Gravel Heart(52)

I could not think of anything to say, speechless with guilt. I had waited too long and now it was too late. I listened as my sister told me about the funeral. ‘Uncle Amir arrived just in time, from the airport straight to the funeral. Daddy arranged for an escort to pick him up at the airport. Auntie Asha and the other aunties from Daddy’s family have been so good. One of Daddy’s cousins has moved in to stay with me for a while. I haven’t decided what to do yet. I can’t stay in the flat on my own, and anyway I still have the final year of my degree to complete in Dar es Salaam. I’ll decide after that. The flat is in Mama’s name, it’s her property, so now it belongs to the two of us. If ever you come back, even for a visit, you’ll have your own place to stay.’

Munira spoke with what seemed to me surprising assurance, like someone who knew how to talk on the phone, someone with decisions to make. She had grown up among powerful people, which maybe explained why she was so confident. Or perhaps she had inherited an audacious gene from her daddy. At some point she must have become aware of my silence because she stopped and after a second said: ‘Salim, are you still there?’

‘Oh, yes,’ I said, ‘I was just listening to you.’

‘I can be a chatterbox on the phone,’ she said, laughing. ‘This is a long-distance call, it must be costing you a fortune. I’ll call you next time.’

‘Never mind the cost,’ I said. ‘Let me give you my email address. We can’t have a student making long-distance phone calls.’

It was in one of her emails that she told me Baba was back. She wrote: He returned three weeks after Mama’s funeral. I don’t know whether it is anything to do with her passing away or not. Daddy told me. He just said someone informed him that Salim’s father was back. I don’t know if he’s here for good or only visiting. I am off to Dar in a couple of days to begin the second semester of my final year in the Business School. I’ll keep you informed and you keep me informed.

The news of my father’s return was quite unexpected. It had never occurred to me that he would do something like that. It made me smile, the thought that my old Baba had decided to return. I was sure it must be because he had heard the news of Mama’s passing away, and the sentimental in him forced him back. I decided that I would go back too, to catch up with the nervy old man after all these years. I replied to Munira immediately, to tell her about my decision and to ask her to find out if Baba was staying or visiting. Munira replied at once as well. We must both have been sitting at our computers: Hurray. Yallah, it’s about time. Will find out before I go to Dar.

Dear Mama,

He’s come back for you. I don’t know why he would do that after such unhappiness. If I ask him, do you think he’ll tell me? He was not much of a talker when I knew him. You saw to that.





PART THREE





8

RETURN

I arranged leave from work and booked a ticket way in advance. I would have to wait until June to get a month’s leave but there was no hurry because I knew now that Baba had gone to live at the back of Khamis’s shop, as he used to before. Munira had gone to the shop to ask after him and to take him my message. She would have been six years old when my father left for Kuala Lumpur but she would not have known him, or rather he would not have known her. He did not have very much to do with anybody at that time. She reported that she introduced herself as Salim’s sister, and he said: Ah. That’s all he said: Ah. He looked well enough, a little frail, and he smiled when she told him that I was coming back in a few months. Tell him I’ll be here, inshaallah, he said.

I was not sure where I would stay. Should I stay in the flat Hakim had given my mother? I was sure I did not want to do that, just as I was sure that was what Munira wanted. It was Mama’s flat and now it’s ours, she had written in an email, and where I have lived most of my life. To me it meant something darker, and I did not want to own any part of it. First it was her father’s property and now it was hers. I would have to find a way of making her understand that. I made an advance hotel booking on the internet, so there would be no argument when I got there.

I tried to imagine Baba, but I did not try too hard. It was difficult to dislodge the picture of him when I went to say goodbye to him that afternoon, looking weary and threadbare in his room at the back of Khamis’s shop. I could not quite remember the incomprehensible advice he had given me then. Was it blessing was the beginning of love or the other way round? It didn’t matter anyway, they were just words, and they were not really what made someone unhappy, not in the long run. Memories did that, those dark immovable moments that refused to fade. So in those weeks of waiting for my flight, my Baba remained that mumbling recluse I had seen every day of my youth. And he went back to that life! What faith he must have to do that! Ana amini. The old scholar must have passed away and then, when Mama died, Baba had come to be near where she was.

I had not travelled much since my first arrival in England. I had gone to Paris on the Eurostar twice with friends, and had taken the ferry to Boulogne for the day with Rhonda. I took a city break holiday to Amsterdam some years before with a woman friend, and visited various places in England at one time or another. The trip back home was my first long journey. My inexperience of travel added to my other anxieties about returning after such a long absence, but as the day approached, I felt much calmer about what was to come than I had expected. I told Munira about the hotel booking, just to get that out of the way, and she replied to say she would meet me at the airport.