by Beth Kean
Esther shook her head, and looked away nervously. Peter understood that he had hit the nail on the head and hefted his empty container, “Maybe the drilling team will find some sites unsuitable... I suppose it will be my responsibility then to find places more promising, but for now, we need to fill our containers, and get back.”
Chapter 8
Esther carefully lifted her largest pan off the charcoal, the water had reduced to almost nothing, and prodding the softened banana she confirmed that they were cooked completely. She had worried about preparing matoke again, but Peter appeared to have really enjoyed his meal the evening before.
He isn't at all frightening now, she admitted, it had come as a surprise that she had felt so comfortable, so quickly. He had a way about him, his eyes, his voice, his very presence both soothed and excited her in equal measure. She had no experience of men, but she had talked with the other girls, and she had fooled around a little, nothing serious, simply harmless petting, a stolen illicit kiss, her friends had told her stories of what to expect... on her wedding night, stories that had scared her a little. Most had warned her of the discomfort, tales of epic proportions, massive length and girth, her husband would have much experience, she would be required to do little more than lie still and endure. The word endure had caused her to wonder why so many of her friends craved the act... many sought multiple partners, it was a conundrum, and her discussions had raised more questions than answers.
But what is most confusing, when I looked this morning, it didn't look so huge. Certainly not like the girls have described. She had resisted the urge to peep for as long as she could, it hadn't been necessary for her to tend the fire, she had been drawn. His skin glowed in the candle light, a strange sensation, fascinating. Often the muzungu had come to the village, always they wore the same clothes, long trousers and shirts that exposed little more than necks and arms burned red or bronze. But Peter was different, she had studied his whiteness surreptitiously, she had also witnessed the swelling in his loose fitting under-shorts, it had proven a thrill, and she hoped that being close to her had provoked the reaction. When he had removed the shorts to bathe, she had been driven to see him complete and un-obscured.
Even excited it didn't look that huge, the girls must have been playing with my mind. Esther giggled quietly as Peter emerged from the house and placed his tea on the ground on the opposite side of the cooking fire, she pictured him nude again as he lowered himself down to sit cross-legged.
“So what's his angle?” Peter caught her off guard. Esther's mind had been filled with images from the dawn and she fought for a moment to understand the question.
“Who... the Chief?” she caught his nod and instantly regretted her earlier question about location.
“Yeah,” Peter smiled. “Listen Esther, I know that I'm the stranger here, but this well is for the good of the community, not the gain of a few... or one!” Esther's mind raced, he saw things so clearly.
“What I'm trying to say is this... I may be the outsider, but honestly, I'm probably the only one here who doesn't see the well as anything other than a well, if you see what I mean. I just want to know what will happen the moment that my back is turned. We shift tons of food around, I know that a percentage filters onto the black market... it's a part of life, I know that, my employers know and accept that. But this water, I fail to see how it can be twisted.”
“Whoever owns the land where the well is dug will become very important,” she began nervously, “And since you told me about the river I have begun to understand just how important. They will control life or death in this village.”
“Are you suggesting that they will restrict access?”
“Restrict access, charge for access... I'm not even sure how they will do it, I just guarantee that whoever controls the land, controls the water. And if the river does run dry, they will control the village and everyone in it.”
“And Joshua is the type of man to take advantage?” Peter heard her involuntary snort, a sound that answered his question more clearly than any spoken word. “Then it makes sense not to drill on his land.”
“If you change your mind he will blame me!” she replied, “He already told me that I must keep you happy, you must drill the well on his land.”
“Keep me happy!” Peter held her eye over the steaming pan, “What did he mean by that?”
For the second time that day Esther regretted speaking before thinking, she had broached a subject that she knew Peter would pursue, she understood that if the roles were reversed she would want an explanation, now she had to dig herself out of the hole that she had opened for herself.
“In general,” she replied quietly, “Cook and clean for you, be a good and obedient girl... make you feel welcome here in the village.” Be like a good wife also! Joshua's words drifted back into her memory, I would be, but this man is not interested in me.
***
Keep me happy! Peter lay on his back and stared into the darkness... again. The candles had been extinguished at least an hour before and he lay listening to her steady breathing. He should have been able to sleep, especially since he had grown to understand that the previous night he had jumped to the wrong conclusions, lust had fed delusion. Yet the words that she had spoken robbed him of sleep. Keep me happy, that implies far more than simply cooking and cleaning, that is something that a rural Ugandan girl would do automatically... it sounds more like Joshua was hinting that she should go beyond the call of duty to ensure that the well gets drilled here.
Esther isn't the kind of girl to play his game, she is so innocent, yet from the look in her eye, she also understood the hidden meaning to his instructions, the girl is confusing... very confusing!
Peter reached down under the light sheet that covered him to the chest and massaged the aching muscles in his legs, he wasn't as fit as he would like to believe, the walk to the river had been pleasant enough, no more than a gentle stroll, a long stroll to be sure, but not particularly taxing. But the return! Pure macho stubbornness had driven him on, his shoulders had screamed for mercy, his thighs had protested even more vehemently, his twenty litres grew heavier with every minute that passed, Esther, her container balanced effortlessly on her head appeared not to suffer in the slightest. He had felt weak, a wimp. So he suffered in silence to maintain his dignity, now, in bed, he began to regret. She does it every day, he reminded himself, but still his estimation grew yet higher, she was clever, beautiful... and resilient, the essence of African womanhood.
“Stop it,” he whispered silently as his thoughts turned to the shape of her bottom under the leso, the slow and sensual gyration as she walked.
Give up Peter and go to sleep.
***
As had happened the previous night Peter awoke to the faint rattling of matches, in an instant his head had cleared and with baited breath he waited. A match flared and secure in the knowledge that she couldn't see his watchful eyes he followed her progress to the bucket with growing anticipation. Once again he noticed her feet first, so dainty, so sexy. That's it Esther, he groaned inside as she lifted her nightdress, clasping it to her stomach as she had done before. Damn I want you! The thought refused to abate, over and over again the phrase repeated in his head as she squatted and relieved herself. Pervert, he chastised as his boxers began to strain, Peeping Tom!
Maybe not a Peeping Tom, he corrected, it's not like I'm hiding in the bushes somewhere peering through her window, but pervert is probably accurate. For the second night running he felt shock to be aroused by the sight and sound of the beautiful girls urination.
Esther stood, her actions a replay of what he had memorised. Peter stared and repeated his mantra, damn, I seriously want you Esther! And tonight I'm going to test a theory.
“What time is it Esther?” he asked quietly as she tiptoed back to her mattress, and without any hint of shock in her voice she replied.
“I'll check, but I think it's probably about the same time as yesterday.” a few mome
nts later the dancing glow of her candle returned, “It's the same time... have you been awake for long?”
Peter swallowed hard, he was either about to give her the hint that he had been watching her, or he was about to warn her of his voyeurism and probably not get a repeat performance. “About ten minutes I guess.”
“Did I wake you with my candle?”
“No,” he replied quietly, “I was awake before you lit the candle, I heard the matches rattling.”
“Okay,” she replied, her voice light and unconcerned, “Do you want me to prepare the water for your shower?”
I don't believe this girl, he told himself and decided to push a fraction further. “I thought that you were going to shower first while I light the charcoal!”
Esther laughed, a small sound close to a giggle. “I'd forgotten, but if you don't mind getting the fire started, it will save us time.”
Too good to be true, Peter warned himself, but rising from the mattress he followed her to the back door armed with his candle and matches. This is surreal, here I am, stood behind a beautiful girl in a mud hut wearing nothing more than my underwear. She is about to take a shower in full view assuming that I won't peep, and then I am going to strip down to nothing and shower in front of her, again, assuming that she won't peep... pinch me someone, I'm stuck inside a crazy dream.
“There is kindling beside the charcoal,” Esther pointed to a woven plastic sack before lifting her water container and wide basin, “It should start easily, everything is very dry.”
“I'll manage,” Peter chuckled, “I'll soon get the water boiling.” and the water won't be the only thing boiling if you are seriously going to carry this through.
With his heart in his mouth Peter assembled a small stack of kindling and charcoal lumps as Esther sloshed water into the basin. Oh my God, he groaned silently as without hesitation she lifted the nightdress over her head and draped it over the same branch that had held his boxer shorts twenty four hours earlier. So open, so unconcerned! She was beyond comprehension, she must be aware, he debated, even the most naive would understand that no woman could strip in the presence of a man and believe that he wouldn't take at least one sneaky peek.
Fumbling he struck a match and set it below the kindling, bright flame leapt up seconds later, still Esther continued to wash, Peter watched, fascinated. Mesmerised he made no pretence of hiding his inspection, and so as Esther glanced across to the fire their eyes met directly. Peter maintained the eye contact deciding that he had misjudged her... again. “See, I soon got the fire lit.” he joked and wedged an aluminium pan of water between the three stones.
Esther smiled and nodded, “Two minutes and I'll take over, I need to warm our breakfast... do you want this water?” she nodded to the basin.
“Absolutely,” Peter laughed, “I'm ready now.” I don't believe that I'm about to do this he laughed inside, but what the hell, and standing he grabbed his towel and strode to the bananas where Esther had begun to rinse suds away. Here goes, he psyched himself, and with his courage and abandon at the maximum he casually slid his boxer shorts down to his ankles before draping them beside Esther's nightie. “I could get used to showering outdoors,” he laughed and picked up the soap, “Especially in such pleasant company.”
Esther smiled and standing she grabbed her own towel. “There are no bathrooms in the village, no pipes or plumbing, every toilet is like mine, every shower is like mine... people always shower outdoors, I have since I was old enough to walk, it's natural.”
“Well, it isn't natural for me,” he laughed, “In fact, this is probably one of the strangest things that I've ever done... back at home, everyone is really uptight about nudity... there is absolutely no way that we would be in this position in England... it just wouldn't happen!”
“I've embarrassed you?” concern registered in her eyes, and yet again Peter changed his impression of her, she looked upon nudity as natural, he was finding the same situation erotic!
“I wouldn't say embarrassed... more shocked. It's a cultural thing I guess, what is natural for you is decidedly unnatural to me.”
“But you seem to have adapted.” Esther smiled and wrapped the towel around her chest.
Peter looked up from where he squatted to find her eyes on him and flushed as her gaze provoked an automatic reaction.
“That is something that always surprises me.” Esther laughed softly but maintained her steady inspection, “The way that happens.”
“The way what happens?” Peter had squeezed his knees together trapping his embarrassment away from her view.
“How your skin changes from white to red when you are embarrassed, I think that it's nice, obviously it doesn't happen to us.”
“It always gives me away when I have naughty thoughts.” Peter joked. Again she had turned him around, had she deliberately led him to believe that she had watched his erection, only to imply before switching to the blush reflex.
“And have you been having naughty thoughts?”
Peter laughed inside, he liked the new direction that the conversation was taking. “I have to admit to a few naughty thoughts recently.”
“Interesting,” she giggled, “Maybe later you will tell me about them... but now, breakfast, and then we must fetch water again.” And without another word or glance she turned and strode purposefully back into the house.
Well, what the hell did that mean? Peter questioned as he rinsed himself, Esther had reappeared, fully dressed, and just as the previous morning, her concentration was suddenly fixed exclusively on the fire and breakfast.
Bloody confusing, whatever it all means... is this girl coming or going?
Chapter 9
Peter's aching muscles complained far less than he had feared and after only a few minutes of discomfort he walked freely at her side.
“Going back to what we were discussing yesterday,” he began, “Which land owners around the village can be trusted not to capitalise on the well?”
Esther turned her head to face him, the empty container balanced perfectly stable on a ring of twisted fabric, “I've been giving it a lot of thought because I guessed that you might ask that question. Honestly, it will be a great temptation for everyone, and don't forget, the Chief is a powerful man, he will intimidate the weaker minded people, and unfortunately, it is the softer hearted land owners that are the least likely to exploit the water. So it is a difficult question to answer.”
“Well, I have to find a solution, or I'm not doing my job... and much as I would prefer to spend all the time just chatting with you,” he added with a wink, “I have to ensure that our investment isn't going to be abused.”
A broad smile developed on Esther's face, “Then I must think harder, and find another option quickly... then we have more time to chat.”
“Actually, I was thinking the exact opposite,” he responded, a wicked grin developing, and a twinkle in his eyes. “If I'm struggling to find a new location, it will delay the project, just for a few days... which would give me extra time here... that is if you don't mind having a muzungu under your feet for another week.”
Esther continued her stately pace, she didn't want to look at him, she didn't want him to see her expression, to witness her joy. “I'm sure in about a week I will have thought of another suitable place... these things take time, and then we still have to convince the landowner, which could be complicated. This could take a very long time. But I don't mind sharing my home... it is for the good of the whole community.”
Peter smiled, despite the confusion that she always created when he attempted to see the true meaning behind her words, he took her statement in with confidence, reading between the lines, grasping the thinly veiled message.
She has given a clear sign. He felt an elation swelling that was as confusing as any of the mixed messages that she had given him. Why was it so important that she should be interested beyond simple friendship? Suddenly he understood that in less than forty-eight hours she had filled his min
d to the exclusion of all else, she was under his skin, he had developed an all consuming urge to protect and support. Yes, if I'm going to be completely honest... I would do just about anything to get her into my bed, he admitted silently, but it's far deeper than that now, and after just two days, it's incredible, impossible... but I want far more, I want her, I want her heart. He swallowed hard and turned his head to study her face as the final thought entered his mind,
I want her love!
***
“My actions are completely legitimate.” he told himself as he cut a terrible connection to Brian back in camp. He had postponed the drilling teams arrival indefinitely citing his genuine concerns over the potential for abuse as justification, but knowing deep down that he wanted more time with her, he wanted to develop the forming relationship.
Sharing a motorcycle taxi, he had relished her arms around him. “You can't be serious!” he caught the statement quickly, of course he had seen three people on a boda-boda before, it always looked so dangerous, not to mention uncomfortable, three bodies so tightly squeezed together that it would have been impossible to slide a playing card between. Yet it suddenly became incredibly appealing. He had mounted first, the driver insisting that his greater weight should be in the centre, Peter became the filling in an African sandwich, and smiled wide as her hands traced around his stomach. Now this is a trip I will enjoy... and his grin widened as she squeezed.
Their destination; the closest town, little more than a few shops and houses in the centre of a dust bowl, but it had what Peter needed most, mobile signal for his phone and a mini market.
A few little luxuries will be very welcome he thought as he browsed the shelves. The staples of African life stacked high, posho, the finely ground maize flour, salt, cooking oil, soap in long bars... basics. Not much luxury choice he chuckled as cans of soda joined a small bottle of local whisky, along with chocolate bars and a packet of frozen sausages. He had plans for the evening, he had charcoal aplenty, and an idea had formed when he discovered a small piece of steel mesh for sale from a street vendor. Grilled meats and vegetables tonight, he had thought, a couple of drinks, they will be warm, but I can't have everything. He pictured the scene, Esther, illuminated by candles, sausages and strips of goat meat sizzling over the coals, sweet potatoes roasting in the embers, and on the side, the wonderful Kachumbari salad, a mix of tomatoes, onion and lemon juice that he had enjoyed so much in Kenya. And not one bloody banana in sight he chuckled. It had the potential to be a perfect night, a welcome drink, good food, but better company.
