“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 makesense 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 aglance. “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.