of hay. This part of deepest, darkest Africa wasn’t dark at all, but light light light, as flat as Iowa it seemed, and almost as open, with the acacia trees wide apart. An arid wind blew across the vastness, relieving the heat but raising dust from the road that powdered everyone’s sweaty skin. Clouds sailed on the wind, like scattered blimps. The band of redeemers and guards walked on through the heat and dust, Jim, the oldest of the bunch, barely keeping up and the Kenyan cameramen, softened by life in Nairobi, sweating buckets as they took turns lugging the video camera. Quinette had expected Phyllis to be their weakest link; despite her war correspondent’s résumé, she looked too thin and citified to withstand a long tramp through the bush, but she was holding up pretty well, swinging along in her jaunty hat and safari jacket. Santino wasn’t having any trouble either, nor Ken, nor Mike and Jean, even though both were on the short side and had to take two steps for every one the rebel soldiers took, their legs nearly as long as the two Canadians were tall.
“I can’t figure out how the Arabs make slaves out of these people,” Quinette remarked, walking alongside Ken. She pointed at the soldiers in front of them.
“Don’t know how or don’t know why?” Ken asked. He’d clipped polarized lenses to his glasses and now looked like a blind man.
“It’s the same question, isn’t it?”
“Not exactly. You heard me tell Phyllis why.”
“Government policy. But Ken, these guys, they’re like a professional basketball team with assault rifles. Who would want to mess with them? Santino told me they’re as tough and mean as they look.”
“They are.” He was looking not at her but dead ahead, his wrists resting on his two army-style belt canteens.
“Dinka boys learn to fight with sticks and how to wrestle, and when they get their teeth chopped out, they’re not allowed to cry or make a sound, that’s what Santino said. Doesn’t make sense how Arab pipsqueaks can attack guys like that and steal their cattle and their kids and their wives. You’d think the Dinka would just kick their butts right into the middle of next month.”
Ken gave a short, dry laugh, but she couldn’t tell if he laughed because the phrase amused him or because he thought she’d said something stupid. She would be mortified if that was his opinion. She respected him for his dedication to his work and for his knowledge of this part of the world, and she wanted him to respect her. His approval seemed a thing to be coveted if you didn’t have it, cherished if you did. Maybe she should have explained the choice of clothing she’d brought from home. Taking part in the liberation of two hundred and nine people was a joyous event in her book, and she’d wanted to proclaim her joy by dressing in vibrant outfits. Nothing shallow or frivolous about that, was there? You didn’t go to a wedding dressed for a funeral, did you?
“Horses and Islam,” Ken said.
She quizzed him with a look.
“That’s why the Arabs are able to do what they do.”
“Because of horses?”
“And Islam.”
“All right. Horses and Islam. So?”
“Think about it.”
“I hate riddles,” she said.
Ken was silent.
Her thin canvas hat barely softened the rap of the sun’s knuckles against her skull. Despite the steady breeze, flies swarmed around her face.
“The Dinka don’t have horses,” Ken said. She guessed he was giving her a hint. “North of here is desert and Arab territory. When the wet season comes, this part of the country is loaded with tsetse flies. A horse wouldn’t live a week, but the Arabs can take theirs north, into the desert, and then come back down here in the dry season. That’s when most of their raids take place.”
She conjured up an image of mounted Arabs galloping over the sun-dazed plain, a tide of horseflesh and man-flesh washing over whatever stood in its way. “Okay, I get the horses part. I don’t get what the Arabs’ religion has to do with anything.”
“It unites them,” answered Ken. Quinette swiped at the flies, hoping they weren’t the tsetse kind. “No matter what tribe they’re from, they’re fighting for the same idea. It gives them the go-ahead to kill infidels or to capture them and force them to convert, at gunpoint if need be. You could say the Arabs are evangelists and their Kalashnikovs do the preaching. They really believe they’re doing it for