The Moto Cafe: page 2

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My Diary: August 2, 1998

It is 110 degrees today. If the palm trees could scream, they would, but, instead, they are still and passive...and...they provide the most valuable resource of the afternoon:SHADE!

A babboon family stands on a ledge above the Moto Cafe. I was told by Tesfai that they come here each day at about the same time and they wait for a small red pick-up.

"If the pick-up comes, they will stone it." Tesfai explains, "Once some people in a red truck threw beer cans at their babies. They never forget. The come to throw rocks at the people. But they know the right truck. I think it was tourists and they will never come back. But still, the babboons are coming every day."

"They are smart animals, then?" asked Ahmed, holding an icy bottle of Amestel beer.

"Smart? They are BRILLIANT!" shouts a newcomer to the Cafe from across the room.

"What does this mean, "Brilliant"?", asks Jane, who is seated at the table across from Ahmed.

The new arrival is a young man in jean shorts. He is wearing a San Francisco Giants hat t-shirt, and holding a bottle of root-beer. Transparent sheets of ice slide off the sides of his botle.

Illustration by Joseph Dynan, age 12

"Brilliant! That's what I mean. Just look at how they live." he says as he approaches the table where Alp, Ahmed and Jane are seated.

"What's your name, stranger?" Alp says, standing up and extending his hand in welcome.

"Joseph" replies the young man, "I just got in from Arizona."

"Hey, did I hear "Arid-zona"?" called yet another newcomer from across the room.

I turned around in my seat at the bar to see who had such an authorative voice. There were three people seated at the table, all new to the Cafe, but not new to Asmara. I'd seen them in town before. But in different clothes. The first time I saw the man was at Kagnew Station. He had been wearing an Army uniform-Colonel in the Infantry I think. Probably TDY at Kagnew. The woman with him had also been in uniform-Army Nurse Corps. And the third person, a young man named Luke, was their son.

"Yeah. I heard you say you just got in from Arizona. That's where we're from" said the Colonel, now wearing shorts, tank top and running shoes.

"Tucson?" Joseph asked.

"As a matter of fact! How'd you know that?"

"Just a guess.....the cap you're wearing is from Sabino Canyon."

From across the bar, a young woman with fair hair interrupted "Hey, I saw you at the Officer's Club. I think you're at a seminar with my husband."

"Dion? SO, you're Jan! He mentioned you might be down here to the Cafe on the weekend. But where is he?" asked the Colonel.

"He had to fill in for the OD at the last minute - you know how it goes."

"Too bad, I like that guy. Most interesting Officer at the seminar."

"Yeah, he liked you too. He had mentioned meeting you - in fact, I thought it was you when you first came in."

"You folks sure do a lot of talking. Let's make some introductions" said a soft, friendly voice from the darkest corner of the Cafe.

All heads turned. No one even realized that anyone was even sitting there.

The speaker was a petit young woman with pretty long hair and porceline skin, punctuated with a beautiful formation of carefully-placed freckles around her nose.

"I'm Sara. I just came in from Tucson with Joseph."

Everyone shook hands. The threesome from Tucson were Richard, Sharon and Luke. It turned out that Joseph and Sara were brother and sister, travelling across Africa. They had started in Egypt, because their mother had once visited there; and come down to the Moto Cafe and Asmara because their father had told them stories when they were younger about his time at Kagnew Station.

"Where are you two headed next?" asked Richard.

"South Africa, we have friends from Half Way House. But we're taking our time getting down there."

"Well, I hope you're keeping a journal" piped up Jan.

"Would you like to see my journal?" asked Joseph.

Ahmed, Jane, Alp, Ana and the others gathered around Joseph and his sketch book.

Outside, "Bubbles" was barking loudly, signalling that someone new was approaching the Cafe.

Illustration Copright Ana Nelson 1998

"Woof! Woof!" the big black dog called in his gruffest voice, all the time wagging his tail, and hoping the stranger would be friendly.

"Well, you're a very loud fellow" said the newcomer, Morgan, as he reached down and scratched behind Bubbles ears. He had correctly interpreted the big dog's bark. The huge wooly animal groaned and grovelled with absolute joy as Morgan scratched behind his ears.

"Some watch dog you are! How about keeping an eye on my bike" Morgan said and gestured towards the Enfield Bullet he had acquired in India.

As if Bubbles understood, the big black mass of hair struggled to get up. He was thirteen now and sometimes his legs just wouldn't work right. Morgan gave the dog a helping hand and Bubbles ambled over to the Bike. He flopped down, hitting the ground with a "THUD", and rested his head on his crossed paws.

In the distance, a small red pick-up truck was approaching.

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