Age 18
Ollie age 17

PART 1 of 3, JULY:

It's sweltering in my tent. A bead of sweat tickles me awake as it streaks down the side of my face, waking me from my deep sleep.

I sit up stretching my arms wide smiling at what surrounds me inside my tent.

Hanging from the high point of the tent is my battery powered lantern, the mesh windows are zipped up to keep the bright sunlight from waking me at dawn, however because of the Tanzanian heat it seems I'm destined to wake at sunrise anyways.

The villagers start work before the sun is up, so it is only right I get my morning begun even if it is my day off.

Among the floor of my tidy one person tent, my backpack sits in the corner near my boots and water shoes.  While beneath the right-side window is my duffel bag of clothes.

I crawl from my thin sleeping bag that I use as a matress compared to something I sleep inside because of the heat I begin packing my backpack with a fresh change of clothes as well as my deoderant, toothbrush and toothpaste, three-in-one shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.

The sound of the villagers talking, laughing, and working is something I've come to rather enjoy. Many would be annoyed at the early morning rituals, but I love it.

Many people say they were born in the wrong generation, however, I believe I was born in the wrong location. This place, referred to as a wasteland by many, is devine. The sun rises in its vibrant oranges and reds as if it's only a few miles away in the sky instead of light-years away, and the savanna plains go on for miles as if they itself were the ocean, unobstructed by sky rises or stoplights. And the people who inhabit this village live off the land and what it provides. Only taking aid by us or other medical humanitarian groups who make their rounds through the central African villages.

This is only my first week on my first mission trip and I can say, with all sincerity, I never want to go back.

The hours are long and stressful and the pay is nonexistent. But, the reward I get from this work is worth so much more than the materialistic idea of 'money'. This is how life is supposed to be. Simple, with no distractions other than to live, be healthy, and be happy.

The rats in my dry dusty hair surely crave something with more nutrients but I blissfully ignore it and pull it up into a tangled mess and tie it off.

Shuffling to the entrance of my tent with my pack in tow, I unzip it and kick my bare feet out, grabbing my velcro sandals from the mat outside of the tent and slip them onto my feet.

I stand from my tent and zip it up stretching again this time standing to the tips of my sandals and letting out a long yawn, as the early morning sun basks the back of my body in warmth.

"Habari za asubuhi!" I hear the 'good morning' greeting in Swahili so I repeat it poorly with a smile and a wave, knowing the villagers appreciate the attempt at their complicated language.

A gaggle of woman dressed in long skirts with beaded tops pass by their arms full of pots, babies, and baskets containing their harvest from the savannahs.

It was quite shocking coming here seeing these women dressed in their lack of tops, but within a couple days the shock and awe wore off and now I hardly notice anything besides how amazing these native people are.

This is the first village we've stopped on the tour and stay for two weeks, leaving behind clothes, food, medicine, and books. We learn as much as we can so the next time around we can bring them better supplies, whether it's to help them medically or something as silly as a board game, just to bring new enjoyment from the modern world.

I give another smile to a quick passing group of young boys running passed kicking several tattered balls back and forth, the flock of them rowdy and loud, laughing and mocking each other, as young boys do.

For a moment my thoughts bring me back to Ollie and his group of friends causing a bubble of a giggle to form in my chest-.

"Muriel, habari za abuhi." Hasnaa's broken English greets me suddenly. I follow the sound of her sweet low voice and find her padding over with a large basket and her daughter, Jokia, on her heels.

I repeat the greeting to which she eyes me with humor, "Yous' sound better. Nearly affluents'." She teases me but joins me on the worn dusty path. I chuckle in aggreance and look to Jokia, "Good morning, Cutie. How are you feeling? Better?" I ask the young girl who looks a thousand times better than a few days ago. After some tests we learned she's diabetic, so now that she is on the appropriate medication, she's looking bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning.

She smiles wide with brilliant white teeth and pulls something from behind her back and holds it out to me.

"Oh wow! Did you make this, Jokia?" I exclaim dramatically at the plastic beaded bracelet in her palm. It's from a bead kit we brought in their supply bundle, and I helped her start it while she was in for testing last week.

The six year old nods and urges it towards me again.

"For you, Muriel." Her quiet voice whispers shyly.

I gasp, glancing to Hasnaa and then smile down at her adorable daughter my heart nearly bursting with how precious she is, "Thank you so much. I love it, will you help me put it on?"

I kneel in front of the girl and hold my wrist out as she takes the two stiff rubber ends and attempts to knot it. I watch her struggling but remain patient enjoying this far moment too much to rush her little hands along.

I know I've made these rainbow bracelets as a child a million times before, but this one is by far the most beautiful.

"Kazi nzuri." Hasnaa praises Jokia after she successfully ties the bracelet around my wrist. I stand clutching it to my chest.

"I'll never ever take it off." I promise beaming down at the plastic beads. "Thank you, Jokia."

"Yous' welcome." She sucks on her bottom lip, her dark lip threatening to twist into a smile because of my over-the-top enthusiasm.

Jokia nestles into the skirt of her mother and cranes her neck, "Mama, may I play now?"

"Ndio." Hasnaa nods with smile then Jokia leaps off and runs to join the other children laughing and playing following behind several galloping goats.

I watch them disapear down the trail and turn back to Hansaa adjusting my pack on my shoulders, still holding the jewelry on my wrist like it is made of gold, not plastic.

"Jokia is so sweet. I helped her make this last week. Although, I thought she was making it for herself."

Hasnaa grins and hoists a large basket to her hip, "Thank you, Muriel, my babay' is a little miracle. We see you for lunch, yes?"

"Yes," I give my goodbyes as Hansaa continues on with her duties and I make my way around the small huts of the village to our medical unit set up near the village well.

It's large, the largest building in the village and constucted of canvas and bars, to ensure for easy dismantle when it is time for us to leave and move on to the next village.

I swipe the canvas flap and step inside, aware of the smell of antiseptic, and immidiatly per the rules grab a set of gloves and put them on. There are only three patients today. An elder from the village and a mother an baby that was just born the evening before, to which I had the honor in witnessing.

Craig Daniels, the head doctor as well as my boss lingers around with his clipboard basically glued to his hip, "Good morning, Muriel. You know, this is your day off. I expect you to disapear." He urges with a smile as he sees me approach Craig is a middle aged man, and basically everything I want to be. He worked at a hospital for ten years then gave it all up to do humanitarian work.

"I wanted to be sure, no one needed my help." I say, just as Andy Fitzgerald scrambles in his hair a mess and his glasses sideways on his face. I cock a brow and refrain from rolling my eyes when I see Andy has only just woken up seconds ago.

"Nope, nothing from you. However, Mr. Fitzgerald, you're thirty minutes late."

"Yes, Sir. My alarm didnt-"

"Save it, go ahead and get the vitals from all the patients." Craig interrupts him with a hand. "Go on, Muriel. Go get yourself a shower. The Solar camp shower bags are around back. Help yourself."

It's obvious I havent showered in a week, but not many of us have. We've been keeping clean with wet wipes mostly. However, our hands and arms are also scrubbed clean.

Smirking, I leave them and leave through the back flap of the tent and find five solar black bags with with a hook and hose. I grab one and leave to find some privacy, as to not offend anyone by showering in the middle of their village...

🦋🦋

After my shower, I feel amazing. My new clothes smell of home and my skin is moisturized. I've spent about thirty minutes combing all the tangles from my hair and decide to french braid it into a tight braid to keep it from getting like that again.

Many of the younger kids like to touch my hair or point out all my freckles, but I find them as interesting as they do me.

"Day off today?" Colleen asks as I return the empty solar bag.

"Yes, but I really don't know what to do with myself. And I don't think Craig will let me work."

"Go sleep, that's what I want to do." Colleen grins and hauls off a large sip from her canteen. Colleen is the epitome of a hippie, and my the closest friend I've made since starting this tour. "I've got my computer that I downloaded a few movies on?" She offers.

"No thanks."

I scan the village watching it bustling with activity sure I would be able to find something to do, I'd rather be in the medical tent. Either sorting the supplies or checking vitals. Easy work, but at least it's doing something.

"I even downloaded the last season of Viktors Nest." She Bob's her brows with a smile.

"No you didn't!" Somehow, Colleen has found out that I know Oliver Thomas. And now she's admitted she's downloaded the television series he's on.

"I totally did." She says smiling wide. Colleen is twenty three years old and is Craig's wife. There is a giant age-gap but to judge them is none of my business.

"You're so weird-." I say as the village begins to buzz with noise. Colleen and I freeze when that noise builds to hysteria.

She beats me inside the tent, both of us scrambling as a giant group of villages come barreling in from the other side, all yelling and screaming in Swahili.

"Oh God, Muriel. Get your gloves and a med kit." Colleen instructs as I see a man carrying Jokia in his arms.

My heart drops to the floor and the blood drains from my face when I see the state of Jokia's little body.

"Put her down. Tell me what happened." Craig demands and comes to the side of the gurney.

A loud wail fills the tent and my eyes flash over to Hansaa running in with streaks of tears down her face.

"Muriel! Med kit! Now!" Colleen barks, snapping me from my shock. I twist and race to the shelving units grabbing everything I can.

Hasnaa's screams fill my ears making it hard to concentrate but I hustle back with everything required for the trauma I saw on the little girl.

"The cows. They were spooked. She trampled." The man stammers next to Craig as he already has the bell end of the stethoscope pressed to the girls concaved blood soaked chest.

I refrain from looking at her face, because I'm afraid of what I would see- or wouldn't see there.

I already know Craig won't find a heartbeat in her chest...

Her body is mangled, the only way she's identifiable is by her stripped pink skirt.

Hansaa shoves the man away and screams a scream that is stamped into my consciousness, and I know I'll never forget it.

The carnal sound of a mother losing a child.
___________________________________

This is part one of 3 to this flash back.

I hope it caught you by surprise.

And this bracelet is very important to the story.

(For anyone curious as to why Ollie didnt want Murry in his room before he left for Italy.) The bracelet has something to do with it.

Thank you for reading!
CC