Doctors Without Boundaries

They made it to an empty table safe enough from then on. The waiter brought them real imported Corona beer with a lemon. A real plate made of pottery followed. Rice, beans, and a steak were on top of it. A little salad with lettuce and tomatoes was put at the side. The food tasted good. Kyden wanted to know about the state of affairs. Kyden equally warned Jarrik about the wickedness of the local rebels.

The rebels believed that god asked them to abduct people, mostly children. They quote the part in the bible, where Jesus told his followers to stop catching fish and start catching people. Somehow, the rebels take it very literally. Luckily, the rebels odd beliefs have them fighting in completely ineffective ways. For example, they attack in cross formations for no good military reason. They do not take cover, because their prophet forbade them. They have a preference to use holy water over guns to attack. Unfortunately, the senior commanders are increasingly successfully convincing their prophet leader to adopt more traditional military tactics.

After the plates were emptied, Kyden excused himself. He needed to negotiate safe passage into the rural village. They would deliver medical aid there. The backroom was only accessible to officers of the rebel army and special guests. Kyden needed to go by himself. Kyden disappeared behind a door covered by a pearl curtain. A rough looking guy in black patted him down.

Jarrik sampled the beer menu and got an imported German pilz beer. He looked through the lilquor bottles behind the bartender. The place was amazingly well stocked with foreign imports. The bartender was actually smartly dressed. That stood out to Jarrik among the other Africans, who were seemingly wearing Goodwill's leftover.

The clumsy woman from earlier strutted out of the backroom. Her gait was still like that of a young deer. With every step, here ankles would tilt left and right. She stopped at Jarrik's desk. Her dress had a deep cut in the front that showed the inside edges of her scrawny breasts. She held a pile of money to Jarrik: "Please, count." Jarrik assumed that the woman was indeed a prostitute. She was so uneducated that she could not even verify the payment of the John's. She was thus in danger to get in trouble with her pimp. Jarrik liked helping out. He took the stack of money from her hand and started counting. There was again that odd flash of someone taking a photo.

The African money was so colorful and came in such different sizes. Despite it looking like real loot, it only added up to fourteen bucks or so. He told her the number and gave her the money back. She hugged him lightly on the shoulder and kissed his cheek. He did not know if he should feel dirty about that. He wondered where her lips had been before. Oddly, another camera flashed.

Jarrik gladly returned into his own thought world nursing his German Pilz. His fingers played with the wrist pendant from Namazzi. He thought about his love. He wondered what the customs of endearment were in Africa. He wondered if she expected him to marry her. "Mate, already a new girl friend," Kyden rose Jarrik out of his thoughts. Kyden pointed to the lip stick smudge on his cheek. Apparently, the prostitutes here had only cheap lipstick that marked.

Kyden was happy. His hair was a bit tussled. The left side of his shirt was buttoned a little higher than the right side leaving him uneven. Kyden blabbered that the negotiations went very well. The rebel leaders wanted to meet Jarrik as well. He promised Jarrik that the backroom was the best bar in the entire country. Kyden gushed about a Scottish Scotch distillery that had gone out of business fifty years ago. They still had a bottle of that stuff in the back. Mister Kon's private collection would be a dream making all the labor in Africa worth it.

The bouncer to the backroom separated the wood pearl strings of the curtain for the two doctors to step through. The bouncer was very accurate. He carefully felt the armpits. He had Jarrik take of his shoes. He felt the spaces between his toes. When he checked the groin, he actually separated Jarrik's two testicles. To signal the end of the body check, the bouncer slapped his large hand on the side of Jarrik's shoulder. The pat was so hard that Jarrik's shoulder joint and clavicle clicked against each other.

The backroom was very dark. Some of the walls may have been walls or simply darkness. The only light came from the table in booths. There a string of Christmas lights would lie in a rough circle. A slight red or green glow would come from the lights. Apparently, there were semi-translucent curtains to provide further invisibility in some directions. Jarrik figured that somewhere an overseer had to sit in the perfect spot to oversee the whole action. Maybe, he had been to one to many Las Vegas casinos.

The eyes slowly adjusted to the light. Apparently, there were many soldier boots, guns, and hookers. Kyden grabbed a young, short, a bit chubby looking woman. She was wearing the same ultra high heels, panty hoses up to her thighs, and garters above. Her body was covered by an Olympic bathing suit. Those Africans had no taste for continuity. "The red neck collard means that she is a house slave -- free to use by any customer," Kayden explained. He shoved the prostitute under the table of an empty booth. He sternly told her, "no blowie, blowie! Only massage the feet. Massage feet."

We sat down. A waiter brought the venerable bottle of Scotch with two shot glasses. He left the filled shot glasses at the table and took the bottle away. The Nubian woman under the table started taking my shoes off. The massage felt good to Jarrik. She was kneading his soles with her knuckles. Then, she rubbed his ankle. She plugged the individual toes. Jarrik stole a glance at her. She was sitting on her heels hunched over his feet. She had pulled her bathing suit down to her hip, so that her chubby boobs were dangling over his feet. She smiled big at Jarrik. She stuck her tongue out provocatively.

An officer approached the table. The officer had an oversize uniform. His boots were tied high with the pants stuffed on the inside.

"So, this is your doctor friend."

"Jarrik is a very capable internist. He will help many people in the village."

"Kyden, you know, we don't really care for those people. You also know that he has to sleep with one of our ladies, so that we can trust him."

"Officer Pen, I assure you that Jarrik is very loyal. However, he is also married."

"We all are married and use the women here. Kayden, is he gay?"

"Take a look under the table."

The officer started laughing as he saw the prostitute with her bare boobs working Jarrik's feet. He pushed one foot between her thighs and rubbed it against her vagina: "This boot is better getting wet from your wet pussy." The cubby prostitute started licking Jarrik's feet. She would rub her chubby boobs around his feet. Jarrik did not want to disappoint his girl friend back at the clinic, yet he was also afraid of that car battery in the court yard of the bar. He quietly slouched back on the bench. The buzz of the alcohol set in. The mellow daze of getting a massage came over him. He only half listened to the conversation about routes to the village, checkpoints, and passphrases.

An hour had easily passed by the time that Kyden pulled Jarrik out of the booth. The chubby prostitute eagerly followed them. Jarrik pulled a five dollar bill out and stuffed it behind the spandex covering her twat. He made her bend over and slapped her cubby butt. The fat of the butt wobbled beautifully. Another soldier quickly came to pull her away. Having been with a white man made her more valuable.

They walked out of the bar to the waiting white pickup truck. The streets were empty, except for a passing rebel truck with armed soldiers in the back. The clinic was quiet only a stray dog snooped around trash in the street. A huddled figure was in front of Jarrik's room's door. It was Namazzi. She had been sleeping there. Her face was wet from tears. She had found a thin wool blanket to wrap around her.

"What is the matter?"

"You betrayed me! You already betrayed me. You were out with another woman, were you not?"

"No, Namazzi, we had business to do."

"Do you always do business at a bar while drinking? You took away my dignity and rolled it in the dirt. You are a player and cheater!"

"Namazzi, we had a business meeting with the rebels to procure safe passage."

"I know those rebels with their booze and whores. How many of them did you sleep with?"

Namazzi went running into the streets. Jarrik went after her to placate her. Namazzi only threw her shoes at him continuing barefoot. She made the point that she did no longer have to suffer wearing those shoes to attract him. He picked up the shoes and followed her constantly talking to the quiet figure in front of him. Her room was only two blocks away in the back of a grocery store. After first closing the door in his face, she relented and let him enter. She told him to sleep with her, hold her, and spoon her. They both kept their clothes on. She drifted off to sleep quickly.

He woke up middle in the night. He softly kissed the skin on her neck. He smelled her hair. He looked at the side of her face in the moonlight. She was cradled in soft white bedding. Her breaths were equal. He looked around the small mostly empty room. Two brown cardboard boxes contained most of her clothes. A bowl and carafe in the corner seemed to act as a sink and tap. The images of the perverted rebel bar raced through his mind. The imagination of forced abuse and beatings behind closed doors sickened him. Her middle class worry about infidelity was a nice sanctuary for his thoughts. She was his anchor point in this swash buckling adventure.

His next thought was noticing that the morning sunlight was shining into the room. He rapidly excused himself. She roused in panic to get to her fruit stand as well. Kyden waited smiling for him at the office: "Take it easy tiger or you work yourself out." The rest of the week went by easy. Jarrik held his head down working long hours. Namazzi walked with him hand in hand. They had food dates together. They visited a lake near the center of the capital. He showered her with kisses and little gifts. She told him about her family.

Friday was a sad day. An aging Jeep Wrangler was parked in front of the little white washed clinic. Jarrik was holding white medical supply boxes for Kyden. Kyden stood in the Wrangler and was piling as many items in it as he could. Kyden was clearly excited about visiting the rural village. Namazzi was stealing the tears out of her eyes, when Jarrik did not look. Jarrik hadn't even seen Namazzi naked yet. However, she reminded him to not even look at another woman, especially during those gyno exams. She yelled at him to dispel her anxious energy. She even slapped his face once. He gracefully like a gentleman received the blow. He understood that she was helpless to express how sad she felt about missing her love.

The Jeep rumbled swiftly through the streets. Kyden, a bit recklessly, loved dodging people, cars, and debris, as he weaved through the streets. He liked to call it his car racing game, since he had to leave his Xbox at home. When the city dirt streets gave way to rugged country streets, Jarrik quickly learned that to avoid hitting his head against the roll cage of the Jeep, he had to lean inside the car. So, both Kyden and Jarrik were leaning over the center console of the car. Kyden was in his element. He tried to race the car fast enough to make the CD player skip playing the Disturbed CD. The Distubed singer bellowed to heavy metal music: "Indestructible, determination that is incorruptible, from the other side a terror to behold, annihilation will be unavoidable."

Jarrik wasn't sure, if Kyden had turned into a rebel. The high quality Jeep CD player for rugged conditions rarely skipped. The under armor plates of the Jeep more frequently cracked loudly on rocks and ditches. The piled luggage in the back of the car came frequently flying up into the air, as the soft suspension of the Wrangler were fully unloaded at the crest of a bump, before they fully compressed at the bottom of the following ditch.

The speed of forty miles did not even seem that insane to Jarrik. Yet, the Jeep kept sliding gently sideways on the sandy patches of the street. Kyden more fool heartedly than experienced slipped the car through the soft turns and twists counter steering to keep the Jeep from spinning out. Kyden stopped to step next to the car. Still being door width away from the door, he stood with the feet wide apart and gushed the urine at the dried plant life.

Upon zipping up his pants, he told Jarrik to give it a try. Jarrik was at first relieved to have gotten rid of the insane driver. Upon being taught, how to change the gears and all the different four wheel modes, he wondered, if his inexperience may be more dangerous than a dare devil. Kyden told him that first, he did not need four-wheel-drive. There was no need for extra traction on the flat, dry road. Second, he could start as slow as he wanted to get comfortable with the truck like behavior of the car.

So, Jarrik let go of the break and stepped on the gas. It was the first time driving a car that he felt literally hundreds of horses were lurching forward. The engine roared with strength making him truly believe in its power. Making turns had the suspensions on the outside of the turn bow the car in that direction. The first time that happened, Jarrik immediately stopped turning completely. The suspensions bouncing the car back up on that side, had it bounce down on the other side. Upon realizing that Jarrik really needed to turn, he would turn again. Only this time, in addition to the force of the turn, the prior bounce returned to push down the outside suspensions. Jarrik's reactions to the bounce only made the car start bouncing left right even more. The Jeep came to a stop. Kyden laughed hard: "It's been thirty years, since I was in a bouncy castle!"

Soon, Jarrik got the feel for the drift of the car. He especially loved the oversteer of the truck. In some sandy turns, the backside of the Jeep tried to break out. He first felt it in his bum. It felt a bit like someone pulling the chair out from under him. He'd counter steer and step on the gas to pull the rig straight. There was a subtle stimulation of the brain to control the soft sideways motion. Sometimes even on wide straightway, he would swerve to create little oversteers.

A gaggle of scrawny goats on the street got Jarrik to stop. Jarrik smilingly looked at the first sign of third world road obstacles. Kyden yelled at Jarrik, "get down, get down," until Jarrik's head disappeared behind the console. Boots rustled closer. Kyden yelled their identification at them. A teenager yelled something back in an African language. Kyden tapped Jarrik to get out of the car with him. They both had their arms raised. They looked at nine or ten boys in village garb with military hats. The boys were holding one hand high in the air behind them. Hanging from the hand was a string with a sling of water. "Holy water," Kyden mumbled to Jarrik whispering.

Kyden pointed out boxes on the back of the Jeep. The leader of the ragtag army team would take the box and hand it the second in command. The second in command was a bit unsure, what to do with his holy water sling. Afraid to make the leader wait, he let the sling drop to the ground and water run into the dry ground. They piled half of the load next to the road. Then, they send the youngest, a thirteen year old boy, to move the goats. He went running with his arms waving wildly charging at the goats. The goats darted in all directions away from his battle cries. The little boy seemed to have a lot of fun.

Kyden mumbled to Jarrik that the soldiers would better safe keep the most valuable medicine. Kyden took the wheel, so that they could be off faster. Jarrik was the DJ sifting the CD collection. He played Nirvana's "rape me" song, which had an odd taste in this country of rapes, mutilations, and genocide.

The village turned out to be a picture book African village. It was situated next to a river. It had lush green grass on the main place. The people lived in grass and stick huts. Trees, animals, and gardens provided rich nourishment despite the poverty in world goods. Little kids welcomed the Jeep huddling around it, as Kyden let the Jeep idle towards the village. Old man sitting outside the huts had only one or two teeth left, yet seemed like wise knowledgeable sages about the land and folklore. Some of the women wore no top covering. Their tube shaped hanging boobs were free under the sun. They often had a baby stripped to their back or chest with a shoulder sling.

The village elders had dinner prepared for them on a wooden porch. They all sat together. After the initial formal welcome chatter, Jarrik was immersed in shaping the porridge pile on his plate and pressing the byte sized local vegetables into the pile. It suddenly puzzled him, how the little child soldiers would get those boxes here. So, he asked Kyden. Kyden got immediately upset. He asked the elders to excuse him. He walked Jarrik to the Jeep.

"You realize that prostitution in a host country leads you to be banned from any humanitarian mission in any organization. Further, prostitution in this country is illegal and dealt with the death penalty. Think about your girl, if she finds out."

"Now, I hate to do this to you. However, it is either Mister Kon's henchmen that will also break your knees or me. Take a look at these."

Kyden held a vanilla envelope to Jarrik. Inside of it were two photos. One was the prostitute at the bar falling into his crotch. It looked like she was giving him a blow job. The other photo was him handing her the money back that he counted. It looked like he was paying her for the blow job.

"Jarrik, now don't get upset. The only way to get help to these people is with Mister Kon's permission. He only deals with people, whom he controls through black mail. And, he wants his cut. I know, it is asking a lot. However, this is the only way to get help to these people. Tomorrow, you will see how much good that heavy price does to the world."

That night, Jarrik was very exhausted and depressed about the reality of his mission. The view from the floor of a rural hut without doors and windows did not console him. The primitive leaving that would connect him to the roots of nature did not console him. His fingers held the coarse string around his wrist from Namazzi. He thought back to the moments, when his mind had formed the idea to go to Africa on a humanitarian mission. Somehow, he had believed to be in a safe bubble near, yet not in contact, with the rebels, corruption, and maltreatment. As a newcomer, he was now feeling crushed under the heel of it.

A young girl roused him in the morning. She was eighteen years old. She called herself Mangeni. She offered him an earthen cup of liquid with both hands. Petals of a flower floated at the top of the liquid. He received the cup and recognized that it was hot. He slurped a little of the liquid. It was a hot tea full of fruity flavor. The happy girl grabbed him by the hand and pulled him outside. Next to the entrance, she had left a lei of flowers. She put the band of flower band over his head. It was a white flower with pink veins and tips. She led him back to the porch.

Kyden was already sitting on the porch and cheerfully chewing on his breakfast. He was leaning over his breakfast plate, while a local beauty was massaging his neck. Kyden looked up at Jarrik, "no hard feelings, I hope." Jarrik's face grew dark, as it dawned on him that perhaps Mangeni was yet another manipulation. Kyden recognized Jarrik's thoughts: "Don't be a fruit loop, Jarrik. Mangeni, go get your aunt!"