“The bougainvilleas we sowed
Where only weeds now grow
Hyenas howling in the rooms of education.
Now the old school roof is gone
No one there to sing our song
Leaves blowing in the ruins of a nation.
Though you retired to Europe
All your dreams have died
Bougainvilleas remain to show you tried”
Steve Dixie 1984 “Savannah Song” album.
CHAPTER 64 THE TRAIN
Maria Pinto sat up in bed, reached under her pillow for a torch and pulled back the mosquito net. Carefully she shone the torch around her flip-flops looking for scorpions or ants, and slipped her toes into the straps. She walked round the bed to the window and watched the dawn sky turning from black to dark blue
It was wonderful. She was naked and she was almost cold. It would stay wonderful till perhaps nine AM. And, thanks to these giant inflatable balls the Indians and Brazilians were putting into orbit, it wouldn't get as hot as in the drought years, but it was still almost unbearable. She would start sweating and sighing, and brushing flies away as she wrote on the blackboard, and got chalk dust soaked into her pores.
Yes they still used black board and chalk here.
“Come on you. Wake up.”
“Oh….Do I have to?”
“Yes Colonel Moran, you do. Come on. It’ll be light soon.”
“So what do you think the good missionaries would say if they knew you had a man here overnight?”
“I reckon they think I’m beyond the pale already. That’s why I have this bungalow all on its own. That way if they don’t see my wicked ways, they don’t have to do anything about it.”
“Your silhouette against the window is….”
“Is why I’m pulling the drapes shut. Come on now you, Up you get.”
“Oh, OK.” Sebastian Moran squinted as she turned on the bare electric light bulb and put on a dressing gown. “It’s a sin to cover up a body like yours you know.”
“That’s not what the Reverend Mother would say. There’s some avocado’s in the fridge if you….” She watched him sit, pull up his pants and socks and step into his boots, all in one practised movement.
“No thanks. I’d better go. Drive my truck away before they get to early church or whatever they do.”
“OK.” She watched him tuck in his green shirt and zip up his pants. “So when will you be back?”
“About a week I think. The engineers reckon they can get the loco started and pull a few wagons up to the mine. Check out the track and bridges as they go. Then once the big bridge is repaired the Chinese can re-open the mine full time and start shipping stuff out.”
“So no trouble with the rebels?”
“Not if the cease fire holds. God knows what the Government promised the bastards, but they have stopped raiding. And I used to know MuRillo when he was still President MuRillo. He’s an honest sort of guy. If he says his boys will stop fighting, then I guess he means it.”
“I hope so.” She let her dressing gown fall open.
“So do I. There’s a rumour they’re only going to keep us here a few more months, then let the Police guard the railway.”
“I’ll be going home sometime soon as well.” She had both hands on his chest.
“Right. Well maybe I
could come and visit you in Albuquerque. Take you to Las Vegas and
get rid of my indecent earnings.” He sounded almost as though he
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