he was still sleeping though he was terrified. He prayed his cock
wasn’t still hanging out. It would be impossible to miss the snaky
black mass against the pale material.
She stood up quickly and somebody changed places with her.
Roy decided that he would have to open his eyes now. He did so
slowly and with trepidation, fearing there might be a machete
waiting to punish him.
A large man, also wrapped in a shamma was sitting there holding
only a long and gnarled shepherd’s stick. His face was youngish,
unlined, but his hair bore the signs of early grey. The girl had gone.
This was her father. His intense stare was exactly the same. Roy
hazarded a glance down at his own crotch and saw that his penis was
concealed, but noted with some dismay that he could smell the
rubbery aroma of his own sperm.
“Denastelen,” the man said.
“Denastelen,” Roy repeated in a faint whisper.
“Amharic no?” the man said. Roy shook his head. “Tennesh.”
Little. Ah!” the man cried, smiling. He passed his hands a few inches
above Roy’s body and then said “Chegger yellem. Teanama.
Eddelanna.” No problem. Health good. Lucky. Roy did his best to
smile. “Buna?” the man said. Roy answered yes. The man cradled
Roy’s head and helped him to sit up. Then he shouted extremely loud
and Roy recoiled, thinking he was yelling at him. His daughter
entered with two cups of steaming black coffee. But now she would
not meet his eye. As she passed the cup to him she dropped her gaze
to the floor and a few drops of coffee spilled on the shamma, creating
a tiny archipelago of black islets. Her father snapped at her as she
crept silently away. Roy watched her with wretched sadness. He felt
suddenly that he should kill this man.
But first the coffee. He sipped slowly and deliberately, with all
the attention of a kiss spent between two lovers.
The liquid passed over his teeth and lips and tongue and licked
playfully at his throat and belly. From there, to the center of his
beaten frame the spirit of the coffee passed directly into his miserable
heart. And that was all there was to it. A flash of light and a flood of
pleasure and the hand of God moved over him. Previously he
surrendered to the river. Now he surrendered to the coffee. And
despite all this surrendering, he was the one winning.
“Buna, good” Roy said. “Very good. Very very good. Very very
very…”
ABYSSINIA
292
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