Palm Trees in the Snow

Iniko almost smiled at her. “Relax. I’m going to collect someone. I’m late.”

He turned left to take the ring road that led to the airport, and in a few minutes, Clarence began to recognize the route. When they got to the small parking lot dotted with enormous trees with large white-collared crows resting on them, she made out a young man waving in the crowd. She noticed he was very well dressed, in a pair of light-colored branded jeans and a white shirt. He picked up his bag and walked toward them. Iniko got out of the car, and both men greeted each other affectionately with hugs and slaps on the back. They looked to the car. Clarence assumed they were talking about her. She wondered whether to get out, but decided to wait.

The two of them soon got into the Land Rover.

“Shall I sit in the back?” Clarence asked Iniko in a low voice.

“No, please,” said the other man from behind her. “Iniko has told me you are Spanish and that you met each other in Sampaka.”

His immediate familiarity put her at ease.

“. . . And that your name is Clarence, like the city.”

She nodded. She would never be just Clarence again. Here she was Clarence like the city.

He held out his hand. “My name is Laha.”

“Pleased to meet you, Laha.”

“And what are you doing in Malabo? Let me guess! You are an NGO aid worker.”

“No.”

“No?” He was surprised. He rested his elbows on the back of the front seats, between Clarence and Iniko, and closed his eyes. “Let me see . . . Sent by the United Nations?”

“No.” Clarence liked Laha more and more. He was nice, on top of being hugely attractive, and his Spanish was perfect, although he had a slight North American accent.

“Businesswoman? Engineer? Iniko! Help me!”

“Researcher,” said Iniko in a neutral voice. “I assume from the university.”

Well, he has a good memory anyway, thought Clarence.

“And what do you research?” Laha asked.

“I’m a linguistics lecturer. I came here to gather information for a project on the Spanish spoken in Guinea.”

“How interesting! And? How do we speak?”

Clarence laughed. “I arrived yesterday! I haven’t had time for anything yet . . . And you, what do you do? Have you come for vacation?”

“Yes and no. I’m an engineer, and the company has sent me to review the assembly of a liquefaction train that is going to be built in the plant.” He saw Clarence widen her eyes. “Do you know what I’m talking about?”

She shook her head.

“Look”—he pointed out the window to his left—“somewhere over there is a labyrinth of pipes that make up the petrochemical complex Punta Europa. Here we have a lot of oil and gas, but it is managed by foreign companies like mine, and it’s all exported. With the new facilities, we can liquefy the gas here. The next thing will be to build a refinery . . .”

Iniko gave a snort, followed by some African words, and Laha frowned.

“Ah well, there are a lot of projects up and running.”

“And of course, you have to come regularly,” Clarence intervened. “Where do you live normally?”

“In California. But I was born here.”

“Wow!” Laha kept surprising her.

“I studied at Berkeley, and I was hired by a multinational. In one of life’s coincidences, my company bought the rights of an oil company in Guinea and offered me the chance to get involved in the expansion of the facilities, precisely because I know this island. That way I get to see my family, don’t I, Iniko?” He gave him a slap on the back.

“You’re family?” Clarence asked. These two men looked nothing alike.

“Didn’t Iniko tell you that he was going to collect his brother from the airport?”

“No, he didn’t. In fact, he told me absolutely nothing.”

Laha yawned. “And what are your plans? Have you been given a tour of the city?”

“Not yet. On Monday, I’ll go to the university.” She wanted Laha to propose some plan, but she did not want to sound either desperate or bored. On top of that, he had just arrived after a long trip. “Today, I’ll use my time to do some touring of my own.”

“We have a family meeting,” Iniko said, making clear that she was not included.

“I don’t think I’ll last long,” said Laha, stifling another yawn.

What a pity, thought Clarence, a little frustrated. She looked out the window and recognized the street her hotel was on.

Iniko stopped the car at the door but made no movement to get out. Laha did, however.

“Clarence . . . would you like me to go with you to the university on Monday?” he offered. “I have friends in the mechanical engineering department. I normally go and see them.”

She thought for a few seconds. “How about ten o’clock at the door of the cathedral? Or would you prefer if I met you here?”

“At the cathedral would be fine. Thanks a lot.”

“Until Monday then.”

Laha put out his hand to say good-bye, and Clarence held out hers, grateful and happy to have met him. Then she realized she had not said good-bye to Iniko. At the end of the day, he had done her the favor of giving her a lift. She bent down to see inside the Land Rover, where he sat looking straight ahead. Clarence held back a courteous smile.

She had never met anyone so unfriendly in her whole life.



After eating and taking a siesta, Clarence felt brave enough to go to the cathedral, an impressive building in a neo-Gothic style whose facade was flanked by two forty-meter towers. She noticed that everyone was looking at her again. She felt uncomfortable, and for the first time, she was sorry for not having convinced Daniela or one of her friends to come with her.

She found refuge for a good while inside the cathedral—the only place where she felt relaxed and safe—captivated by the pale-yellow columns, high and thin, perched on black marble bases that held up the main nave’s vaulted ceiling. She approached the altar and spent some time contemplating the sculpture of a black Virgin with her right hand resting on her left shoulder. Behind her she could make out the carved head of a small child. The evening light, seeping through the stained-glass windows, lit up the face, slightly inclined toward the floor. She felt that the black Virgin had a very sad expression. Why had she been carved like that, so mournful? Clarence wondered. She shook her head. Maybe it was just her imagination.

She decided to return to the hotel, where she lay on her bed, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. What would she do until Monday?

She turned on the television but did not get any signal. She called reception, but the girl told her, with broken pronunciation full of s’s, that the channel was off the air. According to her, they sometimes forgot to refill the fuel tank of the electricity generator that fed the radio and television transmitters located on top of Basilé Mountain.

A whole new country, and Clarence had nothing to do?

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