It had taken Eric five days after Ethiopia to pack up his bags and leave the sponsorship village that he had spent the first three months at since arriving in Africa.
After that, he had travelled south, with no known destination in mind. The need to keep on moving had been strong, and he could barely distinguish one day from the next as they melted into one another. His eyes had taken on a haunted cast, and he moved like a man hunted, existing in some kind of a limbo.
He had stumbled upon the village quite by chance. It was the smell that caught his attention at first. The air had been clean that day, fresh and wet from the rains that had swept through the fields in the early morning light. It brought out the scent of the sugarcane: sweet, musty and sticky. Eric was reminded him of a happier time, untroubled and free, a time from before. He was drawn to it, like a thirsting man to a desert oasis. And when he stood amongst them — tall, golden shoots, towering over him; a mild semblance of peace filled him, and a sliver of light broke through the heavy shroud of gloom that had been his day and night for weeks.
He approached the village from the direction of the fields, running a callused palm along the pole-like stems and feeing them give a little at his touch. A good crop, he thought, and he could tell that they would be ripe for harvesting soon. He soon heard the sounds of a busy village and followed the chatter of voices, coming to the center of the village where preparation for the midday meal was underway.
If the villagers were surprised to find a travel-stained, weary looking foreigner with a three-week-old beard appear suddenly in their midst, they gave no sign of it as they welcomed and generously invited him to partake in their simple fare.
It had taken him a while, but eventually he managed to get an approval to continue his teaching program there, and worked out the kinks in logistics and managed to get his post and communication equipment forwarded there. Eric couldn't manage to outrun the hounds of hell that had been shadowing him since Ethiopia, but he could at least find a shaky sort of peace among the people there, and he clung on to it, desperate to hold on to the shreds of what he feared were left of his sanity.
And that had been when he had received his first letter from Jackie.