Parting of the ways

I was awake at 5 a.m. and clambered from under the mosquito net into the bathroom. A cold shower was the only choice - invigorating. I shaved and dressed.

I had packed my holdall the night before, so all I now had to do was leave the guest house - except that the gate of the compound was padlocked. So I had to wake the night-watchman, which cost me 1000 shillings, since I didn't have any change - and of course, he had none.

Bahati was there, my faithful friend. She came over and took my shoulder bag and slung it over her own shoulder as she pushed her bike onto the road. Together we walked in the darkness, the wheels of my holdall rumbling against the road surface.

There were no street lights. Some of the shops and hovels set back from the road on either side had small strip lights. One or two bright stars sparkled through the light clouds overhead. We walked on in the dark. There wasn't much either of us could say, as neither spoke much of the other's language. But I knew what she was thinking. This was the parting of the ways. We might never see each other again.

We crossed the road and rounded a corner. The bus station came in sight. Well, that is to say, a couple of buses were parked on a bit of waste land, their lights on and their engines running. One of them was my bus to Dar es Salaam, due to leave at 6:30 a.m. for the 9.5 hour drive.

She made sure my big bag was in the hold and then got me to my seat by the window, about 4 rows from the front. Then we clambered down from the bus again and sat on a wooden bench in the shadows. I put my arm round her. I could promise nothing. I could only thank her for her friendship and wish her well. I had already given her some money to help her with her 3 year old son. Her job as a hospital ward assistant wouldn't pay much and she had no husband of any sort. I knew what she would like; but I knew that it was impossible.

The bus revved up and people who had been waiting clambered aboard up the steep steps. She climbed on with me again and made sure I was in my seat. Then she lent over for me to kiss her. I did so, enjoying her fragrance and warmth for a moment, the touch of her smooth skin on my lips. Then she turned and walked away, down the steps of the bus and across to her bicycle.

When you are near the equator, the darkness quickly comes and then as quickly goes. As she climbed on her bike and cycled away, I realised the sun was coming up. A new day was dawning... a new chapter. The bus revved harder, crashing into gear, and pulled away along the dirt road.

I did not see her again. But as the bus left the town and headed out into the bush, my phone rang. It was Bahati.

'Bye,' she said. And the phone went dead.