‘I insist. We can’t be so formal when we’ll be living on top of each other for several weeks if this goes ahead.’
She nodded, so reluctantly she could almost have been shaking her head.
‘I think, ideally, someone in their late teens or early twenties.’
‘And male?’
‘I’ll leave that to you. What do you think?’
‘It’s very much a male-orientated society, and although it pains me to do anything that might perpetuate that inequality, I’m not sure it would be acceptable to ask a woman to undertake such a task.’
Adrian was pleased she was thinking things through as carefully as he himself had done. It gave him faith in her.
‘There’s no one suitable in the clinic at the moment. As for the camp, I’d prefer not to involve them if at all possible.’
‘Why’s that?’
She sat straight-backed before him, her lined, suntanned face, although austere, looking emphatically granny-like. There was a gently humorous warmth in the eyes that he hadn’t noticed before. They sparkled with life, and there was a softness in her hair, which was delicately curled and white.
‘In the Korem camp, and also in the seven camps around Mek’ele, there’s a bureaucracy that can be quite overwhelming. I’ve heard stories,’ she added, smiling suddenly, leaving the three words alone to tell those stories.
‘What kind of stories?’
‘Oh, that’s not so important,’ she said dismissively. ‘It’s their attitude that will be a problem, especially with a request as unusual as this one. The camps are full of young aid workers, and, heaven forbid there’s anything wrong with that – far from it, but they can be, well, how shall I put this…? Maybe I have spent too long working on my own, but I feel they can be a little earnest and idealistic at times – too hesitant and overly suspicious.’ She smiled. ‘“It can’t be done, it can’t be done,” they tell me over and over again – even about the most trivial request – and they demand the filling in of countless forms, and emphasize the necessity of consulting with Paris or Geneva or New York rather than making any kind of decision themselves. You could be waiting for months, possibly years, before you receive an answer. And, to tell you the truth, I don’t think they’ll be happy to cooperate, anyway.’
‘But we only need one person, for heaven’s sake, to borrow one person, that’s all we’re looking for.’ And even though this imagined youthful slayer of dreams was not before him now, he supposed Anne Chaffey was right. If such people, with their do-gooding, pious sentiments and their tunnel-vision minds could try even the patience of an old nurse, he was unlikely to get far with them.
‘“We can’t just let you walk out of here with someone who’s in our care,”’ the nurse parroted, ‘“it would be irresponsible, even immoral.” That would be their justification.’ She giggled. ‘But I’m being most uncharitable.’
‘How can they talk about morality and responsibility in this chaos, in this hell where people, despite all the food and medicine, are still dying? Are you saying Korem would also be like that?’
She hesitated. ‘I’ve been here a long time, Adrian, long before Korem and the other camps were set up to cope with the latest famine. My primary concern has always been the long-term health of the locals, whereas their primary concern is to feed people.’ She picked up a folder lying on top of the small table, and carried it across to the filing cabinet in the corner of the room. It was as if she were saying she couldn’t spare any more time simply sitting and chatting to Adrian. ‘There’s some crossover between us, and with so much food now being flown in from the West, the camp is able to keep us supplied too. This is necessary because many refugees from the Tigray and Wollo districts still come here, to the clinic. They’ve known about us for many years, and see no difference between us and a refugee camp; to them we’re both sources of relief.’
She closed the cabinet door and returned to sit at the table. ‘So, although we work closely with their aid workers, I wouldn’t be happy involving them in this.’
Adrian shrugged. ‘Well, you should know.’
‘There’s also a problem with refugees not wanting to leave the camps.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Why would you leave when you have food and shelter, when there are soldiers outside the camp who may kill you? The civil war is still being fought. It’s much safer to live in a camp.’
‘I’ve heard there are many who’d be more than happy to leave the camps. I understood they regard them as a last resort, almost as an admission of defeat. A nurse I met in London, someone who worked in Ethiopia in 1985, told me she never had it in her to send anyone to the camps. It didn’t matter if they were starving, her conscience wouldn’t allow it. “It’s a death sentence” was how she put it to me.’
Anne moved her head from side to side, as if weighing up the options. ‘I think that’s a little exaggerated, even for then. They do their best in an impossible situation. It’s the local officials who are to blame for making the camps difficult to run. There’s theft, corruption and, worst of all, incompetence.’
By early afternoon, everything had been agreed. Anne would find a suitable person, and Adrian would return to London and make as many arrangements as he could in the meantime. ‘But we must do it this year, and preferably this summer. August would be perfect, Anne. It still gives us time to organize everything. Do you think you can find someone in that time?’
‘I’ll try.’
Anne struck Adrian as being trustworthy and efficient and, best of all, someone who had invaluable experience with Ethiopians, yet he still worried. It was such an amazing PR stunt, it just had to succeed, no matter how crazy the rest of the world might think it. But he understood that if the nurse couldn’t organize things in Korem in his absence, then his dream was in serious danger. Everything hinged on her finding the right person.
‘And, of course, you’ll come to London as well?’
She looked doubtful, almost panicked. ‘It will be hard for me to get away.’
‘But, Anne, you have to. We couldn’t do this without you.’ It was a huge admission for Adrian to make. He was a man who considered anything was possible so long as he himself was involved; other people did not usually feature.
‘Well, I do have a sister in Yorkshire whom I haven‘t seen for over 20 years, so it would be nice to visit her.’
‘There you go then. It’s settled.’ But he sensed her hesitation.
He returned to London to sell his idea to James Balcombe. He didn’t foresee any problems in that area; the executive director of Africa Assist was an ineffectual, even weak man, who was more interested in the social introductions that arose from working for a well-known charity than in any good it might achieve for strangers barely existing on some far-off continent. He did have a heart, but in the main his feelings were a little abstract and easily ambushed when not directly involving himself.
At the end of his first day back at work, however, before discussing the matter with anyone else, Adrian spoke to his partner at Talcott & Burles.
He explained to Jack Talcott how greatly affected he had been by his visit to Ethiopia, never before having understood either the scale or the horror of the famine. ‘Neither Live Aid nor Band Aid really brought home to me the sheer size of this humanitarian disaster. And that’s important, Jack, that word, humanitarian. Remember, we’re talking human beings here; that old cliché, about people not being statistics. It’s too easily forgotten by all of us, myself included.’
Jack Talcott respected his partner too much either to interrupt him or to argue with him – at least not before he’d had the opportunity to put