Great Rift: The Crater Highlands

[x-cable.livejournal.com]

Nathan and his group arrive in Tanzania and get a look at Elpis's mediation project. Later, when they stop for the night in a local village, Ororo meets another stranger who shared their meal.


It was, simply put, a glorious day. Hot, but they were in East Africa in July; heat was to be expected. In any case, it was cooler here in the highlands than it had been down south. They'd flown into Dar es Salaam, then taken a charter flight north to Arusha, where Elpis's mediation project had its informal headquarters. The bulk of the work was done well beyond the city limits, of course, out among the tribes whose displacement from their land was the root of the problem.

Nathan adjusted his sunglasses, peering up ahead. The Land Rover was following a rough dirt track across the rolling grasslands. It was clearly not a well-traveled road, but then, there didn't appear to be many of those in this particular part of the country. "Herder's track?" he asked the man at the wheel, loudly enough for Angelo, in the back seat, to hear. The others were in the two vehicles following them, the impromptu convoy.

Paul Mrema nodded. "We were out speaking to this group last week," he answered, his English accented but clear. The project leader, Paul had been born in Arusha, and was intimately familiar with local issues. Nathan had been utterly delighted when one of Joel's contacts had turned up such an ideal candidate. Paul was also a visible mutant; his sunglasses didn't do much to hide over-large eyes, slitted like a cat's, and absolutely nothing to disguise his fangs. He had claimed that it helped him to no end when it came to mediation. "They're receptive enough to listen, but that's as far it goes with them right now."

Angelo was wearing sunglasses too, and as little clothing as he could get away with and still look professional. He was planning to enjoy the sun to the full. "Could be a lot worse", he put in from the back. "If they're listening, there's scope for improvement."

"It's the necessary first step!" Paul agreed. "This isn't a fast process, any of it. They don't trust very easily, and I can hardly blame them."

"Anything more in the way of harassment from the local authorities since we last talked?" Nathan asked, giving Paul an intent look over the edge of his sunglasses. They hadn't had time for the usual initial briefing yet; they'd arrived later than expected, and Nathan wasn't about to lose the mediation team a day's work because of a flight delay.

Paul shrugged. "Not actively, although they've not suddenly become cooperative either. Too many with interests in the farming projects, of course." That was the crux of the problem. If the attempt to bring more land under cultivation had been done with more sensitivity to the tribesmen who didn't want to give up their semi-nomadic lifestyle, it wouldn't have met such resistance. The young mutants among them were only expressing that same anger - but with superpowers.

"Again", Angelo said wryly, "could be worse. Remind me to tell you about Nicaragua sometime. Or not."

"The shelter projects, yes?" Paul asked, demonstrating that he was indeed up on what his current employers were up to elsewhere. "At least it's all about money here, not bigotry."

"That'll change if these angry youngsters keep it up," Nathan pointed out. "Attacking farmers is bad enough. If they start in on the local police, or the army..." But that was why they were here, after all -why the project had been established. "Thought of a name for this project yet, Paul?" The man simply shook his head, grinning, and Nathan shrugged cheerfully. "We'll have to come up with something."

"There's time yet", Angelo said with an easy grin in return. "Still early days, and all."

--

After the day out with the mediation team, they'd bid goodbye to Paul and the other members of his team, who'd headed east to make it to another 'appointment' that night. Nathan had decided, however, that they needed to be back in Arusha the next morning to work the political angle. So they'd taken one of the Land Rovers and stopped for the night in a nearby village, where they'd been welcomed with surprisingly open arms, given that it was certainly not a wealthy-looking place. The villagers had offered them not just beds but dinner, as well. The food was simple but very good, although Nathan had made a wry comment about bananas in meat stew not being quite his cup of tea.

Ororo had chided him for his lack of imagination, finding the simple fare exactly to her taste. She had introduced herself to several of the visitors and spent most of the meal asking about the regional crops and growing patterns. Luckily it seemed this area had not been affected by any drought, though the villagers were quick to share stories of past years that had not been so successful.

One of the other guests had not been much of a conversationalist at dinner, lingering on the fringes of the group and watching the other visitors carefully. Tall and powerfully built, he looked like he could have come from the area, but was wearing western-style clothing. He had finally withdrawn from the group entirely, sitting on a rock and staring off into the darkening sky, his mind clearly elsewhere.

Her own thoughts becoming more and more distracted, Ororo eventually excused herself from the circle of people and wandered towards the outskirts of the village. It was very peaceful here, for all she knew that the quiet could be broken in a split second by violence or danger.

Though she hadn't planned it, she found her wandering had led her towards the other figure's sitting spot, and smiled apologetically. "Excuse me, I did not mean to intrude," she told him, nodding a little in the dim light and then turning as if to leave him in peace.

"It's no intrusion," the man said. His voice was a deep rumble, his English accented but in an oddly musical way. He smiled at her, a brief flash of white teeth in his dark face. "We have something in common, you and I. We are both visitors here."

Pausing, Ororo smiled back at him. "Is that so? Where are you visiting from?" She was curious, of course, as it was obvious he didn't live in the village, though his accent made her think he could not be from too far off.

He waved a hand northwards. "Farther into the highlands," he said simply. "I was surprised to find other guests here tonight. You work with an NGO, Lwiza said?" Lwisa had been the matronly woman in charge of preparing the dinner for the village's guests.

"Not precisely," the silver-haired woman said with a shake of her head. "I am a friend of Nathan's - the older gentleman." She smirked to herself at that. "I came as a sort of cultural guide... and as a vacation for myself."

"I see." He gazed at her for a long moment, his dark eyes oddly penetrating, yet not in a way that evoked any discomfort. "... Kenya," he finally said. It didn't sound entirely like a guess.

"Yes," Ororo said, her smile growing. "Though it was some time ago that I last lived there."

He made a vaguely thoughtful sound, looking back out at the vista spread out in front of them, rolling grasslands and mountains. "I left for a time, myself. University, in England," he explained, his smile returning, lingering this time. "I don't regret going, but I found it difficult to stay away for so long."

"It is not easy," she agreed in a slightly softer tone of voice. "Though of course it is made less difficult if one is able to return, at least for a time."

"And so, you offer your services as a cultural guide." He made another thoughtful noise. "We see many well-meaning outsiders, here. Few of them ever follow through on their promises unless there is something of value to them in doing so."

"It is no different elsewhere. It is only more apparent here because of what those broken promises bring."

"True." The comment was almost pensive-sounding. He stood, moving with a noticeable stiffness. On his feet, however, he was even taller than he'd seemed at dinner - topping even Nathan by an inch or so. "And yet we never stop hoping that this time, the promises will be kept, do we?"

"If we did, there would be be an even more serious problem," Ororo replied, tilting her chin up to meet the man's eyes.

The smile she got in return seemed almost involuntary, and didn't quite meet his eyes. "Optimism is a rare trait," he said. "Even more rare, in Africa. The young red-haired girl called you Ororo, yes?" He extended a hand. "I am T'Challa."

"It is a pleasure," she said, slipping her hand into his and giving it a firm shake. "And I think you will find that no matter how rare, optimism still has a very real place here. As does hope. And groups like Nathan's NGO will ensure that they are given a chance."

The returning squeeze he gave her hand was oddly... careful. Measured, almost. There was something close to a twinkle in his dark eyes. "Perhaps you and I will have the chance to talk more. Over breakfast."

"I would like that, T'Challa."