BAMAKO, Aribert Raphael [read out loud books .TXT] 📗

he said. He wanted no part of anyone else’s heritage.
They came out of the house through the back door, which opened onto yet another garden. There were flowerbeds everywhere, their blossoms radiant in the midday sun. A little path led them to a small grass-covered meadow under the shade of a copse of huge fruit trees surrounded by tea shrubs and junipers. Farther along the path and round the side of the main house, they found the three smaller bungalows, which Talya had observed from the gate when they arrived. In a far corner of the property, almost hidden from view, there was yet another house. This one was slightly smaller. It looked vacant.
The Lion turned to Hassan. “My son, you know that I’ve kept your house as the day you left it. Would you want to show it today to your friend?” Talya looked at Hassan expectantly.
“No, not today, father.” His eyes were averting her gaze. “I have to finish my work first before allowing myself to unlock that door again.” Talya was curious. That house held a secret. What story lay behind that door? It was not the time or the place to ask, however. They walked back to the main house and sat in the lounge chairs assembled in the shade of the veranda’s awnings. As they relaxed, admiring nature’s magnificent gifts, the red sand, the tall trees, the flowers, Talya felt as if enveloped with a sense of peace, for the first time in weeks.
Soon after they sat down, Melinda came to the terrace, placing the teapot and a tray with cups, spoons and sugar on the table between their seats. She introduced herself as Yves Sandros’s wife and retreated quickly. She wouldn’t be permitted to join them at this time. Muslim women seldom are on any such occasion.
A few minutes passed, while the two men engaged in some ritual talks about family, friends and other common concerns, and before Yves Sandros, The Lion, turned to Talya and said, “Madame Kartz, I will address you now, not as the friend of my son, but as a representative of Carmine. My son, I am sure, has explained to you that twelve of the most respected landowners in these parts have been victims of what you call a ‘swindle’. The person who misrepresented your company has taken money from each of us under false pretences and has marred our reputation. I am asking you now to consider our position in view of settling this matter with me first, and in turn with some of the owners of my neighbouring lands.”
That’s what I called going straight to the heart of the matter! It was a very surprising way to engage such a discussion, in African terms. More often than not, one would be faced with many excuses, and so called reasons for being induced in such a fraud, which only served to dilute the issue in endless palavers leading to resentful conclusions. In this case, Yves Sandros made it clear that he had been cheated out of his money and admitted that he had not been astute enough to see through Savoi’s game—no excuses, no palavers, no plea from this man—no wonder he earned the nick-name of ‘Lion’.
“Mr. Sandros, I would like first to apologize on behalf of my company for what has happened. We were also victims of Monsieur Savoi’s cunning, as you are aware, and we regret the day we ever engaged his services.”
The Lion peered into Talya’s eyes and remained silent for a minute before saying, “Yes. My son has explained your predicament. Perhaps, in this regard, we could help each other … but for the moment, let me ask you this, what do you need from me, or from the other owners ... documents, papers, figures…?”
“In the first place,” Talya began, fixing the face of this remarkable man, “we would need to know how much you disbursed and what was promised to you in return. Knowing these facts, we would then be in a position to consider some proposal, in kind or in cash, for reimbursement.”
“As you can appreciate, I am a rich man, Madame Kartz, even in American terms. I have paid Monsieur Savoi some two thousand American Dollars in hard currency, in exchange for which I was promised in writing, to obtain a ten percent royalty from any gold produced from my property.” 10%? Good Grief! That’s unthinkable. No mining company could afford to pay 10% royalty to anyone. A royalty was usually around a percentage point … not 10%!
Talya was at a loss for words, agape and incapable of expressing her outrage.
“This is quite amazing, Mr. Sandros,” she finally uttered. “Not only would two thousand American Dollars break many a man’s bank account in this country, but promising you ten percent on the production of a mine that does not even exist yet, was totally unrealistic.”
“I know that now. The seed I have sown in this instance will not reap me any profit, I am all too aware of the fact. You see, I made my fortune in the diamond trade, and not unlike the gold trade, profits are minimal at first and only grow after years of patient labour. You have to buy the stones that will raise the highest bidding before you can make the first dollar on your investment. In this instance, I had only one goal in mind and that was to provide for my first wife when I depart this earth. I thought two thousand dollars was a meagre sum to pay, in view of the possibilities that this investment offered.”
“I see that you are a learned man, and your intentions were laudable,” Talya said, with all the sincerity she felt. “However, unlike the diamond trade, whereby you have only to buy the stones to provide you with the assets necessary to pursue your sale endeavours, in gold exploration and production, it takes years before the first ingot is produced out of any mine. In this particular case, Carmine has set their sights on one piece of land only, which after cursory investigation appears to warrant exploration.”
“May I ask the name of that property?” Talya saw Hassan smile. Not again! Not another uncle!
Shooting a reproving glance at her attorney, “I believe you know it already, Monsieur Sandros,” Talya said.
He shook his head and chuckled. Talya stared.
“Yes, I believe I do,” the Lion replied, smiling at Hassan and at Talya in turn. “But please indulge me in confirming Hassan’s words for me…”
“It’s called ‘Kankoon’. It is located—”
“I know it well, and as you have probably gathered, yes, it is one of my properties in North East Mali, abutting the Tambaoura cliffs—a hundred miles south of Kayes.”
“But… How…” Talya was surprised because the name she had read on the documentation was not that of Yves Sandros.
Holding his hand up, indicating that he had the answer to Talya’s querying facial expression, Yves Sandros said, “I see that Hassan has kept the identity of the owner secret from you. Let me enlighten you. My first wife’s parents originally owned this property and it came to me as part of her dowry. Here again, I kept her father’s name on the deed because, if I died too early, and since we don’t have children, unfortunately, she would have an estate on which to live.”
The man didn’t know it yet, but if Carmine’s first geological investigation proved correct, his wife was literally sitting on a gold mine.
“Mr. Sandros, I need to ask you this; I have seen the deed of the property, a copy of which has been filed with our application for an exploration permit, would your wife have the power-of-attorney over the property, since she is your spouse?” Talya had to ask because according to Islamic laws, a wife does not own a property outright—her husband does. If this was the case, Hassan was in for trouble from Talya. Their application would have been filed incorrectly.
“Yes, she owns the property outright now. I gave it to her when I participated in Monsieur Savoi’s scheme.”
Phew! That was close…
Hassan looked at Talya. “I knew all along that it was my step-mother’s property now, I wouldn’t have induced you in error …”
“May be not, Hassan, but I would have appreciated knowing the fact beforehand.” Talya was annoyed, to say the least. She didn’t like to be the mushroom, kept in the dark, etc.
“Don’t blame Hassan for hiding this fact,” Yves Sandros put-in, seeing that Talya shot a reproachful glance in Hassan’s direction. “I was the one who asked him to keep this information from you. Pardon me for the blunder.”
“By all means, but now this situation begs the question: what form of reimbursement will you expect from Carmine, knowing that on the one hand we are going to explore the land and on the other that we couldn’t possibly consider a ten percent royalty on the production, if there were any from the land?”
“As far as the two thousand dollars are concerned, I still consider it as a fair investment, so I don’t want any reimbursement of that money.” Talya was puzzled. She had expected that some sort of repayment would be warranted. “As for the ten percent, no, I don’t want to demand what is not possible to give. Allah would punish me for the greed I would display toward you.”
Talya raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Then, what would you consider a suitable arrangement?” What does he have up his sleeve?
“As I said, I wanted to provide for my wife when I go back to Allah, and I still do. So I would like for Melinda to receive a pension—a modest one—in perpetuity from the sale of the gold if, and when Kankoon becomes a gold producing property.”
That sounded fair enough, although Talya didn’t know what he meant by ‘modest’.
“Yes. I think Carmine may be able to accept these terms, but that will be up to the Board of Directors, when the time comes to ratify the agreement.”
“Well then, since this is settled,” the Lion said with a broad smile of satisfaction crossing his handsome face, “we should have lunch,” and suddenly shouting toward the house, he called Melinda.
“Hassan,” Talya said, turning to him with a burning question on her lips, “what about the other owners?”
“Don’t worry. My father will take care of that in due course. I am sure he will talk to you about this after we ate.”
The array of dishes spread before them was more lavish than Talya had expected, by any stretch of the imagination. She remembered that some of these delicacies were part of the feast, which usually concludes the Ramadan. Yet, the Ramadan’s forty-day’s fast had ended some weeks earlier; she wondered why they were so spoiled. Her taste buds didn’t care really, and she was so grateful for the change from the hotel food that she felt obliged to thank the lady of the house personally. She excused herself and stepped inside in search of the kitchen.
A beautiful woman, tall as the Peule women are in that part of the country, turned to face Talya in surprise as she came in.
“Melinda. I came to thank you. The meal was superb.”
Melinda’s brown eyes delicately trimmed with long eyelashes enhanced the fine features of her face, and those eyes gazing at Talya showed cleverness and a bit of cunning. Her age was indiscernible, her smooth skin was unblemished and the absence of wrinkles revealed nothing of her years.
“Madame Kartz! You didn’t have to come to the kitchen. You are our guest.” She wiped her hands quickly