Katya did not dare tell Hasan that she lost Amina for over an hour. She merely related how she followed them to the souk. Amina had the driver drop her off on one end and park on the other. She walked through the market and bought nuts, and spices and a couple of scarves. Had some food at a vendor then walked to her mother’s house. Spent an hour or so there while the driver waited in the car. She came out of her family home, with nothing in her hands, got in the car and went back to the palace. Hasan cross examined her like she was in a court room. Did she make any calls? Did she talk to anyone? Did she meet anyone? How big were the bags of nuts and spices? What kind of spices were they? Most of these questions she felt to be stupid. Maybe he asked because he was nervous and felt his control slipping. Maybe he was just trying make her slip up. Maybe he thought she was doing a double double-cross and was actually working with Amina. She handled him with calm deference and confidence.
Hasan was in fact trying to trip her up and verify that she was not in cahoots with Amina. Nevertheless, the questions about the bags were not useless. He knew Amina’s family well. A fist sized bag of nuts would mean she suspected she was being followed and bought the bag so she could honestly say “I bought a bag of nuts for uncle.” Uncle loved nuts. Different kinds of nuts. She would have bought him at least 2 large bags of nuts, probably 3. Spices were the same way. Her mother’s house was not that far away and she was still healthy. She could buy any spice she wanted. But there were a couple of spices that were expensive and used only for a few favorite dishes. Who knew about the scarves? Why do woman need so many scarves? Leaving her mother’s home empty handed was a good sign.
Their relationship had settled into a polite and stable state. The last two days of passion reminded him of their early years. Business was good. He had established several independent streams of income, some more steady than others, but all good. One of the streams he really enjoyed was his connections to people in the desert. He was able to broker deals between movie makers and camel keepers. The money was moderate but the real benefit is that it allowed him to meet many directors and actors from all over the world. That’s how he was able to get invitations for him and Amina to special events in Paris, Rome and Berlin. She soured those invitations with her sudden attack of conscience and modesty. However, he had to give her credit. Though fully covered, her athletic grace, engaging smile and conversational wit allowed her to compete very well with her scantily clad peers. In fact, she enjoyed a curious edge. A short strapless dress leaves very little to the imagination. After a 5 minute conversation you’ve seen all you’re going to see unless you can negotiate a quickie. Amina’s skin was hidden but not her figure. Every man was like a boy at Christmas drooling with anticipation to get the wrapping off.
And that is how all this got started. Pure, garden variety lust. Money knocked on the door and Hasan’s greed opened it. A few of these men, powerful men, not powerful like in the movies; above the law and all that. But powerful enough to be able to indulge their unique eccentricities. These men were so anxious to get the wrappings off that they courted business with Hasan. With only a thin veneer of subtlety, a man would hint that Amina would be an excellent deal sweetener. Hasan had “only to call” when he was ready to do business.
Breaking the news to Amina was fraught with danger but he rationalized and argued and bribed her with family until she relented. He was both proud and ashamed of the compromise he had won. From that day forward, she never slept in the same bed again. Month by month he stopped thinking of her as a lover and more like a wife. Then less as a wife and more like a business partner. Then less as a business partner and more like an asset. Deep in his heart there was some love but it was locked behind ledgers, cash flow projections and balance sheets. His care for her looked similar to love, but was really to make sure she was an effective tool for trade. She was not traded cheaply. It was hard to get access to Amina.
Amina wept a lot. She consoled herself by using the new found wealth to take care of her parents, nieces and nephews. First making sure all their basic necessities were taken care of. Then moving on to upgrades. The nieces and nephews got phones then laptops. She wanted to buy a new house for her parents, closer to her own, but they refused to move. So they compromised on remodeling the old house. She had no one to talk to. She had no consolation. No confessor to go to. So she started to journal. After a few days she realized the danger of such a journal. On a trip through Paris she found the pigskin bound journals. She bought three. She wrote in one and kept it very PG-13 rated, hidden but not too hard to find. The other two she kept in code and very difficult to find. When she was a little girl she had an older cousin that was very cosmopolitan. She was mesmerized by her bold attitude towards boys and life. She had a sense of style that went beyond clothes. Leila also kept a diary and Amina kept begging to see it. “Absolutely not!” Leila would shout. One day, Leila was out with her dad running errands. Amina was in the house alone except for auntie and mama. She searched and searched and searched and finally found the diary. Suddenly her ears became super attentive. She jumped at every sound. She read quickly. Hoping to discover torrid love affairs with boys. Instead she found lots of recipes, drawings of clothing, and dreams of becoming a wife and mother. She confessed the struggle she had between being a modern woman and being a traditional mother. She had a few R-rated thoughts but that was about it. That was also the day Amina did her first parkour move. She had just finished the last page and carefully put the journal back where she found it. She scanned the room to make sure it looked the way it was. She heard Leila and uncle return and Leila starting up the steps. She ran to the window, climbed out onto the ledge, and escaped to another, unoccupied part of the house. She then went in through another window to the room where the TV was. Auntie and mama always sat in the kitchen and talked. She slouched on the couch with the TV on. Her cover was perfect.
What she gleaned from the experience was that if people know you have something they will work to get it. And the more valuable, in their eyes, it is the harder they will work to get it. So she kept two journals. The PG-13 one sounded stereotypical. With the occasional reference to sex but no names. It could have been used against her but she would just claim that the man was her husband and that, from time to time, she used her imagination to change him into a powerful bald Russian, or a skilled Spanish lover. The other journal had more details. Who, when, full name, and what the business deal was about. Most of the deals were legitimate. But a few crossed several ethical and sometimes legal lines. For some women, the shame and loneliness drives them to drugs or drink. It drove Amina to study. She learned several languages and writing systems. She was already fluent in French and Darija, Moroccan’s Arabic dialect. She added German, Italian (for shopping) and Japanese and English. If something struck her fancy she would investigate full bore to keep her mind off what she was really doing with her life. She used this knowledge in the real journals. Drawings, projections, and names were encoded in conflicting or mixed writing systems and languages. She drew flowers, bugs, buildings but encoded messages in the lines. She knew that the only way she could truly escape was to have an insurance plan.
When men came to her apartment there were two types. The ones that touched her immediately, with a focus on getting what they wanted. And the other, that treated it like an adventure and fancied themselves as a man of the world or a James Bond type. They usually started out with some line they thought was original and clever like “Would you like to slip into something more comfortable or nothing?” She had to work to play along. But after a few times, and to keep her sanity, she started to play it as a role. She would alter her character to match the type. She set her mind to enjoy the three act play. But when the play was over she wept and wrote and prayed.
Except for Rodrigo. He was neither type. He was an animal. A thug. He walked in her room, she closed the door behind him. When she turned to face him, he slapped her and knocked her to the floor. He picked her up and slapped her again. He began to rip at her clothes. Amina screamed for help. Two body guards came in and separated the man from Amina. He shouted threats in return. Hasan had heard the noise and came to investigate. He saw Amina, her face bruised, blood coming from her mouth, and exposed unseemly in torn garments. He looked at Rodrigo who was still eyeing lustily at Amina an trying to push past the guards.
She is the sweetener remember. He sneered at Hasan.
No, she is a fine piece of art. I have granted you the privilege to enjoy this beauty but I did not grant you license to defile it with graffiti. You shall be marked yourself and business will be cancelled.
He motioned to the 2 guards they pushed toward the door but conveniently missed. He did a face plant against the door jam and fell with a thud. They jerked back to his feet and hurled him out the door. Cursing and fighting could be heard down the hall and then Rodrigo tumbling down the stairs. The cursing was soon replaced with moans and cries of pain. He was hurled once more down the front steps. His guards came forward ready for a fight. But Hasan had more guards, armed and ready.
Take your trash back to his cave. Now!
The bodyguards lifted their moaning boss into the back of the black Mercedes SUV. Rodrigo opened the door and shouted curses at the men along with rude gestures from several countries. The lead guard fired a single shot in his direction, just over the top of the SUV and safely into the trees. The man pissed himself and quickly jumped back in the car and slammed the door shut. He could be heard screaming “Drive! Drive!” And so the animal left.
Hasan comforted Amina, put ice on her cheeks and helped her get into a robe. She sobbed and wondered. Why would he do that? What kind of man treats a woman like that? Didn’t he know ahead of time that we would have sex. Hasan said, “Some men are corrupt in their soul. So full of ugliness that they cannot enjoy simple beauty. They are imprisoned by their own darkness.” He held her close and stroked her hair She felt cared for. She felt loved and warm.
There will be repercussions from this I will have to deal with them. He helped her to bed and brought her a glass of white wine. Then he left.
What Amina interpreted as love was really just stewardship backed by greed. They had made a good profit on their hovel turned beautiful home. But, with her as desirable bait, their profits soared in 3 years what would have taken him twelve years to do conventionally. He could not afford to have his asset damaged.
He new, one day, she would lose her allure or get tired of the life of a kept woman and prostitute. He had run the numbers and made the calculations concerning where he could be when she finally left. He knew what he would have done to her when she did. By his calculations the time was coming. His calculations were off by a year and a half.
Frugal Pilgrim 