A Tale Of Choice Read online

  SHELLY AWOKE EARLY, despite the late hour they had gone to bed. Jim lay next to her, sleeping soundly and looking so rested and peaceful. After listening to his soft snoring for a while, she lifted the mosquito netting, gently and quietly swung her legs out of bed, slid to the floor and tip-toed to the bathroom. She dressed, wrote him a note and left it on the mirror.

  It read: “Jim, I have a really big need for something sweet and a large cup of coffee. Can’t wait any longer. I’ll stay in the hotel. See you downstairs if you get up before I get back. Hugs and kisses… XXXOOOXOX.”

  Half an hour later, she was happily licking her fingers from the gooey cinnamon roll and finishing her coffee when she realized she hadn’t taken her room key with her. Darn! Maybe Jim is up by now. I don’t want to wake him if he’s still sleeping, though.

  As she walked up the stairs and back to her room, she noticed a maid in the hall.

  “Pardon me, miss. But I’ve forgotten my key. Is there a way you can let me into room 201?” Shelly asked.

  The maid was of medium build, slender and with the delicate features of the East Africans. She looked at Shelly with a questioning look and asked, “What is your name, please?”

  “Mrs. James Ferguson,” replied Shelly.

  The maid verified the name on a list she’d taken out of her pocket. Shelly must have appeared trustworthy, for the maid took one more look at her and then offered to let her into the room.

  As they walked down the hall, the maid asked in excellent English, “Are you from the states?”

  “Yes, my husband and I are from the Northwest,” Shelly replied.

  “Where in the Northwest?” asked the maid with some curiosity.

  “We live in Washington state, in the town of Mica,” responded Shelly.

  “Is that near Seattle?” inquired the maid excitedly.

  “No. Mica is on the other side of the state. It’s near Spokane, Washington,” Shelly offered warmly.

  “Oh, I went to the University of Washington for four years,” the maid offered the information with great pride. “I just graduated last year. My name is Mattie Undomo.”

  “Glad to meet you, Mattie,” Shelly said, shaking her hand eagerly. “What a small world. My husband and I met at the U of W a little over 10 years ago,” Shelly said with a large smile.

  Mattie opened the door for her and suggested softly, “I would love to get together with you sometime and talk about America. I hope to be able to return someday and work there. Would you be interested in seeing my home across the bay? My family is having a birthday party for my Uncle Jumo tonight. I know they would love to visit with you and your husband… you’re very welcome to come,” she concluded.

  Shelly thought for a second and replied, “We wouldn’t want to intrude. How about lunch together sometime?”

  “I would like that,” Mattie replied.

  “What would you like?” asked Jim to no one in particular, as he emerged from the bedroom all dressed for a stroll after breakfast.

  “Jim, this is Mattie… Undomo?” Shelly asked Mattie with her eyes, as she looked at the maid to confirm her introduction.

  Mattie nodded her head in agreement, “Glad to meet you, Mr. Ferguson,” she said with a big smile as she shook his hand.

  “Call me Jim,” he replied happily. She seems very nice, he thought to himself with a grin.

  Mattie repeated her invitation to come to a real Kenyan birthday party. She explained that her entire family had gotten together to send her to the states for an education. America was their favorite subject. It would be a real thrill for them to meet the Fergusons and Mattie would be so excited to tell them they would be having American guests tonight at her uncle’s birthday party. Besides… she was eager to talk about the University and going back to America someday.

  “Let us think about it, Mattie,” Jim said gently. “We’ll contact the desk and leave you a message, if that’s all right?”

  “That would be great. I get off work at 4:30 today. I have a boat down at the hotel dock. We can go across to my uncle’s house, where I am living. It takes only twenty minutes to cross. It is a good boat and I would be happy to bring you back after the party,” she offered.

  They thanked Mattie for her invitation and said goodbye as she went back to work.

  As the happy couple left their room and started down the stairs, Jim looked at his wife with a smirk on his face and joked, “So you couldn’t wait for me, huh? Had to have breakfast without me,” he said with a sad puppy-dog pout on his face.

  Shelly showed a big smile and said expressively, “That was just the appetizer! I’m ready for a real breakfast now!”

  Jim laughed as they raced each other down the hall, into the lobby, where they slowed to a leisurely walk to the Kilimanjaro Room and that big breakfast.

  When they were done, they sipped coffee and talked about what they wanted to do for the rest of the day. They wondered if they should consider going with Mattie that night to her home. But how could they? It would be nice to see Kenya from a local point of view, but in America, you just didn’t go anywhere with a total stranger, no matter how inviting. What did people do here? Was it the same everywhere? Jim decided to ask the hotel manager.

  Mrs. Omondi was a gracious lady in her sixty’s, pleasantly plump, with salt and pepper hair tightly braided and wrapped neatly at the base of her neck. She was of Bantu descent and had been the manager of this wonderful hotel for twenty years.

  “I would be very happy to recommend Mattie and all of her relatives,” she told the Fergusons. “I have known the Undomo family all of my life. Many of us have gone to school together. They are a large, honest, hard-working family who just adores America. You may not be able to talk about anything else while you are there, but I know you will have a wonderful time. Their Uncle Jumo is a big, kind-hearted man. There will be lots of food and laughter, if I know anything about them,” she stated. “Besides, I think you will find most Kenyans very accommodating and willing to help no matter where you are in my country. I can see no reason why you should not go and enjoy a local celebration,” she concluded.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Omondi, I think we will,” he said after considering it and getting Shelly’s agreement. “May I leave Mattie a message?”

  “Yes, please do. I will see that she gets it,” the manager offered.

  Jim left a note. It stated that they would love to come to her uncle’s birthday party and that they would be in the hotel lobby before 4:30 if she wanted to pick them up before she left for home.

  Jim and Shelly spent the early part of the day shopping in a local woodcarving factory, then exploring the artist stands of jewelry, paintings, and all sorts of colorful items for sale along the sidewalks of the boulevards nearby. They had lunch in a beautiful local park overlooking the sea, where monkeys came down from the trees to beg tidbits from anyone who’d offer. Before they knew it, the time had come to return to the hotel.

  That afternoon, on rolling, shimmering water, Mattie and the Fergusons left the hotel waterfront in a modest cabin cruiser, old but well kept, and started across the harbor for the far shore. Mattie deftly wove in and around the water traffic, bouncing over the waves and wakes in the 20-minute crossing to a small private dock. The air of the crossing was filled with the smell of the sea… salty water, fish, seaweed and diesel. As the boat neared Mattie’s home, the aroma of outdoor cooking mingled with the sea air. A large throng of people could be seen crowding the small dock. It threatened to sink beneath the massive weight of the partygoers.

  “They are so excited to meet Americans!” she shouted over the roar of the motor. “When I called to tell my Auntie that you were coming, my Uncle Jumo started yelling behind her. He said it was the best present he ever got, to meet you! Now I think all of the neighbors are there too!” she laughed with real happiness.

  The evening was well spent, with good food, good people and good conversation. There was joking and teasing among the Undomo family, which included J
im and Shelly, making the couple feel welcome. The Fergusons indeed had to talk about America, but they learned something about Africa, as well.

  They learned that Mattie’s family was from the Kikuyu tribe. And for a while, the conversation centered on the customs of their people and how times had changed in Kenya for their community. Mattie shared how she wanted to return to the states to become a nurse. Her heart’s desire was to help the sick no matter who they were. Uncle Jumo hoped to send her back to America in a year or two.

  By midnight, the Fergusons started to say good night. It took more than a half an hour to shake hands, give hugs where hugs were offered, and tactfully reject all the food and gifts offered by their jovial hosts. Even as Jim and Shelly boarded the boat, Uncle Jumo just had to say goodbye one more time. Finally, Mattie told her family that she needed to get the Fergusons back to the hotel so she could return home and get some sleep. She had to work in the morning. Reluctantly, the Undomos said good night again and indicated that they hoped to see them again, someday.

  Then, the little launch set sail for the hotel. Jim and Shelly sat comfortably in the stern of the boat. Jim had his arm around his wife and she laid her head on his shoulder. They watched the traffic on the water as billions of stars passed by overhead. They talked softly together as the little boat skimmed the black surface of the water, sending silver spray into the night air.

  Before long they were coming alongside the wooden dock of the hotel. Disembarking, they said good night to their new friend, giving her a hug. Shelly had taken to this sweet-tempered girl with the big heart, like a long-lost sister. And with Jim’s kind and gentle nature, he too had become fond of her.

  The Fergusons stood on the pier waving and shouting their goodbyes to Mattie as long as they could. Finally the launch disappeared into the night and they were alone on the pier in the quiet, starry night. Silently they turned and strolled slowly to the hotel, hand-in-hand, savoring their wonderful night and the memories they had made, finishing their second day in Africa.

  Exhausted, they ascended the stairs and walked down the hall to their room. Before long they were lying in the large, soft, clean bed with the plantation doors of the room wide open and the soft sea breeze flowing through their rooms. Nightly sounds of people talking, music playing somewhere off in the distance and the eternal sound of the sea added to the lulling sounds that put them into a restful sleep.

  The next morning, Shelly woke up with Jim. They teased each other, fighting over the bathroom, as married couples can when they’re having fun and enjoying their time together. They decided to find breakfast outside of the hotel that morning. They found Mrs. Omondi and she recommended a small coffee shop several blocks away called “The Stateside Café”.

  “It’s run by a very nice couple, my niece and her husband, who have come to live here. They serve very good American food,” she told them. “But please do not let the fact that they are related to me sway you in any way, for Jennie is an excellent cook and her husband is a very good businessman. It is a small, beautiful, very clean place with good prices. The reason that they are doing so well is due entirely to their good food and hard work and not to my recommending it to all who will listen,” she said smiling broadly. Jim and Shelly delighted in her pride and walked the few blocks to the little café.

  This was to be the Fergusons last full day in Mombasa. Tomorrow morning after breakfast, Jim and Shelly would sign out of their hotel and drive their rented Jeep to Nairobi. The safari started in the afternoon and Jim’s anticipation was mounting. Mombasa was fading in his mind and the Maasai Mara began to call to him. He could hardly wait.

  Shelly would miss this beautiful hotel and the exotic, romantic times they were experiencing. There would be no maid service in the Maasai Mara. It was going to be very different. I hope I’ll like the lions, tigers and bears… she giggled sarcastically to herself.

  “What would you like to do today?” Jim asked her, absentmindedly. They were seated in a nice comfortable booth, their good breakfast finished, sipping coffee.

  “Can we see Fort Jesus today and explore its museum?” she asked. “I’d like to find out more about the Portuguese history and the spice trade that went through here. Then, let’s have lunch somewhere in Old Town so I can do more SHOPPING,” Jim’s wife smirked with delight as she emphasized the last word and the unspoken threat of spending a lot of money.

  Jim gave a knowing smile, for his wife always threatened to spend money, but in truth, she was the frugal one. He’d nothing to fear in that regard. What he didn’t know was that something very special and expensive awaited his wife in Old Town that would play a pivotal role in their life to come.

  “Will we have to rent a truck to haul all this stuff you’re going to buy?” he teased her, pretending to be affronted.

  “Of course!” she retorted happily.

  After a long, enjoyable tour of the Fort, they wandered the streets of Old Town again. Then in a small shop of antiques, Shelly found a glass display case of old jewelry and artifacts. Among the earrings, bracelets and necklaces of years long past stood a beautiful collection of Catholic crosses, except for one cross.

  This one was a lovely gold cross with the delicate design of a vine and blooming flowers engraved on it. The leaves and flowers were made of different types of colored gold which embellished the design as it entwined itself around the cross. It was the most striking cross she had ever seen.

  When she asked the shop owner if he knew anything about it, he told her it had come from a fine, old, Portuguese family that had settled in the area hundreds of years ago during the Portuguese settlement of Mombasa. The spice merchant had built a large mansion on the tip of the island and owned a large fleet of ships. Shelly took to heart the image of the family coming from the old country, settling in a new strange world to set up a trading company, their old life mingling with the new, so long ago. She fell in love with the romantic ideas that floated through her mind and the knowledge she had gained at Fort Jesus that morning. She wondered how many women had worn this cross, what they were like, the lives they had led, and whether they had been happy. She learned that the shop owner had bought it from an estate sale when the last family member was no more.

  Then she noticed the price and wavered. She turned to Jim with a questioning look on her face. He nodded his head in agreement.

  He leaned over, gave her a hug and said softly in her ear, “I want you to have it. It’s as special as you are.”

  Shelly looked again and then sighed in acceptance of the cost. “It really is so lovely.”

  That day, she became the proud new owner of a beautiful symbol of her faith and the history it carried with it. The shop owner gently placed it on cotton wool inside a tiny blue box which he secured with a golden cord. He placed the precious gift in a small black plastic bag with the shop name printed in silver letters. Jim and Shelly returned to the hotel with this small package held securely in her hand.

  At the hotel counter, they received a note from Mattie.

  It read: “Dear Jim and Shelly, Please allow me to take you out for dinner tonight, if you do not have any special plans. I would like to take you to the Tamarid Mombasa Restaurant at 6 o’clock. It is a very nice restaurant on the cliff overlooking the Old Harbor. I would like to give you good memories of our city before you leave tomorrow. You can leave word with Mrs. Omondi. If you cannot come, please know that I wish you well on your trip and hope to talk to you before you leave. Your new friend, Mattie Undomo.”

  “Well? What do you think? Do you want to go?” Jim asked his wife.

  “Yes, please. I’d love to see Mattie again. Besides, we need to find a new place to dine tonight, if we don’t want to end up in the hotel dining room again.” she said lightheartedly.

  Jim smiled warmly and turned to the attendant behind the counter. “Excuse me. But do you know anything about the Tamarid Mombasa Restaurant?” he asked.

  “Yes, it is one of our finest restaurants. Some of our g
uests have told me they especially like eating out on the terrace overlooking the harbor. The view from there is breathtaking, I understand,” the clerk replied.

  “Ah. Is it very expensive?” Jim asked with some concern, for he knew a maid didn’t make a lot of money, especially one who wanted to go back to the United States to become a nurse.

  “Yes. It is a five-star restaurant,” the clerk answered as Mrs. Omondi walked up to the counter.

  The manager leaned over the counter and asked Jim to come closer with her finger. “I could not help overhearing,” she said softly to him. “Mattie’s eldest brother is the head chef at the Tamarid. The dinner will be on the house tonight, from what I understand. It has been all arranged, if you should desire to go,” she told him.

  “Are you sure it’ll be all right? We can help with the cost,” Jim offered.

  “No, I do not believe that will be necessary. Please let Mattie do this for you. She would be embarrassed if she found out I told you about the arrangements, but I wanted you to know the situation. I know she would love to take you there. It is a very special treat for her as well, for she would not be able to eat there at all, if she had not gotten permission from her brother. A maid cannot afford such a place, normally,” she said sadly.

  “Then please tell her we would be happy to go. We’ll meet her in the lobby at, say… 5:30?” he asked.

  “That should work out fine. I will contact you if the plan needs to be changed. Please have a nice time. I hope you enjoy your last night in Mombasa. It should be a very special one,” Mrs. Omondi smiled broadly.

  That night, Jim escorted two beautiful women, one on either arm, to the elegant restaurant. Mattie was dressed in a beautiful strapless dress of embossed black silk with a long full skirt. Leopard style material banded the top of the dress in a beautiful accent representative of her country. White pearl earrings and necklace complemented the lovely girl.

  Shelly wore a new golden gown covered in lovely dark brown, sheer gossamer fabric. The dark brown cloud of material was decorated with a small gold symmetrical border on the bottom of the skirt and at the top of the bodice. The skirt was cut in long slits that revealed the golden dress beneath when she moved. She had put her hair up in a soft French twist with a string of golden beads woven throughout.

  With her new acquired tan, the lovely old cross resting over her heart, and the brown and golden dress accentuating her amber eyes, she appeared more like a lioness than an American tourist. Shelly was stunning. Jim saw her with new eyes, and his love for her grew deeper and more profound.

  The restaurant was newly built in the 1970s in an Arabian style, with high arches and elegant dining. The meal was exquisite and wonderfully prepared. During the meal, Mattie’s brother came out to introduce himself. “My name is Jonathan Undomo. Welcome to Mombasa, the Tamarid, and to my family,” he said warmly as he gazed at his sister with affection. Her pride in her brother was evident by her smile. The small group talked warmly together for a few minutes and then he said his goodbyes to the Americans and returned to work.

  That evening, the three enjoyed a delicious and memorable dinner, seated at a fine table overlooking the dark bay below. As they watched the city lights across the water compete with the heavenly lights above, the three talked well into the night.

  Returning to the hotel, the Fergusons slowly walked Mattie down the dock to her boat, reluctant to say goodbye. And yet they must. There would be no opportunity to say goodbye in the morning. Jim and Shelly would be leaving very early and Mattie would be busy with her work. As they said their goodbyes they knew their last night in Mombasa had been an exceptional one, filled with wonderful memories.

  The two Americans stood on the wooden structure, in the soft light of the lamp post, waving their farewells, as the little boat disappeared into the dark.

 

  Winds Of Ruin