Small Kingdoms by Anastasia Hobbet

Author:Anastasia Hobbet
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 1579622321
Publisher: The Permenant Press

SANCTUARY

MEMORANDUM

To: All Resident Americans

From: Building Warden

The U.S. Embassy reports that it is monitoring the situation with Iraq closely. In view of current tensions, it has asked all wardens to reiterate to all American citizens its standing advice to keep:

A two-weeks’ supply of food and water on hand;

A two-weeks’ supply of necessary medications on hand;

Copies of all official documents such as passports;

Car in good running condition;

Gas tanks at least half full;

Flashlights, candles, radio and batteries on hand;

Traditional dress on hand (abaya and scarf for women);

U.S. cash and credit cards on hand.

In addition:

Pack early in case of emergency;

Know back streets;

Do not contribute to the spread of rumors.

THEO ZAPPED the email into oblivion and shut his laptop. He’d received a paper version of the same document in his mailbox at the apartment yesterday and sent it sailing into the garbage shaft on the way out the door, a fact that its author, the little American martinet on the first floor, must have sensed via the ether; it was his job to get the embassy reports out to the handful of U.S. citizens in the building whether they wanted them or not. Theo needed little advice from the embassy. Hanaan would never leave, whatever crisis Saddam might eventually manufacture, and Theo would not consider leaving her behind. Case closed.

She was waiting for him outside her building when he drove up, an empty cat carrier at her feet. Beyond her, Theo saw Abdullah hunkering down in the doorway of his little room and gave him a wave, getting a grin and a mighty semaphore in response.

“Don’t encourage him,” Hanaan said as he loaded the carrier into the back seat. “He thinks you want to be his friend.”

They got into the car. “I do.”

She lay a sheaf of papers in her lap and sorted through them intently. “That’s naïve. You give him money. I’ve watched you from my window.”

“He makes twenty-five dinar a month, eighty bucks.”

“This is his salary. When he tells you this number he doesn’t include his tips.”

“How much can he get? There are six apartments total in the building and you won’t tip him.”

She had found the sheet she wanted. “Go to the Gulf Road. I’ll give you instructions from there.”

She said nothing about having pulled him away from the hospital. She was in her all-business mode today, and he’d learned in their tutorials how durable it could be. Throw in a needy cat and it became impenetrable.

He turned onto the Gulf Road heading north and spotted a tall, buzz-cut, sunburned Caucasian man jogging along the waterfront wearing shorts and shoes and nothing else. As buff as he was he could only be a soldier—and he looked American. It was an obvious faux pas: few young men here showed off their legs and torsos, however fine their physiques.

Hanaan, intent on identifying the correct turn, missed the sight entirely. Just as well. Theo had received sufficient lecturing from helpful individuals here about the frequent blunders Americans made in their blithe indifference to cultural distinctions here.

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