Africas Forbidden Love

Chapter One.
Into Africa.

Thursday 2nd January 2003. Salford, Manchester, England.

‘Doctor Samantha Roberts,’ I say, answering the phone.
‘Sam? It’s Peter Mendel. Happy new year!’
‘Hello Peter. Happy new year to you too. Are we all set?’
‘Yes. Just confirming that Bebe and I will arrive at Heathrow airport tomorrow at 20.30 from Frankfurt. We fly to Lagos in Nigeria, with an overnight stop. Then onto Kinshasa in the Congo, then onto Goma in Rwanda, where Thomas Ndebale will meet us. He will be our guide and fly us to Ruhengeri.’
‘It sounds exciting Peter. Everything’s packed. Who is Bebe?’ She asked.
‘Brunhild Braun. Prefers to be known by her initials. Hence Bebe. She’s from Hamburg.’ He said as if it was an apology for something. ‘She will be the photographer.’
‘I was in touch with the Foreign Office yesterday Peter, they are advising people not to travel to Rwanda or Congo - Kinshasa because of the rebel uprisings. What are you hearing?’
‘We will be ok in the national park, Sam. The rebels have no reason to be there, and we will have an armed guard. Anyway, I’ve got a lot to get sorted, so I’ll see you at the airport tomorrow, ok?’
‘Fine. Peter. See you tomorrow.’ I said, putting the phone down.

I was juggling two hats. I was a lecturer in zoology at Salford University and a United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation Inspector. UNESCO pay towards my salary at Salford, so the university didn’t actually mind me going on trips. This one was to last for two months from 5th January to 5th March. Part of it would be in the rainy season. A gamble which UNESCO felt worthwhile. We were going to study mountain gorillas, and check records from the various national parks.

Peter, a 42 year old, Austrian, would be leading the expedition. Peter and I had a past. He was my lover from my first expedition with UNESCO. We split up three years ago. I wanted more than sex on a trip. He didn’t. I suppose Bebe would share his bed on this trip. Peter couldn’t go long without having sex. I could cope. I’ve got Will now. Will and I share a flat, and have done so for two years.

Dear Diary. Thursday 2nd January 2003. My last day at Salford. Went to dinner with Will. I shall miss him. Peter rang with flight details. Said goodbye to university for the next 2 months.

Friday 3rd January 2003. Heathrow Airport, London, England.

Arrived in good time for once to meet Peter off the Frankfurt flight. Peter was his usual self. He looked good. Fit and lean. I met Bebe. She was tall, muscular, and pretty. I could have fancied her myself, but instead, I took an instant dislike to her. Her body language said she was already making a play for Peter. She constantly spoke to him in German, when we had agreed beforehand that all conversation would be in English, the adopted language of the United Nations.
We spent the hour waiting for our flight in the restaurant. Bebe sat next to Peter, and watched him the whole time. Hanging on to his every word. This was her first trip with UNESCO, having just joined them. This was my second trip to Africa. Peter was a veteran. Bebe had the latest gear. Some her own, but most of it belonging to UNESCO. She would be taking video and still photographs. Peter and I would be inspectors, and both having a love of gorillas, we would both be doing something we loved, dearly.

Dear Diary Friday 3rd January 2003. Met Bebe. Didn’t like her. She fancies Peter, but I found, I still do too. Writing this on the plane. She is sitting next to Peter, pretending to be asleep, with her head on his shoulder. I am sitting in the row behind, watching the film, The Land That Time Forgot.

Saturday 4th January 2003. Lagos, Nigeria.

After a tiring flight, where Bebe and Peter seem to be getting along just fine, we go to the Lagos Hilton, where we have three rooms booked. We agree to meet in an hour in the restaurant. Bebe and Peter are late. They walk in arm in arm. Didn’t take him or her long did it? She’s packed a summer dress. Peter and I are in our bush ’uniform’ of Khaki shirt and trousers. I’ve even got on my walking boots, new this year, to help break them in.
‘Hello Sam.’ she says. Sam? I never said she could call me that. ’Peter and I thought we would go into the disco after dinner. Do you mind?’ Asking me in such a way that said I wasn’t invited.
‘Why should I mind, Bebe?’
‘We just thought that you might have liked to come, and we….’
‘Would prefer to go on your own? Of course. No I don’t want to go anyway. Have a good time.’

Dear Diary Saturday 4th January 2003. Bebe and Peter dumped me to go clubbing. Went to bed. Too hot to sleep. Heard them come back at 03.00. They both went into his room.

Sunday 5th January 2003. Ruhengeri, Rwanda.

We arrive at Ruhengeri, having changed planes at Goma. Thomas Ndebale is there to meet us. I’ve met him before. He doesn’t look well. He says he is ok. We load all our gear into the plane. I’ve got one rucksack with a change of clothes in it. Bebe’s camera gear takes up most the plane.
‘Peter? How are we going to shift all this gear?’ I ask.
‘Don’t know. When we get to Virunga we will have to store some of it.’
‘Peter.’ Bebe says. ‘I need all this. Can’t we hire some porters?’ she says, putting her hand on his arm and leaving it there.
‘We’ll see.’ he says. I notice she has on a belt with a large BB on the buckle.
‘Can I go in the front, Peter. So I can take some photo’s?’ she says.
‘I don’t mind. If it’s alright with Sam, you can.’
‘Sam? Can I?’
‘I don’t mind.’ I say.

We climb into the four seater plane. Thomas and Bebe in front. Peter and I are in the back. There is equipment packed everywhere. The plane struggles to take off, and only just clears

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THE END