Even at sunrise the air was warm and heavy.
Hassan stood and stared at his wife's torn, blood spattered clothing which lay scattered in the water, the burning boat wreckage still smouldering. There was dried blood on the river bank and surrounding reeds where it looked as though she had tried to drag herself out of the water without success. Her family , friends and neighbours the people who loved her, were mourning openly, wailing and weeping and praying loudly, some fingered their prayer beads while others threw themselves to the ground. Babies cried and were hushed by their mothers, and in the distance the sound of gunfire and heavy artillery pounded on. Hassan did not stay long at the waters edge.
Mariam adjusted her abaya nervously, she flipped the flimsy fabric around her head and tucked it in to the fold on the side, the gesture was habitual, something she did almost subconsciously when she was distressed or anxious. Her morning prayers done, she stood and absent mindedly watched the sunrise over the water, the boats were ready to be filled with provisions, he had said she should take no clothing, nothing to remind her of her past life. Thoughts of Jon filled her head and her step quickened, she made sure the boats were securely moored and then quickly made her way home.
The house was quiet and she let herself in silently, stepping over sleeping bodies in the half light of morning. Her marriage to an army officer had improved the lives of many, family had come from far and wide to enjoy the luxury of regular food on the table and a roof over their heads. She had welcomed each of them but the house had grown smaller as a result and although there was little space for privacy there was an atmosphere of congenial acceptance. Her marriage to Hassan was an arranged liaison with huge benefits and stability to him and her family, but very little of either for herself.
She pulled a small curtain back in the corner of the main room, and slid into the bed on the floor, her husband had been on patrol all night and would be home around noon, after which he would probably sleep all day and well into the night, for now though the space was hers. She quietened her mind and went over the plans for the day.
Hassan found the man he was looking for. He thrust a fistful of US dollars into his hand and muttered 'Kalaas' and then almost as an after thought added 'InshaAllah' It is finished, God willing, and walked away melting quickly into the crowd. Just another soldier on a mission.
She and Jon had met at the American Consulate in a nearby city where she had worked as a translator a year ago, he was mesmerised by her beauty her sense of humour, her compassion. She found his kindness a welcome change, the same hand which held a rifle on the battlefield during the day held her face and caressed her body with a gentleness which often brought her to tears. The affair which followed was passionate and intense which quickly developed into a deep and profound love, a love that neither would walk away from.
They made plans for a life together in another country, assumed names with no history. Jon knew someone who knew someone, a new identity was certainly possible. Friends of his vowed to help with the escape plan, a plan which faltered and was altered many times before a final plan of action was agreed upon. There could be no prolonged searches, no repercussions, no looking over their shoulders for the rest of their lives, they decided that they would have to stage Mariam's death.
The taxi driver made his way down to the river at midday, and hired a water taxi for the day.
It was late afternoon when she walked out of the house for the last time and she never looked back. Heart pounding she made her way down to the rivers edge keeping her posture relaxed, her gait steady and even. Using the boats in broad daylight was something she often did, she climbed into the one and rowed steadily to the far side, dragging the other empty boat behind her. Her return trip was always slow going, the boat laden with food was always heavy in the water. Today the river was filled with a myriad of small crafts fetching supplies, and water taxi's ferrying people to and from the other side. Some waved at her as she passed, most ignored her, she was a married older woman and so a chaperon was not insisted upon and there was a war going on, who had time to think of those mundane issues when food and survival were of far greater importance.
A patrol boat passed by and Mariam looked up startled, the boat had come too close, it unnerved her, the markings were unclear it had looked like a patrol boat but she couldn't be certain. She rowed steadily her eyes wide, her panic barely containable. The large power boat turned slowly and headed back towards her, and as others screamed for her to get out of the way..she did what she swore she would never do, she froze like a rabbit caught in headlights.
Afterwards few witnesses could relate what had actually happened. The explosion was huge, debris of the patrol boat flew in all directions and rained down on the nearby boaters. Some screamed in pain as hot shards fell on or near them, and then there was silence, broken only by an intermittent crackling of fire as it hissed and spluttered in the last throes of sudden death. People were pulled from the water into nearby boats, many circled for a long while, calling and making sure all survivors had been rescued. During the night most of the wreckage spread far and wide where it either sank or wallowed ungainly before finding its way to the river bank. Mariam's boats were completely destroyed.
The taxi driver sat high up on the hill and looked down on the city far below and he pondered the choices he had made. The goat he had slaughtered would feed his family well tonight, its blood had been shed for a good cause, before yesterday he had not known about his wife's friendship with Mariam, nurtured weekly at the provisions warehouse where she worked. They would have to move to another village now of that he was sure, but he had the money and skills to start anew, why he could drive anything, even a water taxi!
The army truck bounced along the dusty road as it sped towards the harbour, tossing the occupants in the back about mercilessly. A man in ragged traditional clothing stood on one side of the deserted country road with a woman who looked as shabbily dressed as he did, their worn faces creased with smiles, the man gave an imperceptible nod and the truck increased its speed, as it passed a hand gestured from behind the canvas of the truck.
It gave a thumbs up sign.
Later we bought (after I had recovered from my dizzy spell and they realized it was just food related...) shrimp and artichoke wraps and lunched on the beach watching the sea otters frolic in the kelp.
bye John..sniff... 
