Posted on Monday, 19 February 2001

The sun pounded down mercilessly upon the expanse of dry desert. Yet, I could not help but admire the way the air seemed to shimmer with its heat, the wild glow of an untamed land. Not to say I didn't curse the slow burn of an unforgiving sun. Back in Mississippi, there were days when I wanted nothing more than a nice, cool pond to jump into, believe you me. Of course, Mama would've had a fit and the only thing I could do on such an afternoon was sit out on the veranda and drink a tall glass of lemonade.

To think, this was worse! I mean, I could feel the soles of my shoes absorbing the fire that scorched this very ground. And me thinking I was all prepared. Being a big girl, from way down in Dixie with a college education and everything. Something few people in our lazy hometown seemed to have. It was nothing but farming they cared about and I knew I had to get out. Why, I had a degree and I aimed to use it. I guess that's how I got myself all the way out here in Africa.

I looked at my watch. The face of it had steamed up in this unbearable weather. Sighing, I pulled the tail of my dress shirt from under my skirt and wiped it. I had wanted to appear respectable. A well-dressed American who would spread the ideals of democracy and civilization upon the poor, misguided children of Zaire. Instead, I probably looked like a mess! What would they think of me, with the humidity flattening my dark hair against my forehead? I would've preserved much nicer if I had been picked up four hours ago as I was suppose to be. Didn't these people know how to use roads? And for that matter, what road?! All I saw were windy paths of trodden dirt, only distinguishable from the rest of the dry soil by old tire tracks.

Suddenly, dirt came billowing up in the far horizon. That had to be him. I looked at my papers. William Darcy. That was the man who was supposed to pick me up and take me to the compound. Well, fine and dandy for him to leave me out here in the middle of nowhere for so long! As soon as he gets here, I'm giving him a piece of my mind, that's for sure!

I heard the engine spluttering its way along a cloud of dust. Rising like God was after you Himself! Boy, it was a sight to see. When it was near enough though, I had to close my eyes and for five whole minutes I kept them shut tight. The engine finally died but when I tried to look, the dust was still billowing about, assailing my corneas.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" I heard a irritated voice coming through the fog. It was distinctly British.

Stumbling forward with my suitcase, I yelled back, "Well, that's a mighty funny thing for you to say, seeing as you're four hours late, sir!"

I hit the side of the truck and it was then I finally opened my eyes wide to see the most handsome man in my entire life. Why, even George Wickham with his blue, blue eyes couldn't compare. I had to swallow hard, me with my hair against my forehead, hanging onto the side of his car without a word to say after I just scolded him.

"Need some help there?" Standing up, he offered me his hand.

I nodded numbly as he pulled my up like a ragdoll into my seat. I mumbled my thank-you, still putout by his lateness. He threw my belongings in the backseat and gunned the engine. Boy, oh boy, was it loud!

I turned back to get my things when he asked my what I intended to do.

"You mean now, or at the school?"

"Both, and it's not a school, Ms. Bennet. It's a compound." He was yelling over the sound of the engine yet his condescension sounded all too clear to me.

"Well, right now, Mr. Darcy, I'm getting my mirror."

He laughed outright at that! Imagine, such rudeness. "What do you need a mirror for?"

"Why I have to look presentable," I remarked, noting that his white shirt was only half buttoned, revealing a well-toned chest and his shirtsleeves were rolled up as high as his biceps would allow.

"There's no one to impress out here, Ms. Bennet. You're only wasting your time."

"Well!" I couldn't believe the nerve of this man, no matter how handsome he was.

"You've got to learn your lessons quick out here."

"I don't have any lessons to learn, Mr. Darcy. I'm the one who'll be teaching lessons."

Again he laughed but this time he was going about it so hard, he had to stop the car.

"Shouldn't you pull over?"

He only laughed harder, clutching his sides and having the time of his life. I thought maybe he didn't think hear me so I repeated myself. After the King of the Desert Darcy calmed himself down and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, he turned to me and said, "Oh, I heard you the first time."

"Then why didn't you pull over?"

"Do you see any traffic here?"

I looked around. Nothing but desert. I pushed my hair back, wet with perspiration. "You think you know everything, don't you?"

He looked at me. I had to avert my gaze from his dark, dark eyes. They were so intent and never before had he looked so solemn with his eyes on me and his mouth a firm straight line. "I know more than you."

He sounded so serious and I tried to laugh it off. "Oh, so can you teach them children about independence and democracy?"

"I could but that would be a waste of my time."

"You don't think they need to know about their own freedom?" I asked, incredulously.

"Freedom? Independence, democracy, everything that you believe in back home are American ideals. It means nothing to them. Baka veh. Not around here."

"What did that mean?"

He raised an eyebrow at me.

"That strange noise you made. I assume it's the native language."

"There is no native language. Not really, anyway. Mostly, it's tribal."

"You didn't answer my question," I pointed out to him.

"Basically, we don't pay for that here." He shrugged as he got ready to start the engine. Before he turned the key, he looked right at me again, "The price of freedom isn't always worth paying. And sometimes, it changes nothing at all."

Stubbornly, I replied, "They're free! They're no longer under foreign rule. How could you say it's not worth paying?"

I was becoming really frustrated with this handsome Brit who thought he knew all there was to know about Africa. He was probably against democracy, a Communist or worse!

He shook his head at me like I was an ignorant child. He put his hand under my chin and I held my breath. Leaning in close, he said, "Ms. Bennet, the Congo doesn't need a government with one of their own playing a puppet and greedy white men pulling the strings. That's what democracy, independence, and freedom have taught them. What they need is to be left alone. In their villages, life has not changed. It cycles in its hazy patterns as it has before any pale skinned idiot ever stepped into this land."

He pulled away and we rode on in silence. Boy, oh boy, I could still feel his rough skin under my chin. We kept on going, bumping along the dirt path. My mouth was dry and I kept licking my lips, looking for moisture that was never there. As we pulled up beside the compound, it was almost sunset. I heard somewhere that the sun goes down exactly at six in Africa. I wonder why. My hair had been all forgotten as my eyes took in the large white buildings where I would teach the children of Zaire about the false freedom enforced upon them. Funny how a ride through the desert can change your perspective all together. Something lurched inside of me as I saw the compound's fence gates and white rows of square and rectangular buildings. It looked so out of place against the spread of clay desert and made me feel sad for a reason I can't begin to explain.

"Ms. Bennet?"

I looked down to see Mr. Darcy on my side of the car. His hand reached up to me now. I understood he was trying to help me down and I let him do so absentmindedly. So focused were my eyes upon the disgusting rows of buildings surrounded by fencing, I fell forward and into his arms. I could smell his scent. Africa itself.

He leaned in and I lifted my head. I though he was going to kiss me but in the last possible second, as my eyes fluttered shut, he whispered in my ear, "Look at the sun."

I did. I never imagined that this same sun, plastering my hair against my skin, could be so breathtakingly beautiful, with its burning orb sliding into the horizon, causing the sky to shift from an iridescent yellow to a pale pink. Then, darkening into a soft lavender before the last rays slipped away and purpled the sky. That was the second time I held my breath that day.

"Exactly at six," Darcy whispered in my ear. "That's what the Congo is all about."

"Really," I murmured, truly believing everything that came from his lips.

I turned to him. He was smiling at the sky, as though they shared some secret that I was too ignorant to know. And I probably was. Poor girl from way down in Dixie, thinking that a college education meant everything. Here, it was nothing at all.

"I could show you what it's all about. I could show you bandu, the reason for everything."

"Bandu," I repeated. The reason for everything.

This time, he leaned down and there was no mistake he was going to kiss me. Our lips touched softly at first but intensified in the shimmering heat of Africa, a fiery blaze of glory like the setting sun.