She knows that Aar, unlike most Somalis raised in the urban centers in the south of the country, had no issue with male homosexuality and couldn’t be bothered about lesbianism. As for herself, while the platitude is true — many of her best friends are gay, and some are in openly gay marriages — she acknowledges that maybe she is not quite as advanced in her attitudes as she likes to think. But with her three lovers, she knows that she lives in a house of glass and cannot afford to throw stones at anyone in a similar position. Many Somalis would think there was something wrong with her, would see her as worse than a whore, because no cash exchanged hands.
Freedoms are a package deal, she thinks, useless unless you value them all. Freedom of expression, freedom of religion, freedom to associate with whom you please — all of these are as important as the right to education, to food, to clean water. In Africa, gay men and women are seldom open about their sexual preferences. In many countries homosexuality is a crime, and even where it is not, people talk as if it were alien to the culture of the continent, even though, of course, there are gay people in every society everywhere. In South Africa, the most democratic nation on the continent, vigilantes organize “corrective rape” rampages on known lesbians in the absurd belief that such actions will keep women from desiring relations with anyone besides heterosexual men.
There must be a premium placed on truth-telling in a household with children, she thinks. Discretion — being economical with the information you share — is fine. But your actions must match your words, and you must not describe your relationships as other than they are. There are no hiding places from the young for liars. Valerie and Padmini might think they are being discreet, pretending to sleep in separate beds and then coupling quietly behind closed doors. But it was Valerie’s decision to cut off contact with Aar and the children for all those years, and it has been Valerie’s decision not to speak openly to her children about the choices she has made: “Sisters” and “business partners,” indeed. If you can’t stand the heat, as they say, get out of the kitchen.
It doesn’t help that Valerie and Bella have never gotten on, even when Valerie was living with Aar. But Bella doesn’t want the children to get the impression that her disapproval of Valerie has anything to do with Valerie’s being gay. She realizes she has to make this clear. And she must also remind Salif privately that he must show respect for his mother and accept her choices, no matter what he thinks about her behavior.
Bella reads a bit more to kill time, then showers, the hot jets of water waking every pore in her exhausted body. She rubs lotion all over her skin, combs the kinks out of her hair, and puts on her power suit again. She puts her documents in a special pouch and replaces it in her shoulder bag. At seven, hungry, too anxious to stay in her room alone and needing to collect the eggs and the sliced bread from one of the security guards, Bella goes down and steps out, noticing that the fresh eggs and sliced bread bought from the corner are at the door waiting for her. She will have to remember to give the change he returned as a tip later. Back in the kitchen, she makes breakfast for herself and for anyone else who might turn up.
She notices that someone has been in the kitchen since she was last downstairs because there is a sealed packet of bacon on the windowsill. She thinks that Salif, who is so partial to bacon, has possibly been here. Bella likes to breakfast on Spanish omelets or muesli with berries, plums, raisins, or other dried fruits, with a few dry sliced bananas thrown in. She likes to have tea first, very dark with milk, and coffee afterward, the stronger and darker the better.
She finds eggs in the refrigerator, but they are long past their eat-by date. But there are all kinds of teas, including a number of Kenyan ones and a couple of brands imported from South Africa, and she boils water to make a pot. She finds a packet of muesli and, checking the date, is delighted that it is edible. In the refrigerator is also an open carton of UHT milk, which she puts to her nose. It smells all right, but she has no idea when it was opened or by whom. Just to be on the safe side, she looks in the cupboard and finds another container of milk from Germany that is unopened. A country with so much milk potential importing milk from Europe — that’s Africa for you.
But what can she offer Valerie and Padmini for breakfast? The truth is that she doesn’t quite think of them as her guests. It’s not her fault they missed the meal they were invited for, and she didn’t prepare for overnight guests. Searching in the pantry, she discovers cans of tuna, tomato, and onion. She rummages in the freezer and finds frozen peas and chips of every variety. Relieved that she will be able to feed her guests — or, rather, Salif and Dahaba’s guests — she turns to her own breakfast, enjoying her crunchy muesli and mouthfuls of her dark, dark tea. When she has finished, she brews a pot of Kenyan coffee, which is among the best in the world.
Salif is the first to dawdle in, wrapped in a colorful robe with a pair of pajamas under it. Barefoot, he has on a big grin of the sort that prompts you to ask a leading question, and next to it there is a smudge of toothpaste. He kisses Bella good morning and says, “What a night!” Bella can tell that he wants her to ask him to explain himself, but she pretends not to notice.
“Breakfast,” she says, as if it’s his name, while she roots in the cupboards.
He points at the bacon on the windowsill.
She asks, “What will you have with it?”
He opens the freezer and takes out a loaf of sliced English-style bread, hard as rock, the type she can’t stand after her years in Italy. But she tells herself that it’s good for Salif to learn to look after himself. He finds a pan for the bacon and puts it on to fry.
Padmini walks in and greets them both.
Bella asks, “Have you slept well?”
“Yeah, I did,” she says. “And you?”
Again Salif says, “What a night!”
And before they can say anything more, Valerie ambles in. “What’s for breakfast?” she says. And then Dahaba arrives, making a beeline for the fridge before she greets anyone. “For my breakfast,” she says, “I am having the leftovers from last night, and I won’t share it with any of you. I am starving.”
She gets out the rest of the hamburger and puts it in the microwave then turns to the others. She greets her mum and Padmini, rubbing cheeks with both. To Bella she says, “You’re up and dressed early. Where are you going?”
The whole scene reminds Bella of the movie The Dirty Dozen, where the twelve characters straggle in one at time, each speaking his piece.
Valerie says, “Yes, Bella, where are you off to?”
Bella tells her and Padmini what there is for breakfast, but Valerie refuses to be diverted. “Is it something to do with Aar?” she asks. “I’ve a feeling I must tag along.”
Dahaba, lapsing into Somali, asks Bella if there is any truth to that. Bella tells her patiently that politeness demands she speak a language intelligible to the whole group. Dahaba apologizes to her mother and Padmini, and repeats her question in English.
Valerie is not one for politeness, however. “Why are you shoving me to the side like useless furniture?” she demands of Bella.
“How am I doing that?” says Bella.
“You are trying to keep me from being involved,” she cries, “that is how!”
Salif says, “Mum, you made the choice to disengage yourself from Dad and us many years ago. You can’t now accuse anyone else of denying you the right to get involved.”