“Did Aar become more religious in the last days of his life?” Bella blurts out the question unexpectedly, eliciting surprise from her listeners.
Valerie’s expression hardens, but Dahaba is venomous. “He did no such thing.”
Salif takes it easy. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I read it in a Canadian paper.”
“You’ve never told me this,” says Valerie.
“It doesn’t matter,” says Bella. “Let us drop it.”
Salif says, “I don’t think it is proper for you to say to drop it now. You’ve raised the issue and you said you saw mention of the claim that he became more Muslim toward the end of his life. Tell us what you meant so we understand.”
“His last words were words of prayer, it was reported,” Bella says. “Specifically, a verse from the Koran.”
“Well, he was culturally a Muslim,” says Salif.
“And very proud of it,” says Dahaba.
“But he wasn’t religious.”
“If anything,” Dahaba goes on, “he was spiritual.”
“He was decidedly secular,” says Bella.
“Spiritual and secular,” says Dahaba.
Salif says, “But he was respectful of other people’s faiths, just as he was of their way of life: Muslim, Christian, Jewish, Hindu, and the lot. He was a good example to all who knew him.”
Valerie is not so much ill at ease — as she was when they were talking about politics — as irritated. “How could you say that when in all the years you and I knew him we never saw him enter a mosque and pray?”
Padmini says, “I was born and brought up a Hindu, but I seldom go to a temple to worship. Ought I to call myself secular?”
Bella stays out of it, saying nothing. She has lost interest in the discussion, which doesn’t appear to be going anywhere. And lest she miss the upcoming turn, she switches on the GPS. Again she has everyone’s full, undivided attention when she says, “Time to take a break. What say you?”
“Is this Naivasha?” Valerie asks.
“We are close to Lake Naivasha; it’s to the left,” says Salif, “about twenty minutes’ drive from here. Let us go there. You’ll like it.”
“I like the name Naivasha,” Padmini says.
“What do you like about it?” asks Dahaba.
“It has a Sanskrit feel to it.”
“In what way?”
“Like, I don’t know, on a par with ‘nirvana.’”
Dahaba says, “Cute.”
“What does it mean in the local language?” asks Padmini.
Salif replies, “The name of the lake is Anglo corrupted, which was typical of the Brits, savaging native names by anglicizing them. The Masai word the Brits bastardized is nai’posha, which means ‘rough waters’ or some such. Now everyone including Kenyans know it by its anglicized version.”
“Nirvana means ‘extinguish,’ as in extinguish the lantern, doesn’t it, Padmini?” asks Bella.
“I am not so sure, now that you’ve asked,” confesses Padmini. “But most likely you are right.”
“There is a likeness of sound,” says Dahaba.
“Not meaning,” says Salif.
Dahaba singsongs “Naivasha” with “nirvana,” and likes what she hears.
The car is going up a hill when a truck emitting a billow of black smoke struggles up the incline and passes them, and they all shut their windows quickly until they are clear of it. Then they open them again to the welcome fresh air of the valley and Bella continues.
Cawrala tells Bella to make a left, and she does.
Dahaba says, “I can see we are in Naivasha.”
This is not quite true, but it will do. They are at a spot where they have a good view of the lake, and up and over the bridge they imagine the presence of fresh water and plenty of birdlife, not to mention several escarpments.
Bella maneuvers the vehicle around potholes. They pass a low building that looks like a local watering hole, its walls festooned with ads publicizing guitar entertainment at night for its clientele. Farther down the hill, they pass several more bars. They are happy when the nefarious odor of beer is no longer in their nostrils.
About fifty meters from the lake, Bella parks the car. She stops the engine and gets out, happy they’ve made it all the way to this place without a quarrel. They disperse in silence in different directions, some wanting to pee, and others to enjoy the view, to stretch their legs and welcome the peaceful air into their lungs.
Dahaba hangs close to the car; she is hungry. Bella and Padmini spread out picnic mats on the uneven ground. Valerie opens the bottle of red wine she and Padmini have brought and pours a paper cupful for Padmini.
Valerie and Salif find two tree trunks close to each other and take their food and drinks and sit together. Dahaba joins them. She says, “Last time we came here, we were four. And Dad was with us. And we seemed happy. We took delight in one another’s joys and laughed at the same jokes. Then Mum left. And now Dad is murdered.”
Maybe because Valerie is no state of mind to hear any of this, she wants to walk away. But Salif, as if by coincidence, blocks her way and gently lays his hand on his mother’s elbow. After all, knowing Dahaba well, he senses that his sister has something heavy on her mind, a weight that she wishes to rid herself of right this instant. Valerie, having no choice, sits down and listens as though she were cornered.
Dahaba asks, “Why did you leave?”
“I wish I hadn’t,” Valerie says, weepily.
“Was Dad awful to live with, violent?”
“No, he was gentle, too gentle.”
“Was he seeing another woman?”
“No, I was the world to him.”
“Why did you leave then?”
Salif listens, saying nothing.
“One day I would like to know why,” says Dahaba.
And all Valerie can manage is “One day.” Then she resumes weeping, her head in her hands, as though she has just this minute received the news of Aar’s death.
Still Dahaba persists. “There must have been a reason, Mum.” She keeps insisting, and Valerie keeps weeping, neither of them able to move on.
Salif reflects on how much more he knows than his sister. One thing he knows is that his father was not the person making his mother miserable, even though Salif suspected that Aar felt she was a lost cause. Whenever Salif relives those terrible final days together, he remembers his father going about his business as if Valerie’s problems were not his concern. He recalls waking up in the wee hours of the night, his mother by herself in the kitchen, the lights off, the cap of the whiskey bottle on the table and the bottle three-quarters empty, the ashtray full of cigarette butts, the smell of the liquor heavy on her breath. And then there were those other bottles, the bottles that once contained the tablets she took morning, afternoon, and evening.
Salif doubted his father was unaware of the demons preying upon his wife. Maybe he couldn’t do anything to placate them.
“Did your father tell you why I left?” Valerie says at last.
“He always said to ask you,” Dahaba says.
“I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” Valerie says, “and I am not asking you to forget what I did, which was foolish and selfish. But I love you, I truly love you.”
Meanwhile, Bella and Padmini converse in low voices, their faces turned away from each other. They fall silent when Salif approaches. Padmini suggests they pack the uneaten meal, get into the car, and leave.
Bella asks, “What is the rush?”
“We must return to the hotel,” Padmini explains. “We have to start packing up.”
Salif is unhappy about departing this instant, but he is a well-brought-up young man and he restrains himself. Bella acquiesces too and whispers to him, “An hour this way or three hours the other way won’t matter because we can come back to this very spot whenever we please, darling.”