Page 55 of Never
Kiah was frightened all over again.
Another girl said: ‘What about the rest of us?’
‘Maybe when you’re older,’ said Fatima.
Kiah knew that in truth the others were not pretty enough.
Fatima turned back to the car and the driver opened the door. Before getting in she dropped the end of her cigarette and trod on it. The whole conversation had been only as long as it took her to smoke it. She sat in the car and leaned out. ‘Make up your minds,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you later.’ The driver shut the door.
The villagers watched the car drive away.
Kiah said to Zariah: ‘What do you think? Will you go to N’Djamena with Fatima?’
‘If my mother will let me – yes!’ Zariah’s eyes gleamed with hope and enthusiasm.
Kiah was only four years her senior, but the age difference felt bigger. Kiah had a child to worry about, and she was more aware of hazards.
Then she thought of Hakim, with his dirty T-shirt and his grigri beads. She was now faced with a choice between Fatima and Hakim.
There was really nothing to think about.
Zariah said: ‘What about you, Kiah? Will you go with Fatima this afternoon?’
Kiah hesitated only a moment longer. ‘Yes,’ she said, then she added: ‘Of course.’
***
The restaurant had an English name, Bourbon Street, displayed outside in red neon. Kiah arrived in Fatima’s Mercedes late in the afternoon, along with Zariah and two girls she did not know. They all walked into a lobby with a thick carpet and walls painted the soft colour of white orchids. It was even more luxurious than Kiah had imagined. She found that reassuring.
The girls made sounds of amazement and delight, and Fatima said: ‘Enjoy it. This is the last time you’ll come in through the front door. There’s a staff entrance at the back.’
There were two big men in plain black suits in the lobby, doing nothing, and Kiah guessed they were security guards.
The main room was big. Along one side was a long bar with more bottles than Kiah had ever seen in one place. What could be in them all? There were sixty or more tables. On the side opposite the bar was a stage with red curtains. Kiah had not realized that restaurants might also put on a show. The room was carpeted but for a small circle of wood flooring in front of the stage that Kiah worked out must be for dancing.
A dozen or so men were having drinks, and a couple of girls were serving them, but otherwise the place was empty, and Kiah guessed it must have just opened. The red-and-white uniforms were very smart, although she was shocked by how short the skirts were. Fatima introduced the new girls to the waitresses, who cooed over Naji, and to the barman, who was curt. In the kitchen six cooks were busy cleaning and chopping vegetables and making sauces. The space seemed too small for the task of preparing meals for all those tables.
At the far end a corridor led to a series of small rooms, each with a table and chairs and a long couch. ‘Customers pay extra for the private rooms,’ Fatima said. Kiah wondered why anyone would pay more to have dinner in secret.
She was awestruck by the scale of the enterprise. Fatima had to be very clever to manage it. Kiah wondered whether she had a husband to help her.
They passed through a small staff area with hooks for coats, then they went out by the staff door. Across a courtyard was a two-storey concrete building, painted white, with blue shutters. An elderly woman sat outside enjoying the cool of the evening. She stood up when Fatima approached.
‘This is Mrs Amat al-Yasu,’ Fatima said. ‘But everyone calls her Jadda.’ It was the colloquial word for a nanny. She was a small, plump woman, but there was a look in her eye that gave Kiah the feeling that Jadda might have the same tough streak as Fatima.
Fatima introduced the new girls and said: ‘If you do as Jadda tells you, you won’t go far wrong.’
The house door was a sheet of corrugated iron nailed to a timber frame, not an unusual design in N’Djamena. Inside was a series of small bedrooms and a communal shower. The upper floor duplicated the lower. Each room had two narrow beds with a space between them just wide enough to stand up in, and two small wardrobes. Most of the residents were getting ready for the evening’s work, doing their hair and putting on their waitress uniforms. Jadda announced that they were expected to shower at least once a week, which surprised the new girls.
Kiah and Zariah were given a room together. Their uniforms were hanging up, one in each wardrobe, along with European-style underwear, brassieres and skimpy panties. There was no cot: Naji would have to sleep in Kiah’s bed.
Jadda told them to get changed immediately as they would be working tonight. Kiah fought down panic: so soon! With Fatima, it seemed, everything happened faster than you expected. Fatima asked Jadda: ‘How will we know what to do?’
‘Tonight you’ll be paired with an experienced girl who will explain everything,’ the chaperone replied.
Kiah took off her outer robes and her plain shift underdress and went along to the shower. Then she put on her uniform and found Ameena, who was to be her tutor. In no time, it seemed, she was entering the restaurant, which was quickly filling up. A small band was playing and a few people were dancing. Although everyone was speaking Arabic or French, Kiah failed to recognize half the words, and she guessed they were talking about dishes and drinks she had never heard of. She felt like a foreigner in her own country.
However, as soon as Ameena started to take orders, Kiah began to understand. Ameena asked the customers what they would like, and they told her, sometimes pointing to items on a printed list, which made it easier to be sure what they were saying. Ameena wrote down their choices on a notepad, then went to the kitchen. There she called out the orders, then tore the sheet off the pad and put it on the counter. The drinks orders she repeated to the taciturn barman. When the food was ready she took it to the table, and the same with the drinks.
