Chapter 1.2

Chapter 3

When the following morning the Toyota appeared carrying Yusuf and Jerome, the Canadian confirmed what he had suspected. The adjective "battered" the first had used was an optimistic description of the vehicle, but the engine sounded good and was roomy.

Jerome turned out to be his brother-in-law's counterpart; almost as tall as Romain but extremely stout in such a way that his agility was a surprise. Later the Canadian would learn that he had been a soldier in the Congolese army until some murky matter had separated him from it.

The vehicle traveled the last sections of the Goma suburban route and entered directly into the landscape that increasingly bore groves on both sides of the trail. A few miles away, the improved dirt road narrowed and became a dusty path that they had to share with very few ramshackle vehicles, a few pedestrians wrapped in their typical habits and often carrying sticks consisting of simple more or less twisted tree branches. The huts that appeared on both sides of the road were circular, with thatched roofs and branches and adobe walls, with a door as the only access to the outside. Scores of starving-looking children watched them from the houses as if they were an unusual sight. But the cabins soon started to become rarer and sometimes were half hidden by the frond that always came closer to the path, as if trying to suffocate it. Muleteers leading a few cows or goats to graze soon became the only company they encountered along the way, and it was remarkable how the peasants´ eyes tried to avoid those of the crew of the utility vehicle, as an obvious sign of mistrust.

Romain fell asleep despite the rattle that shook the car as it traveled down the uneven road, riddled with half-buried branches and roots. The fatigue of the previous days took its share of energy and the monotony of the landscape could not distract him; in fact, he had had enough exposure to the African panorama in his life and had no expectations of finding interesting news on that journey. At a certain moment the vehicle shook strongly as it crossed a precarious uneven log bridge causing a momentary awakening of the stranger, but once it was over, he fell asleep again. He couldn't determine how far they had come when he woke up with a start. This time it was not the wobbles of the SUV that brought him back to the conscious world but strong jerks on his arm intentionally given by Yusuf.

“Wake up Romain.” Said the little man. “We are arriving at the Congolese army post and we must negotiate with the chief.”

Indeed, two armed soldiers stopped them at the foot of a precarious barrier made up of three sticks. The gesture of the military was sullen. From the car window Yusuf spoke to them in Swahili demanding to speak to the superior. The soldiers indicated that they should get out of the car and accompany them to a hut that rose a little further on. A brick building was visible a hundred steps ahead, evidently the place where the small garrison lived.

The shack had no walls and was actually a thatched roof on stump pillars. Despite the rudimentary nature of the site, Romain had to admit that the air inside was noticeably cooler than outside. A plump military man in a well-ironed uniform greeted them sitting at a table and invited them to sit down, which only the foreigner and Yusuf did, while Jerome remained outside. The chief introduced himself as a captain although Romain could not understand his name even though it was expressed in acceptable French.

“What is the purpose of your trip through this region?” The military man asked without any introduction; his tone was neutral. Yusuf took over the presentation task under the pretext that they had already agreed to at the meeting in the hotel bar in Goma.

“Mr. Mercier is an agronomist and works for a Canadian company looking for land to develop corn and soybean crops and raising cattle. It is an undertaking that can give work to many farmers.”

“You know that this is a war zone and that most of the villagers have fled far from here due to the continuous massacres that the rebels have carried out. From here on you will not find people living in the area.”

“We know the situation but we also know that it will not last forever. We trust the efforts of the Kinshasha government to rid this area of guerrillas and villains. Ours is a long-term project.”

Romain was amazed at the solidity of his guide's argumentation and his confidence in the little man grew as he heard him argue. The negotiation was long and finally the captain and Yusuf momentarily left the hut, returning moments later. The military man sat at his desk and began to write by hand on a sheet of paper, after which he signed it and affixed a stamp.

"Good." he said dryly, "This is a safe-conduct that will open the doors of the area controlled by the Congolese government, but I warn you that it ends a few miles beyond and then extends a completely uninhabited no-man's land and then the rebel territory.”

After completing the process, the travelers shook hands with the soldier and returned to their vehicle. This time the soldiers raised the barrier and allowed their passage.

“Well.” Asked the stranger addressing Yusuf. “Tell me what happened when you left the hut that magically resolved the situation.”

“You can imagine it.”

“And how much did it cost me?”

“Less than expected.”

As the captain had warned them, the area beyond the garrison was completely uninhabited, and even the path almost disappeared overgrown by brush for lack of traffic. After an hour of traveling through the moor, they arrived at a new military detachment, smaller than the previous one.

“This is the last post of the Congolese army.” The guide said. “Beyond this site we have no guarantees.”

This time the soldier just read the pass and after returning it he cleared the way for them, not without warning them before.

“Just over a mile away there is a bridge that spans a narrow river. Beyond the bridge is rebel territory.”

Despite the fact that the news was expected, a stinging went down Romain's spine. The fame of the atrocities committed by the guerrillas had reached Paris where he resided. He thought about Alisha for a moment to comfort himself and said to himself.

“Like other times you will get out of this one and she will be waiting for you.”

However, the thought was full of questions and doubts and did not fulfil the purpose of calming his anxiety.

Beyond the river, the landscape undulated and the path -little more than an animal track- entered the hills. Although no one was at sight nor traces of human activity the travelers felt observed from above.

As they passed the umpteenth bend they found a group of armed guerrillas who ordered them to stop. Romain's stomach clenched and a chill ran through his body.