Dark 33 Have Faith will Travel

I cannot believe it then. I was to leave for the airport to visit my family members when the memo arrived at my desk. It was from the Presidential Desk.

“Negotiate for me the Greenland continent.”

“Gawd!” In my southern slang, I called on the Almighty to help me with that task since my Aunt Gretta told me to move to Germany for the sake of unification when the wall came down. I told her I can’t for I was doing my Phd in Political Science in New York and I have three kids that needed their mother.

“Well then. Bring those ‘kinder’ along then. I am sure the village could feed three more.” I declined politely although it was Fred’s insistence we go over. I knew his insistence was nothing to do with inviting but it was Oktoberfest there. He was from Glasgow and misses his beers. I do like beers but once drunk and ended up with the third ‘kinder’ I gave up drinking and took to wine.

And tequila which was fine for I had that since Middle school. We started younger at the southern borders.

I landed at Oslo with my three kinder and dragged one distraught husband who still snarls at the Danes for invading the coastlines of Ireland a century ago. I was met by my sister, the demure Isabel who had adopted that name when she married her Spanish husband. He was a businessman in the maritime lines, and they are well to do.

“Como estas?” The sibling of mine thought she was still in Madrid. I was to say, “Hvordan har du det’ which was Norwegian, but I think my Norwegian came like some rap lines lyrics. Isabel burst out into laughter at my attempt to speak that language. We had our hugs and kisses and then with family members. Even Fred was amicable to the friendly banter; I guess the Spanish never landed in Ireland before this. We soon convened in the lengthy long sedan courtesy of Stefan who was Isabel’s husband. He hired the sedan for us; ‘one that suits Faith’s in her daily works.’ Kind of him to remember the long convoy of lengthy sedans that was part of the Presidential usual troupe de tour. I was embarrassed that my sedan was the staff coach that sat thirty of us with the President’s posters.

We finally reached my other sister’s place; it was located ‘where you could take a ga en tur or stroll for the Danes, in a typical villavarter; that is a residential neighbourhood. Her place had the name “Bohus” which translate into ‘House to live in’. Danes have huge homes, they also called them ‘hjem’ and during the summer, they spend their holiday in a ‘kolonihavehus’ which is essentially a smaller house in a special kind of garden. Fred was not impressed. He felt his grandfather’s cottage was more comfortable. Never the less my sister Ingrid got us settled in soon enough and the surprise of the evening was we were having a costume party at the enormous back yard with the eight shaped swimming pool and the small figurine that filled it up with his ‘equally small pecker’.

I loved costume parties.

I have my costume.

I took out my wig and the suit that I bought from the warehouse near my house, and my black convent school flats courtesy of my English Boarding School days.

Ta-da, I was Margaret Thatcher the Iron Lady of the United Kingdom.

“Sinister betrayal!” That was Fred’s remark when I donned that costume. He was however dressed in the demure Irish suit of grey flannels and knee-length stockings with the leather shoes. I don’t know if he was Irish or British then.

The best was to come.

We met Cousin Heidelberg or to us the sisters, she was the Hindenburg. She was from Greenland and stormed into the backyard like an Ogre on the rampage. She likes me unfortunately too much. She rushed towards me and hugged me off my feet. Hindenburg; I meant Cousin Heidelberg was huge and taller and wider than me. She could wrestle a bull in the rodeo with seconds to spare.

“Faith, darling, I missed you at the last gathering.” I smiled meekly at the cousin of mine. During the last gathering, I was drunk and a mother of two then. Here at Oslo, I was not yet into drinking and a mother of three.

“I…” My reply was stunned off her like the bee against Goliath.

“I hear your President wants to buy Greenland. Tell him he can do it over my dead body.” I knew Heidelberg was a passionate resident of Greenland. She meant her words well. I could tell clearly even with her tough metal chest plate and rounded shield reinforced with the spear held in her right hand, she looked like one nasty warrior. ( Hail, Greenpeace here. ) The only ladylike of her was her white skirt that billowed in the wind like a huge mushroom head minus the stem. She had braided her hair to add the Viking touch to her looks.

All night, I had to listen to her talk about Greenland and why its Greenland and why we will never understand them. When dawn crept in later, I was close to having labour pain, not on my tummy but my head, I had Fred later telling me why he should have come as William Tell with the bow and arrow.

“I would have shot the Viking.”

I flew back the next week to Washington and replied the memo to the President.

“Do at ye own risk.” I quit my job then.

“I am not the first nor the last to do, Mr President,” I added to the memo reply.