Ruandan Delight Pt. 01

Just so you know, this is a story about meeting an exceptional and, as it turns out, celebrated woman in the most unlikely of places. In a way, I still can't believe that this meeting actually happened. But here goes the tale anyway. And please note that to protect her personal privacy and professional reputation her real identity will be kept secret. However, for those of you familiar with the entertainment landscape you might be able to guess. I, myself, was clueless as to who she was as you will see below.

****

Months earlier.

Putting my feet up on the railing I leaned back in my wicker chair, happy to relax in the early afternoon Ruandan heat. The morning caseload at the remote MSF hospital was surprisingly light and I was enjoying the peaceful spell. I should note that the term 'hospital' was really stretching a point, however our simple medical facility, graciously support by European donations and UNHCR funding was all that existed for medical aid for some distance in all directions.

My locum at this facility, which I grandly called the 'West Ruandan General', WRG for short, was in fact a break from my surgical stays at MSF facilities in Afghanistan and Syria. Patching up wounded combatants or civilians and intricate surgeries to repair battlefield wounds, only to have the patient expire on the table is only something I could handle for a few months at a time before I have to get out of the war zones. I could only deal with badly wounded people, particularly children for so long before I went into a deep funk. Going back to a cushy surgical job in the West didn't work well either. I tried that but the reverse culture shock was a difficult transition as well. Ruanda was a middle ground R&R gig.

Off in the distance, on the jeep track from the village, the roar of a vehicle, followed by a babble of voices, broke the relative quiet of the facility compound. I yelled to Charles, my trusty second in command, a highly competent and well trained Ruandan nurse, to go see what was up. He came out of the staff office and headed over to the hubbub. I could see a man being lifted out of the back of the jeep. It didn't look good.

Charles came running back, a look of alarm on his face. "Boss, boss, bad stomach bullet wound. Many blood vessels damaged. Much blood ..." Gunshot wounds were infrequent at WRG but guerrillas from the Congo sometimes came over the border for medical aid and to escape pursuers. This appeared to be a war wound.

I hustled across the compound to check out the situation. It was bad. I grabbed a sterile top and started to scrub. Charles began to administer anaesthesia and I began to cut away clothing from the young man's body.

Fifteen minutes into the emergency surgery I realized I was in trouble. I had seen enough bullet and shrapnel injuries to know that this young guy needed more blood and a team of surgeons to control the bleeding. He might not make it if I didn't get him to more intensive care. His buddies or maybe family members were circling outside getting more and more agitated as Charles and I did what we could to keep this kid alive. I really didn't have much hope,

And if shit doesn't happen all at once the 'wup wup wup' of a helicopter sounded over the noise of the wheezing oxygen machine and monitors. "What the hell?" I shot over at Charles who was administering anaesthesia and monitoring vitals.

"Bad timing Boss. That must be the UNHCR chopper."

"What the hell do they want?"

"Boss, remember? You agreed to take some officials on a tour and have your picture taken with a celebrity."

"I did? What for?"

"Funding my man. This woman is a big shot star and raises a lot of money for facilities like ours." Why am I always the last to know these things.

Focusing in on some severed arteries and doing some delicate connections I spat out, "Get some of the other guys to get rid of them. No time for tourists or dog and pony shows."

"Hey, how about we get this guy a ride back to Kigali on their chopper. They could probably fix him up there."

I stopped in mid suture and stared at Charles. Brilliant. We had to commandeer the helicopter. "My friend that is brilliant. Now I know why we pay you so much."

Charles laughed and replied, "Hey man, when do I get to see this big money."

"Later pal. I'm going to finish getting him ready for travel. I'll clamp off the big ones while you go out and tell them they are evacuating a wounded soldier. Like right now. The tour is off. If they don't start winding that thing up again for take off get some of his buddies to muscle them a bit. A Kalashnikov or two should do the trick."

"Yeah Boss, leave it to me." Charles hurried out in the direction of the courtyard and the helicopter that was now sitting on the LZ. People were stepping out.

Rounding up crew including some of his buddies I put the wounded fighter on a stretcher and we started carrying him out towards the machine.

The scene around the chopper was utterly chaotic. Everyone was yelling at someone. The UN people were obviously pissed about their propaganda tour being hijacked and were not giving in easily. I left my bloody scrubs on for dramatic effect and rushed up to the passenger door, opening it, while ignoring to the best of my ability the irate staffers.

One of them yelled at me, "You can't do this! We've waited three weeks for the use of this helicopter and it wont be available again for weeks." I just gave Mr. Head of Mission, I presumed, a hard stare and quickly waived the stretcher bearers towards the open door. They began loading him in.

Once I was sure he was settled I yelled over at Charles that he was going with the guy. I didn't like losing him for who knows how long but the guy needed care and fluids from the IV in his arm and I trusted Charles to handle any in flight emergencies.

Once the patient was in the machine I turned to the spluttering UN guy and slowly but firmly explained what the choices were. The other passengers leaned in to hear what I had to say.

"You have two choices. One, you can take this guy immediately back to Kigali, stopping off at the hospital, where they might be able to save him if you get going right now, or two, we can do the tour and interview and we can bag some nice photos for the UN and then we can have lunch and some more photos and then we can unload the dead body out of the chopper.

I let that sink in for a few seconds and then added, "And you can then explain to those agitated and well armed guys over there why you didn't evac their friend immediately."

I backed off to let them decide and they circled around each other with a lot of excited talk and arm waving. When it became evident that they had chosen correctly, that is option 1 - get the wounded boy on his way - I backed off over to his friends and explained what was happening. Without a lot of English to be had in the group I still got the message across that taking their guy to Kigali was his best chance. They seemed resigned to that and began to disperse. I then ran back to gather supplies that Charles would need for the ride and an extra bag of fluid. I shoved them on the floor of the revving machine and then yelled and waved my arms pointing at the sky, the meaning clear.

The pilot seemed to be telling them that they couldn't all return on the flight and someone had to be bumped.

Moving away and back to the chair on the covered veranda I watched as they debated who was the unlucky staffer, hoping that they would decide quickly and get out of here. Two women were the last remaining and they seemed to be in a heated debate. One was yelling into the machine and trying to drag what appeared to be the younger of the two into the last remaining seat. The younger woman was resisting. 'Cmon guys,' I thought, decide and get the hell out of here.

Finally, the one woman started backing away, shaking her head and then the other woman threw her hands up into the air in obvious exasperation and boarded the machine. With a whirlpool of dust and noise the chopper lifted off and headed off towards Kigali.

I breathed a sigh of relief and picked up my now cold cup of tea from the floor beside the chair and revelled in the quiet. That was interesting. And just a bit crazy but I knew that was the best chance the wounded warrior had. I trusted Charles would get him to the hospital in Kigali alive.

Still standing in the middle of the compound was the staffer who got kicked off. It seemed that I had a guest for who knows how long. I told Charles to email as soon as he knew when he would return. I would fire up my sat phone internet link in a few hours to find out when they would bring him back and pick up the UN staffer. Hopefully, not long. She was looking around, clearly a bit bewildered so I yelled over to come up to the medical personal quarters. She blinked a few times and then made her way over towards me.

As she walked up the steps the first thing I noticed was that she was very young, early twenties at most and secondly that she was very good looking. Somebody over at the UNHCR office was cherry picking the pretty ones I guessed. I was a bit surprised though at her age. Most of the UN people I had dealt with seemed to be tough veterans of the NGO Aid game. This one looked like she was fresh out of orientation school.

I stood up and offered my hand adding, "Welcome to the West Ruandan General." She smirked and looking around at the shabby building took my hand and shook it. "I'm Adrian Kinnear by the way."

She looked at me kind of strangely but didn't respond so I added, "And you would be ..."

She seemed to startle at what I thought was an obvious and simple question. And then she told me her name in a slow deliberate way like she was talking to a child. I didn't get what the fuss was about.

So to digress for just a moment, I'm not going to use her real name for reasons that will become apparent as my tale unfolds. However, for the purposes of this story, I'm going to call her Ella.

"Nice to meet you Ella. I trust your stay in our humble facility will be comfortable but short and by the way, thank you for offering the use of your helicopter to evac that guy. We weren't capable of saving him here because of the seriousness of the wounds. His chances are much better in a full service hospital."

She huffed back, in what I came to enjoy as a delightful English accent, "Volunteer hardly. You didn't leave us much choice. Your people literally threw him into the helicopter."

"Well ... yes. But there wasn't a lot of time to negotiate."

Pulling up a chair, I offered her a tea which she readily accepted. Returning from the kitchen where Matilda, the housekeeper, took the order for tea and treats, I sat down beside the girl. She was eyeing me with an obvious frown. Not sure what the problem was I asked, "Is something the matter? What can I do to help?"

"Umm .. not to be picky about attire but your top ... Umm ..."

"Oh sorry," I replied quickly, looking down at the surgical scub all covered in drying blood. I hustled to the laundry and shed the offending garments and returned to the veranda with my favourite Maple Leafs t-shirt

She gave me a weak smile and said, "Sorry about that. I'm not good with the sight of blood."

"No worries. Forgot I hadn't changed. So tell me, were you the low staffer on the delegation? Is that why you got bumped?"

Ella looked at me wide eyed and in an odd, somewhat confused sort of way. I wasn't sure why that was such a difficult question. What I did notice, though, was just how startlingly beautiful her eyes were. Their bluey green, almost emerald like colour was luminescent. I stifled a small gasp as I took in her features. I realized that my initial assessment - that she was pretty - did not at all do this woman justice. Ella was simply gorgeous! Maybe the fact that young women were in short supply at WRG ever since Justine, my lovely MSF colleague had returned to France many weeks ago and that was effecting my judgment, however Ella was possibly the most beautiful woman I had ever met. How she ever ended up on a remote African assignment piqued my curiosity.

Still, I was just a bit confused by her look. Finally she spoke. "What makes you think I'm a UN employee?"

"Um .. just assumed the lowest ranking member of the party would be bumped."

"So you really believe I'm a UN employee?" she asked with an odd skeptical look. I was confused by the question, then she answered her own question, "I'm not, but I work with them."

"Wait a moment," I responded, finally cluing in. "I'm guessing you're the celebrity they were bringing for the photo shoot. Pleased to meet you, once again. Are you a musician or singer?"

She laughed at my obvious ignorance and enlightened me, "No, nothing so talented. I'm just a simple actress."

"Oh, okay," I stumbled, trying to place her in anything I had watched recently, which was pretty meagre, given the remote locations I had been for the past few years.

She laughed again asking, "So you really don't know much about my career do you?"

I could feel the heat rising around my collar. Something in the way she said that made me feel like a cultural simpleton. I racked my brains and somewhere in the back of my mind her name did sound somewhat familiar, but I definitely couldn't place her. She was so ethereally beautiful I'm sure that if I had seen her in a film I would surely remember Ella. I felt like a boorish idiot.

"Sorry, I don't remember seeing you in anything but don't be too surprised. Where I've recently worked movies are frowned upon by the locals and if something is shown its usually a Hindi movie from Mumbai."

"Not going to see me in one of those, at least, not in the immediate future. But you never know..."

"Hey, sometimes they show movies in the village square down the road. Maybe I could request one of your films."

"Thanks but I don't think I will be here that long. My agent will be working on getting me out of here, today I hope."

I looked at her skeptically. I don't think she understood how remote this outpost was. There are no Uber's waiting to get you out of here. They might find a chopper available to come and get her but from past experience I knew the chances were slim. The Ruandan government keeps tight control over the available air transport. I decide to distract her. "Well just in case you don't get out today, dinner is usually in town anyway. The village ladies take care of me, including most meals. I'm pretty good at carving the turkey but not for much else in the kitchen."

I wasn't so sure she was going to be rescued anytime today or tomorrow but who knows what pressure movie people can exert. We'll see. Anyhow I offered a tour, "So would you like to see our facility?"

"The West Ruandan General?" she smirked.

"Yep, humble as it is." With that I led her over to the medical facility and gave her the tour. Ella seemed to be genuinely interested in where the money that she apparently helped raise through her charity had gone. She mentioned how much and I was taken aback. How could such a young person have personally squeezed that much money out of donors? I resolved to find out more about her.

"So your charity supplied our ultrasound and new x-ray machine. Wow, that's really impressive and let me tell you, very much appreciated. Thank you so much!" I said, truly impressed.

"You're welcome. I'm happy to help."

"You must have some pretty good connections in the industry. Lucky us."

She smiled at that and added, somewhat cryptically with a small smile, "Yes, a few people know me in the business."

The medical facility tour done and introductions made to some of the staff caring for overnight patients we moved out into the courtyard. I noted that some of the staff seemed familiar with Ella, or at least knew of her. They smiled and greeted her with enthusiasm. More and more I felt like I was left out of the story.

"Let me show you the staff quarters. You can hang out there until they come and get you. Did you bring something for overnight?" I said, gesturing to the shoulder bag she had arrived with.

"Not really. We were only planning to be here for a couple hours. They still have lots of time to come and get me today." I didn't want to burst her bubble but I thought that was unlikely. She was stuck here for at least tonight.

Following Ella up the stairs I got my first good look from behind. I stifled a sigh as I watched her walk up to the veranda. She was wearing a beige cottony skirt that would look at home in a safari movie except that it was cut a couple inches above the knee. Her legs were long, bare and very graceful looking. She had small sandals on delicate feet. Her rear looked small and curvy and to my sex starved mind, utterly delicious. Her silky looking tangerine top was snug enough to accent small but firm breasts. She was delightful and I felt like a horny kid taking in the sight of her body. Oh I hope the next crew of Swedish or French medical professionals arrive soon!

Ella stayed on the veranda for the afternoon while I did my rounds and attended to a small range of outpatient issues. Returning to the staff quarters I found her fiddling with a mobile phone and looking annoyed.

"Why wont my phone work? I cant seem to get through to my people," she said in frustration.

"They don't really work here. To hit a tower the locals walk up a hill outside of town and point down the valley. The signal is weak but they can get through."

"So how do you communicate with the outside?"

"Sat phone. Let me get it and you can call Kigali or really anywhere. Try to keep it fairly short as its expensive to use. Afterwards, I have to contact Charles in Kigali. I need him back and you out of here."

She snorted, "Trying to get rid of me? Have I already overstayed my welcome?"

"Umm ... sorry about how that sounded. It wasn't what I meant. I know you have to get back to your job. And ..." I was going to leave it at that before I put my other foot into my mouth.

"And what?" she prompted, not letting it go.

"Well, we're not really set up to entertain guests here."

"So what about hotels in town?"

"Well, village is a better description. There's a small guest house but its mostly used by the truckers who make the overland trip. Our accommodations here aren't much but compared to the truck stop, this is a twenty star facility."

"Oh. Can I use your sat phone then? I'm sure your hospitality would be fine but I really do need to get back. The studio people aren't happy with me taking a couple of days away. I can't be away any longer."

I showed her how to use the Iridium phone and she placed her call. I left her on the veranda and went in to give Matilda a heads up about a likely guest for dinner. From the front I could hear her voice but not the words. She was increasing in volume and the tone didn't seem good. I didn't want to burst her bubble but I was almost certain she was here for the night. There was very little daylight left and the machine would need visual to land.

Walking back to the veranda she handed me the phone with an annoyed look and said, "They can't arrange anything today and whats worse they didn't sound sure about tomorrow either. It seems there's a big political retreat for the ruling Party and all available helicopter transport is reserved. I'm stuck here for the night apparently." She ran her hands through her hair in frustration and then flipped it back and shook the curls out of her face. As frustrated and pissed off as she clearly was the motion was delightful to me. She looked absolutely adorable.

"Here, call your colleague. Perhaps he will have better luck than I," she said and thrust the phone into my hand.

I got a hold of Charles who was camped out in the MSF office in Kigali. The news from him was no better. After he dropped off the wounded guy at the hospital he immediately called the airfield and got the same answer. The MSF people in town had no better luck. This was a major gathering for the ruling party and fixed wing planes could not reach the locale of their retreat.