started,” she says.
Jeebleh says, “I am sure he knows that was not how the piracy started.”
“Will you visit Puntland to write about the piracy there?” Cambara asks Malik.
“I am interested in writing about every aspect that touches on the lives of Somalis,” Malik says. “The civil war and its repercussions. The Ethiopian invasion. The piracy and who funds it, where they get their intelligence before launching their attacks, how they receive the ransom payments.”
Jeebleh says to Cambara, “I am sure I told you on the phone when we spoke that Ahl, Malik’s older brother, is arriving in Puntland as we speak, to locate Taxliil, his runaway stepson. We believe he’s holed up there with the militants.”
Bile perks up when he hears all this. “You see, my dearest, everything happens for a reason. Illegal fishing in Somali waters and the resultant piracy. The Ethiopian invasion. The American involvement in Somali politics. Al Qaeda’s presence in the peninsula. The Courts and their failings, apparent only to those of us who live in Mogadiscio. Somalis in the diaspora say, ‘But at least they brought peace to the country.’ Those of us who live inside the country and who know better say, ‘At what price?’ I doubt if that has been worth it. After all, the devastation being visited on the country following the Ethiopian invasion could have been avoided. If only!”
Jeebleh’s gaze steadies and focuses on Bile, who is giving him a sharp look, as though urging him to level with him.
“I know that there are two or more sides to every story,” Jeebleh says. Then he surprises even himself by blurting out, “We, too, have had a run-in with the capricious authoritarian nature of the Courts.”
Malik, whose spoon is heaped with food, stops with it midway between his plate and his mouth, and stares at his father-in-law. His nostrils flare, touching off an alarm signal in Jeebleh. Malik is plainly unhappy that Jeebleh has chosen to speak about their encounter with BigBeard.
An uneasy hush descends. Bile purses his lips in self-blame. He says to Malik, “Time I retired.” To Cambara, he adds, “Please don’t get up. Stay with our guests.” And he takes leave of Jeebleh, saying, “See you anon.”
Self-conscious, they fall silent and look away. Bile takes a long time to get to the stairway and much longer to go up the steps one at a time.When he has gone out of sight and she assumes he cannot hear her, Cambara explains, “Bile tires easily.”
Jeebleh is understandably worried that Cambara may one day up and leave, as the younger partner in a couple often does, and he wonders what will become of his friend. He remembers a married couple younger than he and with whom he has been friends for years. The woman, younger than the husband by some ten years, opted out of the marriage just before turning fifty. Soon after, she entered a lesbian relationship, because the thought of a husband demanding sex after her menopause put her off men forever. She explained that she dreaded submitting to her husband’s insatiable advances, and felt it would be easier with other women. Jeebleh never found out if that was the case, as he never dared ask her when they met in the common room at the college where they taught.
No one wants to eat any more. All three get to their feet, and Malik, eager to go on a tour of the city, gathers the plates and takes them to the kitchen. He returns to find Jeebleh chatting to Cambara about his family and, most touchingly, about his granddaughter and how bright-eyed she is. Jeebleh acknowledges Malik with a heartwarming smile.
Cambara says to Malik, “Be on your guard; journalists are under constant threat. There are fifth columnists, some working in cahoots with the religionists and others with foreign forces intent on destabilizing an already destabilized country.”
Jeebleh thinks that Cambara has fallen afoul of the religionists because she is her own woman, unbending in her
Jeebleh says, “I am sure he knows that was not how the piracy started.”
“Will you visit Puntland to write about the piracy there?” Cambara asks Malik.
“I am interested in writing about every aspect that touches on the lives of Somalis,” Malik says. “The civil war and its repercussions. The Ethiopian invasion. The piracy and who funds it, where they get their intelligence before launching their attacks, how they receive the ransom payments.”
Jeebleh says to Cambara, “I am sure I told you on the phone when we spoke that Ahl, Malik’s older brother, is arriving in Puntland as we speak, to locate Taxliil, his runaway stepson. We believe he’s holed up there with the militants.”
Bile perks up when he hears all this. “You see, my dearest, everything happens for a reason. Illegal fishing in Somali waters and the resultant piracy. The Ethiopian invasion. The American involvement in Somali politics. Al Qaeda’s presence in the peninsula. The Courts and their failings, apparent only to those of us who live in Mogadiscio. Somalis in the diaspora say, ‘But at least they brought peace to the country.’ Those of us who live inside the country and who know better say, ‘At what price?’ I doubt if that has been worth it. After all, the devastation being visited on the country following the Ethiopian invasion could have been avoided. If only!”
Jeebleh’s gaze steadies and focuses on Bile, who is giving him a sharp look, as though urging him to level with him.
“I know that there are two or more sides to every story,” Jeebleh says. Then he surprises even himself by blurting out, “We, too, have had a run-in with the capricious authoritarian nature of the Courts.”
Malik, whose spoon is heaped with food, stops with it midway between his plate and his mouth, and stares at his father-in-law. His nostrils flare, touching off an alarm signal in Jeebleh. Malik is plainly unhappy that Jeebleh has chosen to speak about their encounter with BigBeard.
An uneasy hush descends. Bile purses his lips in self-blame. He says to Malik, “Time I retired.” To Cambara, he adds, “Please don’t get up. Stay with our guests.” And he takes leave of Jeebleh, saying, “See you anon.”
Self-conscious, they fall silent and look away. Bile takes a long time to get to the stairway and much longer to go up the steps one at a time.When he has gone out of sight and she assumes he cannot hear her, Cambara explains, “Bile tires easily.”
Jeebleh is understandably worried that Cambara may one day up and leave, as the younger partner in a couple often does, and he wonders what will become of his friend. He remembers a married couple younger than he and with whom he has been friends for years. The woman, younger than the husband by some ten years, opted out of the marriage just before turning fifty. Soon after, she entered a lesbian relationship, because the thought of a husband demanding sex after her menopause put her off men forever. She explained that she dreaded submitting to her husband’s insatiable advances, and felt it would be easier with other women. Jeebleh never found out if that was the case, as he never dared ask her when they met in the common room at the college where they taught.
No one wants to eat any more. All three get to their feet, and Malik, eager to go on a tour of the city, gathers the plates and takes them to the kitchen. He returns to find Jeebleh chatting to Cambara about his family and, most touchingly, about his granddaughter and how bright-eyed she is. Jeebleh acknowledges Malik with a heartwarming smile.
Cambara says to Malik, “Be on your guard; journalists are under constant threat. There are fifth columnists, some working in cahoots with the religionists and others with foreign forces intent on destabilizing an already destabilized country.”
Jeebleh thinks that Cambara has fallen afoul of the religionists because she is her own woman, unbending in her
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