H.R.H.

The African women who stood watching them were wearing the most exotic costumes Christianna had ever seen. They had tightly braided hair in tiny rows strung with beads and jewels that hung on their faces. They were heavily adorned, and draped in interesting fabrics, some of them woven with gold or metallic threads. Some of the women were fully covered, and others stood watching her with bare breasts. Their elaborate costumes and efforts to adorn themselves were in sharp contrast to the plain, unattractive clothes worn by the Western workers, who looked anything but sexy or even attractive in their T-shirts, shorts, jeans, and hiking boots. Geoff explained to her that there were nine ethnic groups or tribes, in Eritrea, the Tigrinya, Rashaida, Afar, Tigre, Kunama, Saho, Nara, Bilen, and Hedareb, and she was struck almost immediately by the warmth of the African women's smiles. One of them came up and embraced her, explained that she was from Ghana, and said her name was Akuba, and proudly told Christianna that she was a Red Cross volunteer. Christianna also met one of the African men who helped them at the center, whose name was Yaw. It was a lot of information to absorb all at once, a lot of people, a brand-new place, an entirely different culture, a whole new life, an unfamiliar job. Christianna felt overwhelmed as she looked around, and tried to take it all in. It would have been almost impossible to explain to anyone what a feast it was to the senses, how exciting it was, or how gentle and sweet the Africans seemed. Their faces were faintly similar to Ethiopians, they definitely looked related in spite of the hatred and long history of warfare between them. A fifth of Eritrea's population had fled the country, during those battles, before the truce five years before. But none of the faces Christianna saw around her appeared embittered. On the contrary, the people were beautiful, and seemed very warm.

“You must be exhausted,” Geoff interrupted the many introductions. He could see that she was tired, and they had been driving for nearly five hours. She had come to the farthest reaches of the world. But Christianna had never been happier, and like a child at a birthday party, she wanted to drink it all in.

“I'm fine,” she said gamely, chatting for a moment first with Akuba, and then speaking to the Eritrean women, and finally with the people she would be working with for the next months. She could hardly wait to get to know them, and to start work herself.

“Come on,” Fiona said with a broad smile. “Allow me to escort you to the Ritz.” She pointed to one of the large tents on one side of the cluster of huts, where they worked. They lived in the tents, the women on one side, the men on the other, and for those who wished to combine forces like Maggie and Geoff, they had separate, smaller tents. The men's tent was referred to as the George V, after the illustrious hotel in Paris, and the women's tent was the Ritz.

Christianna took her valise from Samuel, and he looked instantly unhappy about it. He didn't like her going off alone, before he and Max had assessed the place, and they hadn't had time to yet. She gave him a nod and a smile, firmly took the bag from his hand, and set off after Fiona. Real life had begun.

The tent Fiona took her to was larger than Christianna had expected, and airier than it looked from the outside. It was a heavy canvas tent they had bought from the military, they had put a wooden floor in it, and there were eight cots, one of which had been unoccupied since Maggie moved out to live in a separate tent with Geoff. And with the new arrivals, there would be eight men in the men's tent. The Africans who worked for them at the center lived in huts they built themselves. And Maggie and Geoff had their own tent, which Geoff had bought himself.

Fiona walked Christianna over to the far corner. There was a small night table with a drawer in it next to her cot, with a battery-operated lamp, and there was a battered military-surplus footlocker at the foot of the bed.