Hakim returned to the bus and pulled a large tin box from under his seat. He had produced this during the previous breakdowns. He put the box down on the sand, opened it, and rummaged through assorted spare parts: spark plugs, fuses, a selection of cylinder seals and a roll of duct tape. Hakim frowned and looked through it again.
Then he said: ‘There is no spare fan belt.’
In a low voice Kiah said to Abdul: ‘We’re in trouble.’
‘Not quite,’ he replied, equally quietly. ‘Not yet.’
Hakim said: ‘We will have to improvise.’ He looked at the passengers around him, and fixed his eyes on Abdul. ‘Give me that sash,’ he said, pointing to the cotton strip around Abdul’s waist.
‘No,’ said Abdul.
‘I need to use it as a temporary fan belt.’
‘It won’t work,’ said Abdul. ‘You need something with more grip.’
‘There is a spring pulley that acts as a tensioner.’
‘The cotton would still slip.’
‘I am ordering you!’
One of the guards intervened. Their names were Hamza and Tareq, and it was Tareq, the taller one, who spoke. He addressed Abdul in a voice that quietly indicated that no discussion was invited. ‘Do as he says.’
Kiah would have been terrified, as would most men, but Abdul just ignored Tareq and spoke to Hakim. ‘Your belt would grip better,’ he said.
Hakim’s jeans were held up with a worn brown leather belt.
Abdul added: ‘It’s certainly long enough,’ and everyone laughed, because Hakim’s waist was big.
Angrily, Tareq said to Abdul: ‘You must do as he says!’
Kiah was amazed that Abdul seemed to have no fear of the man with the assault rifle slung over his shoulder. ‘Hakim’s belt will work better,’ Abdul said calmly.
For a moment it looked as if Tareq would unshoulder his rifle and threaten Abdul; but then he seemed to think better of it. He turned to Hakim. ‘Use your belt,’ he said.
Hakim took off his belt.
Kiah wondered why Abdul was so attached to his cotton sash.
Hakim wound the belt around the pulleys, buckled it, then tightened it. He took a five-litre plastic demijohn of water from inside the bus and topped up the radiator, which hissed and bubbled and then calmed. He got back inside the bus and started the motor, then returned outside to look under the hood. As Kiah could already see, the belt was doing its work, rotating the cooling mechanism.
Hakim slammed the hood shut. He was in a furious temper.
He returned to the bus, holding his jeans up with one hand. He sat in the driving seat and started the engine. The passengers reboarded. Hakim revved the engine impatiently. When Esma’s father-in-law, Wahed, hesitated before putting a foot on the steps, Hakim suddenly moved the bus forward, then braked hard. ‘Come on, hurry up!’ he snarled.
Kiah was already in her seat, with Naji on her lap and Abdul next to her. ‘Hakim is in a rage because you got the better of him,’ she said.
‘I’ve made an enemy,’ Abdul said regretfully.
‘He’s a pig.’
The bus pulled away.
Kiah heard a low buzzing sound. Looking surprised, Abdul took out his phone. ‘We have a connection!’ he said. ‘We must be getting near Faya. I didn’t realize they had connectivity.’ He seemed inordinately pleased.
The phone was bigger than she remembered, and she wondered if he had two. ‘You can phone your girlfriends now,’ she said teasingly.
He looked at her for a moment, not smiling, and said: ‘I don’t have any girlfriends.’
He busied himself on the phone, and seemed to be sending messages he had written earlier and stored. Then he hesitated, made a decision, and called up some pictures, and she realized he had surreptitiously photographed Hakim, Tareq, Hamza and some of the people they had met on the way. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he tapped the screen for a minute or two. He made sure no one could see his hands except Kiah.
She said: ‘What are you doing?’
He tapped again, then turned off the phone and put it back inside his robes. ‘I sent some photos to a friend in N’Djamena with a message saying: “If I get killed, these men are responsible.”’
She whispered: ‘Aren’t you worried that Hakim and the guards might find out what you sent?’
‘On the contrary, it would warn them off.’
She thought he was speaking the truth, but at the same time she felt sure it was not the whole truth. Today she had discovered another surprising fact about him: of all the people on the bus he was the only one who was not afraid of Tareq and Hamza. Even Hakim obeyed them.