Chapter 10
"This stew could win a war.”
Kat
“Your son will be fine,” I assure Chief Omondi as gently as I can. After handing over our entire supply of antibiotics, I left them clear instructions on how to care for Kato until he fully recovers.
The chief nods, his weathered eyes shining with unshed tears. “You saved my boy. You are welcome here, always.”
Because the surgery took nearly an hour, and the sun has already dipped low behind the trees, we decide it’s best to wait till morning to head back to Bukoma. We’re staying the night—Chief Omondi insisted.
“This is bath,” he says proudly, guiding us to a freestanding cubicle made of tin and woven reeds. “You pull,” he explains, pointing to a string attached to a small bucket hanging above.
“Thank you,” I say with sincerity. “It’s perfect.” Honestly, I’ve been dreaming of rinsing off the heat, the sweat, the stress—and everything else.
Next, he leads us to a small room with a thin mattress on the floor and two sleeping bags.
“And this is room you sleep.”
Archie glances around, giving the room a once-over. “Thank you,” he says sincerely, rubbing the back of his neck.
“No,” Chief Omondi replies, looking between us. “Thank you. If not for your help, my son would be gone.”
“I’ll check on Kato again before bed,” I offer. “Just to make sure everything looks good.”
The chief nods, then asks, “You want shower now? We clean your clothes for tomorrow. We give fresh ones for tonight.”
“Oh, that’s very kind of you,” I say, startled by the generosity. As amazing as a bucket shower sounds, I suppose it wouldn’t make sense if we had nothing clean to change into. They’ve clearly thought of everything.
“You can go first,” Archie tells me once Chief Omondi departs. “I’ll wait in the room.”
A young girl brings me a folded cotton tunic and a pair of loose trousers, along with a towel.
I thank her before dragging myself into the cubicle.
The bucket shower is colder than I expected, and harder to operate, but it’s still the best water I’ve felt in days.
I scrub hard, trying to wash away the dust and tension of that touch-and-go surgery.
After Archie takes his turn, he strides back into the room fully showered, hair damp and face looking more relaxed than it has in days. Dressed in our fresh attire, we follow the soft hum of conversation to the dining area.
The open-sided hut is strung with a few low-hanging lanterns, their warm glow swaying gently in the breeze. Golden light flickers across the wooden beams and casts soft shadows across the woven mats that encircle a low table.
Savoury scents saturate the air—spiced tomato stew, something roasted and meaty, and that unmistakable smoky tang from the fire outside. My stomach growls despite my exhaustion. I haven’t eaten since early afternoon.
Chief Omondi takes his seat at the table, flanked by two of his daughters. After saying a few words in Luganda, his voice low and melodic, he gestures for us to eat.
The food is laid out generously: a rich red stew, a bowl with something akin to mashed potatoes, and chapati folded into quarters.
Archie and I sit across from each other, and he digs in, clearly as famished as I am.
We reach for the same piece of chapati, and our fingers brush. Our eyes lock, and for a heartbeat, we just stay there, the rest of the table fading to background noise. My stomach does a small, ridiculous flip.
“Go ahead,” he murmurs, withdrawing his hand.
I tear the piece in half and pass him one side. I’m rewarded by his full smile.
“Thanks, Doc.” He turns to our host. “And thank you, Chief Omandi. This is delicious.”
I nod in agreement. It really is. The meal is comforting and flavourful, even if the stew is a bit spicy.
Archie doesn’t seem to mind, wolfing down mouthfuls as if he’s been starved for days. His face is getting redder as he goes, sweat dripping down his neck.
“I think I might be melting,” he mutters, making the chief’s daughters giggle.
I stifle a laugh. “Yeah, it has a kick to it, huh?”
He shoots me a glance. “Are you kidding? This stew could win a war.”
One of the girls hands him a glass of milk, and he takes it like it’s a lifeline. “Thank you.”
“Just stop eating it,” I say with a chuckle as he scoops another spoonful.
He shakes his head. “Can’t. Too delicious.”
Everyone laughs, and the girls and I even bet on whether Archie will finish this entire stew by himself. But the stew is never-ending, and Archie’s hunger eventually taps out as he heaves a dramatic sigh and rests a hand over his stomach.
We don’t linger too long at the table, eager to get some sleep after this eventful day. Exiting the dining tent, we stop by Kato’s room, and I check his vitals before we call it a night. His breathing is steady, his pulse strong, and he’s already sleeping soundly.
When we trudge back to our hut, my face flushes with the realisation that I’ll have to share a room with Archie tonight. Sure, we’re not exactly strangers anymore, but this is weird. Intimately weird.
“Um, do you have a preference?” he asks, eyes flicking to the sleeping bags like they might suddenly bite him.
“I’ll just take this one.” I squat next to the orange bag on the right and unzip it.
He whips out his phone, turns on the flashlight, and carefully scans the inside of his sleeping bag, then the room.
I frown as I crawl into my sleeping bag. “Wha—oh, spider check?”
He winces.
“You really are scared of them, aren’t you? This trip must have been challenging for you.”
He finishes his inspection and lies down in his sleeping bag, turning his light off. “Yeah, me and spiders don’t exactly mix. But I haven’t seen that many here, thankfully.”
A pause hangs between us, and I pick at the fabric of the sleeping bag, the chirps and low buzz of distant night insects filling the silence.
“Well,” I finally say, “good night. Thanks for coming with me today, and for helping.”
“Of course.” I hear him shift on the mattress, the faint rustle of fabric breaking the silence. “You were incredible. I’m glad I was there to see it.”
“Crazy last day,” I say with a small laugh. “I promise it wasn’t like that every day. Thank goodness.”
“I only come for the main event,” he jokes.
“What about you? Did you enjoy your trip? Was it what you expected?” I ask, my hand roving absently over the mattress.
“I did. And, yes and no. What I really didn’t expect—I mean, besides finding you here—was that I’d love it so much. The people here are amazing.”
“I know.” I pull the sleeping bag up to my chin. “I hope we made a difference for them, you know?”
“Um, I’m pretty sure you did,” he says with a chuckle.
“Right.” I smile, Kato’s face popping into my mind. Then, a bittersweet feeling washes over me. “I can’t believe we’re going home tomorrow. Back to London, to our normal lives.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you excited to play football again? When’s that starting up again?”
“A few weeks from now. And yeah, I guess.” He exhales slowly. “It’s my life. I love it, but coming here… it puts things in perspective.” He pauses. “Do you watch football?” he asks, a hint of surprise threading through his tone.
“Absolutely not,” I say louder than I intended, letting out a small laugh. “Don’t even know the rules, besides the obvious.”
He chuckles. “There are a lot more of them than people think. What about you? Eager to get back to your sterile hospital with all the supplies you could wish for?”
I sigh. “Yeah, that won’t hurt.”
His stomach growls so loudly, I briefly think it comes from outside.
“Sorry,” he blurts out. “That meal did not agree with me.”
I snort. “And you ate so much too.”
“It was good,” he says defensively as his stomach growls louder.
“I take it you’re not a spicy food guy, despite living in London.”
“Not really. Are you?”
I shrug. “I can handle it, which is a good thing, since I love my Indian food as much as the next girl.”
“Well, I for one would kill for a juicy burger right now,” he says. “Five Guys has the best.”
“Archie,” I exclaim, throwing a hand to my mouth to suppress my giggles. “How can you even be hungry right now?”
“I don’t know. I just am,” he says, clearly amused.
“But on that point, I have to disagree. I love Five Guys’ burgers, but what I love most is their chips.”
“Oh, yeah,” Archie says. “Add a bit of vinegar and mayo. Mmm…”
“You know what the best combo is?” I roll onto my side to face him, even though we can’t see each other in the darkness. “Shake Shack burger and Five Guys chips. That is heaven.”
“Stop,” he groans. “I’m drooling now.”
I laugh, flipping onto my back again as my mouth waters. “Sorry, not the best conversation topic right now.”
“Oh, some Pizza Express would be amazing, though,” he starts again as his stomach growls louder than ever.
I laugh again, and he tells me exactly how he likes his pizza before we drift off to sleep.