Leaving Francistown
Copyright© 2025 by Art Samms
Chapter 19
Around noon, I slipped away from the bustle of camp. The students were off gathering data, Joseph was coordinating gear drop-offs, and Bliss was deep in planning mode with Kele and Malebogo. No one noticed me duck into the communications tent.
I zipped the flap shut behind me, took a breath, and powered up the satellite rig. The midday heat pressed in around me like a blanket, but my nerves were doing a fine job keeping me alert. As the video call connected, I sat down on the wooden bench and braced myself. Not because I was uncertain—I wasn’t—but because this felt like the first domino in something big.
Bessie’s face filled the screen a few seconds later, her expression warm and curious as always.
“Ben! What a nice surprise,” she said. “Is everything all right at camp?”
“Everything’s good,” I replied, and then lowered my voice slightly. “Is Naledi around?”
Bessie gave me a small, knowing smile. “No, she’s out to lunch. Why? You about to say something you don’t want repeated in the group chat?”
I chuckled. “Something like that.”
“Well, now you’ve got me curious,” she said, leaning forward. “Spill it, Ben.”
I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves even though I already knew what I was going to say. “I want to propose to Bliss.”
Bessie blinked, then slowly leaned back in her chair, her smile widening into something luminous. “Oh, Ben.”
Her voice was soft, warm, maybe even a little emotional. “I had a feeling this was coming sooner or later. You two have become...” She shook her head affectionately. “You’ve built something strong. I’m very happy for you.”
“Thanks,” I said, meaning it with every ounce of sincerity I could muster. “But I want to do this right. I know what proposing might look like in the States, but I don’t know the customs here—what’s expected. Do I need to speak to her father first? Or both parents? Do I reach out formally, or is it okay to ask Bliss first and then follow up?”
Bessie nodded slowly, as if she’d been waiting for this moment and had already prepared the answer.
“You’re right to ask,” she said. “And I’m proud of you for thinking this through.”
She adjusted her scarf slightly and continued, “In Botswana, especially among more traditional families, it’s customary to seek the blessing of the parents—particularly the father—before proposing. It’s not legally required, of course, but it’s a gesture of deep respect. It shows that you honor the family, not just the individual.”
I nodded, heart thudding. “So, I should talk to her dad before I even mention it to her?”
“If you can,” she said gently. “And I think you can. He’ll respect you for it. I believe they already like you, Ben. He may ask you serious questions, but he’ll give you a fair hearing.”
“And if I can’t talk to him in person?” I asked. “Would a video call be enough for something like this?”
“Given the distance, yes,” she said. “A video call is perfectly acceptable. Just make sure it’s you calling him directly, not Bliss doing the arranging. Keep it personal, man to man.”
I ran a hand over my face, absorbing it all. “All right. That’s what I’ll do.”
She studied me for a moment, her expression soft. “You’re already part of this community, Ben. Part of her world. This is just the next step in making it official. And don’t overthink it too much. Her parents want her to be happy. They see how happy she is with you.”
I let that settle. “Thanks, Bessie. I really appreciate this.”
“Of course,” she said. “And when the time comes ... I better be one of the first to know how it all goes down.”
“You will be,” I said with a grin. “I promise.”
We exchanged a few more pleasantries, then ended the call. I sat there for another minute in the quiet, the screen black again in front of me. But inside, I was anything but still.
I had a plan now. A direction. It was time to take the next step.
However, after mulling it over, I decided to revise the plan. I wanted to speak to Bliss’s father face-to-face. A video call wasn’t going to cut it. But how to arrange that? I had an idea.
It was shortly after lunch when I found a quiet moment to pull Tiro aside. We walked a short distance from camp, out toward a cluster of acacia trees. The heat was settling into the afternoon like a thick quilt, and a pair of hornbills flitted across the sky as we walked. Tiro glanced at me with that calm, knowing look of his. The man missed nothing.
“Everything all right, Ben?” he asked.
I nodded. “It is. Actually ... I need to ask for a little help. Confidentially.”
That caught his full attention. He stopped walking and turned to face me, arms crossed lightly over his chest.
“I’m listening.”
I hesitated for a moment, then took the leap. “I want to propose to Bliss.”
A slow grin spread across his face. “Aha. I see.”
“I’ve already spoken with Bessie —she’s a friend of mine, and my number one cultural advisor. She said I should talk to Bliss’s father first, ask for his blessing.”
Tiro nodded in approval. “That’s wise.”
“I want to do it in person,” I continued. “Face-to-face. Not over a call, if I can help it. But I don’t want Bliss to know I’m going. So, I was wondering...” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Is there any work reason I could use to justify a quick day trip to Gaborone? Something small. A meeting, a delivery, anything that would make sense.”
Tiro didn’t hesitate. “Actually, yes. We’ve been meaning to send someone to finalize the scheduling for that research permit renewal meeting at the university. It would make perfect sense for you to go—you’re already our point of contact with the administration.”
I exhaled, grateful. “Perfect. I’ll fly out in the morning, handle the renewal, drop in on her father mid-day, then fly back that evening.”
“Smart,” Tiro said, still smiling. “You know, Ben, the old ways and the modern ways—sometimes they don’t always line up perfectly. But showing respect to the family? That never goes out of style.”
He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Be sincere. Be steady. Don’t try to impress. Just speak from the heart. That’s what fathers look for.”
“Thanks, Tiro,” I said. “Really. I appreciate it.”
Later that afternoon, I slipped back into the comms tent and placed another video call to Bessie.
Her face appeared again, mid-sip of tea. “Back so soon?”
“There’s a change of plans,” I said with a smile. “I’m coming in person.”
Her brows rose, clearly surprised but clearly pleased. “You’re serious.”
“I am. I want to talk to her father face-to-face. I’ve got a work excuse lined up with my boss, and a flight booked for the morning.”
“Well then,” she said, setting down her cup, “Count on me being at the airport to collect you. Don’t worry about transport. And if you need any help getting to the right place at the right time, I’ll handle it.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Really.”
“It’s my pleasure. I’m proud of you, Ben. This means a lot to her family—and it will mean even more to Bliss.”
When the call ended, I sat for a moment, quietly absorbing the weight of it all. I didn’t feel overwhelmed. I felt ... ready.
That night, after dinner, Bliss and I sat outside together under the stars. We shared a thermos of tea, passing it back and forth between quiet conversation. Eventually, she stood and gave me a long, lingering hug goodnight.
“Safe travels tomorrow,” she said. “Bring me something from Gabs. Even if it’s just a snack.”
“I will,” I said with a grin. “Text me if you need anything while I’m gone.”
We kissed, and she disappeared into the glow of her tent.
Once I was alone, I stepped into my own tent and zipped the flap behind me. The lamp gave off a warm glow as I packed a small bag—nothing fancy, just what I needed for the day trip. Shirt. Docs. Toothbrush, just in case. A small notebook in case I needed to write anything down.
I laid the shirt flat and stared at it for a moment, my mind spinning, but not so much that it made me nervous.
This was happening. I was going to ask her father for her hand. And somehow, it felt like the most natural next step in the world.
Tomorrow, everything might change.
And I was ready.
The early flight out of Maun was smooth and quiet, just a few scattered passengers onboard. I’d brought a book, but I didn’t crack it open. My mind was too full, rehearsing different ways I might say the same thing, wondering what his reaction would be. What her reaction would be. I stared out the window instead, watching the Delta shrink behind us. Before too long, I saw towns and roads and fields until the edges of Gaborone began to take shape beneath us.
I hadn’t worn anything fancy, just a clean button-down and khakis, but I’d shaved carefully that morning and gave myself a long look in the mirror before leaving camp. This mattered.
As I stepped off the plane into the bright Gaborone morning, I scanned the small crowd outside Arrivals—and there was Bessie, standing by her car in dark sunglasses and a white blouse, waving me over with a wide smile.
“Ready for the big moment?” she asked as I tossed my bag in the back seat.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I said.
She handed me a bottle of water as I climbed into the front seat. Traffic wasn’t bad. We chatted lightly as we made our way through the city, but she seemed to sense that I needed some quiet, too. She turned down the music and let me sit in my thoughts as we got closer.
Finally, we pulled up in front of the same tidy house in a leafy neighborhood I’d visited not too long ago. It looked the same—low garden wall, well-kept hedge, red roof tiles glowing in the sunlight. Bessie squeezed my arm gently before I got out.
“Speak from the heart,” she said. “That’s what matters.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. Then I walked up the path.
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