The Report

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? . . .