chance, you’ll want to go through the stalls and buy some souvenirs.”
“We won’t have much time for shopping,” Dan said.
“You should at least go up to the roof. It offers the best view of the Sahara in the city. I could pull over and you could run up to the top.”
“No time,” Dan said.
Bart shot him a curious glance. “What exactly is it that you’re looking for in such a hurry?”
Dan and Atticus caught each other’s eyes. “We’re just curious about the Timbuktu manuscripts,” Dan answered. “But our parents would only give us twenty-four hours to look at them before we have to return to school.”
“So your parents are very strict,” Bart said with a smile. “They would only loan you their private jet for a day.”
“Something like that.”
Bart the babysitter is way too nosy.
Bart pulled up to a building and stopped. “This is the Mamma Haidara Library.” He turned and looked at them. “The Haidaras are old Timbuktu. The collection has been in their family for hundreds of years. They are going to be very suspicious of two American boys asking to see their manuscripts.”
The library was not nearly as nice as the Ahmed Baba Institute. It was surrounded by a six-foot-high wall made of yellow bricks, and the entrance was through an intimidating metal gate painted black.
“Do you know the mom?” Dan asked.
Bart laughed. “
Mamma
does not refer to a mom. It is like a first name. But to answer your question, yes, I know the Haidaras.”
Atticus brightened. “Maybe you can come in and give us an introduction!”
“That would not be wise. I was once married to a Haidara girl. It did not work out. There are ill feelings between our families. In fact, it would be best not to say who drove you here if the subject comes up. I will park around the corner.”
Atticus and Dan climbed out of the back and watched Bart drive away.
“Perfect,” Dan said.
“What do you mean, perfect?” Atticus said. “It would have been a lot better for us if Bart and the Haidaras were best friends.”
“I meant it’s perfect he’s parking around the corner. We’re going to have to ditch our babysitter.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s asking too many questions that we can’t answer. As soon as we get done here, we’ll head to the next library on foot . . . Bartless.”
Jake and Amy couldn’t get over the number of manuscripts at the Ahmed Baba Institute. The curator, Mr. Bazzi, could not have been more helpful or friendly. He swept them through the huge collection with great pride. But seeing row upon row of floor-to-ceiling cases was discouraging. This was just the first library. How were they ever going to find the “Apology” in this haystack of ancient texts?
“Of course, these are just the manuscripts that we have cataloged and digitized,” Bazzi explained.
“You have them on hard disk?” Amy was encouraged.
“A portion of them, yes.”
“Are they searchable?” Jake asked.
“Of course. But before I direct you to a computer, allow me to show you one of our more notable finds.”
Amy was desperate to check out the computer, but she and Jake smiled politely and followed. Bazzi’s cooperation was too valuable to risk offending him.
He led them to a glass case with an open manuscript inside. “What do you see?”
Jake leaned forward to examine the pages. “A diagram of the planets radiating out from the sun.”
“Exactly! Just as Copernicus proposed in his
On the Revolutions of the Celestial Spheres
in 1543.”
“Interesting,” Amy said, glancing around for the computer, eager to end the tour and get to work.
Bazzi smiled. “I think you do not understand,” he said. “This manuscript was written by one of our Timbuktu scholars two hundred years before Copernicus was born!”
“Wow!” Jake said. “That
is
amazing!” He peered down at the manuscript. “What’s all the writing in the margins? It’s so small it’s hard to read.”
Amy looked impatiently at
“We won’t have much time for shopping,” Dan said.
“You should at least go up to the roof. It offers the best view of the Sahara in the city. I could pull over and you could run up to the top.”
“No time,” Dan said.
Bart shot him a curious glance. “What exactly is it that you’re looking for in such a hurry?”
Dan and Atticus caught each other’s eyes. “We’re just curious about the Timbuktu manuscripts,” Dan answered. “But our parents would only give us twenty-four hours to look at them before we have to return to school.”
“So your parents are very strict,” Bart said with a smile. “They would only loan you their private jet for a day.”
“Something like that.”
Bart the babysitter is way too nosy.
Bart pulled up to a building and stopped. “This is the Mamma Haidara Library.” He turned and looked at them. “The Haidaras are old Timbuktu. The collection has been in their family for hundreds of years. They are going to be very suspicious of two American boys asking to see their manuscripts.”
The library was not nearly as nice as the Ahmed Baba Institute. It was surrounded by a six-foot-high wall made of yellow bricks, and the entrance was through an intimidating metal gate painted black.
“Do you know the mom?” Dan asked.
Bart laughed. “
Mamma
does not refer to a mom. It is like a first name. But to answer your question, yes, I know the Haidaras.”
Atticus brightened. “Maybe you can come in and give us an introduction!”
“That would not be wise. I was once married to a Haidara girl. It did not work out. There are ill feelings between our families. In fact, it would be best not to say who drove you here if the subject comes up. I will park around the corner.”
Atticus and Dan climbed out of the back and watched Bart drive away.
“Perfect,” Dan said.
“What do you mean, perfect?” Atticus said. “It would have been a lot better for us if Bart and the Haidaras were best friends.”
“I meant it’s perfect he’s parking around the corner. We’re going to have to ditch our babysitter.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s asking too many questions that we can’t answer. As soon as we get done here, we’ll head to the next library on foot . . . Bartless.”
Jake and Amy couldn’t get over the number of manuscripts at the Ahmed Baba Institute. The curator, Mr. Bazzi, could not have been more helpful or friendly. He swept them through the huge collection with great pride. But seeing row upon row of floor-to-ceiling cases was discouraging. This was just the first library. How were they ever going to find the “Apology” in this haystack of ancient texts?
“Of course, these are just the manuscripts that we have cataloged and digitized,” Bazzi explained.
“You have them on hard disk?” Amy was encouraged.
“A portion of them, yes.”
“Are they searchable?” Jake asked.
“Of course. But before I direct you to a computer, allow me to show you one of our more notable finds.”
Amy was desperate to check out the computer, but she and Jake smiled politely and followed. Bazzi’s cooperation was too valuable to risk offending him.
He led them to a glass case with an open manuscript inside. “What do you see?”
Jake leaned forward to examine the pages. “A diagram of the planets radiating out from the sun.”
“Exactly! Just as Copernicus proposed in his
On the Revolutions of the Celestial Spheres
in 1543.”
“Interesting,” Amy said, glancing around for the computer, eager to end the tour and get to work.
Bazzi smiled. “I think you do not understand,” he said. “This manuscript was written by one of our Timbuktu scholars two hundred years before Copernicus was born!”
“Wow!” Jake said. “That
is
amazing!” He peered down at the manuscript. “What’s all the writing in the margins? It’s so small it’s hard to read.”
Amy looked impatiently at
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