Chapter 1 : Trade & Kushtia

Opportunities for Trade

Gerry Daniels wasn't sure how to start his report. As far as his boss at the Foreign Office was concerned the whole thing was a complete waste of time. "Need it for those wasters in Strasbourg. Don't spend too much time on it," he had said as he told Gerry he'd be spending a couple of weeks in Kushtia. Now Gerry was sitting in the British Embassy in the Kushtian Capital of Kolin staring at a discouragingly blank lap top screen.

"Opportunities For Trade Between the UK and the People's Democratic Republic of Kushtia," he typed, "An Initial Assessment." Gerry liked that; 'an initial assessment' - that way if anything came of it he'd be seen as prescient and if it led to nothing, well, it was not intended to be definitive, was it? He went on. "Introduction & Background" he typed and stopped. He wasn't really sure how to sum up this peculiar country.

Gerry had been briefed before his trip so he knew something about the history of the place. Stuck out on the fringes of the Hindu Kush, sandwiched between Afghanistan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan, Gerry had wondered why the country wasn't called Kushtistan. That turned out to be the least curious thing about it.

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of his morning tea. He still hadn't got used to the idea that the local girls working in the offices around Kolin had adopted western dress but still wore headscarves and veils. Fanima, the young woman that brought the tea was no exception. Her neat blouse and straight skirt would not have looked out of place in any London office. Her head covering and veil would have been accepted when combined with a jilbab or other form of robe. The combination of Next "work-wear" tailoring and the veil just seemed odd.

"Tea, Mr. Daniels," Fanima said bowing slightly.

As Fanima bowed, Gerry noticed the disc she was wearing on a cord around her neck. Almost all of the Kushtian girls that he had seen wore them. "What is that disc?" he asked.

Fanima fingered it, proudly. "My properta," she said. "It shows the household that I belong to, my family."

"It's very nice."

"Thank you Mr. Daniels," Fanima responded. "We are an old family, proud of our traditions."

Fanima bowed again. That was one thing Gerry did like about the place. The women were all unfailingly polite and deferential. It was something he wished that the First Assistant Under Secretary for Trade had picked up.

She appeared as Gerry took his tea and thanked Fanima. "Hey Gerry, how's it going?" Suzie Berkham almost bounced into the room, snatching a biscuit from Fanima's tray as she left. "Mmm, chocolate," she said. "I see there are benefits from moving up the ladder."

"Morning," said Gerry. Suzie was about twenty years his junior, not long out of university and in her first posting. Jerry had the impression she been sent this far away because they couldn't stick her ebullience in London.

She sat down on the couch on the far side of the room Gerry had been given as an office for his stay. She kicked off her shoes and curled her legs up under herself. She nibbled at the biscuit, taking tiny bites like a rabbit. Gerry guessed she was trying to make the most of the indulgence. She looked like one of those girls that was continually on a diet - not quite thin but not quite fat either - as if a moment's lack of attention would leave her ballooning up three or four dress sizes.

"Was there something? Or did you just come to steal my biscuits."

Suzie crammed the last bite in and brushed a crumb from the corner of her lip with a fastidious finger before ruining the dainty effect by licking it off. "The Trade Minister," she said, with a smirk, "will be happy to see you after all. I had a chat with his secretary. I managed to fix it."

Gerry was mildly surprised. There hadn't been any enthusiasm when he had called earlier in the week. Maybe Suzie had unrecognised diplomatic skills. It was irritating. "Good," Gerry said.

"It's this afternoon. I'll take you over. The Minister was anxious to meet the local contact as well as yourself."

Ah, yes, thought Gerry, now I understand. He remembered the briefing notes with the profiles of the various members of the Kushtian Council of Ministers. "Randy old bugger," someone had scrawled in the margin alongside the entry for Kashim Kushnar, the Trade Minister, and Suzie was an attractive girl that he would no doubt welcome the opportunity to meet.

Meeting The Minister

Gerry made his own way across the city to meet Suzie at the Trade Ministry. He took a bus. It had seemed like a good opportunity to get to see a bit more of the people and culture. After about a mile he was less sure that it had been a good idea. He doubted if his internal organs would survive the trip. It was hard to know which was more responsible for the jolting and jarring he was being subjected to; the inadequacies of the bus's suspension or the liberal sprinkling of potholes that seemed a feature of every road.

One of the things Gerry found hardest to come to grips with in Kushtia was the status of women and the attitude of men towards them. It wasn't so much that they were thought inferior; it was more that they were regarded as having very separate lives. Men seemed to view them as though they were a different species, almost. Virtually every aspect of Kusthian life seemed designed to keep men and women separate. Even here on the bus, women had their own designated area at the back, men at the front. He had been taken to dinner with a Kusthian family and there he had spent most of the evening with the men, the women hard at work cooking and serving the food.

He'd made a joke about the women slaving away while they were enjoying themselves. His host had cut in quickly, saying that sort of thing didn't happen anymore before changing the subject quickly.