Pigment Read Online Free PDF Page B

shoulder. “She is beautiful.  Are you sure she’s yours? You never showed a picture of her in all the year’s I’ve known you.”
    “Didn’t I?” Jalil knows this is true.  He kept the couple pictures of her that he had to himself.
    “She knew the danger.”
    “She didn’t tell me the extent of what she was planning on doing. I figured she’d write some letters, hang posters. I never thought. I should have…”
    “It’s one thing to know the facts. It’s another, to be young and invincible and on a mission. Aliya is like you were twenty years ago -- wild and radical.”
    “I’m not that man any more.”
    “Unlike you, she has a cause. At her age you were just angry and ignorant. Growing up albino can’t be easy, no matter where you live. There are worse things than being black after all.” His delivery is deadpan.
    Jalil’s gut reaction is defensive. His shoulders rise and he clenches his fist. Then, he remembers Rolf’s scathing ironic humor and bad timing and a sharp reminder of the tasteless racist jokes they used to ride each other with in the old days and lets it roll.
    #
    At the crossroads to Geita, Rolf rises, awkwardly, because of the low ceiling of the van and his unusual height. His hand rests on the lid to spot his head, as he ushers his friend off the van.
    Outside, the vast space around him and this strange world and circumstance in which he's being led around, seams surreal. He hasn’t been the same since Teheran.
    “Geita, one of the poorest/richest places in the world. The mines strip the land and its people of their resources. No PhDs here. Sorcerers and witch doctors and little potable water,” says Rolf. As he stretches out his long stiff back, his shirt comes up and Jalil sees the tip of the scar from the shrapnel that nearly took Rolf’s life. It would have, had Jalil not treated him in the field then gotten him to a medic.
    “That’s why I’ve never been here before.”
    “Weren’t you in Rwanda?”
    “For three hours once. Just long enough to confirm there was nothing there for us.” -- Us meaning U.S. Jalil was working for Sentry at the time, a multi-billion dollar private securities firm hired by the government for “special projects.”
    Rolf shakes his head. “Always looking for the shiny side of the coin.”
    Jalil shrugs, not denying it. “And getting jobs done.”
    Rolf points him in the direction of the police station. “You’ll find Luamke’s office ten clicks that way. You can’t miss it, or him.” He squeezes his old friend’s shoulder.
    Jalil looks lost and then snaps out of it. “What about the activist group she was working with?”
    “Kuchuna. Grassroots. Started last year. Good for social networking, getting the extreme word out on human rights and environmental issues in the area. They broke the story, even reported Aliya was missing to the magistrate. They’ve stirred things up once or twice, so Akida can probably tell you where to find them.”
    Rolf boards the van and sits by the door, still speaking with Jalil. He hands him a Tanzania guidebook, as the vehicle starts moving. “Good luck.”
    “I don’t believe in luck.”
    “Take it anyway. Sixty albinos were killed in the last year. I lost 3000 refugees. Tanzania lost 80,000 to HIV. If by some miracle, Aliya is alive, you are her best hope. Inaweza mungu akubariki. May God bless you.”
    Jalil watches him as the van drives away. The spine is disjointed. He opens the guidebook and finds a knife in his knapsack. The sun shines on the blade. How strange, Jalil thinks. Rolf is so distracted...Dismissive...He’s given him a quick brief, armed him and sent him on a mission. He is a mess. Rolf won’t last another year at that pace. He shuts the book and looks around in a circle to gain his bearings. He goes in the direction Rolf sent him, following at the heels of his quick pace.

 
    10
     
    Luamke

    July 15 (later)
     
    Numerous framed pictures of Magistrate Luamke with various people