Saturday 05.11.2016 On the road, on land and in the air

We were picked up from home on Saturday morning. Yesterday Damian got in touch to say that everything was booked, and I packed my things up until late at night. I don't like going somewhere spontaneously. I need at least a whole day to prepare myself mentally. 

Nevertheless, I went to piano lessons. Yes, I take lessons because I don't have my own piano. Most of the time I sit alone, practise songs or enjoy playing. The music always made me relax and forget my thoughts. 

I would have liked to know how many days we should spend in Mali, but that depends entirely on future events. So, I packed my suitcase to bursting and hoped that I wouldn't have to pay a fee for the extra kilos.

Damian mentions a guide who will show us around and act as an intermediary.

I see a Mercedes waiting outside on the driveway. I don't know the driver, who has positioned himself in front of the vehicle, but he looks like a classic chauffeur and behaves accordingly. The man greets me with, “Good afternoon, sir,” puts the suitcase in the back and holds the door open for me so that I can sit down next to Tobias, who is, as I well noticed, already there.

“You wouldn't believe the faces my neighbours made. I'll never forget their envious looks.” Tobias likes the idea of having a chauffeur more than driving himself. 

The car rolls onto the road “Have you got everything with you?” I ask. He tells me about the water ice, which he really wants to take with him, the sun cream, which I had also almost forgotten, and his research into the weather statistics for Mali.

“The country has a hot desert climate, and the dry season started three months ago. We may not have to worry about a lack of water yet, but it will be hot and dry.” He makes himself comfortable in the back seat and then grimaces. “My arm still hurts from the yellow fever vaccination yesterday. Unfortunately, you can't have two vaccinations too close together, so I chose yellow fever because it sounds the nastiest.” I should have done that too, but I'd have to register with my doctor in advance and the waiting list is long.

With a sunny outlook, we drive towards Athen’s airport. I'm reasonably used to high temperatures, but forty degrees can make even me melt.

“Originally”, when Tobias begins with such words as Originally, I have read or to my knowledge, you can prepare yourself for a lecture on the subject,” the Dogon come from the north-east of Burkina Faso, where they were driven out. They then settled on the rock of Bandiagara, where they in turn drove out the Tellem who lived there at the time. As your buddy Taurus has already told you, they have become known for their craftsmanship and in most art collections or exhibitions of African art you will find a piece of the Dogon people.”

“Then the Poliatos family got hold of something really valuable at the flea market, albeit unknowingly,” I say in between.

“That's right! Their works of art are usually made to honour their gods or ancestors, in general everything they do in their lives is in some way ancestor worship.

From what we have heard, the figures could also have been made for this purpose.” That's the end of the lecture for now. Tobias may seem uninterested to others, but I know he deals with every topic in detail. He keeps his secret interest to himself because, as he told me once, he would rather not provide material for conversations with people. People might get the idea that he's interested in what you say and annoy him even more.

The airport is outside the city. I'm pleased that the chauffeur has chosen the route over the mountains, and I enjoy the view over Athens, a really beautiful city from near and far. He drives to the end of the parking lot; it is empty here and the way to the terminal is all the further. Surprisingly, he doesn't take us to the main terminal, but to a smaller, inconspicuous one. 

Nobody says a word and after studying the surroundings, I realize that this is the terminal for private travel, the place where important people arrive and depart. I walk faster until we reach the door and... it's locked?

“Why can't we be allowed a bit of coolness?”

Tobias bangs his head against the glass door; if he does this often, he'll suffer long-term damage. While we stand desperately in front of the locked door, our chauffeur has already found the way. The airport staff wave us to an original emergency exit.

“You two, it's this way, follow me.” We learn from the staff that the sliding door has a technical defect that has not yet been repaired. It seemed as if someone was playing against us.

We are greeted warmly by the airport staff through the back door, then the usual procedure begins. Bag checks and everything that goes with it, only without waiting times, so we are ready in 10 minutes. After a brief discussion, even the water ice made it through security. It must be kept in the fridge on board. The plane is waiting on the tarmac, away from the others. It is far too big for two people. It is estimated to be the size of a small passenger plane and has the same number of crew, not at all environmentally friendly, if I may say so.

It is also very spacious inside, with a first-class standard or something above it, if there is anything better than first class.

“You've never flown more comfortably,” Tobias quotes an advertising slogan and lies down on the seat at the side of the plane. “Even if we're flying to Mali, we'll at least survive the journey.”

The pilot announces himself over the loudspeaker. He introduces himself briefly and asks us to take our seats for take-off.

I haven't flown much and I'm not particularly afraid of it, but I still prefer other means of transportation. Many people are afraid of landing and look out of the window spellbound to see if the plane will touch down on time and correctly. 

The take-off scared me. It's not the fear of dying, but the fear that the moment will never end and that we will fly up into space. As a kid I believed the planes in the sky were rockets on their way to a new mission on the moon. Later I realized that twenty-two rockets in one day is definitely too many.

The plane takes off and a few seconds later I can no longer feel the ground beneath me. We are pressed gently into our seats.

It must be over soon. It must be over soon, I think. I exhale, we are not out of the atmosphere. A stewardess offers us a drink, but I refuse. On-board toilets have never been nice, even when they're first class, let alone the idea of doing your business thousands of meters above the ground.

Now that things are quiet, I can get one question off my chest.

“What's your problem?” Tobias looks up, confused. “What problem?”

“You talk about Mali like it's the worst place in the world.” He hesitates, which only happens with Tobias when he has to say something unpleasant. “It doesn't matter,” he finally replies.

“It does matter, you can tell me anything.” I can see the sea and the coast of Greece disappearing below us. “I definitely don't want to start an argument a thousand meters above sea level,” he counters.

“We're not arguing,” I counter back, which is basically the start of an argument.

“Yes, we do,” is his final decision.

The pressure makes my ears hurt and I don't want to bother him again, but he knows he can tell me anything and I'm too curious, so I need to know.

Even though he's not looking at me, I can see him rolling his eyes. “Well, okay, I just imagined a better destination. I mean, there certainly aren't any big modern cities with five-star hotels and so much poverty and disease. Plus, the constant conflict and military presence. I'd just rather be somewhere else.”

“Oh, well, if that's all that's bothering you,” I say disappointedly, because I have something on my mind.

“I know, I know, you're saying I shouldn't complain, but it doesn't change the fact that it's nicer somewhere else.”

“I had a dream on Thursday,” I begin. “That we would go to Mali and... well, die.” 

“Die?” Tobias whispers like an echo.

I have the feeling that saying this word on an airplane would cause panic, even if we were the only passengers. 

“You knew we were going to Mali on Thursday?” Tobias' face loses its colour, and we look at each other, unable to say a word.

“I can't say whether it was really Mali, but I saw the men, that's why this dream worries me so much, it's like I've seen the future,” I explain.

“Why didn't you tell me this before? It's really scary.”

“I thought you wouldn't believe me; I can hardly believe myself,” I try to make him understand.

“That's right, I would have said it was just a nightmare. Or a kind of déjà vu.” Tobias takes his drink. Outside the window, the view of the sea is obscured by clouds.

“You're probably right, but it felt so real.” I feel my chest as if the dagger is still in it.

“Were you able to recognize them from the surveillance video?”

I admit that I only saw the faces in a blur, or at least I can't remember them exactly.

“Were they the ones who killed us in your dream?” he asks.

I pause for a moment and go through my dream again. “Yes.”

I can't get a word out and just look outside. On the one hand, I believe what I've seen, but on the other, it's never possible.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the pilot announces, interrupting our thoughts. “Due to expected dangerous turbulence, we have to make an emergency landing.” 

The storm clouds on the horizon are new.

A few minutes ago, the weather was perfect for flying and a storm has come out of nowhere. 

“You didn't see that coming, did you?”

I shake my head. We have just reached the coast of Africa and are about to land at the nearest airport, which belongs to the Libyan city of Misrata.