Displaced (22 page)

“Get up,” ordered the Major and helped pull
her to her feet by the back of her arm. “Listen to me,” he said,
“if I ever see you again, I will kill you, you understand? Now
run.” Nicole looked at him puzzled. “Go,” he said, “now.” She began
moving her feet and stumbled over the uneven ground and looked back
once to see the Major standing there placidly. The stalks
surrounded her and engulfed her now and she ran in the direction
which she thought was the opposite from where she came. She heard
the sound of a pistol firing twice. She kept running.

****

The notice was delivered by courier service
to his office. Ronald signed for it and left the package on
Jonathan’s chair where it greeted him when he arrived later that
morning, an unremarkable DHL envelope that contained another
envelope inside embossed with the title of the UN Office of the
Inspector General. The blood drained from Jonathan’s face and he
went pale when he saw the return address. With a knot in his
stomach, he removed the envelope and read its contents. “Notice of
Employment Review,” read the title in the center of the page below
the letterhead. “Please be advised,” it continued after the
salutation, “your employment status with the World Food Program is
currently under review. An investigation into the propriety of your
office is currently in process. This investigation specifically
includes the appropriateness of your conduct in carrying out the
responsibilities of your office consistent with UN standards.” He
didn’t need to read any further to understand that his job was in
jeopardy. Without his job what would he do, how would he remain,
and what could he return to. The difficulty of having to leave
troubled him more than the loss of employment. If there was some
consolation in the notice, it was that he was no longer subject to
Singh’s threats. He has done his worst, Jonathan thought.

The letter continued, it informed him of his
right to a hearing before any action would be taken against him and
told him that further notice would inform him of the time and place
when he was required to report for an interview. Jonathan picked up
the phone and called Claude’s mobile number. “Claude, this is
Jonathan,” he said.

“Jonathan, I was expecting your call.”

“I’m being investigated.”

“Yeah, I know, I got a call this morning. The
thing to do is not to panic, this is only a preliminary step.”

“This is bullshit.” Jonathan said,
maintaining a sense of outrage independent from any notion of
actual innocence or guilt.

“Yeah maybe, but there have been some
complaints. I’m afraid this has been coming for some time. I’m
sorry Jonathan, I think this is my fault, I should have transferred
you.”

Jonathan didn’t say anything and his silence
was akin to an admission.

“Don’t overreact Jonathan, I don’t know
exactly what they’re after and you were always in a tough position.
I don’t think they’ll fire you maybe you’ll just be
reassigned.”

“How am I supposed to respond?” Jonathan
regained his footing. “It’s just rumor and innuendo.”

“They have to prove it, but you’ll get a
chance to respond that’s why they said they’d give you a time and
place. You’ll have to go to New York or Geneva. Let me make some
calls, okay? In the meantime, you just sit tight.”

“What about Ronald?”

“As far as I know this doesn’t involve
Ronald.”

“He has a wife and kids.”

“I know.”

“Okay”

“Let me make my calls and then I’ll get back
to you.”

“Okay.”

Claude clicked off and Jonathan put down the
receiver. He thought of his records in the office and doubted that
he could survive an investigation and wasn’t sure that he wanted
to. He sat at his desk for a minute staring at the wall and then
got up and opened the door to his office, and heard Ronald on the
telephone and waited for him to finish his conversation before
walking next door.

“Ronald, how’s it going,” he said casually
trying to put a brave face on matters.

“How is it going?” Ronald asked back at him.
“It’s going, that’s about the best that can be said. How is it
going with you or would you prefer I asked what’s up.”

Jonathan couldn’t help but grin as Ronald
made fun of his use of the colloquial.

“You sound more and more like an American,”
Ronald told him. “Always asking what is up, there are many thing
that are up.”

“Okay,” he said, “thanks, I’ll have to watch
that. Actually, there is something that is up, something that I
need to talk to you about. I got a notice today, from the UN, and
well I might be leaving you. I spoke with Claude and he says it
shouldn’t concern you and that you don’t have to worry.”

“I knew it,” Ronald reacted immediately. “I
knew you would get yourself into trouble and I tried to tell you,
but you didn’t listen,” he said with a pained voice of regret. “I
knew Singh was no good, it was only a matter of time you can’t
trust that man.”

“You were right, I should have listened to
you,” he would miss Ronald he thought.

“Oh Jonathan, now what am I supposed to
do?”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“But they will bring someone new in here that
I have to work with and I had just gotten used to working with you.
And who knows who I’ll have to work with now?”

“Well I really appreciate your concern,” he
said sarcastically. “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.”

“Oh Christ Jonathan, I’m gonna miss you is
what I’m saying. I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

“Well, I haven’t left yet.”

“Why’d you have to screw things up, we had a
good thing here. Shoot!”

“I’m sorry partner.”

“Sorry partner – you sound like a western,”
he said quieting himself. “When do you have to go?”

“I don’t know, it’s still early yet, they’re
making an investigation. They’re gonna probably want to talk with
you. Whatever you do don’t lie on my behalf, okay?”

“What am I going to tell them? You have your
secrets, I’m ignorant, you saw to that.”

“Yeah, well, maybe the whole thing will blow
over,” he said.

“Blow over, sure right.”

“Sorry buddy.”

“Now I’m ‘buddy’.” He left Ronald shaking his
head muttering regrets to himself.

In the late afternoon, on the road back into
town he decided that he wouldn’t say anything to Debra until the
situation was more settled. First Ronald and now Debra, he felt
that he was making a little path of destruction in the wake of his
imminent departure. He drove on clutching the truck forward into a
higher gear as the road opened up in front of him. As he approached
Kampala, traffic bottlenecked at the circle west of town. He waited
while Toyotas and mopeds jockeyed for position and managed not to
run into one another as they engaged in a seemingly impossible
choreography of merging transportation. Past the circle he skirted
the edge of town and after the golf course, he took a left and
climbed the hill to the church overlooking the city center. A
gravel parking lot abutted the rectory, a two story white cement
building attached to the main church. The path leading to the door
was overgrown and green. Jonathan first tried to ring the bell but
it was broken and he knocked on the solid wood door made like a
barricade. On the third knock, the door opened and Father Boniface
greeted him in his usual bearish, all God’s children kind of
way.

“Hello Jonathan, how are you? Come in, come
in,” he said as he held the door open and grabbed Jonathan by the
shoulder.

“Hi Father, I really just wanted to drop this
off for you. I was able to get the passport for your friend.”

“Can’t you come in?” he asked. “Just for a
little bit, I’d like to talk to you – come in. How about a
beer?”

“Sure, okay, a beer would be great,” he said
and stepped over the threshold.

“Come on in, have a seat,” Father Boniface
said ushering him into the kitchen and showing him a seat at a
round table in a space designed for a dozen men but currently
inhabited by only two priests.

“I have Tusker or Guinness.”

“Tusker would be fine.”

The Priest pulled two bottles from the
refrigerator and fiddled with the bottle opener before returning to
the table.

“I’m the only one who drinks beer here,” he
said taking a seat. “Father Joseph isn’t much of a drinker, so I
have to keep my own supply. I do like a cold beer.”

“The place looks good,” Jonathan commented.
“You’ve remodeled.”

“Oh, they had some guy come in and paint the
place and they replaced a few things. The refrigerator is new.”

“Who is they?”

“They?”

“Yeah, you said they. It’s just you and
Father Joseph, you’ve been here for almost a year, don’t you mean
we?”

“Oh, well, I guess I just think I’m visiting,
I don’t think of this as permanent, as home,” he said and paused.
“You got me on that one.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Still, you’re a shrewd observer, well
done.”

“Okay, well I really wanted to come by and
just give you the passport,” he said and slid the envelope across
the table. The two had a habit of engaging in accusation and
recrimination. “It’s a good likeness, I think. Mahesh says it may
be good for only six weeks or so, before someone reports it missing
and it’s cancelled.”

“Lucy Babinaga,” he read. “It looks like her.
I don’t know, I’m not real experienced in this, what else can we
do?”

“I think it could work. Mahesh has done this
before, he’s generally reliable.”

“Mahesh is the one who helped you with
Ugandan immigration? The one we paid?”

“Yeah, he helped us.”

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to trust in
God and trust in Mahesh. Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So we’re all set. I’m glad we got that
finished. I just spoke with her the other day, I expect her here
soon.”

“You’re still gonna need a visa,” Jonathan
said.

“Oh, right,” Father Boniface said with an
expression of recollection. “I had forgotten about that, how do we
go about getting a visa now?”

“I’m afraid I’m not gonna be able to help you
there Father.”

“No?”

“I’ve got my own troubles,” he said
hesitatingly. “I don’t think I can afford to get mixed up in this
anymore.”

“I know you’ve already done a lot, but it’s
just this one more thing. If you can just help with getting the
visa.”

“No really, there’s been some problems at
work and my office is under investigation,” he said not being
exactly truthful. “I may have to go to New York, at the least I’ll
be reassigned,” he said his eyes blinking.

“You’re in trouble? At work?” he asked.
“You’re too much of an iconoclast. You should try and get along
more,” he said.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said leaning
back in his chair.

“You know we all have to live with our
choices.”

“Thanks Father, I don’t see how that’s real
helpful, but thanks for the timely advice.”

“Ho, ho ho, you take everything to heart,
Jonathan,” he said laughing. “Are you really in trouble?”

“I could lose my job,” he said and the
reality of it made him swallow. “I’d have to leave.”

“It’s just a job after all.”

“You’re awfully glib with my well being.”

“I don’t believe in making a fetish of these
things.”

“A fetish?”

“Your job - if you want to stay, I can find
you another. I know plenty of people, I’ll vouch for you.”

“Don’t I have to live with my choices?”

“Who can choose where the heart will lead,”
Father Boniface said with an air of triumph. “I tell you what, just
meet with her when she gets into town and we’ll play it by ear
okay. She should be here soon and we can figure it out then. I do
appreciate your help Jonathan. You know people do come to me for
help, if there is anything I can do…”

“You’re really putting me on the spot
Father.”

“Just meet with her when she gets here, no
promises.”

“You’re very convincing, you’re certain that
once I meet her I’ll be compelled to help. Maybe I won’t like
her.”

“That’s fine, just meet with her and you can
do as you like.”

“Right, of course, of course, I’ll meet with
her,” he said relenting. “For chrissakes, you can be pushy,” he
said and then apologized, “sorry.”

“That’s okay,” he said making a mock gesture
of absolution. “I’ll consider it a prayer,” he said smiling.

“Right,” he said and felt outwitted. Father
Boniface chuckled to himself.

“When do you expect her?” Jonathan asked.

“Soon, I’ll let you know.”

The contentiousness between them was mild and
passed quickly. The usual recriminations set aside, they stood at
ease. Jonathan finished his beer and thanked the Priest, who
thanked him in return and promised to call and arrange for him to
meet when his friend’s niece arrived in Kampala. Jonathan left and
when he arrived home, Debra wasn’t waiting for him and he prepared
his own dinner.

After the Major let her go, Nicole ran until
she came to an irrigation ditch. She followed the ditch, which led
her out of the cane field and to a road where a local matatu
stopped for her and took her the remaining short distance to
Pakwach. She just had time to disembark in the red clay pitch that
served as a taxi park and bus depot before getting directions
pointing her to a crowded bus on the other side of a group of white
minibuses. The bus started its engine as she approached and she
pounded on the door to open up before getting on the last bus of
the day to Mbale. She sat next to a Ugandan woman, who looked at
her with disappointment and made her young child sit on her lap
having lost their exclusive seat just at the point of departure and
now having to share the trip with this grubby stranger. A chicken
in a webbed plastic carrying bag squawked whenever Nicole changed
positions and sat panting through its half opened mouth. The woman
next to her substituted the chicken and placed the child on the
seat next to Nicole, who looked at Nicole with big eyes with the
crust of sleep still on their edges and went back to sleep leaning
against her and forming a film of sweat between them where their
arms touched.