Ashes of a Madman

Chapter 1 - Arrival

I don't need to tell you how this ends: the newspapers carried the headlines. The hardest words to swallow were in bold print on the front page, and they were true. I murdered him.

Mombasa, Kenya, 1879. The Indian Ocean and the white, sandy beach greeted us, marking the end of our long sea voyage. Arabian influence was evident in this town. Open-air markets laid out a maze of alleyways. Stone houses with carved brass-studded doors that boasted wealth and security quickly gave way to mud huts of traditional African fashion.

Geoffrey took my hand in his as we waded through the masses of the dark skinned peoples of this mysterious land, this place called Mombasa in Kenya. I remember the people of the marketplace bartering loudly for bright fruits and vegetables, raw fish, pungent spices, dyed cloth and small trinkets. While he was engaged in conversation with one of the street vendors, I, an ever-eager consumerist, slipped away from his grasp to buy some jewelry from an old woman nearby. She watched me approach and wasted no time getting my business as she put several trinkets around my neck. I did not speak her language, so I put my hand up to stop her and began to remove some of them. I still had three around my neck and one around my wrist when Geoff came to my side. I quickly made my decision as to which one I should take, deciding on the bracelet, which would serve as an obtrusive memento of my trip. The woman spoke to my husband and, after he inspected the symbols, he began to laugh.

"She says it protects you from an untimely death. She trusts you are ignorant, and she is right."

Irritating though the insult was, I could not deny that I was ignorant, knowing neither the language, the customs nor the meaning of the charm round my wrist. What I did know was this: Our marriage was in shambles. He refused to touch me despite my efforts. His passion was spent elsewhere and, rather than hide this fact, he flaunted it. But I had come on this journey to change our marriage. Perhaps if I understood him better, shared his experiences, he would love me like he did when we first met. By deliberate choice, I would not argue about this bracelet or his insult. Despite the determination of the vendor, I began taking it off. Besides its connection with a fresh offense, I did not like the idea of ascribing supernatural powers to something I might wear. As I began to do so, she cried out more enthusiastically, refusing to take the bracelet back.

"She begs you not to take it off. She will give it to you if you will not buy it. Let's go, Rebecca."

"It isn't very attractive by English standards, but I won't offend her," I smiled. "It is an intriguing piece of jewelry," I said to Geoff who had already diverted his attention. I held out a sum of money to the old woman, as I did not understand their currency. She continued talking even louder to me and holding the bracelet tight around my wrist. "Yes," I nodded. "I will leave it on forever." Even as I turned my back, she continued talking. The incomprehensibility of her words made them feel even more ominous.

One month after departing England, our boat had landed on these beautiful shores. November fifth, eighteen seventy-nine was our date of arrival. Arab traders dominated the very ground I walked on, and their influence left the mark of a merchant. This city was the melting pot of east Africa. Only five years ago, slave trade was shut down here. Their main export had to be replaced and the exploitation of the interior of Africa began soon after.

Beads and trinkets would not appeal to most Europeans; my bracelet was no exception. But ivory did appeal... I again tucked it beneath the sleeve of my dress and could not suppress a caustic remark, "Madame Gravot would not approve, unless the carvings were of diamonds instead of bits of wood." I realized that it was not the wisest thing to say, and, as expected, I received Geoff's a withering look. He had told me during the journey that she was his lover whenever he spent time in Mombasa. That discussion went poorly. I had finally agreed to join him on this expedition because I felt it was the only place remaining where I may escape further encounters with his paramours, a place where I could let my bitterness sweeten, where I could drop my guard, where I could find my love for him again. I was foiled before I even arrived, thanks to that revelation.