The unrelenting heat turned the bitter flavour of the home-made local beer into pure heaven.
Noah felt endlessly thirsty and took three deep gulps from the cool metal cup, wiping the foam from his lips with the back of his hand.
But despite how much he drank it did nothing to ease his body's dehydration.
They'd spent almost two days tracking down the Ugandan reporters Kigongo had last seen Luke with. It hadn't been easy. Mistrust and caution meant those in the know weren't willing to simply give up any reporter's location.
The incident of Kigongo's rescue meant the men had to lie low after Luke inadvertently turned them all into accomplices.
Not that the large man drinking with Noah in the smoky bar seemed to mind. In fact, if anything he seemed in awe of Luke's unwavering force and bravery.
At that moment it was of little comfort to Noah
Tracking Zesiro down had been nothing short of miraculous, with people seemingly terrified of the Ugandan police. But having the man whose life Luke saved with them certainly seemed to open the necessary doors.
Eventually, and after local help to loose their police tail, a smiling woman in bright red garb had brought Noah, Jenna and Kigongo here.
Here, Kigongo explained, was a home brewery where the hostess made and sold her own beer. It was illegal but none of the locals would ever give the police the locations of these illicit establishments. Life in Uganda was hard enough without having to pay a premium for imported beer in the legal bars and clubs of the city. Those places were for tourists and the elite.
As a result it was also proving as a fine hideout for the Ugandan reporter who, Kigongo had explained, was one of four to be there the day of his rescue; the others being Magomu, Najja and the unofficial leader of the group Lutalo.
From Zesiro they had so far learned that of the reporters only one, Najja, was gay. The rest were sympathetic to the cause. Together they had launched an unsuccessful writing campaign in an attempt to stop the legal Bill from passing.
The four of them were already under scrutiny by the Ugandan officials when Luke arrived to unwittingly make their situation even more precarious.
Noah's hope was that this was it. Finally, here, in this place, he'd find out where Luke was.
Having barely eaten or slept since his arrival, Noah found his body swaying unsteadily on the stool.
"You are okay?" Kigongo asked.
Noah shook his head, wanting to ask the question on his lips but struggling to coordinate his sleep deprived brain with this mouth.
Jenna saved him the trouble. "Where is Luke Snyder? Do you know?"
Zesiro puffed once on his rolled cigarette, his bloodshot eyes gleaming by the dim light streaming through holes in the planks of wood that built up the shelter.
He nodded.
...
"This is too, too, too bad!"
Lutalo stuck his head over his shoulder from his position in the front seat of the beat up old Opal to scan the road behind them.
But as far as Zesiro could tell they were not being followed.
"You should not have done that! You should not!" Lutalo repeated yet again.
Zesiro had never seen anything like it. The white man was crazy!
"Look Lutalo, I'm sorry, okay?" Luke replied, "But it worked didn't it?"
"Yes but now it is not just him they will be looking for. It is us too. All of us!"
The man with the yellow hair was holding the rescued and totally devastated Kigongo against his chest. Magomu and Najja were squeezed up on the other side of them; Lutalo in the front passenger seat.
Zesiro thought for a moment that it was good he had been chosen to drive. He wasn't exactly small and they may not have all fit in the tiny car otherwise.
The taller Magomu was already finding the ride to be difficult. His knees pushed up into the back of Zesiro's seat and he had to bend his neck forward slightly to accommodate his head.
"What do we do now?" Luke asked.
"First we must find a safe place where we can take this man." Lutalo replied. "He cannot go home." Then looking around at his colleagues Lutalo realised the full extent of the problem. "None of us can go home now. It is too dangerous."
Lutalo seemed to think for a moment and then he leaned over and gave Zesiro the address of one of his informers in Swahili.
They rode for a while without speaking; the only sound an occasional sob from the traumatised Kigongo.
One thing Zesiro knew for sure, Kigongo was by far the luckiest man he'd ever seen. The man was a flick of a lighter away from death. The car positively reeked of fuel in reminder of this.
Suddenly another sob seemed to join that of Kigongo. A look in the rear-view mirror revealed a tearful Luke, holding and stroking Kigongo's head; staring out the window and biting his fist.
When Luke turned his head back to Kigongo he said, "I'm sorry."
Confused Kigongo raised his head to catch Luke's eyes.
"I'm sorry we didn't come sooner. I'm sorry we didn't save him too."
Zesiro felt his mouth drop open. Here was a man who had done what no other man up until that point had dared to do; would ever dare to do!
This Luke Snyder from America had stood up against the most powerful and influential man in Uganda; a dangerous man who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals for the country. Yet here he was, sad, truthfully sad, and feeling that his amazing rescue of the poor man in his arms was not enough.
Zesiro shook his head as Kigongo immediately gripped Luke's hand and squeezed, silently imparting what they already knew. It was not Luke's fault that Taban had died. It was another tragedy in a long list that seemed to grow daily despite their efforts.
"Malaika." Kigongo swallowed, nodding his head at Luke.
"What?" Luke asked.
"Angel." Lutalo translated. "He is calling you angel."
...
Two hours later they found themselves ensconced within the tiny house of Lutalo's latest informer; a lesbian woman called, Abbo, living with her two small sons on the outskirts of the city.
Forced into an arranged married at the age of 14, the 17 year old was not all that upset when her 40 year old husband died suddenly of heart failure.
Now a widow, she was not exactly a catch for second marriage and as a hidden lesbian that was just fine by her. She had her boys and that was all she needed for the moment.
That and her burning desire to change the situation for people like herself.
Zesiro watched as Abbo gently sponged the much improved Kigongo in a tin bath out in the yard; her small brood of chickens pecking at the floor by her feet.
He looked up to see Luke approaching as he continually circumvented the tiny outdoor area. He was busy on a phone call.
"Let's not get into that, okay?" Zesiro heard Luke say as he drew closer to where Zesiro and Lutalo sat. "I will tell you, but I just can't right now. It's all I'm eating, drinking and sleeping at the moment! I just want to hear about good things; about you and the kids. I miss you."
Luke's voice trailed off as he once again headed toward the back of the yard to complete another lap. The white man did this a few times, smiling sadly as he listened to news from his home.
Finally finished with the call, Luke sat beside Lutalo on the small bench by Abbo's back door, arms resting on his knees, hands gripped together in front of him. The white man's forehead was creased with thought.
Magomu and Najja had left them earlier to bury Taban; whose lifeless body they'd taken from the execution site in the trunk of the car.
Kigongo had protested, wanting to go with them, but Latulo promised him the men would bury Taban with the dignity he deserved.
The whole thing made Zesiro feel sick.
"You must stay where it is safe." Latulo had told Kigongo, one hand on the man's petrol stained shoulder.
Now the three of them sat in silence in the burning sunshine; contemplating the situation in which they had found themselves.
"I'm sorry." Luke said. "I didn't mean to land you all in it."
"Ag!" Lutalo dismissed waving his hands, "We were already on the watch list. It was only a matter of time."
"You are married?" Zesiro asked him, noticing for the first time the wedding ring on Luke's hand. "That was your wife on the phone?"
"I am married." Luke told them. "But that was not my wife. That was my husband, Noah."
"Aisee! No!" Zesiro shook his head, unable to believe it, "This cannot be."
"I have heard of this." Lutalo said. "It happens in America. I have read it."
"Shoo!" Zesiro uttered. "Shoo, shoo, shoo!"
"Not everywhere." Luke corrected.
Zesiro looked up at the man.
"It's only possible in some states." Luke explained. "But I gotta tell you… I thought we had it bad in the US! I had no idea this stuff was happening here!"
"Yes." Lutalo said, his eyes turning dark and focussing back on Kigongo shivering in the tub. "It is very bad. And it is getting worse."
Luke nodded at Lutalo's words. "What can I do? How can I help?"
Zesiro saw a familiar light flash in Lutalo's eyes. His friend had a plan.
"Tonight we will tell you everything. We will give you all the information we have; names, dates, photographs, everything."
Luke nodded.
"There is nothing we can do with the evidence we have collected. We have all lost our jobs. We have no way to release this information. But you, you could do it."
"You want me to write?" Luke asked.
Lutalo nodded.
"I will." Luke told him, "But I can't do it here. I'm sorry. I can't stay here. If it was just me to think about then I would. But I have to think about Noah and our children. I will help you as much as I can from the States. I promise. I won't give up."
"I agree." Lutalo said. "You will best serve us outside of the country. Where is your passport?"
"Back at the hotel."
"Tomorrow we will get it."
Zesiro started at this. "Are you sure? They will be watching that place."
"There is no other way. We must get this man out of the country."
"He cannot fly out of Kampala." Zesiro reminded him, "They will stop him at the airport."
Lutalo sighed and looked down at the ground and then back up at Luke. "Zesiro is right. We must smuggle you over the border and into Kenya. You can fly from there."
"Okay." Luke agreed. "But I must make sure to keep the information you give me safe. I can't risk carrying that on me. Before we head to the hotel, we'll need to stop at a post office. I'll courier the information to somebody I trust."
...
They spent a pleasant night together, the four Ugandan reporters, Kigongo, Abbo and Luke.
Luke spoke much about his life in America and especially about his husband, Noah. And together they worked into the early hours piecing together an information pack for Luke to smuggle out of Uganda.
For the first time in months Zesiro felt the sparks of hope. This plan could work. Having a foreign reporter aware of the situation and fighting their corner was extremely valuable.
The following day they drove Luke to the nearest post office where he had the pack sent via secure courier to somebody in America. Zesiro hoped the man's faith in this person was not misplaced.
This suddenly felt like their only chance to make a difference.
They parked a long way from the hotel. Zesiro had earlier purchased three hooded tops for himself, Lutalo and Luke; deliberately buying a larger size for Luke in the hopes of completely concealing his skin and hair colour.
They snuck so hooded into the hotel through the laundry room, paying each of the hotel maids to keep quiet, and by some miracle made it to Luke's room without being spotted.
It was clear they would not be able to take all of Luke's belongings, and instead had brought a small rucksack along; so that Luke could pack just the essentials.
Luke entered his combination on the hotel safe and withdrew his passport, slipping it into the back pocket of his jeans. Quickly he chose a few bits of clothing from the larger open suitcase and stuffed them into the bag.
Then he made a call on his phone.
"I've not been able to find any trace of Tony." Luke told his husband in America. "I've searched his apartment and spoken to a few of his friends and I don't like what I'm hearing."
As he spoke, Luke continued to rummage around the room for things to take with him.
"…the reporters writing the news items in the States aren't being told the full story. The Ugandan government are controlling the information. Things have been difficult for Tony. Things are difficult."
Zesiro sensed that Luke was trying to explain the situation to his husband without causing concern.
As Luke continued his conversation, Zesiro heard voices and footfalls in the hall outside.
"…He's starting a hou-"
Luke's sentence was cut off by a deafening knock at the door.
"The police are here." Lutalo said in a low but urgent voice after checking through the door's peephole. "You need to hang up now."
"Look Bubby, I have to go." Luke was staring wide-eyed at the door. "Yes. I'm sure everything's fine. There's just som-"
This time the knocks were more insistent and Zesiro saw fear cross the man's face.
"I love you."
Luke's eyes didn't once leave the door.
"Whatever happens, Noah. I love you so much."
He hung up and slipped the phone into his pocket.
"Quick." Luke said softly, "They are here for me, not you. Get out on the balcony and stay there."
Zesiro started to shake his head in protest but Lutalo seemed to agree with Luke.
"There's no point all of us being arrested." Luke assured him. "Please."
Zesiro saw the determination in Luke's eyes and he nodded. Quickly he and Lutalo slipped onto the balcony, closing the glass door behind them and pressing their backs into the wall either side of it.
The police had no need to bust the door down. Luke opened it for them.
The police sergeant entered with two officers and looked Luke up and down. "You are Luke Snyder?"
Luke nodded, "I am."
The sergeant swept his eyes over the hotel room. "You are alone?"
"Yes."
"I am here to inform you that you are under arrest."
"On what charges?"
"Possession of illegal substances."
Zesiro took a chance and peered into the room, just in time to see one of the police officers drop a few bricks of cocaine into Luke's open suitcase.
Luke glared at the man and then smiled. "So, this is how he wants to play it?"
The other officer took Luke by his arm and ushered him out of the room. The rest of them followed.
...
As soon as they had heard Zesiro's story Noah decided it was too dangerous for Jenna to remain in Uganda. With the way people seemed to vanish in the city, Noah wanted to make sure at least one of them got back out again.
The plan was for Zesiro and other Ugandan reporters forced underground, either due to their sexual preferences or because they were sympathetic, to field smuggled information and photographs out to Jenna in Los Angeles.
Hopefully the articles she wrote there would be picked up by national newspapers and eventually catch the attention of the world press.
The more noise they could make the better. If Luke was alive he'd be more likely to stay that way if the government feared retaliation from International pressure.
"If?" Noah thought.
Whenever that tiny word crossed his mind he'd close his eyes and concentrate hard until he was sure he could feel him.
"When." Noah whispered, unconsciously expressing the word to replace the 'if'.
"Sorry?" Zesiro asked.
"Nothing." Noah replied. "Where are Lutalo and the others?"
"They went in search of Luke. There is rumour of a place where they take the homosexual people."
"A place?" Jenna asked.
"You mean like a prison?" Noah followed.
Zesiro nodded sadly. "It is about five hours north of Kampala."
"Can you contact them? Your friends? Ask about Luke?"
"There are no phones. There is no mobile signal outside Kampala. This is Africa."
"Then I need to go there. How do I get there?"
"The only way is by taxi. There is a taxi in the morning."
"I will go with you, rafiki yangu." Kigongo said. "You will need a person who can speak Swahili."
Noah nodded.
...
Noah slung the rucksack over his shoulder and followed Kigongo up the hut-lined street of the small village where the van had stopped for the night.
Each hut was thatched with a small projection across the front so that its owner might sit beneath it in sun or rain.
If Luke had passed through here or was indeed being held in the local prison only an hour north of their current location, then somebody in such a small African town would know about it.
Whether his conviction that Luke was nearby was the result of hope or stubbornness Noah didn't care. He clung to it like a drowning sailor to a floating plank of wood. He had not yet allowed himself to imagine what he would do otherwise.
Kigongo had fast found a place where they could spend the night and he led Noah to one such dwelling.
The man was tired and told Noah he planned to turn in for the night. It was then that Noah felt a wave of guilt. He had been so set on finding Luke and wrapped up in his own torment he'd not noticed how the situation was taking its toll on Kigongo. The poor man had barely had the time to grieve the loss of his partner when Noah and the two of them had set out on this quest.
So Noah left Kigongo with their things to explore the village alone. He was eager to search out any kind of information he could find about Luke and the other reporters.
The village had no electricity and as such the only light came from the stars above. But Noah didn't mind. The darkness was acting as a kind of cloak; shielding him from prying eyes.
After a short walk he stopped in the middle of the street and wiped his sweating face. He breathed heavily, wondering what his first move should be; though if he didn't find something to eat soon, he was going to fall flat on his face in the road.
He didn't need to ask for directions to the local drinking hole. He could already hear the raucous laughter and music usually associated with such places.
He headed that way, expecting to at least find food and something to drink.
What he didn't expect to find there was Luke himself.