Sunday, May 31, 2009

Chapter 2

Marcel de Merode, a wealthy Belgian mercenary, sells Zizu de Merode, a ten-year-old enchanting beauty, endowed with turquoise eyes, for 20,000 Pounds Sterling without so much as a qualm or a twitch of conscience; She thought he might have been her father. He knew otherwise. Flora her mother was one of his concubines, but he could never rein her in. She had always enjoyed numerous lovers.
Hours after his return to Kinshasa, from a six months absence, Flora had told him boldly, "I am expecting a child by another man. I will never reveal the name of my child’s father and plan to take the secret to my grave. I have enough money from him so that you need never humiliate me about monetary expenses. I am just six weeks along so your precious face and male pride will be spared any chinks in it."
Marcel had been part of an expeditionary and mercenary force, led by General de Clerk into Sierra Leone. Their principal motive was plunder. The orders had come from their Pay Master, Gerard Reiserman, a Belgian businessman who crisscrossed New York, Antwerp and Africa in his private Bombardier. He was a gems dealer, collector, and confidante of Presidents Johnson of Sierra Leone, Taylor of Liberia, and more importantly of Laurent Kabila, President of the Congo.
It was murmured in fear and in reverence, that not a hand moved in the diamond and sapphire mines without Reiserman’s blessing. He wanted a large stockpile of diamonds and sapphires removed from Sierra Leone and taken to the Congo. Reiserman knew he could trust Marcel de Merode more than the other mercenaries. He never stooped so low as to pilfer diamonds because his instincts told him his mangled corpse would be fed to the ravenous crocodiles that endlessly cruised the Congo River in search of human meat. "I am a professional killer and thief, of the highest caliber. De Merode does not rob chickens."
When Flora, was diagnosed with full-blown AIDS, de Merode sent her away to a clinic to die. It had been ten years since he last bedded Flora, when she had gleefully informed him she was pregnant and not by him. Her ferocious and atavistic sexuality terrified de Merode; he was relieved not to couple with her ever again. He showed his dislike bordering on disdain of Zizu, fruit of her pregnancy by ignoring her on his good days and being rude if not cruel to her on his dark days.
He hastened to sell Zizu to a representative of Prince Naim bin Nayef of Saudi Arabia. His Royal Highness was desperate for new blood. He needed it quickly to re-invigorate his mentally defective, deranged and disease ridden in bred line. He was not alone. All the so-called royal houses in the Persian/Arabian Gulf had piss poor protoplasm – in other words a depleted gene pool.
"My sons and daughters are coupling with their cousins. I realize we need to cement alliances with the tribes; I myself have done so, but I think it’s time to rethink this policy of mating only among our select group of relatives. We don’t breed our horses, falcons and camels in the same incestuous way we produce our families and clans … it is reckless. We know better."

Zizu was fortunate. The aged Prince Naim welcomed his beautiful slave and investment kindly. One glimpse of her eyes and he declared,” Henceforth you shall be called Turkhasa, like the gem we call Turkhas (turquoise) He had his best and brightest son Karim aged thirteen, in mind for her, once her blood began its flow (her menses)

In the meantime, she would attend the madrassah for girls, and learn the holy Qu’ran in classical Arabic. Prince Naim had gifted her with a necklace of the largest turquoise spheres money could buy. His agents had scoured all of Iran for months to find them. It was a country the size of Germany, France and the United Kingdom combined.

She was allowed to keep the cross of rough blue and white diamonds, which her Mama had given her, provided she kept it out of sight. This singled her out as someone unique, and nurtured envy, jealousy and hate among her classmates and the future wives of Prince Karim bin Naim bin Nayef.

"Inshallah, she will make a good fourth wife for Karim. The other three wives would still come from the same gene pool," he sighed deeply and with regret.

This is very stupid politics for in the end our heirs are unfit and inept to govern. They are only good at copying the vices of the west, like gambling, womanizing, drinking, snorting cocaine, stuffing their veins with morphine and corrupting their lungs with tobacco.

Prince Naim was aware his eldest son Salim, who would celebrate his seventeenth birthday soon, was being broken into the ways and mores of coupling in the west.

"I agreed to what I consider perverse acts, we are forbidden to seek out pleasure with women other than our own wives. But Salim’s women have complained to their mothers that his sexual sword is too big and painful to accommodate. Salim has a cruel streak; I have always feared that. The harlot, I cannot bring myself to say her odious name, (Candy) is under orders from her Western Master to train him in techniques, which I hope will induce his wives to receive his organ with less tension and more serenity."

He pondered that this was the principal reason why he gave the entrancing Congolese Zizu, henceforth to be known as Turkasa to his son Karim.
Karim has a good- sized piece of procreative flesh and he is gentle with his wives, so I have heard.

"It is a small step I have taken with Turkhasa. She is as fertile as the Nile and the Congo Rivers. Bright. Wise. Kind. Brave. Loving. She will give us many sons and daughters who will be extraordinary in every way. Inshallah," he told his son Karim.

He gazed at him for a long time. Father and son spoke through their eyes. Sometimes what is not said carries more value than words. Silence can be a potent language.

“Our society is polluted and contaminated. Our leaders are venal, debauched and depraved. Am I nothing but an old wishful dreamer out of step with all the rest? Bribable, corrupt and dishonorable men govern our country. It was easy for the Anglo-Americans monsters that call the shots to turn many of them into wicked and immoral people.

“The fault lies with us. We had a choice, once, nearly 110 years ago. We decided on Sin. I am a youth possessed of idealism. Will it be of any use?”

Prince Nayef broke the silence. “She cost me the equivalent of a luxurious car like a BMW. Mind it’s not the price we must think of but also the value. Therefore, learn to cherish Turkhasa, my beloved son.”

“Yes Babba, I shall love her.”

For centuries, the Al Nayef clan had been prosperous merchant Bedouins. The Prince’s grandfather had come from Yemen at the urging of his blood cousin, Abdel Aziz Ibn-Saud who needed support in his fight for control of the vast country of Arabia. With the unending financial and military assistance from the British bankers and secret agents, he had defeated all his enemies, most of whom were clansmen. Then, in a gesture fraught with destiny and blood, he had ensured that his country would henceforth be known as Saudi Arabia. That was his name - Abdel Aziz Ibn-Saud (son of Saud). Of such stuff are dynasties created.

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