The beat-up Jeep bounced along the deeply rutted dirt road, raising a cloud of dust behind it. After miles of empty country, passing only the occasional isolated village or solitary hut, the vehicle was entering the ramshackle outskirts of Kemo City, capitol of Mabuto. Passing a crowded roadside market, the truck drew stares from many of the locals, who rarely saw Westerners pass through the streets of their backwards nation.
Mabuto was an African country in decline; its' traditional poverty made worse by the current government, a corrupt and oppressive dictatorship. Its' absolute ruler, 'President Kemo', was a former army sergeant who led a successful coup several years ago and now ruled with an iron hand. Hoarding the meager wealth of the nation in his personal bank account, he remained in power with the support of the so-called army. Little more than a collection of thugs, he allowed his 'soldiers' to extort the local businessmen, the occasional foreign visitor, and the even rarer tourist. His peculiar style of running his nation had earned Mabuto a place on the U.S. State Department's warning list. Potential visitors were alerted to the dangers of crime and a corrupt and sometimes brutal police force. There had been a number of unpleasant incidents involving tourists.
The young couple in the rear seat of the bouncing Jeep was well aware of the warnings; they had simply decided to ignore them. Jim and Susan Hartley considered themselves adventurers. Others might look on them as jaded American yuppies with money to burn. They had just finished two weeks of touring Kenya and Tanzania, staying mostly in luxury safari camps. They had decided to cap their African vacation with a quick visit to a place none of their friends had been to, mostly for bragging rights. With the cocky innocence of the young, they calculated the odds of something bad happening to savvy travelers such as themselves, and elected to "go for it".
Their three day stay in Mabuto made it strikingly clear to them why no one visited there. The country was poor, primitive and dangerous. Most of the wildlife had been killed for meat or shot for target practice by the undisciplined soldiers. The poverty was stark and unsettling. They had realized soon after they arrived that they had made a mistake coming here, and would have left sooner had the next plane out not been for three days.
Deciding to make the best of it, they hired a Jeep, a driver and an English speaking guide, who took them into the backcountry for two days, which was safer than being in the crime-ridden capital. Their main concern had been dealing with the corrupt and unpredictable soldiers, who served as both army and police force. Their wonderful guide, John, was invaluable in avoiding potential trouble with the soldiers, using just the right mixture of bribes and deference.
Still, Jim and Susan breathed a collective sigh of relief when the Jeep finally pulled up in front of the warehouse that passed for an airline terminal for the capital. 'President Kemo International Airport', read the large sign hanging over the entrance. Jim paid off the driver and, with John's help, carried their bags inside the building. They passed a small waiting area where a few fellow travelers sat with their luggage and as they approached the counter marked 'Customs', they were aware of being the only Westerners visible.
Behind the counter stood the customs agent; a tall, thin black man dressed in a white shirt with shoulder boards and plain blue slacks. He had a self-important air about him as he reached for their passports and then thumbed through them carefully. When he was finished, he placed the passports out of reach and slowly looked the young couple up and down.
What he saw were two affluent, conceited American tourists, dressed in high quality, safari style clothing, on a jaunt through Africa without a care in the world. The man was tall and trim, decked out in khaki, with a confident but naïve air about him. The agent's main focus, however, was the wife. The woman was beautiful, really lovely. Blonde, blue eyed, of medium height; she wore an opened bush jacket over a plain white T-shirt, under which her full bosom was clearly discernable. Thick blue shorts and heavy duty hiking boots contrasted with the smooth skin of her bare legs; accenting rather than detracting from her femininity. A khaki baseball cap completed her outfit; the overall effect was cute and attractive.
A man could fall in love with such a woman, the agent thought to himself; but he was moved by darker passions.
"Bags on the table", he said suddenly, gesturing to a long, low table to his left. The Hartley's both placed their small carry-ons on the table as instructed. They had brought just a few changes of clothes with them and had only purchased one or two trinkets. They were confident of passing easily through customs. So they thought. The agent moved with an annoying air of officiousness as he unzipped Jim's bag and peered inside. He reached into the bag, moved a few items around, and then turned his attention to the other bag.
Three disreputable looking soldiers were leaning against the far wall, watching every move the customs officer made, giving off an air of casual menace. Not far from them was an officer, a young Captain, his face an unreadable mask of blankness.
As the agent reached for Susan's bag, his eyes were locked on those of the young woman, watching for her reaction as he unzipped the bag and looked inside. He seemed intent on intimidating her, but she met his gaze evenly. The man obviously had some need to dominate this well-off couple, perhaps from a feeling of inferiority. He began to remove items of clothing from Susan's bag, holding them up before laying them on the table. A shirt..., a pair of socks..., shorts..., and then a brassiere. Susan was on to his game and remained impassive as he fingered and displayed her undergarments, but inside she was getting nervous, as was her husband. They both knew enough to keep quiet and let this two-bit official show off for the soldiers, demonstrating what enormous power he had. Even so, Jim was very uneasy standing there silently while this skinny jerk held up his wife's bikini panties for the soldiers to gawk at.
The agent was now smiling broadly at Susan as he delicately lowered the panties to the table, holding them by the crotch between two dark fingers. More quickly now, he went through every item in the bag: more clothing, underwear, toiletries; pausing with a small spray bottle of feminine deodorant, examining it with mock carefulness as if it were explosives. When he had completely emptied the overnight case, he turned it upside-down and gave it a final shake, then placed it on the table and gestured to Susan that she could repack it.
Her cheeks starting to redden with suppressed anger, Susan grabbed handfuls of her stuff and shoved them back into her bag, jamming clothes and other items together in a jumble. She zipped the bag shut, giving the customs agent a look of unconcealed contempt.
It was a mistake. As their guide John had repeatedly warned them, the officials and soldiers of Mabuto may not have measured up to their counterparts in a real country; but here their power was absolute. While they did treat white foreigners with some degree of deference, it was essential for travelers to show that they understood the power they wielded and were respectful of it.
Susan's attempt to intimidate the customs man with an angry look failed miserably. A slow smile spread across his face as he seemed to come to some inner decision. He glanced at the Captain as if seeking authorization, and got a curt nod of assent. Turning to the soldiers leaning expectantly against the wall, he said one word in the native language, which John the guide translated for Jim and Susan. "Search!"
Three broad white grins lit up the faces of the soldiers. They unglued themselves from the wall and advanced on Susan menacingly. Jim immediately placed himself between the approaching soldiers and his wife; but before he could say anything their guide John stepped in front of the frightened couple and began arguing forcefully with the customs agent. Though he spoke in the native tongue, Jim and Susan could imagine what he was saying: "These were American tourists..., they had money..., there would be official protests..., how much did he want...?" As the guide's impassioned pleading continued, the couple realized how lucky they were to have a loyal advocate who understood the game here.
The customs agent seemed about to back down, the husband and wife starting to relax, when the young Captain, who had been watching the entire incident with seeming indifference, approached the group at the table. The reaction of the Africans to his presence was startling. The soldiers snapped to a sloppy attention while the agent and guide fell instantly silent; the look of fear in the eyes of both men saying all that needed to be said about the kind of power the Captain wielded.
He looked straight at the guide and said one word: "Leave!" John turned pale, and with a helpless glance at the young couple, practically ran out of the door of the terminal.
Her protector gone, Susan looked to her husband for aid; but the Captain had stepped between her and Jim. He began speaking in perfect, un-accented English; his educated voice reeking of menace and finality.
"We are going to conduct a random search of this woman, as we have a legal right to do. She will not be harmed. If either of you interfere or resist in any way, you will be in violation of the laws of our country and will forfeit all protection of international law. You will then be instantly arrested, forcibly searched, and thrown in our prison; whose amenities, I am sorry to say, are not rated highly in most tourist guidebooks." Turning to Jim, and speaking slowly for emphasis, he said "I can assure you, your wife will have a particularly unpleasant time in our penitentiary, whose guards are not accustomed to having such an attractive prisoner in their care." Then he just stood there, his air of cold indifference returning, as if he couldn't care less what happened to these insignificant people.
Jim and Susan stared at each other in shock. Although their decision to come to this backwater country had obviously been a mistake, they were both intelligent people and could assess the situation. The abrupt departure of their formerly faithful guide told them all they needed to know about the potential brutality of these people. And there was no mistaking the menace in the Captain's voice or the reality of his threats.
