. She didn’t like Raimund’s parents, but that was no reason to be impolite.
“You’re right. Martha and I are very different when it comes to these matters. She loves beautiful clothes, and I feel comfortable in pants and a blouse.” It sounded conciliatory.
“To each his own.”
“Come on, Luise, let’s go get a drink,” Raimund spoke up.
Luise said goodbye to his mother and went with him. “I don’t think we’ll be the best of friends,” she said, laughing.
“I rather think not,” Raimund laughed, too.
Raimund got some fruit juice, and they clinked glasses. Several young people joined them, and it indeed turned into a jolly evening, though Luise would rather have passed the time with Hamza. She was surprised that her father came as well; he generally avoided such gatherings on account of the constant questioning about Elisabeth. It was getting late when Luise said she’d like to say goodbye and return home, whereupon Raimund immediately asked if he might take her home.
“That won’t be necessary. My father’s here, so I can go back with him.”
Raimund saw Robert was talking with a group of men and having a good time. “It looks like he won’t be leaving soon.”
“I know my father,” Luise countered. “He’s got to get up early tomorrow and won’t be staying long.”
“Why are you so reluctant to be with me?” Raimund attempted to make eye contact.
“Oh, I’m not.” Luise felt very comfortable with herself.
“But you avoid me, and constantly. Doesn’t matter whether I offer to take you home after church or suggest we get together. You didn’t even let me escort you here and came with Hamza instead.”
Luise searched for the right words. “I wouldn’t wish to offend or hurt you, Raimund. I like you. And I’m not avoiding you. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. But I just don’t want . . .”
“You just don’t want me to accompany you regularly.”
“That’s right. I hope you don’t hold it against me for being so direct.”
“Why, no. But I thought we understood each other well. You’re pretty, clever . . .”
“And the selection here in Cameroon is negligible.”
“Well, you got right to the heart of it.”
“You see, that’s my point. I wouldn’t want to be the best among a group of poor choices. That’s not good enough for me.”
“I understand what you’re saying. And to be honest, I don’t want that either. So”—he held out his hand—“friends?”
“Friends.”
Raimund did take Luise home shortly afterward, but she no longer felt uncomfortable about it. Their relationship had been clarified, and she was relieved beyond measure. Their goodbyes were neither forced nor uncertain.
“Goodbye. See you Sunday!”
“Goodbye, Luise. I had a lot of fun today. And now that everything is clear between us, I’d like us to do things together more frequently.”
“We could do that,” Luise replied. “Goodbye for now, Raimund.”
“Good night, Luise.”
Luise went into the house and straight to bed. She lay awake for a while but eventually dropped off to sleep and woke at the usual time. She looked out the window. Would Hamza be waiting at their rendezvous? What did he think about yesterday evening?
She put on her bathrobe, tied up her hair, and crept downstairs as she did every morning. She was nervous when she turned the bend before the tree. Hamza was already there. As she approached, he turned around and smiled.
Chapter Twenty
Hamburg, End of October 1889
Georg paced restlessly back and forth in his office until the boy finally arrived to tell him the ship from Cameroon had just moored at the quay. He was relieved. Karl had sent a third telegram urgently requesting another shipment, but their warehouse was as good as empty. He still had plenty of coffee, but not a single cocoa bean in stock. The Hamburg market had stabilized a little, and if things kept going like that, it would soon make the office a happier place.
Everything had basically gone in his favor. True, his personal situation was anything but straightforward. He’d never have imagined he’d deceive his wife someday. But was it really cheating if he merely got from someone else what he would never get from her? Vera’s condition was neither better nor worse. Elisabeth, however, had become his lover and a dependable partner as well, sacrificing herself for his and the firm’s interest.
Richard had left the villa weeks ago. He’d graduated and was at the university in Heidelberg. Now it was critical to find eligible bachelors from good families for Frederike and Martha, and it was equally important to use these alliances to firm up business contacts. He could safely delegate that task to Elisabeth. She had an exceptional talent for such things and had his complete confidence.
The question of what his life would become crossed his mind more and more frequently. At last he had a woman who supported him and whose ambition surpassed his by far. He desired Elisabeth, especially because she turned out to be an imaginative lover. Even before leaving
the office, he could hardly wait to be back at the villa, though time there would pass agonizingly slowly while Frederike and Martha were awake. But when everybody was in bed, and he should have been sleeping beside Vera, he would sneak over to Elisabeth and let her pamper him.
Yes, he loved that woman. He loved her like a predator loves the smell of blood. He desired her in a way he’d never desired Vera. There was an air of danger about her; she sated her desire with him and then drew out his climax for so long that it was simultaneously torture and delight. From the moment he crept into her bedroom, she was in charge. His experiences with her fascinated him. Did she do similar things with Robert? He could hardly imagine so. Wouldn’t his brother have been happier with her all those years if she’d satisfied him in that way? For Georg, at least, it was fulfillment. He yielded to her at night; during the day she was once again his capable sister-in-law who praised his business skills and took her assignments seriously—and supported him so he could wholeheartedly focus on making money.
He wondered how this could go on if Robert were to come back to Hamburg. Elisabeth and Georg agreed that Robert must not find out about it no matter what. A divorce would harm the family and the business, so it must be avoided at all costs. On top of that, Georg couldn’t even begin to imagine Robert’s reaction if he discovered the manner in which he’d been betrayed.
Georg put on his coat and left the office for the harbor. He walked slowly, reflecting on the previous night and the conversation he’d had that morning. The ambitious young man who had come to see him intended to start up a coffee shop in Hamburg modeled on the Viennese café. It was to feature baked delicacies, especially chocolate ones. He wanted to collaborate with Peter Hansen & Sons. Though Georg had his doubts that the young man could achieve his plans, he’d assured him of their cooperation. After all, the business could only win.
There was music coming from somewhere, and it accompanied his steps until he’d reached the harbor quarter. It was odd, but his personal situation imbued him not with the fear of being discovered, but rather with strength and the self-confidence that he could accomplish anything he put his mind to. But what was to happen to Vera? Her bad days were now strung together like pearls on a string. She hardly left her room, no longer took meals with the family, and essentially had contact with only Anna, who saw to it that Vera ate something regularly. Georg didn’t care anymore. His feelings for her were extinguished; it was Elisabeth he wanted.
The October sun blinded him, though an icy wind was blowing. It was too cold for the season; winter appeared to be arriving earlier that year. But oh well, they were North Germans after all. So he flipped up his collar and braved the cold. He observed with satisfaction the goodly number of sacks bearing the label Peter Hansen & Sons that were being piled on the quay, one after another. Some of the cargo was for others, but the lion’s share was his.
The captain and some of the crew were disembarking. Georg had known Rupert Gerlach since he’d been a boatswain, and had followed his career right up to his captain’s hat.
“Georg!” the captain shouted. “I’ve got a letter for you from your brother!”
“Rupert, welcome home!”
They shook hands, and the captain handed him several letters. “And some more for the family.”
“Thank you. Did you have a good voyage?”
“An old sea dog like me? I’m unflappable, come what may. But I’m looking forward to a few nights in Sankt Pauli before going back out.”
“Take care of yourself, Rupert.” Georg put the letters in his coat pocket and nodded at the captain.
“Good luck with the business, Georg!”
The captain tamped some tobacco into his pipe and stuck it in his mouth without lighting it. Then he strolled off toward Sankt Pauli.
“Should I ask Mother if she’d like to come downstairs and listen?” Frederike offered. They were sitting around the table shortly before dinner. Georg had summoned Elisabeth, Martha, and Frederike to a reading of Robert’s letter.
“You’re welcome to ask, Frederike. But I don’t know if she’s strong enough,” Georg replied.
Frederike stood up and pushed her chair back in. “Excuse me for a minute. And don’t begin without me.”
“Of course we will wait,” Elisabeth assured her.
She wasn’t gone long before she walked through the door, shaking her head sorrowfully. “Mother won’t be coming,” she reported, disappointment showing on her face.
Georg waited for his daughter to sit down before he read the letter:
Cameroon, September 27, 1889
Dear family,
Luise and I are doing really well. As you have seen, we were able to bring in another excellent harvest and will continue doing so for the next several weeks. There was a fire in the adjacent forest, but our plantation was unscathed. Malambuku said the fruits had protected the beans, and he was absolutely right.
We’ve gotten used to life here. Harvest time is arduous and yet fulfilling. We work hard and understand more and more what is essential for working a plantation. The natives say that Mount Cameroon—they call it Fako—is threatening to erupt. But we’re not in any danger. The distance the lava would have to travel to reach us is too great.
Meanwhile we’re learning the local language better and better, but I have to admit that we’re not half as capable as Hamza, Malambuku’s son. He’s learned to speak our language fluently, and almost without mistakes, so that you might think he’d learned it at an early age.
Life here is simple, but Luise and I are happy. She’s sitting beside me and sends her greetings. She’ll write you shortly, but at the moment she’s busy with the harvest.
We’ve discussed possibly spending Christmas in Hamburg, and we hope very much that you will be pleased with the thought. In any case we have to wait to see if everything keeps on going smoothly so we won’t risk the possibility of having lower yields while we’re away.
These words will reach you at the end of October, but we’ll let you know in our next letter if you can include us in your Christmas plans.
We hope you’re happy and healthy, and we’re looking forward to hearing from you soon.
Fond wishes from
Robert and Luise
Georg laid the letter on the table in front of him.
“Mother, did you hear that?” Martha exclaimed enthusiastically. “They want to come home for Christmas!”
“That is not yet decided,” Elisabeth responded coolly.
Georg and Elisabeth’s exchange of glances betrayed their concern.
Martha seemed disappointed. “Aren’t you happy they’re coming?”
“Please stop being ridiculous, Martha,” Elisabeth said, as if giving her a slap on the wrist.
Anna opened the sliding door. “If sir, madame, and Fräulein Martha and Frederike are ready, might I serve dinner?”
“Yes, Anna, please do,” Georg answered.
The housekeeper nodded, disappeared, and returned with their dinner.
“Has my wife been given her dinner yet?” Georg inquired.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.”
Not much was said over dinner. Frederike told her father about an afternoon tea to which Elisabeth had taken her and Martha. Georg only half listened with an occasional nod of feigned interest. But his mind was elsewhere. Robert intended to come home for Christmas, which would put his affair with Elisabeth to the test. He could only hope their visit would be brief and that Robert would return to Cameroon immediately after the holidays.
Cameroon, End of October 1889
Robert was surprised when a ship brought him a letter. The first shipment of beans had just arrived in Hamburg. The letter would certainly not be a response to his latest one. The family must have written him this letter before that, which both delighted and unsettled him. He hoped that nothing terrible had happened.
He opened the envelope with the familiar printed words: Peter Hansen & Sons. Coffee Merchants since 1
850. He didn’t realize right away that it was an old envelope, because “coffee” was crossed out. He could not have been more taken aback when he saw that Vera and not Georg had written him:
Hamburg, September 21, 1889
Dear Robert,
I am appealing to you from the depths of despair since nobody else can help me. If you receive this letter, it is because Anna, that faithful soul, helped me smuggle it out of the house and took it in person to a ship bound for Cameroon.
What I must tell you will be an awful shock. It’s about Elisabeth and Georg. I hardly know how to say this because it’s so incredible and repulsive that words fail me. But the long and short of it is your wife has become my husband’s lover!
I know this must shock you terribly. It did me when Anna told me, and I later watched them several times when they were together. I was at a loss for what to do, so I’ve done nothing until now. Because—Robert, I hope you don’t think I’m mad!—I believe they are trying to poison me!
I had been ill for a long time, so the doctor I consulted at Elisabeth’s urging prescribed a sleeping drug. But very soon after, I became sluggish all the time and was hardly myself. I suspect that Georg and Elisabeth have mixed something with my food along with my prescribed medication. Even after I stopped taking it, I felt feeble and tired and could only sleep. Ever since Anna began to throw out the meals Elisabeth brought me and make me new ones, I’ve been feeling better.
But I dread what might happen if Georg and Elisabeth find out that I’m onto them. I fear for my life, Robert, quite apart from the pain of their adultery and the terrible scandal this affair means for us. And they’ve managed to turn the children against me, so now I’m absolutely alone except for my faithful Anna.
There’s only one way to clean up this terrible business. Please come and take your wife away from here! She has no right to destroy our family. She and Georg disgust me most deeply. They are adulterers, and if my suspicions are correct—and everything points toward it—they are making an attempt on my life!
