Chapter 25

Ana hovered outside the gates to the Agdal Embassy, dressed in her smartest interview outfit, her makeup scrubbed off and her stilettoes replaced by a pair of comfortable soft shoes. Now she had actually arrived in Honey, having disembarked off the bus and finally identified which of the palatial buildings was the Embassy, her nerves were deserting her. The fear of disappointment was greater than that she'd ever felt for a job interview. Not only her happiness but that of Binta's rested on the outcome of her endeavour. What would they do, as Ana dreaded and almost expected, if they were not eligible for political asylum? However, there was no turning back. She was trapped by her need to report back on the outcome of her visit. She rang the brass doorbell, and stood back, her heart thumping as it chimed. How long would she have to wait?

Not long at all, as it happened, as a uniformed guard approached the gate. He scrutinised Ana. "Have you got an appointment?" he enquired, looking at a list he had attached to a clipboard. Breathlessly Ana nodded. Azhnia had warned her that Agdal non-nationals like her were unlikely to be readily admitted otherwise.

"Name?" the guard asked. Ana gave her full name and watched as the guard studied his list. The telephone call she had made to the Embassy had seemed so inconclusive. She couldn't believe that the brusque secretary who answered had actually taken down her details, but all was fine. Her name was on the list. The guard ticked it off with a pen and opened the gate to let Ana through.

"Amnesty from Oppression, isn't it? We get a lot of you political asylum people here. Right bunch of weirdos. You're not one, are you?" Ana shook her head. If there were so many others, how much chance did she and Binta stand? "Anyway, we've got someone to see you. I'll take you to reception to wait for her. You're very early, you know."

Ana was fully aware of this. In fact she was early by more than an hour. But after taking a whole day off work, she really had nothing else to do all morning. Her pacing backwards and forwards across the flat, endlessly rehearsing her case, had worn her out. The only thing she could do to break out of this was to pack her handbag and rush down the stairs to the bus.

She was led into a waiting room just past the main reception desk where a small number of people were sitting in comfortable leather armchairs, while efficient-looking receptionists sat in front of monitors with small headphones in their ears. She was sure those waiting were Agdal nationals, although there was nothing in their appearance that distinguished them from anyone else, unless it was their self-confident demeanour. They were not obviously naturists or homosexuals, although there was no way of knowing what they might look like at other times.

In the waiting room, unfamiliar magazines were stacked on a small wooden table surrounded by beige leather armchairs. A portrait on the wall of the woman president of Agdal peered down between two identical flags. She looked refreshingly informal and relaxed in comparison to the countless portraits of President Marmeluke in his military finery prominent in all the cafés and shops of Alif. She would normally have found the magazines fascinating with their unedited pictures and articles about life not only in Agdal, but also in Alif and many other countries she knew nothing about. There was a freshness and openness about them, not least in the ubiquitous presence of naked flesh, and the unashamedness in which people of the same sex were portrayed as couples. Her eyes darted agitatedly about. Every footfall in the corridor silenced her breath, as she waited the door to open.

She wasn't alone. There was an elderly gentleman reading beneath a No Smoking sign, and a mother and young child sitting together with some toys which the child kept poking into her mother's face. They did not stay for very long, however. They were escorted out by one or other of the efficient receptionists, and soon Ana was alone, pretending to read an article about a famine in a remote corner of Alif of which she had previously been totally unaware.

Eventually, just after the appointed hour, her turn came. A tall receptionist entered in a very smart suit and with very short hair. Perhaps appreciating Ana's nervousness, she smiled quite warmly.

"The Amnesty Facilitator will see you now."

Ana looked at her blankly.

"The Amnesty Facilitator. The political asylum officer, if you like. Come on! She hasn't all day."

Ana nodded shyly, stood up and followed the receptionist down a series of carpeted corridors to an office hidden deep inside the Embassy's labyrinth. She was ushered in and introduced to a woman in her early thirties, dressed in an open-necked blouse, seated behind a large desk and under another portrait of the Agdal president. The receptionist disappeared, leaving Ana standing awkwardly by the door, her handbag clasped to her front.

The Amnesty Facilitator also had very short hair, with long earrings dangling from her ears and a small stud in her nose. She smiled broadly. "Hello, Ana. My name's Wahata." She proffered her hand across the desk. Ana strode forward and shook it. "You can sit. How can I help you?"

"I'm ... er ... we'd ... We would like..."

Wahata smiled sympathetically, and glanced at a sheet of paper in front of her. "You want to apply for assistance on our Amnesty from Oppression Programme, I gather. What are your reasons? I note that you work for the State Brothel. Is that the reason?"

"Well, yes. Er ... no. It's for me and my lover. We're both at the Brothel..."

"And you're both prostitutes are you? Is your lover male or female?"

Ana had never been asked such a question so baldly before. It shocked her momentarily, but she reasoned that there was no reason for pretence here. "Female. She's a prostitute. I'm not. Well, not really. But I am, as well. And we wondered if ... we wondered..."

"You're both prostitutes. You have a gay relationship."

"Gay?"

"Yes. It's an Agdal term for homosexuality. I don't believe it's current in Alif. Is your lover voluntarily a prostitute?"

"No, not at all."

"Is she a prisoner, then?"

"Yes. For ... for ... sex crime."

"What category of sex crime? Practising homosexuality?"

Ana nodded. Wahata wrote down a few notes on a sheet of paper. "Gay couple. One imprisoned in a Brothel for lesbianism. And you? Are you voluntarily a prostitute?"

Ana shook her head. "No, not really. I didn't want to. I work there mostly as a secretary. But my boss ... the Director ... he..."

"Would you say you've been coerced into it as a result of your sexual preferences?"

Ana nodded. "Yes. Coerced. I'm sure that's the word."

Wahata scribbled a little bit more. "All too common in your country, I'm afraid. Particularly for women. And are there any other practices or activities that you and your lover participate in which would make you eligible for assistance under our programme?"

Ana frowned. What could she say? "What kind of practices or activities?"

"Political ones, for instance. Have you ever been arrested at political demonstrations? Have you ever circulated illegal literature? Has either of you practised any activity which is perfectly legal and acceptable in Agdal, but not at all in Alif?"

Ana blanched. "I can't think of anything that..." She remembered Ketaba's own peculiar enthusiasms for Agdal. "Binta's a naturist, though. That's acceptable in Agdal and not in Alif."

"It is indeed. There aren't many staff here at the Embassy who consider themselves naturists and those who do are male. I'm not one myself, but for those who practise it, it's almost a religion. Are you a naturist yourself?"

Ana felt obliged to strengthen her case as much as possible. "Er ... yes. Yes, I am."

Wahata scribbled another note. "It doesn't make much difference in your case whether you are or not. I think your case already sounds quite strong. However, every little extra helps. There may be some among those evaluating your case who might be further swung on that basis. So, if I can summarise. You are two lesbian lovers coerced into prostitution by the Republic of Alif for your sexual preferences, who are also naturists as much as it is possible to be in your country. Would you agree with that summary?"

Ana nodded without a great deal of satisfaction. It wasn't exactly how she would have liked the complexities of her life described.

"Yes. I'm sure that's exactly right. Do we really have a strong case?"

Wahata smiled. "I wouldn't say you have the strongest I've come across. Those who are more public in their political activities always get the highest ratings. If you had been tortured, imprisoned without trial or about to be expelled, then you could probably expect priority treatment. I take it that you are not politically active in any way?"

Ana shook her head. "I don't really know anything about politics."

"It's a wonder anyone does in Alif. President Marmeluke's government doesn't believe in keeping its citizens particularly well informed. However, your case is far stronger than most who come here hoping to be eligible for patriation. Some like you for their sexual proclivities, others because they, well, feel that life would simply be better for them in a more liberal country, and others I suspect who are simply attracted to the free access to alcohol and other such soft drugs. Most such applicants are unsuccessful, however. And the tendency in recent years has been for rather fewer cases to succeed. Agdal has mostly resolved its labour shortage problems and there have been expressions of discontent from a sizeable minority of Agdal nationals at the perceived influx of foreigners - especially those who are most culturally distinct and don't speak the same language. Especially, I'm afraid, those from countries like Haj. Not that this would present a problem to people from Alif like you and your lover. Now, if I may take some more particulars which can be used by our Amnesty Investigators in pursuit of your application..."

Wahata then proceeded to ask a number of formal questions about Ana and Binta, such as where they came from, what relatives they might have in Agdal, formal qualifications, their history of oppression, and their political and religious views. Some of the questions relating to their sexual activities and past partners were particularly embarrassing and awkward for Ana to answer, though she tried to answer as fully as she could. No, she hadn't contracted any sexually transmitted diseases. No, she wasn't a drug addict. Yes, she was prepared to accept that none of her family could emigrate to stay with her, unless they could be proven to be her own children. No, she had no children. Yes, she was willing to abide by all the laws of the Republic of Agdal, and would accept immediate repatriation in the event of any such transgression. Wahata wrote down Ana's replies with efficiency and haste on a glossy printed form she had in front of her.

At last, Wahata was finished. She folded over the final page of the form, and replaced the top of her pen.

"I think that should be sufficient. Now, I can, of course, give you no assurance at all about how favourably your application will be received, and it is fair to say that it is not an immediate process. Our investigators will have to do some work to be sure that what you have told me is honest and truthful, and that your continued stay in Alif would be intolerable to an Agdal national. My opinion, for what it is worth, is that your case will be assessed favourably, but I cannot say when a decision will be arrived at."