Night turned inevitably into day, which turned into three more long days and nights on treacherous, unmarked roads, with no-one to keep Cooper sane in the heat apart from Rosedale which, on reflection was probably an unlikely source of sanity, and Maddie, who slept most of the time.
The vividly green countryside was abundant in its variety, and the beauty of the rainforests set against the mountains was breath-taking, with beautiful mud huts looking like dollhouses dotted in the distant picturesque villages.
But no matter how scenic the countryside was, it didn’t distract Cooper from the bites on his legs, which were enough to play dot to dot, and he knew if he had to listen to Rosedale trying to sing ‘The Trail of the Lonesome Pine’ backwards once more, he was going to lose his mind.
The trip had been trying and the question, what the hell was he thinking of, coming here? had crossed his mind on a repeat loop.
On the first day they’d had to reroute and take a hundred-mile detour, as the tiny battered river ferry they’d been intending to sail on was stuck on the river banks waiting for an engine part to be delivered, having already waited three weeks for it.
On the second day they’d had torrential rain, but hadn’t had the luxury of sitting in the car waiting for it to pass. Instead they’d suffered drenched clothing and blistered fingers whilst they’d dug the Toyota out from the rutted road, as muddy waters flooded into the car.
On the third day, with most bridges not inspiring the confidence to cross their contorted iron frames, they’d encountered four imprudent, unarmed men who’d blocked the road, bearing rocks in an attempt to get money. He’d allowed Rosedale the pleasure, and five minutes later they’d continued on their way.
And now, on the last day of the drive and nearing their destination of Buziba, he was in two minds whether or not to smash the passenger window. It was still stuck. Still driving him crazy, and once more the sun had risen, giving off its cruel, strangling heat, making the rays beating down through the window unbearable.
Maddie, whose window was able to open – something which Cooper and Rosedale looked on with envy throughout the trip – pointed to a large billboard on the side of the grassy bank. ‘Look, guys. Over there.’
Peering across to where Maddie was pointing, Cooper could see a large advertisement for the New Revivalist Church, picturing Papa Bemba, minus his glasses, and with the words, The Saviour, blazoned across it.
Brown curls swaying in the breeze, which she was clearly enjoying, she said, ‘You think he’s talking about himself?’
Rosedale nodded. ‘Probably. The guy’s positively narcissistic.’
Cooper turned round to Maddie. ‘What do you think happened to his eyes?’
‘To me it looks like some sort of mutilation. Maiming. I don’t know, perhaps it was something to do with the Hutu-Tutsi conflict. There was a hell of a lot of butchery, and this area was one of the worst for it. We’re real close to the Rwandan border and not too far from the Ugandan one, so right here would’ve been the hub for a lot of it. The genocide was like a hurricane.’
‘Yeah and no-one was immune from the violence. Not even kids or babies.’
Cooper didn’t reply. His mind was on Papa Bemba. It was clear he carried a lot of power and probably wealth as well. And the combination of the two, especially in a place like this, could be dangerous.
One of the things he couldn’t stop thinking about was the young man he’d met the other night in the derelict building, and the words which he could still hear. Whatever the reason you think you are here, it won’t be the reason.
He didn’t know why he hadn’t told Rosedale or Maddie the full extent of the conversation. But the sense of keeping it to himself for now was strong.
It had also struck him that Emmanuel wasn’t the person he needed to find out about. Whether they found Emmanuel or not, the truth was, he couldn’t care less. So the guy hadn’t paid for a plane? Cooper didn’t give a damn about the plane, nor the money owed. It felt nothing compared to the feelings he had about Bemba. And even though Emmanuel had been their reason to come, where he was and who he was, wasn’t the point. For Cooper, the focus had changed to Papa Bemba, because whatever was happening here his instinct told him it was bigger. Much bigger than just a guy not having paid the loan back for his plane. Now all he had to do was look further.
Realize the truth, but to find it you need to look beyond.