Heat

The heat brings with it a timeless quality to which I pass out. I
cannot sleep; my mind will stop, but the heat forces my body to work,
never allowing it to rest. When I come around I have no idea how long I
have been unconscious: the short nights and long, long days collude
like a wife and a lover against the husband. Heat. . .The fan on the
ceiling cuts through the light, serving no purpose other than to tease
me into believing that at any moment great gusts of cool air will jet
from it. I do not know how long I have been here, or how much longer I
will have to wait. I have been told to prepare my report, which must be
ready upon demand; when this will be, or on what I am to report, has
not been relayed to me. During my conscious times I look for clues to
give some direction for me to go, some time ago (one-hour, yesterday, a
week?) I saw a street boy playing in the burnt-out remains of a car, if
this was meant for me I cannot think what to make of it. I can however,
see that definite orders and dates would be lost in this swirling
confusion of a place: ripped apart like the anchored boat in a typhoon,
the only way to get out is to ride the thrashing tide:

REPORT: Dr Harris enters the surgery with a blunt rusting knife. "Well
nurse, where the hell is the patient? Don't you clowns know who I am,
it should be a honour for you to just be in the surgery with me,
'specially as today I'm gonna operate with ol' Sam my trusty scalpel.
Well don't just stand there gawking where's the body". The nurse runs
out of the surgery and re-enters with two porters who are pushing the
carcass of a car. In the car sits a young Spanish boy, unconscious and
naked from the waist up. "Here he is Doctor", says the nurse,
reapplying her lipstick." A case of acute appendicitis." "Well it don't
look cute to me. Hah, hah, that one always gets me. Now let's take a
look". Dr Harris opens the boy's mouth and begins to break off teeth,
looking at each one before disregarding it to the floor. The sharp
fragments of teeth cut into Dr Harris' fingers through his pink rubber
surgeon's gloves. "Ha", shouts the doctor as he breaks the last but one
tooth remaining in the boy's mouth. "Appendicitis. Appendicitis.
Goddamn it, nurse, this boy could've died if it wasn't for my
diligence. This boy needs an appendicitis operation like I need another
five years of medical school. Probably kill both of us. No, what this
boy is suffering from is a rotting heart, see how it pumps its decay up
his system, trying to force itself out through his teeth." "Yes
Doctor", says the nurse as she pushes a hand through her hair, checking
her reflection in a compact mirror. "Well there's nothing I can do. . .
nurse take him out back an' bury him. I can't be expected to work in
these conditions. . . come on Sam, let's get us a drink." "Yes Doctor",
says the nurse as she flips the young boy over her shoulders and heads
for a door marked 'EXIT'.

Insects fly around the room, landing on me and then taking off again,
knowing that I am too lethargic to keep up the chase of brushing them
away. Malaria is in this season, but I have some pills which I can take
if I catch it in time. I have to finish my report. Perhaps that is what
they are waiting for, waiting for me to finish before they come? The
rent man came a moment ago, I was glad because it must have been a
fortnight since I last saw him, and so I have some sort of a structure
of time. I have spent at least two weeks in this room, speckled by a
few visits into the market to get some bread and milk.

REPORT: The smell is of charred meat, cooking spices and the cow pats
which cover the pavement in a soft carpet, pushing over my sandals and
in-between my toes and under my toenails as I walk through the narrow
blind streets. From a pink sheet hanging from two windows across the
street, I recognise the room carved into the wall where the carpet
seller is. I enter and I am ushered through a curtain in the back of
the wall. "You waited a long time before seeing me again. Perhaps what
you wanted is gone-or more expensive?" the carpet seller says. I've
been in this game for too long and know exactly how to play his type,
so I turn around to leave. "Wait, friend" he says opening his arms
copulation. "The same price", I say. He bows a deep bow and with his
head so far down I want to smash him to the floor, but I don't and
instead I reach into my satchel and hold my money, enjoying the look it
causes on his face. "Where is it?" I ask, hopefully keeping the
transaction short. The carpet seller claps his hands and says something
too fast for me to translate, and from behind me it appears, being
carried in its two foot by two foot metal barred cage by two women, who
I presume are his wife and mother. "Here it is. The rarest of
creatures." And he is right. I've never seen anything like it. The
mosquito is crashing against the bars on its cage gnawing at whatever
it can get in its mouth. Then it stops, and seems to focus on me. I
hand over the money, anxious that he might change his mind. And she is
mine. I walk to the door. "Ahmed, as always a pleasure, and if you get
any more. . . " The rent man has just called again, I must be paying
him too often, damn Arabs, how do they survive this heat? . . .

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