Chapter 3 – Danger Approaches
John walks over to their modest CD/radio and inserts his copy of Les Nubiens, before he walks over to Kem.
She is wearing her night clothes, a powder blue t-shirt with spaghetti straps and a pair of white panties, and he quickly strips down into his t-shirt and boxers before he lies down beside her and pulls her into his arms.
This is how they usually spend their nights. Most of the time they do not need to speak. They are absolutely content and comfortable to hold each other and listen to music or the sounds of the city as the night's coolness washes over them.
Tonight, as they fall asleep, he reflects on their life together.
The time with her so far had passed quickly, almost unnoticeably. Days had melted into weeks and their life together was seamless.
He knew what to expect from her every morning, every day, every evening.
It wasn't that she was predictable and had a specific routine for each action. She didn't wake up in the mornings and in the same order every day put on her slippers, brush her teeth, eat breakfast, dress, and brush her teeth again. Thankfully, their lives were not as mundane and obsessive-compulsive as that.
But he knew that when she woke she would move in a certain way and stretch in a certain way. That when she spoke she would have a way of expressing herself that was both sophisticated and girlishly delightful. In fact, he liked to think that her girlish mannerisms matched well with his boyish face and sometimes mischievous behavior.
He loved that they could do completely different things during the day, come back together at night, and share their experiences so that it was if they had spent the day together. All of these things had combined to make a life that he found enjoyable and fulfilling. .
In fact, he was so at ease with her that it wasn't until he had received a letter from Weaver informing him that the Joshua Carter Clinic would officially open in June of the new year that he realized that four months had passed since he had last been in Chicago.
He smiles.
Time seems to pass differently here. It is not controlled by numbers on a clock or succinctly written entries stacked tightly on top of each other in a PDA so as to squeeze each minute out of every day.
Rather, in the Congo, time is measured in terms of one's feelings and motivations.
For John, the contrast between time in the States and time here could not be more significant.
In both locations, he feels as if he is a ship and time is the sea.
In Chicago, that ship constantly battled the waves of time as it hurried to mount their crests in order to avoid being crushed by the force of them.
But here, in the Congo, his ship bounced in a natural rhythm with the waves' motions thus giving him a chance to smile and enjoy the ride.
At least that's the way it was on most days.
It wasn't that people were fundamentally better here than in the States. In fact, the people here wanted the same things as people back home. They wanted to get up in the mornings and enjoy the presence of their families and friends, eat a satisfying meal, work, and love life at its opening and its close.
However, in the Congo, the majority of people were willing, happy even, to accept life's simplicities. There was no pressure for the latest SUV, or botox injection, or sports club membership. Most people just let things happen in their own time, and that gave him the impression of living with time instead of working to outrun it.
At least that's the way it was on most days.
But as John falls asleep, he has forgotten one important thing: change is a constant.
And, although John, Kem, and most of the city's residents are unaware of what the near future will bring, change is coming to Kisangani.
This change will be as powerful as anything caused by a fierce tropical rainstorm's torrential downpour.
In fact, the booms heard a few hundred miles away are not the sounds of approaching thunder, rather they are the echoes of crude bombs and grenades as the rebel forces near the city.