Page 176 of Secrets Beneath the Waves

I listen carefully to her answers, comparing them to what I know about Oumar. He had told me he was working on something, but since I hadn’t heard from him for a couple of weeks, I assumed he didn’t have the information yet. Now I can’t help but wonder if I missed something.

“I know this is difficult,” I say as Mariam blows her nose. “Let’s change the subject for a few minutes. How did you first meet Oumar?”

A slight smile crosses her lips, as if she is thinking about a specific memory.

“We actually met when we were seven or eight. We came from the village of Yélimané back in Mali. We even went to the same school, though we didn’t know that until more recently.” She pauses and lets out a sharp breath. “It was a hard place to grow up. Everyone you know wants to get out, but where are you supposed to go? In many places there is no law, it is simply filled with criminals and terrorist networks with no one to stop it.”

“I can’t imagine how hard that was.”

“Do you know much about the Sahel?” she asks, looking up at me.

“Some,” I say.

She doesn’t need to know that I’ve traveled extensively through French-speaking Africa, including the Sahel.

“There have been conflicts there for decades,” she says. “It’s overpopulated, there isn’t enough irrigation, and there is constant drought as the Sahara slowly takes it over.”

I listen, nodding as she talks. Not only has the environment suffered, poverty has a chokehold on people. Cities are filled with rural workers looking for jobs, and there is often not enough electricity or water or even food. All of that was motivation for Oumar to work with us. He was desperate to be a part of the solution.

“Somehow, we both managed to leave and make it to Europe,” she continues. “We reconnected again at a mutual friend’s house two years ago. It took us a little while to figure out the connection, but once we did, it was. . .it was as if we were meant to find each other.”

“You have a lot in common with both of your families now involved in the import/export business,” I say, pressing for more information. “Oumar told me you work with your father’s company.”

While he hadn’t given me many details, Oumar had shared with me his pride for Mariam’s work, collaborating with artisans from Mali. She’d even recently launched a product line of textiles made exclusively by women.

“I understand you have your personal line of products,” I prompt.

“It’s more of a passion project for me. For a long time, I felt disconnected from my African roots. I was on a sourcing trip three years ago and met a small group of women who were talented but struggling to break into the international market. They shared their products with me, and I knew what I had to do. I could offer contracts, training in export logistics, and collaboration as to what would sell on an international level.”

“Has it worked?” I ask.

“Absolutely. We’re looking to branch out into more products, but the initial sales have exceeded my expectations. We now have a line of handmadebogolancloth we use to produce wall hangings, cushion covers, and other novelties that are reaching a global market.”

“Sounds amazing,” I say before making a few notes. Then I look back up at her. “He told me you went to Istanbul together not too long ago.”

Her smile was back. “Oumar can be quite romantic, and on top of that he’s extremely interested in art and architecture.”

“It’s a beautiful city.”

“It is. An interesting mixture of Europe and Asia.” She wads up the tissue in her hand. “We were planning to get married soon, but now I’m terrified I’ll never see him again.”

I don’t miss the dark shadows under her eyes. I glance at my watch, surprised at how late it is. “You look exhausted. I’d like you to stay here tonight while we do what we can to track Oumar down. It’s not fancy, but there’s a bed, and most importantly you’ll be safe.”

“I don’t know?—”

“Oumar would want us to keep you safe.”

“I know. Thank you.” Mariam shakes her head. “I just feel like I should be doing something. We don’t have much time left.”

“We’re going to do everything we can to find him, I promise, but we also need to keep you safe in the meantime. And you need to get some rest.”

“Okay.”

“Have you had anything to eat?” I ask, standing up.

“I’m not hungry. Just tired.”

“We should have all the basics you need for an overnight stay, and then we can start fresh in the morning.”