“Since Guinea got its independence in 1968, the people in power mainly have come from the Fang race. Five years ago there were troubling incidents in the city of Luba, which you must know as San Carlos. A group of armed and masked men killed four workers, and the authorities accused a group that supported the island’s independence and self-determination of being responsible. As a result, there was wide-scale repression of the Bubi community by the army. Real atrocities were committed.” Laha paused.
“I . . .” Clarence swallowed. “I don’t remember having read anything at home.”
Laha took another sip of coffee and shook his head. “They detained hundreds of people, among them my brother. I was lucky, I was in California. My mother made me promise not to put a foot on Bioko until things had quieted down.”
“And what happened to Iniko?” she asked in a barely audible voice.
“He spent two years in Black Beach. He never talks about it, but I know he was tortured. They later sent him with others to the Evinayong prison, in Mbini, on the continent, which you would know as Río Muni, where he was made to do forced labor. One of the people with my brother was eighty-one years old . . . can you imagine?” Laha took a deep breath. “Remember that the two parts of Guinea, the island and the continental part, are separated by over three hundred nautical miles. It’s not only a geographic separation, but also a cultural one. The Bubis are foreigners in Muni. They were sent there to separate them from their families and make their incarceration more painful.”
“But,” she softy interrupted, “what were they accused of?”
“Of anything. Of treason, terrorism, unlawful possession of explosives, arms smuggling, attempts against national security, coups, secession . . . Surreal, isn’t it? Fortunately, two years ago, several prisoners were pardoned, among them Iniko. It was a conditional release, but at last he was able to get out of that hellhole. So did Melania. They met there.”
Clarence was stunned. These things happened in the twenty-first century? She took for granted the democratic state that her forefathers had fought for not so long ago—it was very difficult to comprehend everything Laha had told her. She now understood the nervousness of the group when that foreigner was arrested.
Poor Iniko!
Then, she remembered the suggestion that Iniko had made to her, and she felt an uneasy throb in her chest. She had felt tempted to accept the offer, but after what Laha had just told her, she was not so sure.
That night it was difficult for Clarence to sleep.
In the end, she had accepted Iniko’s offer. She would travel around the island with him. She would get to know villages that, just by their names, evoked stories and anecdotes of Jacobo and Kilian. Two or three days. Her journey was coming to an end, he argued, and she had not been out of Malabo. The trip included a visit to a special place named Ureca and a quick stop in Sampaka. He had promised that she would not forget this trip, that Bioko was a beautiful island, and that with him she would get to see places unknown to many.
And if they were stopped at a checkpoint?
Iniko was a well-known cocoa company agent, in charge of paying the Bubi farmers. Also, he knew the island like the back of his hand.
Nobody, except Laha, would know where they were. If something happened to her, it would take days for her to be missed in Spain.
On the other hand, how fortunate that Iniko had to make the trip! This would force her to exhaust all remaining possibilities relating to her family. She felt a renewed excitement. How could she have given up her search so soon?
The answer was simple. Each time she reproached herself for cowardly abandoning the search for answers, images of Mamá Sade and her son appeared. Maybe it was not such a good idea to rake up the past. Maybe there were things better left unfound. All families had secrets. Life went on . . .
She sighed deeply.
Go around the island with Iniko . . .
This crush was ridiculous. She felt as if she were fifteen!
Well, well, she thought, the timid Clarence is going to the jungle with a hunk of a man who has been in prison and who probably has a girlfriend.
Iniko.
A man who was intelligent, sensitive, committed, a good talker, and attentive.
A couple of days with him. Alone.
She was in the lobby of the hotel at seven o’clock, surprised to find out that Bisila would be traveling with them on the first part of the trip. To a certain degree, Clarence was relieved not to be completely alone with Iniko. Her dreams at night were one thing; the reality was altogether another.
Clarence went over to Bisila and gave her two affectionate kisses. She silently approved of her dress, pleated below the bust and made from the same orange material as the scarf that covered her in the African style of headdress.
They got into Iniko’s white Land Rover, and he explained to her that although the two main roads on the island, which went to Luba in the east and toward Riaba in the west, were perfectly surfaced, the rest of Bioko was connected by secondary roads strewn with roadworks every few kilometers, delays, potholes, temporary detours on dusty tracks, and dirt roads difficult to travel on without a suitable vehicle. In particular, the southern part was the most isolated because of the natural characteristics of the terrain, making access difficult in the rainy season.
And they were in the rainy season. The day dawned fairly cloudy. Some light mists rode around the summit of the majestic Basilé Peak, at whose feet Malabo was situated. Clarence had been lucky recently, with hot days unusual for the month of May. This morning the sky threatened rain.
She looked out the window of the car and silently prayed not to see a tornado.
Iniko put her mind at ease.
“We’ll be going to well-known places. This island can be driven across quickly. Most of the time, we will be in villages where we can shelter if it rains.”
“Fine. And what is our first destination?” she asked, assuming that it would be Sampaka.
“I thought about driving clockwise. We will start in Rebola.”
“Ah! As it is so close to Malabo, I thought our first stop would be Sampaka.”
“Well, if you don’t mind, we’ll leave the plantation until the end of the trip.” Iniko turned around slightly. “My mother doesn’t like going to Sampaka.”
Clarence turned to Bisila, who, sitting beside her in the backseat, watched her in silence. She did not know if it was her imagination or if the woman was actually studying her movements, wanting to find some familiar gesture. In the light of day, she looked even more beautiful. Bisila smiled at her timidly.
“Of course I don’t mind,” said Clarence with a smile.
As they distanced themselves from the city, the rising mountain peak brought on memories of her Pasolobino valley. Except in Bioko, the vegetation was much greener.
“Basilé Mountain is impressive,” she murmured, turning to Bisila.