The breezes were fresh and clean, and it felt good
to have the salt water spraying over his body and face
as he sailed ahead of the wind on a southern reach all
the way to the breakwater dock beside the Italian Beach
Club. He thought about going on to the beach to look
for Liliana, but decided to let the anticipation of
spending the evening with her build up. He came about,
then tacked all the way back up to the north end of the
reef before finally beaching the little boat in front of
his own hut. The tennis and sailing left him feeling
fit and relaxed, and it was with great expectation that
he looked forward to the evening with Liliana and his
other guests.
The party that evening was not to fulfill any diplomatic
representation responsibilities, but was planned largely
for entertainment. Dan had invited people who were all
intelligent, cheerful, and lighthearted, and without any
conscious awareness on his part when he extended the
invitations, all of them, with the exception of Rudy and
Barbara Shumway, were about the same age as Liliana.
Rudy and Barbara were old British colonials near
Dan's age. Before independence in Kenya Rudy had been a
farmer on a large farm he owned near lake Naivasha, a few miles outside Nairobi. He had served in the Kenya
Security Forces during the Mau-Mau emergency, but with
the coming of independence he decided that during this
long, bitter struggle he might have worn out his welcome
in Kenya, so they sold out and returned to England. One
winter is all that it took for Rudy and Barbara to
realize that they were no longer suited to the dreadful
climate, nor the rigors of life in the British Isles -
they had become too accustomed to the mild Kenya
weather, the relaxed pace of colonial living and a house
full of servants. When the Ministry of Overseas
Development offered Rudy the job of running an
experimental demonstration farm in Afgoi, some thirty
miles outside Mogadishu on the Shebeli River, as a part
of the United Kingdom's foreign aid program to Somalia,
both Rudy and Barbara jumped at the opportunity to
return to Africa.
Jean Pierre Lecomte was a First Secretary in the
French Embassy, and like Dan, he was a sailor. Jean
owned a small lightning class sloop, and Dan
occasionally sailed with him beyond the reef which he
could not do with his little Sunfish. Jean Pierre was
an ex-paratroop officer in the French Army, and had only
recently turned to diplomacy. Dan suspected that he had
"other" duties in the embassy beyond his stated responsibilities as the Communications Officer since he
travelled frequently to Addis Ababa and Djibouti where
the French had a battalion of their Foreign Legion
garrisoned. Jean's wife, Marie-Claude was a tall, long
legged, decorative blond woman from the Cote d'Azur.
She was fond of topless sunbathing, and taught French in
the International School.
Also included were Dave and Martha Winters from the
American Embassy. Dave was a frequent tennis partner of
Dan's, and the CIA Chief of Station, but, of course,
worked under a diplomatic cover as an embassy Political
Officer. Dave was very unlike a lot of his flamboyant,
and at times reckless hip shooter colleagues in the
Agency. Dave was a low-key, scholarly and professorial
intelligence professional, and a true craftsman when it
came to putting together biographical profiles on
important people in the host government. His wife
Martha was trained as a psychologist, but she was happy
and content to be a mother and homemaker in Mogadishu.
Dan called upon her frequently to help in counseling
husbands and wives who were having marital difficulties,
and Dan rather guessed that Martha was a tremendous help
to Dave - that she, with her training in psychology, was
able to give him some valuable feedback from her own
observations about the people they met in the course of their diplomatic socializing.
Finally, Dan included General Aden Ossman, the
Commandant of the Somali National Police, who was not
only a charming, well educated and handsome Somali, he
was becoming the most valuable contact the embassy had
in the Government of Somalia. Aden was a bachelor, but
he came to the party accompanied by his Sister Khadija,
a well educated, Europeanized Somali woman who was also
a language teacher.
The Ossman family was from the northern part of
Somalia that had been the old British Protectorate of
British Somaliland, and they had made a considerable
amount of money in commerce and banking. Aden had been
an Officer in the old colonial police force where he had
been hand picked and groomed for his subsequent post-independence roll as Commandant of the Somali National
Police. He had been sent By the Brits to Sandhurst, the
British West Point; Khadija had been educated in the
States at Radcliffe where she majored in English with
emphasis on teaching English as a second language.
Liliana was the first to arrive, and after Dan
inspected her new car, they sat on the terrace and
sipped Campari and soda. She was dressed in a stunning
strapless pale blue sun dress that showed off her
shoulders and breasts, and brightened her pale green eyes. It was very pleasant to sit alone with her in the
soft light of the late afternoon with just the sound of
the sea in the fresh cool breeze that was blowing off
the Indian Ocean, and for a moment Dan wished that the
others were not coming.
However, once the rest of the guests arrived the
party was relaxed and informal. The three other
European women were all dressed in comfortable, loose
fitting, strapless sun dresses, and the men with the
exception of General Ossman all wore shorts, knee
stockings and sport shirts. The General wore a white,
Italian styled, linen suit, his usual civilian attire,
and his sister, Khadija, was dressed in a raw silk dira,
the typical ankle length dress for Somali women, that
uncharacteristic of traditional Muslim women's clothing
left her shoulder's exposed. She nevertheless yielded
to Muslim tradition by keeping a light weight stole
pulled loosely over her, but occasionally let it drop to
reveal her smooth honey colored shoulders and back.
The conversation was lively and roamed over a wide
variety of subjects ranging from sailing and tennis,
farming in Afgoi, and the French Foreign Legion, to the
problems created by the artificial colonial boundaries
in Africa. At one point it focused on Khadija's
interest and her work inside the government in reducing the still unwritten Somali language to writing. There
was a debate going on among the various political
factions and the education professionals as to whether
they should adopt the Arabic or Latin Alphabet.
Marie-Claude urged Khadija to press for Latin. "I
hope someday to learn to speak Somali," Marie-Claude
said, "and I know that I would be discouraged if I had
to learn the Arabic Alphabet. It's too complicated."
"I agree entirely, with Marie-Claude," Liliana
said. "If you really want to reach out to Europe and
the West, you must choose the Latin alphabet."
"That's a very keen observation, Liliana," General
Ossman said. "Since we Somalis are almost all Muslims,
and the first step in our education is learning to read
the Koran, the mulas and religious conservatives, who do
not really want close ties to the West, are pressing for
use of the Arabic alphabet. They would prefer that we
turn to the East toward Saudi Arabia."
"Either Arabic or Latin is better than the Cyrillic
alphabet," Rudy Shumway chimed in. "I hope nobody is
considering that alternative."
General Ossman laughed and turned to his sister.
"Have you heard anyone propose using the Russian
alphabet, Khadija?"
"No," Khadija replied and laughed along with the rest. "But I would be surprised if someone does not
propose it before the debate is finished."
Dan's French trained cook, Abdulahi, did a
magnificent job of preparing and presenting the food for
the buffet supper that started with a cold Vichyssoise,
which he served while the guests were still seated and
talking. For the buffet he had cold lobster, which was
abundant in Somalia, shrimp, cold roasted and sliced
Kenya capon, a spicy tomato aspic, and a variety of raw
vegetables and a crisp green salad which came from Dan's
garden. For desert they had fresh mango and papaya
slices, and a rich creamy mousse au chocolat. After
thick Italian espresso coffee and cognac Dan put on some
tapes of forties and fifties big band dance music, and
they all danced by the light of a three quarter moon
hanging over the sea that lighted the phosphorous in the
waves breaking over the offshore barrier reef.
All of the women were good dancers, but it seemed
to Dan that Liliana was especially light and graceful.
At first she kept herself a "respectable" distance from
him, but as the evening progressed she held herself
closer and by the time he played the last dance, which
was a slow romantic version of "Moonriver," she pressed
her body against Dan and lay her head on his shoulder.
Parties in Mogadishu began and ended early so it was just a little past ten when the last of the other
guests departed. Liliana, however, lingered behind and
she and Dan sat alone under the moon and stars sipping a
last cognac.
"What a lovely party, Dan," Liliana said. "I think
this is the nicest evening I have ever spent. The
people were all delightful, the food was excellent, and
you were a gracious host. I thank you very much for
including me."
"I thank you for coming, Liliana. For me it was
you who made the party a success. You're charming
company and a very graceful dancer, and I especially enjoyed
dancing with you," Dan said.
"That's the first time I have danced in years," she
said. "You have no idea what a difference coming to
Mogadishu has made in my life. In Rome all I ever did
was work, cook, keep house, care for Juliana and visit
my inŠlaws. Here I have time to go to parties, dance,
go to the beach. It's just wonderful, and I love it."
"Don't you get lonely with Carlo being away so
much?" Dan asked.
"Not really. I was more lonely in Rome. Carlo
worked all of the time there, too. He's a workaholic.
He doesn't know how to relax. When he's here in
Mogadishu he goes to the Ministry every day, even on weekends and holidays. I tell you he's a workaholic,"
she said and waved her hand as if to dismiss him from
her thoughts and the conversation.
"Well I enjoy Mogadishu, too," Dan said. "So you
and I have a lot in common. I like the Somalis, and I
enjoy the relaxed pace of life. I sometimes wish I were
making more headway in my diplomatic mission, but I've
learned that sometimes we just have to relax and let
things happen at their own pace. They can't be forced."
"I agree with you completely," she said. "But not
Carlo. He's constantly trying to manipulate people,
places and things to suit his ends. I get weary just
watching him. Say, she said, how would you like to have
some fun? Do something exciting?"
"I'd love to," Dan replied. "What did you have in
mind?"
"Let's take my new car out for a spin on the road
to Afgoi," she said. "It's a beautiful evening and it
will be nice driving across the bush with the wind on
our faces."
"Andiamo," he said. Dan stood up and reached his
hand out to take hers.Gene McCoy Š July 1998
GO TO CHAPTER 10
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Š 1997 ginofso@gte.net
