The jet rocked as it descended through the warm pockets of air. Iveta removed her blindfold and pushed up the shutter from the oval window. Below she saw a vast reddish brown surface and on the horizon a series of low mountain tops. She could not discern many details. A haze of dust and heat blurred the view.
Alice greeted with a smile. “We are almost there, Miss Iveta. Would you care for refreshments?”
Iveta was envious to see how Alice had not suffered at all from the long flight and looked young and radiant as ever. A bit grumpier than really meant she snapped: “how long still?”
Alice's immunity for unpleasant passengers worked, so she kept on smiling: “the captain just told me: another half hour. We have already started our descent and are passing some choppy air. It will depend a bit on the air traffic control. It's quite busy today; thankfully we have the highest clearance.”
Busy on an African airport? That was something Iveta really wanted to experience.
As the pilot had to make some sharp turns during the approach, the rocking of the plane became worse and was interjected with uncomfortable hard bounces. Iveta moved up to sit next to the sleeping Ian and gently woke him up. He had been working the whole trip and only dozed off the last two hours.
“We are about to land,” she whispered, “it is a bit bumpy and you know that I don't like that very much.” She had grasped his hand and pinched it, not always softy, in synch with the turbulence until they finally flared over the landing strip, touched down and rolled to one of the reserved parking spots.
Immediately the heat of the tarmac filled the cabin when Alice opened the door of the jet and pushed down the small stairs. Standing in the doorway Ian already had switched on his mobile. Apparently the warmth did not bother him at all. He listened to his messages, often not even till the end. When he had finished he pushed one of the speed dials.
“Hi Jonathan. I just arrived. Is everything under control?”
Patiently he listened to Jonathan's account. “Good job, Jonathan. I will contact him in two hours.”
Iveta felt groggy after the long flight. But that feeling disappeared swiftly as she could inhale the fresh air. Even if that fresh air was almost forty-two degrees Celsius. Astonished she looked around. She had not expected a hyper-modern airport, bustling with life like Kennedy or Frankfurt. A continuous row of carts were loading and unloading goods and luggage from jets and cargo planes. In the distance she saw the shimmering landing lights of at least five planes lining up from the sky. Shuttle busses filled with freshly arrived visitors drove towards the main building. She could only guess the hustle inside that building because she and Ian, as usual, enjoyed the comfort of a special treatment. They mounted into a four wheel drive that was waiting for them and instantly rushed off.
As they passed the gate, the young man in the passenger's seat turned around. “Welcome Mister Summerton and Miss Iveta. Welcome in Luuq.” He pronounced the world melodiously stretched. “I trust that you have had a good journey. I know it has already been a long trip, but we'll be at our final destination in less than an hour.”
He held out his hand to Iveta. “It is good to meet you in person after all this time via e-mail and phone. My name is Cabdikarum Sucro. Just call me Karum. My roots are Italian. Well, my great grandfather married a Somali. As you know I work for Ian on the Abacus development programme.” He laughed, “at least that is what we call it.”
“Can someone tell me where Luuq is exactly located?” Her effort to mimic the melodious tone failed but brought a smile on the face of Karum.
“It was a small forgotten village in a strange horseshoe shaped curve of the Webi Jubba river. About fifty kilometres south of the place where the three countries meet: Kenya, Somalia and Ethiopia. More or less, because even today nobody knows where those countries really meet. And we are now heading towards the south west of Luuq.”
He pointed at the river where the brown water flowed slowly. “There you can still see the old Luuq. The clay cabins and huts have all been abandoned in the meantime. Most of the people work near the airport and have replaced their dwellings for modern housing. Isn't it hard to imagine that a year ago this airport actually was not more than an earthen airstrip called the Luuq Ganana Airstrip? One moment...”
Eagerly he produced a tablet and handed it to Iveta. “Look, these are the satellite images.”
She enlarged the images and could clearly distinguish the huts built almost randomly within the river protected area. The river served as a natural fence, protecting the population from unwanted lions or wandering elephant herds.
“Nice, but these must be very old. The airport is nowhere to be seen.”
“Euh ... it is live.”
Ian picked up on the hint.
“Let is be clear that what Maps is showing you is not always the reality. But often what one wants you to believe,” Ian added. “Years ago everyone thought it was wonderful to look at his house on Google maps and to see which car was on the driveway. Until people started to realize that also burglars used it as their favourite preparation tool. Not only to break into one house, but to organise complete campaigns in a region, including the best escape routes to the closest highway. Especially the day that Maps went real time in their satellite application, it was the favourite tool to check whether someone was at home or not. Later it was used to conduct attacks again headquarters of multinationals, nodes of utility or communication companies. Certainly if they were a part of the country's critical infrastructure. It did not take long till those places had to be masked on the charts. Did you ever notice that when you type in the address of a multinational you often get an image on the satellite map that is not really fitting the picture? In the early days it was done quite roughly, as if someone had carelessly whitened it out. Later the camouflage technique became more sophisticated. Old images were seamlessly inserted in new maps. Of course at a certain price after Google had won the privacy lawsuits. Privacy has a price. Don't be mistaken, up till today thousands of people have nothing else to do than to comb satellite maps millimetre by millimetre in search of something: a lost airplane, a ship, a house or a bank with a safe.”
It went quiet in the car driving at a steady hundred and forty kilometre per hour over the newly surfaced three lane highway. Iveta saw left and right the abundant green of banana-trees, bread trees and palms. The central reserve was neatly trimmed with blossoming red flowers. In the distance she could see some children playing in front of small white houses. The housing became denser, indicating that they were approaching a kind of a centre or more densely populated area.
The driver said something to Karum who turned to Ian and Iveta. “We are almost there. Here are the key cards to your rooms. I will take care of the luggage.”
The engine of the car changed into a soft humming. Karum explained: “from this point on it is not allowed to use a combustion engine. That is why we switched to the electricity that we generated during our trip over here.”
The road became more crowded and the vegetation along the side opened up, dispersed with white houses. The car took an exit and entered a straight boulevard towards what seemed to be the centre. Iveta looked around but could not see the expected mix of shops, pharmacies or restaurants.
They drove up to the lobby of a large, yet only five stories high, hotel. Around some busses, excited passengers were eagerly looking for their luggage. Karum gallantly opened the door for Iveta and when she stood up next to him she guessed he was over two meter tall. A big contrast with her one meter sixty.
She pushed her sunglasses up in her hair and stepped with Ian and Karum into the spacious lobby where rows of loud people tried to check in. She knew that Ian was not going to be pleased to see this display of bad organisation and already pitied the poor manager not ensuring enough manpower to cope with the sudden flux of guests. The hotel reminded her of a hollow cylinder, with in the middle a small tropical garden from where the lifts and stairs
started. The currently overwhelmed reception was situated to the right of the main entrance. Further into the hotel there were restaurants and bars. All of the rooms came out on the round balconies from where you could have a bird's view on the ground floor.
The driver carried their luggage inside and Iveta automatically grabbed her purse. Ian put his hand on her arm saying: “a tip won't be needed here.”
Karum pointed them into the direction of the lifts. “Your rooms are on the highest floor, the fifth floor. Rooms five hundred one and five hundred two. I suggest that we meet again here in let's say two hours? I have made reservations for dinner.”
Ian and Iveta joined the queue that had formed in front of the elevators. Apparently only two of the lifts functioned. They heard grousing in different languages. Just like themselves these people had travelled long, but by far not in the same circumstances. A Spanish speaking woman tried to soothe her crying baby while her husband tried to keep control of their hyper-active toddler. An elderly Japanese couple looked at the scene disapprovingly. Finally one of the doors opened and a group of Dutch men entered singing some strange carnival song. "At least some people have fun," Iveta thought. While they patiently waited till it was their turn.
When on the fourth floor the last people stepped out of the elevator, Iveta sighed relieved. “Nice development project. I like the environment. Quite different from drilling a well or build a community school. I never realised it was this big.”
The doors opened and he walked towards his room. Upon entering he said: “welcome to my Utopia.”