A Court Of Fowls: Episode 25
...Locking all the car doors, I settled down to sleep on the bench seat in the back of the Mercedes. For the entire night I imagined every sound outside, every breath of wind, every rustle among the thorn trees, to be someone meaning me harm. Several times I sat bolt upright in alarm and shouted ludicrous warnings to faceless spectres...
Beautiful Amina, now travelling alone, continues her flight from strife-torn Somalia, heading for Kenya.
Michael Conrad Wood continues his dramatic must-read tale.
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Chapter 9
‘Only a Gun Can Make me Go’
I was soon free of Kismayu’s urban boundary and heading at
speed towards Afmadu. The road was decent enough. It was tragic
that we hadn’t found it the previous day. A simple loss of concentration
had probably caused us to make the fateful error of judgement.
It felt so depressing to be alone now.
The monotonous miles crawled by and as tiredness began to
overwhelm me, I could see it would soon be dark. Should I press on
or wait, and take much needed sleep? There was no difference in my
assessment that night time driving could prove very dangerous. I
might run off the road or enter territory overrun by the shifta, seeing
nothing of them until it was too late. By day I could move with more
confidence and better find my way to the dusty little settlement of
Hulugho which I knew marked the border between Kenya and Somalia.
My aim was to slip over unnoticed. Hulugho had long been an
unprotected crossing point, unlike those further north at El Wak and
Mandera. So people from both countries, particularly those without
passports, used it regularly to gain access to one side or another for
informal trading purposes.
Common sense dictated. I came upon what appeared to be a little
copse of acacia trees at the side of the road. I pulled over.
Though exhausted, I was still thinking pretty clearly, and parked in a way
which I thought would allow a quick escape if threatened by anyone
during the night. I had never been alone like this in wilderness.
While certainly afraid, I also felt a tingling at my neck and a strange
sense of excitement. Was this primeval reaction to the prospect of
danger?
Locking all the car doors, I settled down to sleep on the bench
seat in the back of the Mercedes. For the entire night I imagined
every sound outside, every breath of wind, every rustle among the
thorn trees, to be someone meaning me harm. Several times I sat
bolt upright in alarm and shouted ludicrous warnings to faceless
spectres. In the event, my only assailants were the relentless biting
mosquitos which had somehow found their way into the car.
They whined in my ear the entire time. Between them and the previous
night’s unwanted bedbugs, my skin was now covered in welts.
My clothes were creased and disheveled and my body felt clammy. I was
beginning to look an awful sight. I suddenly thought again about
Stewart Munro and the safety and security I might have found with
him. Surely he would never have recognised me like this.
**
Chapter 9 will continue next week.
