The bus had been on the road for hours, its engine made a loud noise. Every few minutes, a window rattled as the tyres rolled over the potholes on the road. Most passengers were silent. Some slept with their heads against the windows. Others watched the countryside go by. They saw green fields, small huts and stalls with umbrellas by the roadside. Daniel sat on the first passenger seat beside the entrance with Margret, Rajabu and Pampeluna. They were going home. Getting them home was the only promise Daniel had made to their families back in Dzaleka.
Margret had a small hand bag on her lap. Every few minutes, her hand slipped inside it and touched the folded photograph she had carried. Rajabu had a backpack with a broken zip. He had tied a piece of string around it to keep it closed. Whenever the bus hit a pothole, he made sure it was still and closed between his thighs. Pampeluna was the least patient of the three.
“How much longer?” he asked. Daniel looked at his watch.
“You asked me that twenty minutes ago.”
“And you got the answer wrong.” Rajabu laughed.
“Do you want him to stop the bus and measure the road?” Daniel asked Rajabu who seemed to back up Pampeluna’s impatience.
“I just want to know when my feet will stop hurting.” Pampeluna smiled.
“You’ve been complaining since we left.” Margret shook her head.
“Because my feet came with me,” Pampeluna said. For a moment, the four laughed. Then Daniel saw the line of trucks in front of him. His smile faded.
“Get your passports ready,” he alerted. The laughter stopped. Margaret opened her bag. Rajabu checked his pocket. Pampeluna reached inside his jacket. Daniel put his hand in his pocket too. His fingers found his passport. Then they touched something else. He stopped moving. He felt it again. It was another passport. He felt worried. He had forgotten it was there.
Daniel usually carried the passport he needed for the country he was going to. The other one stayed at home. One meant he didn’t need a visa to enter Burundi, and the other meant he didn’t need a visa to travel to the Democratic Republic of the Congo. He never carried both unless there was a good reason. Today there was no reason. He looked towards the front of the bus. Immigration officers were already moving between the vehicles. Daniel was thinking very quickly.
He had spent years learning how to move quietly through borders. Now the smallest mistake was sitting in his own pocket. Without being noticed, he bent down and hid the second passport under the seat. Then he sat up straight. Margret looked at him.
“Pastor?”
“Nothing.”
She looked at him for a moment, as if trying to decide if he was telling the truth, then continued checking her bag. The bus stopped. The door opened.
“Everyone out!” an immigration officer shouted. “Make sure you have your passports ready.” Passengers started to get off the train. Daniel followed. He didn’t look worried. He did not look back at the seat. But an immigration officer near the front had noticed him bend down. The officer didn’t say anything. He just watched. Outside, the passengers lined up under the hot sun. Dust rose around their shoes whenever a truck passed. A woman fanned herself with her passport. A child cried until his mother picked him up. The officers moved along the line. “Passport!”
Margret was the first one. She gave her passport to the officer. The officer looked at it and gave it back. Rajabu stepped forward. He answered two questions, then moved aside. Pampeluna was next. The officer looked at his passport for longer than he had looked at the others. Pampeluna moved his weight from one foot to the other. He was getting nervous.
“Is everything OK?” he asked. The immigration officer looked at him and ordered him to move. Pampeluna moved. Then Daniel stepped forward. He gave his passport to the officer. The officer opened it. He looked at the photograph and looked at Daniel. Then he returned it. Daniel took it. For a moment, he felt relieved. Then he saw the immigration officer who had been watching him stepping away from the rest. The man walked back towards the bus. Daniel held his passport tightly in his hand. The immigration officer got on the bus. Daniel watched without moving.
A few minutes passed. Then the immigration officer came down. He was carrying something. Daniel knew what it was. The immigration officer walked towards them. “You four. Come with me.”
Margret looked at Daniel. Rajabu looked at Pampeluna. Pampeluna looked worried. They followed the officer into the immigration office. The room was small and warm. There was a metal desk in the middle. Old files were piled against one wall, and a ceiling fan turned slowly above them. The officer put their passports on the desk. Then he put the second passport next to them.
Daniel looked at it. He didn’t move a muscle. The officer picked it up. “Whose face is this?” He held it towards Daniel. Daniel looked at the photograph. He knew exactly whose face it was. But he didn’t say anything. The officer waited. “I’m asking you. Whose face is this?” Daniel didn’t say anything. The officer turned to Rajabu. “Whose face is this?” Rajabu looked at the photograph.
He glanced over at Daniel. He knew the face. But he didn’t know about the passport. His first thought was to protect the man who had helped them so much. His second was to protect himself and the others. He couldn’t say which was more important. Rajabu felt sick. “It looks like…” He stopped.
The immigration officer leaned forward. “Like who?” Rajabu looked down. He didn’t say anything. The officer looked at Pampeluna. “And you?”
Pampeluna looked at the photograph. He recognised Daniel right away. His fingers moved quickly and without pause against his trousers. He looked at Daniel. Daniel did not look at him. Pampeluna opened his mouth. Nothing came. The officer was getting impatient.
“You don’t know this man?” Pampeluna looked down. Silence. The officer looked back at Daniel. “You don’t know whose face this is?” Daniel looked at him. He didn’t say anything. The immigration officer looked at him. Then he looked at Margret. “You.” Margret looked up. “Whose face is this?” She looked at the passport. Then at Daniel.
She thought about how safe one man was compared to how safe everyone in the room would be. She knew. There was no point pretending. “It’s him.” She pointed at Pastor Daniel. Everyone in the room went quiet. Daniel did not look at her. The officer put the passport flat on the desk. “Pastor Daniel?” Margret nodded.
The officer checked the passport. He studied it. Then he picked up the other documents. One by one. He compared them. His face changed. The three travellers saw this. Their papers had already been worrying a number of officers when they started their journey. Now the second passport appeared. The officer looked at their documents.
“You came together?”
“Yes,” Margret answered.
“From Malawi?”
“Yes.” She nodded. The officer looked at Rajabu. Then Pampeluna. Then Daniel.
“Who planned this trip?” Nobody answered. Daniel looked at the desk. The officer tapped the documents with one finger. “These papers are not ordinary.” No one said anything. He looked at Daniel. “And this passport?” Daniel didn’t say anything. The officer leaned back. “You will have to wait here.”
They were kept at the checkpoint for several hours. The sun moved across the sky. The dust outside looked golden in the afternoon light. Trucks went past the station, making noise as they moved. Nobody had told them what would happen. Margret sat with her hands folded over her cloth bag. She kept looking at the door. Once, she took out a photograph of her children, looked at it, and quickly put it away when an immigration officer passed by.
Rajabu kept checking his backpack, even though he knew nothing had changed inside it. Pampeluna tried to make conversation. “How much trouble can one passport cause?”
Rajabu looked at him. “Maybe don’t ask.” Pampeluna smiled, but looked tired.
“I was just trying to make us feel better.”
“You’re not very good at it.”
“I’m better than you.” Margaret almost smiled. Daniel didn’t. He sat with his elbows on his knees, rubbing his thumb over the edge of his passport. He had crossed borders many times. He had always thought that his experience was what kept him safe. Now that same confidence felt silly.
In the late afternoon, they heard a vehicle coming. The sound got louder. A Land Cruiser stopped outside. An immigration officer came out. “Daniel, Margaret, Rajabu and Pampeluna.” They stood up. “Come with me.”
They were taken outside. Daniel looked at the Land Cruiser. His mouth felt dry. Nobody explained where they were going. They got in. The vehicle drove off from the checkpoint. For several minutes, only the engine could be heard. Margret sat next to Daniel. She looked at him.
“Pastor.” She whispered. Pastor Daniel turned towards her.
“What?” He asked. She stopped for a moment.
“Why didn’t you answer them?” She asked. Speechless, Daniel looked out of the window before saying anything.
“Answer what?” He asked. She looked at him. Then Pastor Daniel looked away. Rajabu heard the question but didn’t say anything. Pampeluna rested his head against the seat. Nobody said anything for a while. The Land Cruiser eventually stopped at another border control point. They were taken inside.
The room was bigger than the first one, but it was still very hot. There were already several other passengers there. Some people sat on the floor with their backs against the wall. One man was sleeping with folded arms. A woman held a crying child against her shoulder. The room smelled of sweat, dust and old concrete.
A man who looked tired was near the door. He was using a folded shirt as a pillow. A woman sat next to him, rocking a child who had stopped crying but wouldn’t go to sleep. The four of them found a place to sit against the wall. As it got dark, the room got quieter. Someone coughed. Another moved a bag. Outside, a car went past and its headlights briefly lit up the wall. Pampeluna looked at Daniel.
“You promised us something.” Margaret started the conversation. She was speaking to Pastor Daniel.
“I know.” Daniel looked at him.
“You said we would get home safely.” Pampeluna jumped in.
“I know.”
“I believed you.” Pampeluna’s voice sounded hopeless.
“So did I,” Margret added. Daniel looked at her. She was holding the cloth bag tightly against her chest. “My children are waiting,” she said.
“I know.” Daniel nodded.
“Do you?” She asked. Daniel didn’t know the answer. After a while, one of the other cellmates looked over at Daniel.
“You’re a pastor?” Daniel nodded. The man smiled sadly.
“Then pray for us.” He requested. Daniel looked around the room. He could hear people breathing as they waited for the morning. He folded his hands.
“Let us pray.” He started. Margret nodded her head. Rajabu closed his eyes. Pampeluna did the same. Some of the other cellmates joined them. Daniel started quietly.
“God, you know where we are.” His voice broke. “You know where we came from.” He felt nervous. “And you know where we want to go.” The room was completely still. He prayed for their families. He prayed for the people waiting in Dzaleka. He prayed for the children waiting in Congo. Then he prayed for all four of them. “Please don’t let my mistake be their punishment.” Margret opened her eyes. Daniel carried on talking. “Take us home.”
After the prayer ended, nobody said anything. That night, Daniel slept in short bursts. He woke up coughing. Then he heard footsteps and a truck changing gears outside. Every time he opened his eyes, he had the same thought. I promised them. It was still near dawn. Then they heard a running engine. Daniel opened his eyes. The sound got louder as the car made its stoppage outside. His heart started beating faster. He sat up.
“What is it?” Pampeluna stirred the silence. Daniel didn’t answer. He joined his hands together.
“Please, God.” He prayed. Rajabu looked at him.
“Pastor?” He interrupted. Daniel kept praying. The door opened. It was an immigration officer.
“Daniel.” The officer called. Daniel looked up. “Margret, Rajabu and Pampeluna. Come outside!” They stood up. Margret adjusted her bag. Rajabu grabbed his backpack. Pampeluna looked at Daniel.
“Again?” Pampeluna murmured sadly. Daniel didn’t say anything and neither did the two. They followed the immigration officer silently. The morning air felt cooler against their faces as they walked towards the Land Cruiser waiting outside. They got in. The vehicle drove them back to the checkpoint. Daniel watched the road. He knew it.
Every turn in the road felt familiar. But his hands were wet. He was not scared of the familiar roads. When they got to the checkpoint, they were taken into the immigration office again. The same metal desk was waiting for him. The same files. The same passports. The officer sat down.
“This issue could be taken to court.” The officer started his remarks. Daniel and the rest simply listened. “You understand?”
“Yes!” They all responded.
“You may face serious consequences.” He continued. Daniel looked at Margaret. Her eyes were red from lack of sleep. Rajabu sat with his hands between his knees. Pampeluna looked at the floor. Daniel thought about the families who had trusted him. He thought about the money they had paid. He thought about the promise he had made. Then he looked at the immigration officer.
“Is there another way?” He confidently cut the officer’s words. The officer leaned back relaxedly.
“Another way?” He gently asked. “I don’t want this to go to court either?” The officer looked at his colleagues. They murmured to each other. “There is a way.” He nodded his head like a boss. “But you will find it costing.” Pastor Daniel nodded his head curiously. “Two thousand dollars!”
“I don’t have two thousand.” Daniel shook his head. The officer didn’t say anything. Daniel looked at his three companions. “I can manage a thousand.” The officers looked at each other. Luckily, one of them nodded.
“Deal!” They agreed. Then Daniel asked to make a phone call to his relative in Lubumbashi. He asked them to collect up the money and send it right away. After the call, the four waited. The fan kept spinning. A fly landed on the table. Daniel just brushed it off. Then the officer’s phone rang. He listened and his face gently lightened with joy.
“The money has arrived.” He announced the good news. Daniel closed his eyes in relief. They were given back their passports. For the first time, Margret held her passport against her chest. Rajabu checked his backpack. Pampeluna looked at Daniel.
“Are we leaving?” He asked.
Daniel nodded. “Yes, we are leaving.”
Meanwhile, one of the officers brought bread and tea. “Eat first.” He invited them for breakfast. They sat around the table. Margret broke her bread into small portions. Rajabu drank his tea quickly. Pampeluna blew on his tea, getting it a bit cold. “Too hot,” he said.
“You complained when there was no tea.” Rajabu looked at him. “And now you are complaining about it. You just can’t stop talking.” Margret laughed. It was the first real laugh she had given since the previous day. Even Daniel smiled. The atmosphere in the room had shifted from a crime zone to a family cafe.
The same officers who had spoken about the court now joked with them. One of them gave Daniel a little slap on the shoulder. “Immigration officers are travelers’ friends.” They all smiled.
“Is it for a day?” Pampeluna jumped in. He had failed to hide in his shell any longer.
“Every day.” The officer assured them cheerfully. They all chuckled.
A vehicle arrived outside. The officer looked through the window. “You will board that bus.” They stood up surprised. Daniel thanked the officers. They went outside. After the inspection of the bus, they were let fill in the spaces.
As it drove off, Margret looked back at the checkpoint. Then she looked at Daniel.
“You almost didn’t get us home.”
“I know, ” Daniel looked at her. “I am sorry.”
“You said you knew the road.”
“I do.” He affirmed jokingly. Pampeluna laughed.
“That was the problem. You knew it too well.” Rajabu smiled as Daniel shook his head and fluttered.
“You are all going to talk about this forever.” Daniel said.
“We will,” Pampeluna assured. They laughed. This time, Daniel laughed with them. He looked out of the window. Fields moved past them. A man biking carried two bags on the back of his bike. Children walked along the road with their schoolbags. The morning sun had started to melt the mist.
Daniel held his passport in his hand. He looked at it. Then on the road. He looked at Margret. She was holding a photo of her children. Rajabu had finally stopped checking his backpack. Pampeluna was asleep with his mouth slightly open. He was snoring, finally. Daniel smiled. They were still together. They were still on the road. And home was somewhere ahead. He put the passport in his pocket. Then he checked the pocket again. This time, there was only one passport. The vehicle continued towards the Democratic Republic of the Congo and the winds of home were finally caressing his face.
