to think about it again.
Just then, the air hostess handed him the lady’s passport, and he saw in the photograph, which was less than a year old, a beautiful young woman who had the same eyes as the woman now looking at him, and he understood that the illness had also stolen her beauty.
He remembered lesson no. 14: Happiness is to be loved for exactly who you are.
And so he smiled at her, because men’s smiles must be something she greatly missed.
HECTOR DOES A BIT OF HISTORY AND GEOGRAPHY
H ER name was Djamila, which happens to mean beautiful, and she came from an equally beautiful country, where people a little older than Hector would have gone on holiday when they were young, because you could smoke weed in the midst of magnificent mountains. The girls would have brought back beautiful fabrics, which they turned into dresses and curtains. (It was a time when dresses and curtains looked very similar.)
Since then, that country had always been at war, at first because it had been invaded by a large neighbouring country that had wanted to create a heaven on earth, except that the inhabitants of the beautiful country didn’t agree with their version of heaven. So the inhabitants had fought for years against the soldiers from the large neighbouring country and the war had become like a festering sore that made the big country very sick. After that, things went from bad to worse for everybody, countless mothers had shed countless tears, the big country had grown as weak as a small country, and Djamila’s country had gone on being at war because some people there also wanted to create heaven on earth. (Be very wary of people who declare that they’re going to create heaven on earth, they almost invariably create hell.) The beautiful country had grown poorer than when Hector was a child. It was getting better now; a large army made up of people from countries all over the world had gone to sort things out (but they didn’t wear shorts because it was too cold) and people had renewed hope.
Except Djamila, who can’t have had much hope, and who was trying to find reasons to have some by studying Hector’s face as he read her medical report written by another doctor, a medical report that, as you’ve guessed, wasn’t very hopeful.
Hector told her that he would look after her until the end of the flight.
He put on his doctorly air and told the air hostess that Djamila needed to be able to stretch out, that it would relieve her headache, and that they must take her to the seat next to his so that he could keep an eye on her. The air hostess called over a very kind steward. The three of them helped Djamila to get up and walk to the other section of the plane. When she stood up Djamila was tall, but she weighed very little.
When she was sitting next to Hector in a very comfortable seat that stretched out almost like a bed, she smiled for the first time, and Hector recognised the Djamila from the passport photograph. He asked her whether she still had a headache, and she said she had, but that being there made her feel better, and that Hector was too kind.
They continued talking. Hector thought that it might help her to forget about her headache, and as he spoke to her he looked at her pupils, the way doctors do.
They were both going to the big country where there were more psychiatrists than anywhere else in the world. Notice that we say ‘more psychiatrists than anywhere else in the world’ but we could just as well say more swimming pools, more Nobel prizewinners, more strategic bombers, more apple pies, more computers, more natural parks, more libraries, more cheer-leaders, more serial killers, more newspapers, more racoons, more of many more things, because it was the country of More, and had been for a long time. No doubt because the people who lived there had left their own countries precisely because they wanted more, especially more freedom. (The only people who hadn’t got more freedom were the
Just then, the air hostess handed him the lady’s passport, and he saw in the photograph, which was less than a year old, a beautiful young woman who had the same eyes as the woman now looking at him, and he understood that the illness had also stolen her beauty.
He remembered lesson no. 14: Happiness is to be loved for exactly who you are.
And so he smiled at her, because men’s smiles must be something she greatly missed.
HECTOR DOES A BIT OF HISTORY AND GEOGRAPHY
H ER name was Djamila, which happens to mean beautiful, and she came from an equally beautiful country, where people a little older than Hector would have gone on holiday when they were young, because you could smoke weed in the midst of magnificent mountains. The girls would have brought back beautiful fabrics, which they turned into dresses and curtains. (It was a time when dresses and curtains looked very similar.)
Since then, that country had always been at war, at first because it had been invaded by a large neighbouring country that had wanted to create a heaven on earth, except that the inhabitants of the beautiful country didn’t agree with their version of heaven. So the inhabitants had fought for years against the soldiers from the large neighbouring country and the war had become like a festering sore that made the big country very sick. After that, things went from bad to worse for everybody, countless mothers had shed countless tears, the big country had grown as weak as a small country, and Djamila’s country had gone on being at war because some people there also wanted to create heaven on earth. (Be very wary of people who declare that they’re going to create heaven on earth, they almost invariably create hell.) The beautiful country had grown poorer than when Hector was a child. It was getting better now; a large army made up of people from countries all over the world had gone to sort things out (but they didn’t wear shorts because it was too cold) and people had renewed hope.
Except Djamila, who can’t have had much hope, and who was trying to find reasons to have some by studying Hector’s face as he read her medical report written by another doctor, a medical report that, as you’ve guessed, wasn’t very hopeful.
Hector told her that he would look after her until the end of the flight.
He put on his doctorly air and told the air hostess that Djamila needed to be able to stretch out, that it would relieve her headache, and that they must take her to the seat next to his so that he could keep an eye on her. The air hostess called over a very kind steward. The three of them helped Djamila to get up and walk to the other section of the plane. When she stood up Djamila was tall, but she weighed very little.
When she was sitting next to Hector in a very comfortable seat that stretched out almost like a bed, she smiled for the first time, and Hector recognised the Djamila from the passport photograph. He asked her whether she still had a headache, and she said she had, but that being there made her feel better, and that Hector was too kind.
They continued talking. Hector thought that it might help her to forget about her headache, and as he spoke to her he looked at her pupils, the way doctors do.
They were both going to the big country where there were more psychiatrists than anywhere else in the world. Notice that we say ‘more psychiatrists than anywhere else in the world’ but we could just as well say more swimming pools, more Nobel prizewinners, more strategic bombers, more apple pies, more computers, more natural parks, more libraries, more cheer-leaders, more serial killers, more newspapers, more racoons, more of many more things, because it was the country of More, and had been for a long time. No doubt because the people who lived there had left their own countries precisely because they wanted more, especially more freedom. (The only people who hadn’t got more freedom were the
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