Dinner conversation began light, and in answer to Vivian’s question, Miriam explained, “Most of the Solomonic line are Christian, of course, but some are Jewish, and some are even Muslim. The line from Solomon and Sheba is well recorded, but over the centuries, the three religions have influenced the faith of some families.” She added, “The Jews are not the oldest religion in Ethiopia — the pagans are. If you call that a religion.”
Purcell had just learned that the pagan Gallas ate human testicles, but he didn’t know how to work that into the dinner conversation — or if he should try.
Purcell also wanted to ask Miriam why, in her early thirties, she was not married yet with ten kids, but to be more subtle and polite, he asked, “So do you have to marry within the Solomonic line?”
She stayed silent for a few seconds, then replied, “I was married at sixteen, to a Christian ras, but we produced no heirs, so my husband divorced me. This is not unusual.” She added, “Most of the rasses are now dead, or they have fled, so I have few prospects for marriage.” She looked at her boyfriend and said without cracking a smile, “So I have settled for an Englishman.”
Everyone got a laugh at that, and Gann said, “Could do worse, you know.”
Vivian asked boldly, “Do you two plan to marry?”
Miriam replied, “We have no word for knight, so here they call him Ras Edmund, which makes him acceptable.”
Again everyone laughed, but clearly this was a touchy subject, so the nosy reporters did not ask follow-up questions.
Miriam switched to another touchy subject — her benighted country. “This is an old civilization in the middle stage of history — a medieval anachronism. The Muslims keep harems and slaves. The Christians dispense biblical justice, and men are made eunuchs, and women are sold for sexual purposes. The Jews, too, have engaged in Old Testament punishment. The pagans practice unspeakable rites, including castration and crucifixion. And now the Marxists have introduced a new religion, the religion of atheism, and a new social order, the mass killing of anyone who is associated with the old order.”
Purcell needed another drink after that. When he was first here, in September, living at the Hilton in Addis, he had almost no idea what life was like outside the capital, which itself was no treat. Their trip out of Addis to the northern front had opened his eyes a little to what Ethiopia was about. Gann, however, had known this place since 1941, and Mercado even longer. And yet they’d returned, and in Gann’s case, he found something compelling about this country — something that drew him to it the way some men are drawn to those places on the map marked “terra incognita — here be dragons.” And Signore Bocaccio… he’d forgotten there were better places to do business.
Vivian, like himself, had come here clueless and freelance, but she had discovered that she was chosen by God to be here, which was better than being chosen by the Associated Press.
And then there was Frank Purcell. He needed to think again about why he was still here.
In his mental absence, the subject had again turned to dark matters. Miriam said, “Mikael Getachu’s father worked for my father in Gondar in the weaving shop. My father treated the family well, and paid for Mikael’s education at the English missionary school.”
Purcell informed everyone, “Getachu’s biography says his parents went without food to pay for his education.”
Miriam replied, “They went without nothing.”
Gann said, “Miriam’s brother, David, was actually lured by Getachu to come to Gondar with the promise that Getachu would release two young nieces and a nephew of the family if David would identify and sign over the family’s assets to Getachu.” Gann added, “Getachu knows he can’t violate the ancient sanctity of Shoan, or more importantly the international agreement protecting the Jews during the exodus. But he has sent a message to Miriam saying that if she voluntarily comes to Gondar, then he will release David, and the nieces and nephew.” He added, “The children’s parents, who are Sahle’s sister and brother-in-law, have already been shot.”
Purcell looked at Miriam, who seemed stoic enough on the outside, but he could imagine the conflicts and pain inside her.
Gann said, “Getachu’s goal all along was to get hold of his princess.”
Miriam said bluntly, “He will not have me.”
Vivian was looking at her, but said nothing.
Mercado suggested in a quiet voice, “You should leave here as soon as possible.”
“I will be the last to leave. That is my duty.”
Gann said, “We’re hoping for a UN helicopter pickup here next week.”
Purcell would have liked them all to be on that helicopter, but he knew that would jeopardize not only the Falashas, but also the UN mission. In fact, just their being here did all of that, plus some. He said, “We are leaving at daybreak, and we won’t return until everyone here is safely gone.” He also suggested to Gann, “Set fire to the aircraft so it looks like we crashed and burned. Lots of fuel on board.”
Mercado did not like that, but he understood it.
Gann assured everyone, “I’ll have that done in the morning.”
Miriam wanted to know about Purcell, Mercado, and Vivian, and they filled her in on some of the details, though she seemed to know most of this from her boyfriend, Purcell thought, including the fact that they’d had the pleasure of Mikael’s company.
She warned them, “He has a long memory and a great capacity for cruelty and revenge. Do not fall into his hands again.” She added, “But you know that.”
As for Prince David, Miriam had no illusions that Getachu would be treating him well, but she felt or hoped that after she was out of Getachu’s reach, and she was in Israel, Getachu would release her brother, and the nieces and nephew, under pressure from the Israelis and the UN, and hopefully under orders from his own superiors in Addis. Purcell thought that was a possibility, but he was sure that David, if he ever did arrive in Israel, would be a broken man. As General Getachu himself had indicated, shooting a man is easy; breaking a man is more fun — especially if the man or woman was an arrogant aristocrat, or an annoying journalist.
Miriam suggested to her guests, “Perhaps you can write about what you have seen here. And perhaps you will mention my brother and my nieces and nephew. That could be helpful for their release.”
They all promised they would do that when they left Ethiopia. And they would keep that promise — if they left Ethiopia.
Miriam thanked them, and then painted for them a grim picture of post-revolutionary Ethiopia for their lead story. “The land is laid waste by war, and by locusts and drought, sent by God. Famine has killed too many to count, and millions more hang by a thread. Pestilence is spreading across the land and the people have withdrawn into themselves. Churches are looted and monks lock themselves in their monasteries. All this is punishment by God for what we have allowed the godless men in Addis to do. God is testing us, and we must show him that we remain true to him. Only then will we be saved by God.”
No one spoke, and Gann, Purcell thought, looked both embarrassed and proud of his princess. Clearly, there was a great cultural divide between them, but they were both righteous and decent people, and what separated them was not as great as what divided them. Love conquers all, as Vivian said.
Coffee was served with some sort of concoction of goat’s milk, honey, and almonds.
Miriam said, “Trade with Gondar and other cities has been greatly reduced since the troubles began. So we have only what we have. But that is more than they have in the places where the drought and the locusts have killed the land.” She forced a smile and added, “In any case, we are all going to the land of milk and honey.” She asked if anyone had been to Israel, and Mercado and Purcell had, and they painted a bright picture for Miriam that seemed to comport with what her English knight had already told her.