Читать книгу No Turning Back - Roger Rees - Страница 11

4: Sex and Love

Lomiwen teqebelech – ‘She accepted the lemon’

BACK IN ADDIS following their fieldwork with Zeno Wolde and before returning to London, Louise and Carmen made plans to fly north and visit the rock-hewn churches of Lalibella. On the hot afternoon before they left, Louise was wearing slip-on shoes with a slight heel, and a blue, thin-strapped summer dress that lit up her face and complemented her eyes. It fitted snuggly around her breasts and waist and showed off her lithe, tanned figure. She sat alone, enjoying coffee in the umbrella-covered university campus canteen, reading the essayist, poet and short story writer Abbe Gubennya. Then Zeno appeared. She wondered if he had been tracking her.

‘I’ve been hoping to catch up with you before you leave. If you have time, would you come to my office so I can give you a memento of your visit?’

It was a tantalising invitation, one that Louise had half expected and would not turn down. An inner voice urged her to go with Zeno. She would return to Ethiopia to complete fieldwork, so it would be good to build her professional relationship with him. Nothing could come of their friendship because as soon as she returned from Lalibella, she and Carmen would fly back to London.

She left the campus refectory with Zeno and took a leisurely walk to his office. He opened the door, sat down at his polished wooden desk and invited Louise to take an adjacent chair. She felt comfortable with Zeno and knew, given his respect, she could easily leave without drama. Although she had no intention of leaving in a hurry. She glanced round the room and looked over his lean muscular figure as she scanned the books on his shelves: Politics of the Ethiopian Famine 1974-75, Paediatrics and Infant Mortality, Black Lions: Lives of Ethiopia’s Literary Giants, The Poems of Dr Zhivago, and South Africa’s Anti Apartheid Poetry.

Zeno told her that he’d collected books on overseas study or conference trips, in London, New York, Rome, Paris and Cape Town. She pictured him thumbing through books in overseas bookshops. He talked enthusiastically about his books and travel.

Suddenly she sensed his mood change and found herself looking directly at him. Two of the poppers at the top of her dress were undone. There was a lull in the Addis traffic and briefly the room was silent. Zeno broke his gaze and said he would like to help her acquire a collection of significant books about the health anthropology of Ethiopia and that, in his view, it should also include literary works, poetry as well as prose. He produced a small book.

‘I would like you to accept this first edition of the Ivo Strecker fieldwork book about the symbolism and life of the Hamar, Banna, and Karo tribes of the Lower Omo Valley. It’s one of the few published – I’m sure you will find it useful.’

She wondered why he was giving her this precious book. Does he want me to work with him?

As he handed her the book, she eyed him flirtatiously. Then he whispered, ‘This, Louise, is for you.’

‘Thank you, Zeno, I will cherish this. I will read it carefully and hope that I can repay you in some way.’

‘Repay me by returning to study here.’

Zeno leant forward, kissed her on the forehead, ran his hand through her hair and wrapped his arms around her. She closed her eyes and felt him taste her skin as he kissed her lips.

Had there been a plan for any of this, Louise wondered, as Zeno kissed her again. As she lifted her arms around him he lifted the straps from her shoulders, reached behind, unzipped her dress and let it slide over her hips to the floor. Currents of excitement and desire flooded in her. He touched her skin gently but intently. She undid his shirt and ran her fingers over his hairy chest and across his groin. He left her momentarily and quickly locked the door. Stripped to the waist now, he kissed her, licked her earlobes and neck, stroked her buttocks and buried his face between her breasts. As he pushed against her she felt his hard bulge. For Louise, the urgency of what she knew was their limited time together removed all inhibitions …

Finally he withdrew and, lying on his side, gazed at Louise. There was perspiration on her forehead and in her hair. They relaxed, gently touched each other’s faces, and kissed.

Their breathing slowed. They lay in each other’s arms for a long time, before getting up to dress.

‘I’ll drive you home to my place and you can have a shower, and then we’ll find a restaurant.’

‘I’d like that, but what about Carmen and our flight to Lalibella?’

‘I can phone the student apartments and you can leave a message for her. I’ll take you back after dinner.’

Instinctively she knew that truly he wanted her and had planned this moment.

After a short drive across the city they entered Zeno’s apartment. He left a message for Carmen saying that Louise would return well in time for their trip.

Louise’s breasts felt tender as she stood and soaked in the shower. She shampooed her hair and carefully soaped and washed away the last traces of Zeno from her body.

When she had dried and dressed, she went into the lounge to be embraced by Zeno. He had already booked a table at a secluded restaurant in a new Addis hotel.

Over dinner he raised the prospect of Louise returning to Addis Ababa to undertake fieldwork within a few months, much earlier than she had originally planned. She was enthusiastic and told him that her university in London could arrange for scholarship support when she studied in Ethiopia. Zeno talked about his research in anthropology and Louise wondered how she might navigate her way through preliminary thesis preparation in London and arrive back much earlier. Life makes an offer like this only once, she thought.

He settled himself in his chair opposite, reflected on this new reality and said in a measured voice, ‘And you, Louise, have the talent to produce original work which will contribute greatly to the understanding of Ethiopian life. You remind me of the Ethiopian jazz song ‘Lomiwen teqebelech’ (‘She accepted the lemon’) sung by the 1970s Ethiopian jazz star Mahmoud Ahmed in which a lemon is thrown at his girlfriend’s feet and, if she picks it up, it means she will marry him.

‘And you know,’ he whispered, ‘the girl in the song is like you, as beautiful as Makda Queen of Sheba … and she picked up the lemon.’

‘That’s a beautiful story.’