MALI: The Beginning (The Puppets of Washington Book 3)

Chapter 4

Chapter 4In the early seventies, Talya’s father, a physician, decided to go and cure the ills of Africa. Through a tireless dedication to his work, he unwittingly showed his daughter what a young girl should never see. The misery and the pain of fighting for mere survival were staring her in the face, around her, every day. She saw people implore for pity and simple kindness or attention to their never-ending sickness. She saw humans reduced to animal-like forms by diseases and horrible living conditions. The Dark Continent was bleeding from the scars of colonization. It was suffering from a long, incurable disease called ‘Progress’.

The first time she returned to Africa after spending several years in Europe, going to college and hesitantly taking her first steps into the business world, Talya found that modernization had trespassed on the ancient continent. It had helped several countries emerge from the anarchy of independence. Wasn’t it Churchill who once remarked, “Independence was an unwelcome disruption to nations which prior to the First World War had shared a common economy, government and laws”?

As the years marched on, unfortunately, progress and poverty became bedfellows. Today, many people are merely subsisting in slums that emerged from the vestige of dead colonies, while many others are living in luxury homes mushrooming from foreign investments. This atmosphere breeds corruption, which, bar a few exceptions, is now running rampant almost everywhere throughout Africa.

On her way to Mali, since there were no connecting flights to Bamako on the day, Talya decided, with James’s approval, to stop over in Dakar; the capital of Senegal situated at the westernmost point of Africa. This city is a relic of an Old French settlement with busy streets and narrow sidewalks, where people jostled to fray a passage amid the dense horde of cars, buses, donkeys, horse-drawn carts and hobbling beggars. Even the many large tree-lined thoroughfares bearing such names as ‘Avenue George Pompidou’ or ‘Boulevard Charles de Gaulle’ ail from the seldom-interrupted traffic jams.

Throughout the years of abundance and hardship, this old city kept its charm. In Dakar you could find the most luxurious mansions abutting the poorest shacks and the cleanest beaches strewn among the filthiest fishing coves, and not unlike a small version of Marseille, with its very busy port, markets everywhere, selling everything—if you need it, you’ll find it in Dakar.

Yet, Talya had another reason for visiting the Old Marseille. Three months before her departure, a man who, by all accounts, was seeking to find a mining partner, paid a visit to Carmine. He was a handsome, tall African man. He walked down the corridor leading to the boardroom with a graceful, yet purposeful stride. The broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waistline hinted at the man’s muscular stature. However, the two long scars on his left cheek, deeply etched on his coffee-coloured skin, distracted Talya from noticing the tentative and somewhat timid smile that brightened his face when he came near. His allure and manner exuded charm, but his eyes reflected anxiety and distrust. His name was Ahmed Hjamal. He came to Vancouver in need of professional assistance. Apparently, he had planned and had begun the construction of a gold-processing plant in Senegal and now wanted to engage Carmine and hire their technical knowledge.

James and Talya met with him. During the meeting, Ahmed Hjamal showed his pretentious side as well as his grandiloquent egotism. James told him at once that his company was not for hire but he also made it clear that the Directors could look into a form of association that would eventually benefit all parties concerned. Monsieur Hjamal wanted nothing to do with that offer. He wanted control. He had money, he said. He wanted to buy the knowledge he did not have. The meeting ended quickly, and their guest showed his displeasure by marching out of the office without awarding another glance to his hosts or to the bewildered receptionist; perhaps understandably so, since he had travelled to Vancouver intending to buy help and was now going home empty-handed. Whatever this man wanted or coveted in life, this man got. He would not easily take ‘no’ for an answer.