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- Herausgeber: South Street Press
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
"Laughter in the Canyon" is the story of two lovers, living across many different lifetimes, both unaware that they have been soulmates since the dawn of history. Over and over, fate brings them together only to tear them apart. It is a journey across time, three continents, many countries, cultures, and religions. Will this story of eternal love ever be fulfilled?
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2007
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Laughter in the Canyon
Laura Thompson
www.garnetpublishing.co.uk
For my mother, Mary Ann, who brought me into this interesting world that has been a journey of living and learning with the spirit of adventure
Acknowledgments
I would like to acknowledge all those people who have helped me along in my literary pursuits. You know who you are.
I have been blessed with beautiful friends who have always believed in me even during my darkest moments in life. I thank them for their loving support.
To South Street Press, Emma Hawker, previous Editorial Manager, who accepted my manuscript, then passed over the project to the current Editorial Manager, Dan Nunn, who has completed this project. I appreciate his hard work and kindness, including all the effort from his team on all aspects of publishing this book. In addition, I’d like to thank Claire Coxon for the cover illustration and design.
For my close personal friend, Ali Ghandour, who believed in me from the very beginning. I couldn’t have done it without him and am blessed with his loving presence in my life. Thank you for coming into my life and making it more meaningful for me.
Finally, I wish all of you the best.
Prologue Flight of Fancy
Cambridge, Massachusetts
Two students, a man and a woman, sat together holding hands on a grassy bank next to the Charles River. Along with hundreds of other students, they watched the crewmen get into their starting positions. It was the annual Harvard v. Princeton regatta. The race was broadcast over loudspeakers. The young man, Adrian Johnson, wore a Harvard T-shirt, blue jeans, loafers and no socks. His girlfriend, Diana Brigham, was similarly clad but instead of a T-shirt wore a beige sweater with a crimson ‘H’ on the front.
As the students cheered, Adrian jumped up and took pictures of the regatta and some snaps of Diana as she posed in both serious and silly ways. Diana reached into her knapsack, pulled out a cassette and popped it into her portable stereo player – Edith Piaf ’s ‘La Vie en Rose’. Adrian stopped taking photos, sat next to Diana and put his arm around her. They sang to each other along with the music.
Adrian looked into Diana’s eyes, stopped singing and said in his charming South African accent, ‘You’ve brought the sunshine into my life.’
He leaned over and kissed her on the lips while everyone around them celebrated Harvard’s victory, waving miniature crimson flags and dancing arm in arm. Diana’s best friend, Cecilia, walked by and told her companion that Diana and Adrian were the hottest item on campus. Diana, unaware of her friend’s presence, continued kissing Adrian.
The crowd was shouting, ‘Harvard, Harvard, Harvard.’ Adrian fumbled in his pocket and took out a small, red Cartier box. He handed it to Diana. She opened it and saw a three stone princess-cut ring made of emeralds, her favourite. A tear of happiness trickled down her cheek and her hands trembled.
Adrian helped slip the ring on her finger and said, ‘The three stones represent our past, present and future.’
Diana, who had only lived in the States since she was a teenager and never truly lost her British accent, whispered, ‘You’re so beautiful.’
For these two butterfly lovers, a moment of silence reigned amidst the commotion of celebration.
Adrian cupped Diana’s hands in his and said, ‘Do you know, ever since I met you, my dream has always been to marry you at Eagle Rock.’
‘Where, sweetheart?’
‘It’s in the Grand Canyon.’
‘Darling, I don’t know how my family will react to a non-traditional wedding. I’ll have to see it.’
‘Diana, we’re living in different times now.’
‘I know, OK. I’ll ask my father if we can use his plane and go out there for a few days.’
He took her hand again and guided her up so she stood beside him. ‘When we’re at the top of the canyon, I want to hold you tightly and laugh.’
‘Imagine the echo of our laughter.’
The couple left the festive atmosphere early. He drove her home in his white 1952 Austin Healey. During the ride, from the Harvard campus over the Charles Bridge towards Mount Vernon Street on Beacon Hill, their hair blew wildly around their faces. Through the thick strands of her wavy, chestnut hair, Diana admired her engagement ring.
***
As Diana and Adrian entered the living room, Diana’s mother, Lady Brigham, was playing on the grand piano while her husband sat next to her singing, ‘Fly Me to the Moon’.
Diana danced up to her mother and father and showed them the ring. Lady Brigham stopped playing and looked back and forth between her daughter and Adrian. She stood up from the piano and hugged Diana.
Sir Brigham, dressed in a maroon velvet smoking-jacket, walked slowly over to Adrian.
Adrian extended his hand. ‘May I ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage, sir?’
Sir Brigham raised an eyebrow and scratched his left cheek. ‘It looks as if it’s already been decided. But I do have one condition: you have to promise me that you and Diana will stop involving yourselves in those anti-apartheid demonstrations. Once you marry her, your revolutionary days are over.’
Adrian drew back his hand. ‘How did you know?’
‘It doesn’t matter. Do I have your word?’
His shoulders slumped. ‘You know how important freedom and justice are to us. We only believe …’
Sir Brigham took the cigar he was smoking out of his mouth and puffed rings of smoke right into Adrian’s face.
Adrian coughed and said, ‘Yes, sir. I promise.’
With that, Sir Brigham shook hands with Adrian and welcomed him into his new family. Lady Brigham rang a tiny golden bell. Shortly afterwards, the butler served champagne and toasts were made. Lady Brigham returned to the piano while her husband resumed his place next to her. Diana and Adrian sipped champagne, chatted quietly with one another and listened to the joyful music.
Harvard Commencement Exercises
Thousands of students, undergraduates and graduates, dressed in caps and gowns, were gathered in front of the university hall grouped according to their school. Diana and Adrian proceeded to their seats in the centre, right in front of the platform and sat next to each other. Parents, family and friends watched the academic parade from the back rows. Once the students were seated, the president’s procession advanced to the platform. The band played the traditional brass fanfare for Harvard’s president, who sat in a Jacobean chair. After the invocation, the commencement choir intoned an anthem. By the end of the anthem the students had become restless and started waving small crimson flags. In addition, the business students fluttered fake dollar bills in their hands high up in the air, the law school students waved plastic sharks, the government students held small globes and the education students carried books. Adrian snapped a shot of Diana shaking her shark by its tail. They laughed and kissed each other.
The buzz continued until the commencement speeches began. First, an undergraduate who spoke about the leadership qualities necessary to bring the world out of the Cold War, then a speech by a graduate student who addressed the power of purpose. Afterwards, a trustee of Harvard University delivered his speech in Latin in accordance with the traditions of the honourable and ancient institution. The audience applauded at the end of his discourse when he expressed the hope that the great intellectual heritage of Harvard would help each graduate to contribute positively to society, both locally and globally. It was time to confer degrees. The president rose from his carved chair, stepped forward and delivered a different pronouncement for each school. Diana and Adrian rose with their law school colleagues. Adrian squeezed Diana’s hand.
Nearly two hours later all degrees were bestowed. The audience stood and sang the Harvard hymn in Latin and the ceremony finished with a benediction by an African–American minister. The band played the recessional, and then the students stood, cheered and once again waved their various paraphernalia. Diana and Adrian hugged each other.
Later, the couple met up with their respective families. Sir Brigham, himself a distinguished graduate of Cambridge University, was immensely proud of his only child graduating from this prestigious university. He whispered to her that she could use his plane for a few days with Adrian to visit the Grand Canyon and choose a spot for her wedding. Diana buried her head in her father’s big chest and wept tears of happiness.
Day of Departure
Both families were present and all bid their farewells on the tarmac to Diana and Adrian. The brand-new Gulfstream jet took off from Boston to fly to the Grand Canyon and land on its small, dirt runway. Sir Brigham had participated in the decision-making on the interior design of his plane with a top designer. There were eight spacious beige leather chairs for the passengers with a built-in bar made out of black and beige buffalo horn. At the rear of the aircraft was a leather couch which turned into a bed at the push of a button. A royal blue curtain separated this section of the plane from the forward cabin. Diana’s father’s tastes were impeccable. Diana and Adrian waved their final goodbyes through the tiny windows as the plane ascended into the deep blue sky.
Diana asked the cabin attendant, ‘After take-off, would you open a bottle of Dom Perignon and bring us two glasses?’
The attendant conservatively dressed in a navy blue suit, nodded her head in agreement.
Twenty minutes into the flight, the champagne and glasses were brought to Diana and Adrian, who were now sitting on the couch. Diana said to the attendant, ‘We’d like to relax now; we’ll call you if we need anything.’
As the cabin attendant walked away to sit near the front, Diana stood up and closed the curtain. She pushed the button that turned the couch into a bed, it was not much bigger than the couch but large enough for two people to lie horizontally.
Adrian poured the light, golden, bubbling liquid into the crystal flutes and made a toast: ‘To the woman of my dreams!’
They clinked glasses, took a sip then intertwined their arms to sip from each other’s glass to form a bond. Diana murmured, ‘To eternal love.’
The champagne quickly made the pair light headed – at 32,000 feet alcohol can hit you twice as hard.
After one glass, Diana unwrapped Adrian’s white silk scarf from his neck while he took off his navy blazer. He often wore this scarf while flying to protect his sensitive throat from the air conditioning. The sleeve of his blazer caught the champagne flute and it fell to the floor, shattering in the aisle.
‘That’s good luck,’ Diana said.
Adrian made the first move and embraced her tightly. She felt something hard as steel below his belt buckle. He trembled with love, kissed her passionately and gently bit the back of her neck under her soft, silky hair leaving tiny red marks. Moving downwards, he pulled her V-neck jersey to one side and suckled on her soft, pink nipple. Diana’s breasts tingled. Adrian’s legs became weak and he pulled her down with him to sit on the soft leather bed. She manoeuvred herself to sit on Adrian’s legs and unbuttoned his blue-and-white-striped Oxford shirt. They sipped more champagne from one glass. Adrian squirmed in his seat ready to explode like a volcano. She unzipped his trousers and nervously caressed him under his black underwear. New sensations rippled throughout her body. Adrian pushed up Diana’s skirt and then pulled her silk pink panties to one side and guided her on top of him. He pumped his hips upwards and backwards a few times like a gentle, rolling wave. They both felt as though they were in heaven.
When he became conscious again after what seemed an endless minute, Diana whispered into his left ear, ‘I hope we’re together for ever.’
‘For ever and ever.’
After making love, they fell asleep for a few hours in each other’s arms.
Upon awakening, Adrian, the more experienced, realized Diana hadn’t achieved any prolonged pleasure. He kissed her drowsy eyes and gently, glided deep into her warmth one more time. They were a perfect fit and this time Diana shivered as she gazed into Adrian’s eyes and kissed his dark, rosy lips. Passion consumed their hearts and, with moderate turbulence shaking the plane, they held on to each other tighter than ever before. Droplets of perspiration clung to their bodies. Neither of them had imagined it could be this beautiful.
Adrian clasped his strong, lean arms around Diana’s soft, voluptuous body and said, ‘It’s impossible not to love you.’
The Gulfstream jet was now flying over the West Rim of the Grand Canyon.
Captain Jones announced over the loudspeaker, ‘Hey kids, look out of the window and see where you’re getting married.’
Diana and Adrian stopped their lovemaking and turned their heads to see Eagle Rock. It was a magnificent eagle with a wing span of hundreds of feet carved into the cliffs of the Grand Canyon.
Diana exclaimed, ‘Oh darling, it’s amazing!’ She kissed him on his forehead, then on his half-closed eyes. The plane shook and rattled. They both jolted upright on the bed and quickly dressed. The captain announced that they should fasten their seatbelts and Diana pushed the button to turn the bed back into a couch.
‘I hate turbulence,’ she said.
‘Don’t worry,’ Adrian replied. ‘The hot air rising always causes air pockets over the canyon in the afternoon.’
The attendant opened the curtain and warned them to keep their seatbelts fastened. Adrian took Diana’s hand into his and wrapped his arm round her shoulders. She was just snuggling her head on his chest when the plane took a sudden dip to one side and slid diagonally through the air.
They heard Captain Jones screaming inside the cockpit, ‘Mayday! Mayday! Right engine fire. Can’t extinguish it. Fire spreading to cabin … Need immediate clearance for emergency landing. Losing altitude, losing altitude, losing altitude … Plane uncontrollable.’
Diana screamed hysterically, ‘What’s happening?’
‘I don’t know.’ Adrian was gasping for breaths of air.
Suddenly, after a moment of panic, Diana felt internally calm. ‘I’ll always be the woman of your dreams,’ she said.
Adrian, also in an altered state of mind, said, ‘Remember my white silk scarf.’
‘What—’
‘Destiny shall reunite us.’
They gasped again for air. They kissed each other and wept until, with the loss of cabin pressure, they passed out.
Inside the cockpit, Captain Jones continued in a strained, crackling tone, ‘We’re crashing one mile south of the Grand Canyon airport. We’re crashing, we’re crashing, we’re crashing …’ And then, in a sobbing voice, he cried, ‘… Goodnight.’
King’s Chapel
In downtown Boston, bells chimed. A joint Anglican memorial service honoured Diana Brigham and Adrian Johnson in the ancient, stone church. A few designated family members made loving tributes that at times brought a few smiles to those sitting in the pews. Diana’s best friend, Cecilia, wrote a special poem about the angelic love that existed between the two forsaken souls.
Cecilia ended her poem: ‘I’m not a poet, but I hear the hidden music in their souls. Diana and Adrian travelled many roads together and, hopefully, they have now found eternal love.’
A Higher Dimension
Spectacular clouds in bright orange, yellow, red and blue surrounded the spirits of Diana and Adrian. The spirits looked like two separate translucent, swirling white balls of energy. Diana and Adrian didn’t understand what had happened. They were physically dead yet their spirits were alive and they could feel each other’s presence much stronger than on Earth. Diana learned all the secrets of the universe in an instant of time.
What takes years on Earth to learn takes only seconds here, she thought.
The two white balls of energy fused and became one. They were soulmates who had been created from one universal essence, but to experience life on Earth their souls had had to split: one to represent masculine energy, the other feminine. It had been their divine choice. Peace and unconditional love embraced the essence of their hearts.
The sorrowful emotions of their families separated their souls and pulled them back to Earth. The two spirits gazed at the funeral rites that took place not only for themselves but also for the pilots and the cabin attendant with their respective families and friends. Despite the sadness and death that surrounded those on Earth, Adrian and Diana did not feel death, only the lightness of being of their spirits. Unexpectedly, another swirling, brilliant blue ball of energy appeared, assigned to guide these two souls through their new cycle of life. Beginnings and ends in the universe were never ending.
Remarkably, Diana and Adrian heard this blue ball of energy speak and realized they could also talk. The tones of their voices sounded like music coming from violins. The two spirits departed with their guardian spirit, an angel who called himself Michel, who liked being reincarnated in France. He joked with his new initiates and told them that after seven hundred lives in France he still couldn’t get it right.
Michel greeted his little angels Diana and Adrian, ‘Bonjour, mes petits anges, allons-y.’
Diana and Adrian asked in unison: ‘Where are we going?’
Michel replied, ‘Back to Earth to fulfil your destiny.’
Adrian said, ‘My head’s spinning. I’m here. I’m there. Diana and I are somewhere, floating in the cosmos with you, Michel, where everything seems timeless …’
Michel interrupted, ‘Remember Einstein’s Theory of Relativity? His theory correctly postulated that there’s no such thing as absolute time ticking uniformly throughout the cosmos. The reason you’re confused is because on Earth, gravity slows time. Here, there’s no gravity. You can simultaneously be in the past, present and future, because of warped passages in time. Physicists and mathematicians on Earth are discovering these extra dimensions or passages, however, their theories are still missing a few components. Mes petits anges, you can’t know everything about everything.’
Diana asked, ‘But what’s this got to do with us?’
‘Everything, my dear one. You’re alive now in our higher dimension but soon you will return to Earth and live in yet another dimensional reality. Life in the universe is never ending with constant change. On Earth, you have the cycle of birth, growth, decay, death and rebirth too. But be clear that although matter changes into another form, the essence of your soul remains.’
Adrian sighed, ‘Where are we going?’
Bells chimed, signalling to Michel that his mission was nearly over.
Michel replied, ‘Adrian, it’s your turn to go. You’re about to be reborn again. Your poetic, philosophical and revolutionary spirit will give meaning and light to millions of people in a region rampant with conflict and corruption.’
‘What about me?’ asked Diana.
‘Ah! Why, of course, you’ll be born in the City of Lights, considered a centre of Enlightenment and one of the happiest places on Earth. The French connection is the reason I was assigned to both you and Adrian. Mon petit ange, your life shall be calmer than Adrian’s but your mission will be the search for truth, identifying simplicity as a clue. And, you’ll be innately driven to find your soulmate who was Adrian in this past life of yours. Why do you think you felt so good when you were together? Because you have known each other since the beginning of time and have been with each other in various guises and forms all over the universe.’
‘Why don’t people on Earth remember these passages of existence?’ Diana asked.
Michel replied, ‘Some do. Others know it in their souls but then, when this knowledge isn’t nurtured by the family or society, they forget. Most of you are too busy to take the time and reflect upon your true origins, thus, you forget about your spiritual roots. The Indian civilization is an exception that comes to mind. The Hindu religion, for example, maintains the belief in the cycle of reincarnation.’
Adrian interrupted, ‘I’m not leaving without Diana. I don’t want to be separated from her ever again.’
Michel replied, ‘In spirit form, you’re always together, whether it’s through a thought, a dream or a vision. You’ll meet again on Earth’s physical plane. Meaningful, coincidental events shall lead both of you together in a very exotic place. Trust in the process of the universe.’
Adrian’s rational brain still dominated his spiritual essence, and he was unable to fully understand the knowledge that Michel imparted to him.
‘Adrian, rest assured that when Diana comes back into your life, you’ll know that something special exists between you, even if you think it’s irrational. Diana will help and guide you along the spiritual path because throughout most of her incarnations she has always been more open and tuned in to our angelic world. Or maybe it’ll be you this time who is more intuitive, and you’ll be the one to guide her, based on all of your acquired experience, wisdom and maturity. We’ll see. Remember, you will be another human being, no longer Adrian, and Diana will be another person. You’ll both look different in your new life form. That’s the rule of the game. Now, your time is up.’
As Adrian departed, he cried out, ‘I love you. I love you. I love you.’
‘I love you, too,’ said Diana, with a pang in her heart.
‘For ever and ever,’ trailed Adrian’s voice, spiralling down into some kind of psychedelic tunnel.
Diana was sad to see her cherished friend leave, although she knew in her heart and soul that they would meet again under extraordinary circumstances.
‘Diana, it’s your turn to return to Earth. Remember, your quest is to seek the truth and share the fruits of your research with your fellow human beings. Oh, one more thing. Don’t worry. You too, just like Adrian, will be protected throughout your entire life by your loving, spiritual guides throughout the good, the bad and the sad periods.’
Diana was upset. ‘The bad, the sad … What do you mean?’
Michel cut her off abruptly. ‘See the glass as half full. Be courageous and adventurous, even during the most difficult of times. Know that you are always protected by us. Au revoir, mon petit ange!’
‘Goodbye, Michel.’
‘Have faith!’
The bells tolled to celestial music.
Michel rejoiced, ‘I’ve completed another mission. These two enlightened souls have embarked on their chosen path. They’ll become a natural beacon of light to others.’
He took flight and looked like a little blue fairy flying through billions of bright stars. Strains of music danced on the wind under the dark, blue starlit sky. Diana and Adrian had been guided towards their mysterious destiny at the right time and in the right place.
PART ONE BORN AGAIN
Chapter 1 Life’s a Jungle
Damascus, 1991
A burst of machine gun bullets bombarded a metallic green Mercedes 500 SEL on the road to the airport. Inside there was a chauffeur and a man sitting in the back seat. The chauffeur was hit in the arm but instinctively swerved out of the gunmen’s range; his boss miraculously escaped the shower of bullets. The car was full of bullet holes. The man the hired assassins were after was Sami Shami. Sami, short for Samir, was in his late-twenties, tall, slender, well-built, with beautiful chestnutcoloured hair and hazel eyes that complimented his fair complexion. The governmental authorities had been told that he was responsible for the failed coup d’état that had occurred a week before in Damascus.
At his alma mater, Stanford University, Sami was known to be a political activist, who often made speeches about freedom and democracy. In one speech, he had boldly denounced the dictatorial regime in Syria that had been in power throughout most of the latter half of the twentieth century. As a teenager growing up in Syria, Sami became part of a movement that led to the creation of a Democratic–Socialist Party that advocated secularism, freedom and democracy. He was seen as a poet and a philosopher, filled with dreams of changing the political regime in the Middle East to one modelled on Great Britain’s monarchical governmental system. Yet, despite his youthful revolutionary reputation, Sami had not been active in the Party since his college days in the States. The Syrian authorities had failed to uncover this truth in their fact-finding mission and falsely accused him of orchestrating the failed coup d’état. The government wanted a fall guy and issued a warrant to capture him. Sami was in the wrong place at the wrong time. From the day the warrant was issued, Sami became the most wanted man in Syria, with the highest ransom ever to be paid if caught dead or alive.
Sami had taken a chance in returning to Damascus, still considered a heavy-handed police state, but his mother missed him and had insisted that he visit the family while on sabbatical from his assistant professorship at Princeton University. Sami was travelling around the Middle East to study and research the Phoenician civilization for his new book so that he could attain full professorship. He hadn’t seen his mother since he left Damascus at the age of nineteen, nearly ten years earlier. He was very happy to have seen his mother, father, brother, sisters, cousins, and friends while back home. Sami had been on his way from his parent’s home to the airport where a private plane was waiting for him to take him to Beirut, another important city for the study of phoenician history.
After the assault on Sami’s car, the chauffeur sped to the airport. The pilots waited for Sami, unaware of the attempted assassination. The car’s special licence plates allowed the chauffeur to drive onto the airport runway right up to the plane. Sami jumped out of the bullet-ridden vehicle. He ran across the tarmac and climbed up the steps three at a time to board the plane, then yelled to the pilot to take off. The flight attendant scrambled to close the door as the plane taxied down the runway. Sami thought fast and decided the best way to disappear would be to go to Africa. He instructed the pilot to take him to Sierra Leone. The captain protested until Sami said that he would take care of all the expenses: this was a life or death situation. The plane lifted off as the army tanks rolled on to the tarmac. No exchange of artillery fire took place. Little did Sami know that his ordeal would last another nine years.
Sierra Leone
After a few phone calls and many hours later, the French ambassador to Sierra Leone, along with his assistant, greeted Sami at the airport terminal. His Excellency had become friends with Sami’s father years ago while attending the private, boarding school, Le Rosey, in Switzerland. Sami was grateful to see his father’s friend and hugged him. The assistant cleared his throat and told Sami that he had to hide in the jungle until his identity papers, notably his name, address and nationality, could be changed. His real name could no longer be revealed, so as to neither endanger his family, nor alert the authorities in Damascus. Sami told them he had prepared for this eventuality while en route in the plane and had already selected a new name – Mounir Munir. The ambassador smiled, knowing that the name of Mounir meant ‘the person who gives light’. The falsifying of his papers for his protection would take about three weeks.
For security reasons, the ambassador put him up with a trusted young man, John Townsend, who was the son of another dear friend from Le Rosey. The alumni of this school, no matter where one was in the world, always helped out when the need arose. Only a few months ago, the ambassador had arranged for John to come and study a hidden tribe in the forest for his Ph.D. thesis. During this time John had built a hut near the tribe and had become physically fit through living in the jungle.
The ambassador’s assistant unthinkingly introduced Sami Shami to John. Sami stepped up to John and said, ‘There’s been a mistake. My name is Mounir Munir. Pleased to meet you.’
John subconsciously noted the name change but never questioned why the ambassador would send this man to live with him for a short time in this obscure habitat. He didn’t really care about the reasons; he had become lonely observing this indigenous tribe and the prospect of having someone to chat with about everyday things thrilled him.
During the three weeks, with John’s help, Mounir learned the ways of the native Africans. The natives lived primitively in the open air and, depending on the occasion, walked around nude or with a minimal amount of clothing. It was a self-sufficient tribe and practised polygamy as a means of procreation and survival. They were hunters and gatherers as well as farmers. Roots were one of the main staples of their diets. As a tribe, they would go together and play and swim in the streams like children. Everyone was nude while swimming, with no inhibitions. Mounir was shocked by some of their habits and customs. Likewise, the natives thought that the customs of the foreigners seemed strange. Furthermore, though Mounir and John were considered handsome in their own social circles, the tribe thought the contrary. Used to John, but still curious about the stranger, some of the young girls would make clicking sounds with their mouths whenever Mounir walked by, who by now sported a big, bushy beard and moustache that covered his whole face. Only his large, hazel, intelligent eyes could be clearly seen. Facial hair was not considered beautiful by the local tribe. In fact, the natives were hairless except for the artistically designed hair on their heads. Out of respect for the tribal chief and his clan, John asked Mounir to keep his distance from them and accept their ways of life as a natural means to survive in the jungle. Overall, they lived together in harmony.
One morning, Mounir was thinking deeply about his dilemma. He had to notify Princeton that he couldn’t return because his life was under threat. He wrote a letter to the president explaining what had happened to him while on sabbatical, and that he hoped to return one day. After he sealed the envelope, he tried to figure out what to do to stay alive. He knew the United States would grant him political asylum with the right to stay under his real name but that avenue didn’t guarantee any protection. On the contrary, there were many informers in the States and if he kept his real name he would be an open target: it would be easy to find him and assassinate him. He wouldn’t be safe anywhere in the world as Samir Shami.
With all this in mind, Sami decided to stay on the run, under cover with his false identity ‘Mounir Munir’, until justice prevailed or the regime fell.
John walked by and asked, ‘What’s that?’
Mounir looked up. ‘It’s a very important letter. How can I get it mailed?’
‘I’ll find a way to get it to the ambassador for mailing.’ Mounir handed over the letter to John who took it and put it safely in his pocket.
Mounir stood up and stretched, and then walked along the trails in the forest chatting with his new-found friend.
Mounir was a city boy and unused to the wilds, so John prepared the meals by picking fresh fruit, digging up roots and fishing in nearby streams. He cooked the food over an open fire. Sometimes, he drained syrup from a tree to make a drink that served as a natural form of alcohol for the natives. When anyone needed to feel happy, they drank this elixir.
Even in the jungle, man has figured out a way to get high, Mounir thought.
During one meal, John and Mounir talked about the differences between the natives and the civilized world. How could it be that man could be so different in his ways? While some, extremely primitive, didn’t know what an aeroplane was, others, highly civilized, had landed on the moon. Mounir confided in John about what had happened in Damascus and emphasized his innocence.
‘Do you think the Syrian regime will ever fall or be overthrown?’ John asked.
‘Right now, too much corruption, greed and lust for power exists in the hands of a few, who are backed by a strong military and police force. As soon as anyone speaks out against the regime, he’s put in prison, disappears or is murdered. Many attempts have been made to overthrow the government but all have failed. The Syrian people want freedom of expression and democratic reform but are helpless. No one wants to help from the outside. Even the US wouldn’t think of overthrowing the regime in its interest of promoting democracy because there’s no oil.’
John patted Mounir lightly on the shoulder. ‘Have hope. What your country needs is someone like Gandhi who can bring down an evil empire peacefully.’
‘I hope you’re right. What about you? What school are you preparing your thesis for?’
‘Stanford.’
‘No kidding. That’s where I got mine in philosophy and mythology.’
Mounir started to reminisce about his student days and soon both were laughing, aided by a bit too much of the tree wine. Laughter was a temporary release from their serious conversation about world affairs.
A short distance away, the natives were performing a coming-ofage ritual for the young women. It was a female-dominated society. One fully-clothed adult woman wore a wooden mask that evoked beauty and prosperity for the newly initiated. This woman danced around as if she herself were hallucinating on secret potions until she was transformed into the spirit that would initiate these young women into womanhood and sexual maturity like the birthing of a beautiful butterfly. After the initiation was finished, she tripped and fell, damaging the mask. According to custom, she could not keep a cracked mask. It had to be either destroyed or given to a stranger. Then, the sorcerer leaped like a flame in close proximity to John and offered him the mask. He knew their rituals and accepted it graciously. Mounir felt as if he were dreaming.
John said, ‘I’ll give this to my sister. She’s a great appreciator of art from around the world.’
Mounir was about to reply when they heard a jeep coming up the dirt trail that led to the village. It was the ambassador’s assistant who came to interrupt John and Mounir’s African paradise. He told them that Mounir’s papers were in order and that he could now leave the country. Mounir was sad and happy at the same time but he knew that he couldn’t hide in the jungle forever. He wished John success with his thesis and thanked him for his kind hospitality. ‘I shall be forever grateful to you for the protection you have provided for me during this traumatic time in my life,’ he continued.
‘Thank the ambassador,’ said John.
Mounir left with the ambassador’s assistant down the bumpy dirt road as the rays of the sun glimmered through the trees.
Chapter 2 City of Lights
Paris, June 1996
Nicole and Marc-Antoine de Villiers waited in front of their house on Avenue de New York for their chauffeur to come and pick them up. Marc-Antoine’s colleague was getting married and they were invited to the wedding reception at the Rodin Museum. Nicole was French–American. Her father was a self-made entrepreneur from Paris who had fallen in love with her American mother while studying at Stanford, both sides of the family having a long tradition of going to this university. Nicole’s parents had settled in Paris and Marc-Antoine had adopted her family as his own when his Uncle Harry had passed away the previous year. Marc-Antoine had revealed a terrible secret to Nicole before asking her to marry him. He told her that his parents had committed suicide at the Hôtel Negresco in Nice. Nobody ever told him why. Uncle Harry, his mother’s brother, and also a confirmed bachelor and playboy, raised him from the age of seven onwards. Nicole kept this secret to herself and told her family that his parents had died in a car crash. No further explanation was needed.
Nicole gazed at the massive, iron structure of the Eiffel Tower and watched the Bateaux Mouches glide up and down the Seine. The evening was warm and humid and the sun floated high in the sky. She loved these long summer days when the sun didn’t set until eleven o’clock in the evening. She hummed the tune of ‘I Love Paris in the Springtime’ to herself until her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the car and they were whisked down the quai and over to the Rodin Museum by Invalides.
At the wedding reception, the many guests were greeting and congratulating the French groom with his six-foot Russian bride. A former model for the haute couture
