Disclaimer: Aminah is mine. Dana Scully et al are not.
Spoilers: "Biogenesis"
Rating: PG
Archival: go for it.
Please send feedback to Rave1400@aol.com
"Aminah"
By Rave
**************
Naturally, Aminah was the first to be called that morning when
the woman from America arrived on their stretch of beach. Over
the past two years of working at the Universite Cote D'Ivoire,
she had become the unofficial ambassador of the university.
Given her mastery of English, French, and several Asian
languages, she was the clear choice for entertaining foreign
visitors. At first she resented the imposition and the
assumption that she would be available at any time for her
"duties", but after a while she grew to like the feeling of
being useful in this way, the only one who could perform this
job.
She and Solomon would easily welcome such visitors into their
home. It was cool and comfortable, much more so than the
sterile "luxury" hotels further away in Abidjan. Club Med was
not far down the beach, but it was not a suitable accommodation
for visitors to the university. She had specially decorated two
rooms for the purpose, and when her oldest son Domenic went away
to school in the city next year, his bedroom would be added to
the "hotel". She began to look forward to these visits when
Solomon came home with the news. Gauzy curtains would be aired
and Cook was sent to market for fresh fruit and seafood.
She was the perfect hostess. She sent her guests away with a
smile and a promise to send her some small treasure from their
homeland. A few years ago, Solomon and his brothers built her a
curio cabinet to display her gifts.
She was well-regarded in academic circles as one who must be
visited during one's time at the University. And so of course
the men at the school would immediately offer her household when
the woman from America came. Those academicians were
preoccupied with their studies and certainly couldn't be blamed
for forgetting her husband had just died.
So with a gracious face just-rinsed of tears, Aminah Merckmallen
stood at the front of her house and welcomed Dr. Dana Scully
from the United States into her home.
Dr. Scully carried but one bag, tethered together with twine.
She must have noticed that it caught Aminah's interest, because
even before introductions were made, she smiled slightly and
said, "The airline didn't treat it very well." It was placed on
the ground beside her and Aminah imagined it fell apart even
more with the impact. "I'm Agent Dana Scully, an investigator
from the United States," she introduced.
"Professor Aminah Merckmallen," the woman responded, returning
the handshake.
Her visitor peered at her closely. "Merckmallen? Are you
related to Dr. Solomon Merckmallen?"
The tracks of tears on Aminah's face threatened to become moist
again. Eyes lowered, she replied, "He was my husband."
"Oh my God, I'm sorry. They didn't tell...." Aminah lifted her
eyes to see the woman's discomfort. "I'm here because of your
husband's death."
Aminah stared at this woman from America, shocked. This Dr.
Scully was here because of her Solomon? But --
"You said that you are an investigator. What is there to
investigate? The man who contacted me said that my husband died
from an accidental fall down a staircase."
The immediate look of surprise on the American's face worried
Aminah deeply.
"Professor Merckmallen, may I come in?"
Her manners as hostess forgotten under the weight of what she
was hearing, she distractedly waved the woman inside. They
moved through the entry hall of the old house, to a large room
which had been used for meetings of the tribal elders before the
French came a century earlier. The room had been modernized,
and there Domenic sat, playing a marbles game. "Son," she
instructed, "Go and play with Marie-Ahadi." Her son, cowed by
the expression on his mother's face, complied.
Cook appeared at the doorway and Aminah asked her to prepare the
dinner table. Alone again, she turned to her visitor, who had
taken a chair opposite her.
"I wanted Solomon to go to America. He came home from the
university that day very excited, believing he had uncovered
something amazing. I went to see it with him the next day. He
brought it to my office -- I am an assistant professor of
languages -- and he looked more excited than he had since
Marie-Ahadi's birth." She began to arrange the bright kente
cloth of her dress around her on the sofa. "He wanted to simply
mail it to the university in Washington, but I suggested he go
there himself and present it. I thought it would help him
immeasurably, and people would respect his biological theories
even more."
"He did make it to the university, Professor Merckmallen," the
woman said in a soothing voice. Aminah didn't know whether to
feel relieved or sad by this news. She sat silently, waiting
for the woman to continue. "He brought it to his friend, Dr.
Sandoz, but one of Sandoz' colleagues took the artifact from
your husband and killed him."
This would have been worse than Aminah had expected, except that
she had not expected it at all. Who on earth would kill her
beloved husband? Who would want to kill him? He was a good man
with a generous soul. He believed in God and went to Mass every
week. He had only friends, no enemies.
She wanted to disbelieve this woman, yet her kind face and
honest manner made it difficult for Aminah to believe that Dr.
Scully would come from America telling lies. She had to know
for certain, however.
"Are you certain he was murdered?" Her voice shivered on the
words.
Dr. Scully stood and moved over to sit next to Aminah on the
long sofa. She took Aminah's hand and said in a quiet voice,
"I'm very sure, Professor Merckmallen. I am a pathologist."
"Pathologist?" It was one English word the linguist had not
heard before.
The other woman quickly glanced away, then looked back at her
and squeezed Aminah's hand. "One who investigates death. I
performed the autopsy myself."
"Ah." Something about the way the woman said the words led
Aminah to think she was holding something back, but Aminah
wasn't sure she wanted to hear more about his death just at this
moment. Perhaps tonight, after they had eaten a quiet dinner
with Domenic and Marie-Ahadi, and she had shown Dr. Scully her
room.
She removed her hand from the American's clasp and smoothed her
kente wrap once again, needing to do something with her hands to
allay the nervous tension. "And you came all this way to tell
me about his murder?" Even as she said the hateful word, she
still didn't want to believe it.
"I'm afraid not, ma'am." The woman's voice remained kind, but
it took on a more businesslike tone. "I did not know that you
were Solomon's wife when the people at the university suggested
I stay here for the night. I came here to investigate the
artifact he found. I need to know everything I can possibly
find out about it." She paused for a moment, then said, "I need
to uncover the truth, or I might lose someone I care about
deeply."
The way she spoke reminded her of when her father came to her
when she was nine years old. "Your brother has passed away," he
told her in the beautiful French he spoke. "You are now my only
child. You must grow into a strong and intelligent woman, so
that you may honor me in my old age, for now I have no son."
She had been surprised when he told her this, as the other girls
she knew were being raised to become attractive wives for
wealthy men in the city. But when her beloved father told her
this, she realized that her intelligence was the key to her
rise, not a beautiful face. Even at the age of nine, she felt
empowered.
She was now a respected teacher of languages, as well-respected
in her own right as she was as the wife of a world-renowned
scholar. When her father had passed away two years before, the
pride in his eyes showed her that she had honored him. Now she
had lost her husband, but she knew that she had honored him in
his lifetime, and he had respected and loved her. But oh, so
much death.
Perhaps her intelligence could help this woman save someone who
meant a great deal to her, and by doing so, Aminah could show
her respect and love for Solomon and what he stood for.
She rose from the sofa, standing nearly six feet tall in her
gold, brown, and purple kente robes, and held her chin high --
the vision of the African princess her father had always known
she could be. "In the morning," she told this woman sitting
before her, "I shall take you to the university and give you
everything of Solomon's research. I hope that it helps you
uncover the artifact's truth, and that it helps you save the
person you care for."
The American woman smiled and said, "Thank you."
Her hostess held out a hand and Dr. Scully rose to take it.
Their handshake was one of agreement and support. With an
agreement and a promise made, the two women moved to the dinner
table, where they would share a feast and plan for tomorrow.
*****************
Finis.
Rave1400@aol.com
Any inaccuracies in the portrayal of African culture are
entirely my own responsibility. I tried to do as much research
as possible on the Web, but it can only say so much. My thanks
to Susanne for lending an ear.
According to a website specializing in African names, "Aminah"
means "trustworthy".
