Zaire

After crossing the wide Congo River we headed down a one lane dirt road through thick jungle. The road was more of a trail consisting of two ruts with grass growing between them and regular holes filled with water and mud, lots of mud. About a half hour after it got dark, and I mean inky black darkness illuminated only by the headlights of the Landrover, we arrived at a compound that reminded me of a family farm back home in Wisconsin. If not for all the dense jungles, it would also have hinted at a fort from the old west.

Our missionary called this his church. There was a nice large American style two story house with shutters on all the windows. It was surrounded by a very large garden filled with banana, mango and papaya trees, neat rows of vegetables and large amounts of flowers. In the dark it was impossible to see the tended corn and peanut fields behind and surrounding the area. Then there were a few smaller out buildings and one large barn type structure and another smaller barn. There was a very stout fence made of hardwood saplings about 10 feet tall placed side by side and tied together into more of a wall than a fence. We were greeted by his beautiful very young looking wife and his four hot looking daughters that all looked to be teenagers and an obviously local black man that approached the Landrover with a very concerned expression and started talking very quickly to our driver. We parked and entered one of the smaller buildings to clean up because we were covered in mud. The bucket shower sure felt good after such a long grueling day.

While we were getting cleaned up, I politely asked about his all blonds family but all I could think about was the hot wife and oldest daughter. I found out that the oldest daughter was nineteen and the youngest was thirteen. I put on my cleanest clothes but they weren't exactly fresh from the French laundry clean. They were more like the least sweat soaked clothes I had with me. The local man helping us out offered to take all our clothes and bring them back cleaned tomorrow. I jumped on that offer. My friend and I were both still dirtballs to be blunt about it. We also were having a real hard time not continuing our little game of swearing incessantly and the missionary was repeatedly asking us to clean up our language.

When we entered the immaculately clean, well kept house, there was a huge table being set up with dishes and all the girls were busy helping out. We were offered a drink right away. One of the first things I learned traveling in Africa was that all the missionaries seemed to have large, very well stocked top shelf liquor cabinets. They tended to use them often also, but more importantly to me, they also shared them generously. I chose brandy and a beer. I got Hennessy cognac and a Belgian dark ale that was a real treat for me. I kept catching myself checking out his wife and daughters and I think he did too.

I was pretty horny by now. The only white women I had seen in the last six months were three Irish nurses when I was in the hospital in Nigeria and a couple of peace corps workers here and there. One of the peace corps girls I met tired me out for a week and she was the last partner I had been with. That was six months ago now. Did I mention yet about all the hot blonds in the house? I am not racist by the way, but I refused to indulge in the local African women because there was just too much STD evidence visible everywhere I looked so far in Africa. The victims were easy to identify by the open sores all over their bodies and their general unhealthy appearance. I had no condoms so I passed on all the locals.

The entire family spoke perfect English as well as French, German, Flemish, Spanish and Dutch. They probably spoke all the local dialects also. I was impressed by that since I could barely speak English without swearing like a sailor. It seemed to me that every town I had been to in Africa spoke their own language. No wonder the colonialists were able to take over so easily. The locals could not communicate with each other to organize any resistance. Teaching a uniform language actually seemed to make it easier for these countries to gain their independence later on. We talked about that a little while waiting for dinner.

Finally the dinner was served. I can not even come close to describing this meal. Remember I lived on mangos, bananas, pineapples, peanuts, oatmeal some bread here and there and lots of beer. I saw several types of roast meats and poultry, baked and mashed potatoes, gravy, a variety of vegetables, melons, grapes, apples, oranges, cheeses, milk and juice, condiments, fresh breads, several desserts and did I mention the hot looking girls sitting on the opposite side of the table when they weren't serving something?

We kept getting in trouble for swearing. I was really trying but I kept slipping up but not as much as my friend was. Over dinner we talked about our African experiences. The story of my arrest in Nigeria was a popular topic. I kept quizzing them about Zaire and what was safe and what was not, where to go and what to see. When the meal was over, we were quickly escorted out of the house and put up on cots in one of the barn buildings They had already been readied for us by the time dinner was over. I think our poor choice of words was the reason for our quick escorted exit. But it may have also been that his daughters were too interested in us and he didn't like the looks going back and forth across the table.

I was so full. I felt like I had just ate three or four Thanksgiving meals in a row. What a day so far. Bloody mayhem for breakfast, bloody bus accident for lunch and then this latest overdose on food. I was going to sleep well for sure after all the food and excitement. I was also planning some nice dreams involving blonds.

As we were sitting around on the cots rehashing the day, the oldest girl came out to the barn where we were. She asked my friend to go outside to smoke his cigarette and to take his time with it. I got excited immediately. She wanted to talk to me in private. My friend looked at me with a roll of his eyes that screamed out, "YOU WOULDN'T DARE!" and I gave him a look that said, "DON'T COME BACK TILL I COME TO GET YOU!" He went outside and left the two of us alone. She walked over and attacked me as soon as my friends back was close to the door. MMMMMMMMM did I like that. It wasn't what I would call a marathon session but it was one passionate moment that would last me for months reliving it every single night. It took all of somewhere between ten and fifteen minutes start to finish. She knew just what she wanted and made sure she got everything she wanted. Afterward, she calmly redressed and casually asked what my plans were the next day before walking out with a mischievous satisfied smile on her face. I was just in shock. Satisfied but shocked none the less. My rule of not touching the locals had just been obliterated by a single horny 19 year old blond bombshell from Belgium.

My buddy came back into the room when he saw her leave and said, "I can sure smell what you just did. You bad boy. I don't believe you. You are going to get us both killed."

I was ready to sleep. I just smiled and said, "This has been one really really long day. How can I get myself killed? I am totally dead already. I think I am in heaven. Now shut up. I want to savor this. Good night" He was just as tired as I was, I am sure. Within minutes we were both asleep.

The next morning we had breakfast brought out to us. I think that was because the missionary did not want us around his family any more. I think he might have known what his daughter did the night before but I am not sure. Maybe he could smell it on her like my friend did on me. He acted very different than he did on the ride to his compound than he did now. He briskly told us to rest up today and that in the morning he would take us down to Goma the closest town in the area. So we hung out and checked out the compound until the next day. The girls were not to be seen other than a quick glimpse here and there through the windows. Our meals were brought out to us in the barn. We both chuckled over our banishment but we still enjoyed the food. I never did get to say goodbye to her before I left the next morning.