The Somali Air Force had a squadron of MIG 15s, a
Russian made clone of the American F-86, stationed at a
military base on the northwest corner of the Mogadishu
airport complex, and they regularly chose to fly them on
Sunday mornings just before the weekly Alitalia flight
arrived. Dan assumed that their reason for choosing
Sunday for their maneuvers was that they could be
assured of an audience for their little air show since
almost the entire community turned out to meet the
plane, say goodbye to people who were leaving, and greet
new arrivals.
The atmosphere inside the airport building was
colorful, noisy, and entertaining. Amidst the departing
passengers, and the anarchy at the Alitalia counter,
were the suntanned diplomats and expatriates, who
frequently brought bottles of champagne to toast their
friends and wish them a bon voyage. Mixed in, were bare
chested bushmen, nomads and an accumulation of the
general Somali population, who milled to and fro in
cheerful, talkative moods, to witness or participate in
the chaotic, holiday like ambience that prevailed inside
the airport. Others gathered outside on the observation
deck to watch the MIG air show staged by the Somali Air Force, and the landing and take off of the Alitalia DC-8.
There was a more subdued VIP arrival and departure
lounge for high ranking diplomats and Somali government
officials upstairs, and ambassadors who were at the
airport to meet arriving passengers were allowed to pull
their cars onto the apron in front of the building. Dan
frequently went to either the pedestrian, general party
downstairs, or the VIP lounge upstairs, just to
socialize and gossip, but on that Sunday morning when he
went to meet Rita on her return from Kenya, he had
Abukar pull the car on to the tarmac where they parked
behind the silver Lancia sedan belonging to Bruno
Gianini, the Italian Ambassador.
Dan climbed out of his car and walked into the
shade to stand and talk with Bruno while they watched
the MIGs practicing tactical approaches, and touch and
go landings.
"Bon giorno, Bruno, come va?" Dan said and offered
his hand.
"Bene, grazie, Dan" he replied. "Are you meeting
someone?"
"Yes, my wife, Rita, is coming back from a visit to
the game parks in Kenya, and you?" Dan asked.
"Antonio di Paulo's sister, Marlisa, is coming in. We couldn't put her on the Air Force plane since she's a
non-government civilian," he replied and gestured toward
the camouflaged C-130 sitting on the ramp.
Dan looked beyond the Italian military plane, out
toward the runway. "I see the MIGs are starting to land
now. That must mean the Alitalia flight is not far
away," Dan said. "I've noticed over the years that the
MIGs always land just before the Alitalia flight
arrives."
"Yes," Bruno said. "You know why they do that
don't you?"
"No," Dan replied. "Why?"
"Half the MIGs fly without radios in them. The
Russians can't keep them in repair down here in this hot
dusty climate. One morning there was a cloud cover, and
when the captain of the Alitalia plane broke out of the
clouds on his descent into Mogadishu, he nearly had a
mid air collision with a MIG. He landed, and with a
pale face and trembling hands he came directly to the
embassy to tell me about it. He said either the Somalis
get the MIGs on the ground by the time they arrived or
Alitalia wasn't coming in any longer. Alitalia in Rome,
the airline pilot's association, and the Foreign
Ministry all backed him up, and I was instructed to tell
the Somali Government." Bruno looked up to the sky, then out to the runway where a MIG was landing. "They
may not have liked that little bit of colonial
intimidation, but obviously, the Somalis knew that they
needed Alitalia and they agreed. I think the last MIG
just now landed. The DC-8 should be here in about
fifteen minutes."
"That's a good little anecdote, Bruno. Save that
for your memoirs," Dan said and laughed.
There was always a certain electricity in the air
with the arrival of the plane, which was their only link
to the outside world, and Dan felt it when, in just
about fifteen minutes, he heard the high pitched whine
of the jet engines as it came in low out of the north
over the sea. The pilot banked, turned onto his
downwind leg, then banked again to line up for his final
approach into the strong wind that was blowing off the Indian
ocean.
The big plane touched down, raced toward the far
end of the runway, and became wavered and blurred in the
heat waves rising off the tarmac as Dan watched it taxi
back to park beside the C-130. The ground handlers
rolled the ramps in place. Dan got back in the car to
drive across the apron to the stairway beside the front
door through which the first class passengers would
debark. Dan got out of the car and stood at the base of the stairs.
Rita was the first person out the door and she was
dressed in a smart looking khaki safari outfit. She was
a tall, slender woman, eight years younger than Dan, and
she looked very much the part of an eastern
establishment ambassador's lady. She had a fashion
model's flair for dressing. She never looked over
arranged, and the safari outfit that she wore that
morning reflected her subtle ability to make her
clothing appear a part of her and lived in. It did not
have that new, glossy polyester look that you often see
on the safari outfits worn by tourists on their first
visit to Africa. It was soft, faded cotton, and though
well pressed, it had the appearance of having been
through the wringer of several jaunts across the African
bush. She wore the jacket open over a silk, brown and
yellow paisley print, Hermes blouse, and the ends to the
belt were stuffed casually inside the military style
gusset pockets.
She handed her diplomatic passport and luggage
checks to a Somali employee from the General Services
Section of the embassy who would clear her through
customs and immigration. "Hello, Dan," she said, then
kissed him on the cheek.
She looked tanned and rested, but by the smell of her breath Dan knew that she had fortified herself, with
what he guessed were two or three Bloody Marys, for her
return to Mogadishu.
"Welcome back," he said. "You're looking fit and
rested." He took her carry on bag and walked beside her
toward the car where Abukar stood beside the open door.
"Oh, God, I don't see how I could look rested.
Africa is Africa, but I did have a good time. I met
some nice people, and saw a lot of interesting sights.
"Hello, Abukar, nice to see you," she said in a tone of
voice that conveyed bored ennui, then slipped in the
car.
Dan walked to the rear of the car to go to the
other door, and stopped when he met Bruno Gianini who
was escorting an attractive blond woman dressed in a
plain but stylish black dress to his car.
"Dan, I'd like you to meet Antonio di Paulo's
sister, Signorina Marlisa di Paulo. Miss di Paulo, this
is Dan Thornton, the American Ambassador."
"Mr. Ambassador," she said and offered her hand.
"I'm very pleased to meet you, Signorina di Paulo,"
Dan said and took her hand. "But I regret the sad
circumstances for your visit. I knew Antonio well and I
shall miss him. Please accept my condolences."
"Thank you, Mr. Ambassador, you're very kind," she murmured.
"I plan to attend the service at the Cathedral this
evening, so I shall see you soon," Dan said.
"Thank you again, sir," she said and they walked on
to Bruno's Lancia.
As Dan walked around his car to the door on the
opposite side, Dan recalled Liliana telling him that it
had been Antonio di Paulo's sister who had told Carlo of
Maggie Chandler's affair with Antonio. Then he thought
about Liliana's speculation that Carlo might be having a
love affair in Rome. Dan wondered if Marlisa di Paulo
might be Carlo's mistress. She was a very attractive
woman to be unmarried at what Dan guessed was forty, or
so, years old.
"Who was that woman with the Italian Ambassador? I
spotted her on the plane. She's attractive," Rita asked
when Dan slipped in the car.
"Her name is Marlisa di Paulo," Dan replied.
"She's the sister of an Italian banana grower who was
killed in a plane crash last Thursday. He was up at the
residence once or twice, but I don't think you were
here. I think you were on your last visit to Paris or
in Nairobi."
"What was his name?" she asked.
"Antonio di Paulo," Dan answered.
"No, I didn't know him, but I heard about the plane
crash. It was on the news on BBC, and some of the
people on the safari heard it and told me. I'm
surprised there aren't more plane crashes out here. This
is rugged barren country, and I've seen a lot of it in
the last few weeks," she said and stared out the window
as they drove toward the gate and Airport Road.
Turning off Airport Road, the car slowed as Abukar
picked and weaved his way through the traffic in the old
section of Hamar Uin where mud and wattle shambas housed
the poorest of the natives. It was a nerve wracking
experience, even for passengers, to negotiate a car
through the confusion of stray animals, people, donkey
carts carrying five gallon cans of water, tinny, red and
yellow, three-wheeled scooter taxis and overloaded
trucks that crawled along the road.
"God, what a bleak, depressing damned place," Rita
said, and turned away from the window. "I'm glad you're
content to sit down here and vegetate, but it's sure not
for me."
Dan didn't want to get into an argument with Rita
in her first half hour back in Mogadishu, and he should
have let her remark pass. "Rita, I'm not down here to
vegetate," he said. "I'm very active and I enjoy my work. I didn't want to retire, and that dammed law that
requires mandatory retirement at age sixty is crazy.
I'm just coming into my prime, and the fucking Congress
ought to recognize that a man sixty years old still has
a lot to offer in the Foreign Service."
"I'm sure the Congress had good reasons for passing
the law," she said in her flat bored tone, and turned
again to look out the window. "I repeat, this place is
depressing and bleak."
"Yes, it can be bleak," he said with a tone of
resignation and surrender, then changed the subject.
"Greg and Maggie Chandler are being transferred to Rome,
so we'll be having a lot of farewell parties for them."
"I'll bet they're overjoyed. Maggie feels about
like I do when it comes to Mogadishu," she said. "When
are they leaving?"
"Three weeks from today," Dan replied and thought
how wrong she was about Maggie's feelings.
Rita was quiet, in one of her scornful silent
moods, and she didn't speak again until they neared the
embassy.
"Well, I'll go to any parties they have this week,
but on next Sunday I'm leaving for Madrid."
"Madrid," Dan said with surprise. Why Madrid, I
thought you liked Paris?"
"I do like Paris, but I met an interesting American
woman on the safari named Fleur Colton who has a
restored hacienda outside Madrid," Rita said as Abukar
pulled the car up in front of the embassy to drop Dan
off. "She invited me for a visit. She's only going to
be there for two more weeks so I have to leave next
Sunday, thanks to the frequency of the airline flights
in and out of this hell hole. From there I'm going to
Paris and I may go back to the States for a while."
Dan reached to open the door. "Sounds like you've
got a full schedule planned," he said, and he was
pleased that she would be leaving so soon. Fortunately,
Rita had a little money of her own from a family
inheritance, so her sometimes extravagant tastes in
clothes and travel did not put a strain on Dan's modest
Foreign Service salary. Now, if Carlo would just go
back to Rome, Liliana and I could resume our lives
together, he thought. "There's a stack of mail on the
desk in the bedroom. I'll see you tonight."
Abukar had gotten out of the car, and was waiting
until they finished talking to open the door. Dan
started to climb out then said, "By the way, I'll be a
little late getting home. There's a memorial service
for Antonio di Paulo and Mario Bianchi that I'm going
to."
"Mario Bianchi?" she asked.
"Yes he was a First Secretary in the Italian
Embassy. He was killed in the same plane crash. Do you
want to go with me?"
"Not unless I have to," she said. "This place is
depressing enough without attending funerals."
"No need for you to go," he said, kissed her on the
cheek, and got out of the car to enter the embassy.
At exactly two o'clock in the afternoon Dan's
secretary showed Liliana into his office where he was
seated behind his desk going through a stack of incoming
cables.
"Bona sera, Signore Ambasciatore," Liliana said in
her lilting tone that was filled with gay enthusiasm,
and walked to sit in a chair in the corner of the
office.
"Bona sera, Signora Brancusi," Dan replied and
walked around his desk to the chairs. They waited while
Dan's secretary served coffee, and though Dan did not
ever like to compare people, he could not help but
compare Liliana's attitude of cheerful, lightheartedness
to Rita's heavy, bored bitterness. He wondered if
Liliana was light and gay because she was loved and in
love, or whether she was loved and in love because she
was light and gay. When the secretary had placed the coffee cups on the table and pulled the door closed
behind her, both Liliana and Dan stood up to kiss and
embrace one another.
"I have good news," Liliana chirped and sat down in
the chair again. "Carlo is going back to Rome two weeks
from today."
"I have even better news," Dan replied. "Rita is
leaving next Sunday for Madrid." Dan reached for her hand and took
it in his, then looked into her bright green eyes. "I
love you, Liliana."
"Oh, I love you, Dan. I love you so much," she said
and smiled. "What shall we do? Do you want to study
Italian? Do you want to make love, or do you want to
just sit here like me and be love sick? What do you
want?"
"I want to make love to you almost anytime, but I
have some things I want to talk to you about," he said,
and he told her about his plans to try and stick it out
in Mogadishu for the next few months until the
administration changed in Washington. He mentioned to
her that he would have to submit his resignation as
ambassador, and that if the Democrats were to win the
election there was a slim chance that he could be
reappointed. "On the other hand, if the Republicans
win, I don't know what might happen, but I rather doubt that a Republican President would appoint me as his
ambassador. My politics aren't right," he said.
"What ever you want to do is fine with me," she
said. "For the next week I can see you here in the
office. We can make love once in a while, and in a
couple of weeks we'll be back to our old life with just
the two of us. Why don't we just take things one day at
a time, and let life happen to us. It's so much more
exciting to just let life happen, and not try to manage
everything. Nothing ever works out the way we plan it
anyway."
"Liliana, if I said I loved you before, I love you
even more now. Your attitude about life and love is
beautiful, and I feel privileged to even know you, let
alone be your lover," he said and squeezed her hand.
"I feel the same way about you," she replied.
"Yesterday afternoon, when I was all alone," Dan
said, "I went through a whole lot of negative, what if
this or what if that, thoughts and I wanted to tell you
the things I just told you now. I wanted you to know
that I'm not playing games or just having an affair out
of boredom. I'm serous about you and our lives, and my
marriage proposal was sincere."
"I know that, Dan. I'm serious about you, and I
don't want you to think that I'm just having a love affair out of boredom. My acceptance was sincere, and I
love you because I think you are a very special man. A
very kind, considerate, loving and lovable man." She
got out of her chair and leaned over to kiss him, then
sat down again. "Now that we've said all of those
things, let's make plans," she said and laughed. "Does
this university where you're going to get a job teaching have a library?"
"I haven't decided which university I'm going to
grace with my brilliance," he said and laughed along
wit h her. "But all universities have libraries. Why do
ask?"
"Because I want to work, too, and I'm trained as a
librarian. That's really what I studied in school. I
just fell into teaching, but I'd rather be a librarian.
I love books," she replied, then paused and adopted a
teasing, sultry pose. "Or a flamenco dancer."
Dan felt a wave of hopeful expectancy and joy pass
through him, and he laughed. "Then when we get around
to sending out our resumes, we'll just have to make sure
that the school we accept needs a librarian or a
flamenco dancer as well as a history and political
science teacher."
"Ole," Liliana said and held her hands up in front
of her to snap her fingers.
"Let's tighten the focus and shorten the range of
our plans for just a minute," he said. "Are you going
to the memorial service at the Cathedral tonight?"
"Yes," she replied. "Carlo is going, too. You
know he knows Marlisa di Paulo. She worked for a while
in the Ministry of Justice, but now she works for some
lawyer."
"Speaking of Marlisa, did it ever occur to you that
Carlo could be having a love affair with her?" Dan
asked.
"No, why?" she replied with a curious look on her
face.
"Do you know her?" he asked.
"No, I've never met her. Do you?" she asked.
"I met her at the airport this morning. She's a
very attractive woman to still be single, and for some
reason the thought occurred to me that she might be
Carlo's mistress," he said.
"God, wouldn't that be something. It would sure
explain a lot of Carlo's strange behavior. I'll keep an
eye on how the two of them act together," she said, then
waved her hand as if to dismiss him. "I don't really
care if he's having a love affair with Marlisa or
anybody else. I'm too interested in my love affair, our
love affair. Are you going to the service?"
"Yes," he replied. "If it seems convenient we'll
talk, but if not, don't think I'm avoiding you. I can
see very clearly that the only reason we have for
secrecy is to avoid problems that might interfere with
our plans. I feel very sure and confident about the two
of us, now."
"So do I," she said and stood up. "I better go. I
still have a class with the British Ambassador."
Dan took her in his arms and kissed her. She
pressed against him. "I could make love to you right
now," he said.
"I could too," she replied. "But I think I better
go to Sir Geoffrey." She kissed Dan again and walked
toward the door. "Ciao," she said and blew a kiss
before opening the door to leave.
"Give my regards to Sir Geof," Dan said as she
pulled the door open.
