Elephant Dropping (9781301895199) Read Online Free PDF Page B

the rising sun catching
on their lateen rigged sails, like so many shark fins on the water,
the sea an indigo blue in the sunlight.
    Fatima was
still asleep after a night of passionate love making, Patel had
lied to Azizza about his sex drive. The truth was that he was not
attracted to African women, never had been. Besides, Fatima ten
years younger than him, was an eager lover and he really loved her.
He had no reason to stray from the comfortable confines of his
marital bed.
    His thoughts
this morning were far from these pleasantries. The risks he had
taken with Golden Palm now putting him in full predator mode, he
soberly contemplated the prospect of Nicholls bringing the project
crashing down around his ears. He reasoned that if the auditor’s
task was to examine the accounts it was inevitable that his focus
would fall on the Golden Palm. He dismissed the idea of trying to
delay Nicholls arrival, there were too many unknowns, it would be
easier to have him in Malindi within the greatest sphere of his
influence. Patel’s mind examined every angle like a chess player;
he thought out his next move.
    Fatima, wearing
only a large T-shirt and still sleepy motioned for him to make room
for her on the seat and cuddled up to her husband. She was the
first to break the silence. ‘Thank you for my present Jugdish, it’s
beautiful.’
    ‘You are
welcome, my sugar,’ he responded.
    ‘Are you
serious about selling the factory?’
    ‘Yes, I
am.’
    ‘And
London?’
    ‘Yes,
honey.’
    ‘But how?’ She
started, sitting up looking directly at him.
    ‘Don’t worry,
sweets, I have a plan. Today I want you to e-mail your uncle and
get all the necessary papers to apply for entry visas for us and
the boys. I will arrange the tickets.’
    ‘For when?’
    ‘Next week, as
soon as possible,’ he replied.
    ‘It’s so soon!’
She protested, ‘and the car makes no sense?’
    ‘There are some
bad things happening in Nairobi,’ he intimated. ‘I want you and the
boys out of the country as soon as possible.’ These chilling words,
conjured up the Ugandan experience through Idi Amin for every
Indian in East Africa - a painful reminder that the same economic
meltdown could happen again.
    ‘You mean
politically?’ she asked.
    ‘Hmmmm, yes,’
murmured Patel.
    ‘My sister
doesn’t know about this, I must warn her.’
    ‘Honey, best
not to talk to anyone - even your sister. We have the factory to
sell and any uncertainty about the future will drive the price
down. I want you and the boys out of here, to create a safe base
for us all, including your sister. I will join you as soon as I
have cleared up all our business here, and I will buy you another
car,’ he promised, ‘a better one.’
    ‘You want to
sell everything? What about the farm?’
    Patel had
inherited two hundred acres north of Malindi, near the town of
Mambrui, at present a worthless piece of bush that was ambitiously
called the farm. ‘No I won’t sell that, it will be held in trust
for the boys, but yes, everything else will be sold. You know you
can ask your uncle to find us a house to rent. It’s about time the
boys got a decent education and I’m sure you don’t want to see them
in boarding schools,’ He appealed to her motherly instincts.
    ‘No, you’re
right,’ she agreed.
    The two boys
joined their parents on the balcony, Jitu eleven, the eldest,
followed by Gulam, nine. ‘Oh lazy bones,’ greeted their father,
‘mum look what your sons are doing. Going to be late for school
eh?’
    ‘No school, it
is a holiday,’ she hugged each one in turn.
    ‘Oh good,’ said
Patel, ‘I need help on the factory floor,’ he teased, ‘holidays!
What’s that?’ recalling his own childhood.
    Patel addressed
his children in mock severity. ‘I have an important mission for you
two. You are to accompany your mother to London! You will be her
bodyguards! And also to make sure she doesn’t spend all our money,’
he teased, seizing Jitu in a hug. ‘You are