Leaving Francistown
Copyright© 2025 by Art Samms
Chapter 20
We decided to tell everyone at lunch the next day. Bliss and I emerged from our tents, both of us wearing the sort of sleepy smiles that were impossible to hide. Her ring — her engagement ring — glittered as she reached for my hand. That sight alone nearly floored me all over again.
We took our breakfast early together under the canopy, sipping strong coffee and keeping our voices low, speaking in that language that exists only between two people who’ve just made a life-altering promise to each other.
“I can’t believe you went all the way to Gaborone to talk to my father,” gushed Bliss. “That is so romantic ... and so respectful.”
“Anything for you,” I smiled. “And your father deserves to be asked in person.”
After breakfast, we split up for a bit and spent most of the morning tending to our work responsibilities.
Just before noon, we met up. Now, finally, it was time to share the news with those important to us.
First on the list ... her parents.
We ducked into the small office cabin where the signal was strongest, fired up the laptop, and set up the video call. My heart pounded harder than it had last night. Bliss was composed, but I could feel the tension in her fingers as we waited for the call to connect.
Her mother’s face appeared first. “Bliss! Ben! What a lovely surprise!”
Her father stepped into view behind her, eyebrows raised.
“Hi Mama. Hi Papa,” Bliss said, her voice light but shaking slightly. “We have something to tell you.”
She reached across and took my hand, held it up slightly — and there it was, the ring, gleaming in the camera light.
There was a moment of stunned silence. Her mother gasped.
“Oh!” her father exclaimed, his eyes darting quickly between the screen and Bliss’s face.
“Mama, Papa ... Ben asked me to marry him,” Bliss said, her voice steadier now. “And I said yes.”
Her mother’s hand covered her mouth, tears rising in her eyes almost instantly.
Her father blinked a few times, then straightened up. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”
I chuckled, trying not to look too nervous.
He continued, “You’ve both been building toward this for a long time. And I have to say, Ben...” His expression softened. “Thank you for coming to me the way you did. That meant a great deal.”
“Of course,” I said, meaning every word. “It was important to me to do this the right way.”
Her mother finally spoke, her voice thick with emotion. “We’re so happy for you both. Truly. This is wonderful news.”
After a few more minutes of excited chatter and assurances that we’d be making another trip to Gaborone soon to celebrate properly, we said our goodbyes and ended the call.
We barely took a breath before dialing up Bessie.
This time, she answered with a knowing smile already forming.
“Is it done?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.
Bliss held up her hand with a grin.
Bessie let out a little cheer. “Oh, I am so happy for you both! And look at that ring — beautiful!”
“We wanted to tell you right away,” I said. “You’ve been a big part of this — of all of this.”
She waved a dismissive hand but smiled warmly. “I was honored to be included. Bliss, you’ve chosen wisely — and Ben, so have you.”
We talked a bit longer, with Bessie offering her usual grounded wisdom and a few teasing remarks about wedding planning.
“Don’t tell Naledi yet, okay?” Bliss said to Bessie with a giggle.
“Oh, I won’t,” laughed Bessie. “She’ll be over the moon when she finds out.”
Then we signed off and turned toward the final step: telling our camp family.
Back in the main dining area, we found Joseph, Kele, Arthur, Malebogo, and a few of the others lounging in the midday shade, half-finished lunches in front of them.
I looked at Bliss. She nodded, gave my hand a squeeze.
“Hey everyone,” I said, raising my voice slightly. “We’ve got a little news to share.”
That got their attention fast. A few heads turned, brows raised.
Bliss held up her left hand. The second the ring caught the light, the group erupted.
Kele shrieked with joy. Joseph jumped to his feet. Arthur gave a loud whoop and thumped the table with a grin.
“Finally!” Kele cried. “We’ve all been waiting for this!”
Malebogo was already tearing up. “Oh my goodness, you two!”
There was hugging, laughter, more hugging. Even Arthur looked uncharacteristically moved — though he recovered quickly with a typical wisecrack.
“Now let’s see if you can plan a wedding without a single PowerPoint,” he said.
Bliss fired back instantly. “Only if you promise not to make a toast that lasts an hour.”
That drew fresh laughter, and Arthur just raised his hands in mock surrender.
I watched with amusement as a still-glowing Bliss corralled Kele and Malebogo, and the three of them went off into a corner, with Bliss already pressing the screen of her phone. I looked over at Joseph, who was taking in the whole scene with a grin. A few seconds later, a scream came from Bliss’s phone – so loud it almost caused the tent to come away from its moorings.
“Naledi,” Joseph and I said at the same time, and then we started cracking up.
Tiro, having heard the commotion, poked his head in. Bliss showed him the ring; Tiro smiled broadly and offered us congratulations.
I looked around at this circle of people — these teammates, friends, companions — and felt something deep settle in my chest. Joy, of course. But also ... belonging.
We were no longer just passing through each other’s lives. This was family. And now, Bliss and I were beginning the next chapter surrounded by the best kind of people.
As the laughter died down and the group slowly dispersed, Bliss leaned close and whispered, “That went even better than I expected.”
I smiled. “You say that like I’m done surprising you.”
Her grin widened, and she leaned in to kiss me, right there in front of everyone, modesty be damned.
Let them see. This was us. And this was just the beginning.
The next few days passed in a bit of a blur — congratulations from colleagues, messages from friends, a few curious glances from the newer camp members who were just now catching on.
Every time Bliss reached for my hand and her ring caught the light, it stirred something warm and solid in my chest. A promise, visible.
But today, we were sitting under the canvas roof of the office cabin again, laptop open in front of us, calling her parents to talk wedding plans for the first time.
Her father answered with his usual composed nod. Her mother appeared over his shoulder moments later, already smiling. Bliss did most of the talking at first, updating them on how the camp crew had responded and what people were saying.
Then her mother leaned in. “Have you two talked at all about where? Or when?”
Bliss glanced at me, letting me take that one.
I cleared my throat and sat forward a little. “Actually, yes. I wanted to bring this up with you both. It’s important to me that we do this the right way. I’d really like to have a traditional wedding. A Botswana wedding. If that’s something you’d be comfortable with.”
Bliss’s father blinked — not in surprise, but in approval. Her mother’s smile deepened.
“Oh, Ben,” she said, clearly moved. “That would mean so much to us.”
“I want to honor where Bliss comes from,” I added. “Her roots, her family. You’ve welcomed me with open arms. I’d like to start our life together by honoring that.”
Her father gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “That’s a very good thing, son. And it tells me you’re serious about building a life with her, not just around her.”
Bliss reached over and took my hand under the table. I squeezed back.
“We’d like to have it in Gaborone,” Bliss said, her voice steady. “So family can attend more easily, and it’s home. A Saturday, four months from now — that gives us time to prepare, and gives the Delta team time to arrange travel.”
“Four months?” her mother echoed, already doing the math. “All right. That’s reasonable. We’ll help you with the arrangements here — the venue, food, the family side of things. We’ll need to talk to aunties, uncles. There will be protocols, of course.”
“We’ll follow them,” I said. “All of them.”
Her parents looked pleased — deeply pleased, the kind of expression you get when something sacred is being respected. We spoke for a while longer — mostly her mother bouncing ideas, her father chiming in with logistical notes, Bliss scribbling things down on a notepad. I was mostly quiet now, listening, soaking in the fact that this was happening.
We were planning a wedding.
Not just any wedding — our wedding. A Botswana wedding. With color, music, food, family, laughter. The Delta crew would be there too. Somehow, this strange and sprawling world we’d built in the wilderness was folding itself into something even bigger. A life. A future.
After the call ended and we sat back in the relative quiet, Bliss turned to me, eyebrows raised. “Traditional wedding, huh?”
I nodded. “It felt right. You and your family ... that’s home now. And if we’re doing this, we’re doing it all in.”
Her eyes shimmered. “You really mean that?”
I leaned in. “With everything I’ve got.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment, just reached for my hand again. The same hand she’d reached for the day we met.
“Okay,” she said, her voice soft and sure. “Let’s do it right.”
Bliss and I made our way to the office tent late that afternoon. Tiro was already inside, standing with a mug of coffee in one hand and a clipboard in the other. Thandiwe and Arthur were sitting at the table, deep in a discussion that paused the moment we stepped in.
“We’ve got our first official logistical puzzle,” I said, grinning.
Tiro raised an eyebrow. “The wedding?”
I nodded. “Saturday, four months from now. Gaborone.”
Arthur leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Well, well. Time to figure out how to uproot half the camp and move it to the big city.”
“Exactly,” Bliss said, dropping into a chair next to Thandiwe. “We’ll need a plan — how to keep things running here, make sure the students or researchers scheduled around that time aren’t left hanging, and get everyone who wants to come down to Gaborone.”
Tiro put his coffee down and sat. “All right. Let’s think this through. We’ll need to stagger the travel. Some folks can go down a day early, some the day of. Do we know how many want to attend?”
“Pretty much the entire team,” I said. “No pressure.”
That got a few chuckles.
“We’ll need vehicles,” Arthur said. “Maybe hire a small bus or two. Coordinate it with supply runs if we can.”
“Or organize it like a field mission,” Thandiwe added. “Assign team leads for both locations. One to oversee things here while the rest are in Gaborone. Rotate who stays behind. No reason everyone can’t go for at least the weekend.”
“I can handle logistics with the drivers,” Tiro said. “If you two can finalize the date and give me a headcount, I’ll work with the rental company in Maun and Francistown. I’ll also coordinate with Joseph — he’ll know who’s essential to keep camp running.”
“Thank you,” Bliss said, her voice full of genuine gratitude. “We didn’t want to make this difficult for anyone.”
“You’re not,” Thandiwe said. “You’re doing something worth celebrating. We’ll make it work.”
Arthur pointed a finger. “But I call dibs on choosing the playlist for the trip.”
Bliss smirked. “As long as it’s not just Australian country music.”
Arthur put a hand to his chest, mock-offended. “You wound me.”
We all laughed, and for a moment, it just felt easy. Warm. Like we’d been doing this together for decades.
The talk turned to details — routes, timing, meals, accommodations. There would be family to meet, events leading up to the wedding, maybe even a small cultural orientation for the foreigners on the team, most of whom had never been south of Maun. Thandiwe made a list of suggestions. Tiro proposed setting up a central group chat just for travel and logistics.
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