Leaving Francistown
Copyright© 2025 by Art Samms
Chapter 21
I woke just before sunrise to the sound of birdsong and the far-off grumble of a vehicle starting somewhere near the staff quarters. My eyes opened slowly to the familiar ceiling of my tent, canvas walls bathed in that early golden light that always makes the Delta feel like something sacred. For a few seconds, I forgot what day it was.
And then I remembered.
Today, I’m getting married.
The thought landed on my chest like a weight and a lift all at once. It made me smile. It made my heart stutter. It made me sit up, swing my legs over the side of the cot, and exhale like I was about to walk into a lion’s den—except in the best possible way.
My tent was already warmer than usual. Someone must’ve been up for hours. Probably Kele and Thandiwe, orchestrating final logistics. Bliss would be with her mother and the other women by now, getting ready. I wouldn’t see her until I saw her walking toward me down the aisle, and just thinking about that moment made my chest go tight again.
I dressed slowly, deliberately—dark suit, pressed shirt, polished shoes I hadn’t worn since I’d arrived in Botswana. I caught a glimpse of myself in the small mirror hanging near the back of the tent and barely recognized the guy looking back. Not because he looked different, exactly, but because he looked ... sure.
There was a quiet knock at the tent flap.
“Benji,” Arthur called, his voice lighter than usual. “You ready to do this thing?”
“You know it,” I said, grabbing the small, carefully wrapped box that held the ring.
Arthur looked sharp—tie slightly askew, of course—but grinning. “Man cleans up,” he said with a nod. “This is going to be good.”
We loaded into the first vehicle heading to the airstrip. Most of the Delta gang would be flying out a little later, in waves. Arthur and I had the early flight with Tiro and two others to make sure everything was smooth on our end. I glanced around one last time as we pulled away—at the tents, the trees, the place where Bliss and I had first started to become a “we.”
I leaned back in the seat and watched the camp shrink behind us.
The flight to Gaborone was smooth, just under two hours. I sat with my forehead against the window, the landscape scrolling beneath us, my mind mostly quiet. No last-minute doubts, no cold feet—just this growing sense of anticipation. Of something huge and right unfolding exactly as it was meant to.
Bessie met us at the airport with her usual calm energy, but even she seemed a little lit up from within. She gave me a quick hug, then stepped back and looked me over.
“You look ready,” she said, smiling. “Nervous?”
“Only in the ways that count.”
She nodded as if that was the correct answer.
The car ride to the church was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Everyone gave me space to breathe. When we finally pulled up to the modest but beautiful church, my breath caught. It was already buzzing with soft commotion—guests arriving, decorations fluttering gently in the breeze, music drifting from somewhere inside.
I stepped out of the car, shoes hitting the stone walkway, and for a long second I just stood there. This was it. This was the place where I would see her, say the words, and begin everything that came after.
Arthur clapped a hand on my back. “Let’s get you married.”
I took a breath, squared my shoulders, and walked toward the door.
The interior of the church was cool and full of soft light, the morning sun filtering through tall windows in long slats of gold. Everything felt hushed and reverent—rows of wooden pews, white flowers arranged with simple elegance, and the gentle murmur of guests settling into place. I recognized faces here and there—Bliss’s cousins, aunts, uncles, her grandparents near the front. Bessie and Naledi sat just a few rows back, both of them beaming when they caught my eye.
I stood at the front beside the officiant, Arthur on my right, fidgeting only slightly. He offered me a sidelong glance and a subtle thumbs-up, like he knew exactly how hard my heart was pounding.
Then the music shifted.
Not dramatic. Not flashy. Just a gentle, lilting melody that seemed to rise from the floor itself. The doors at the back opened.
And there she was.
Bliss stood framed in the light, her arm linked with her father’s, her white dress flowing with every step like something out of a dream I’d never dared let myself have. She wasn’t smiling—not yet—but her eyes locked with mine and something settled inside me. Like gravity had chosen a center and it was her.
Her father walked her down the aisle slowly, with pride in every step. I caught the briefest hint of emotion on his face—maybe even the glint of tears. When they reached the front, he gave her hand one last squeeze before placing it in mine.
“Take care of each other,” he said softly, just for us. Then he stepped back, and suddenly the whole church seemed to blur away.
Bliss looked up at me and smiled—not wide, not showy, just soft and steady and full of every silent thing we’d been through together.
“You look beautiful,” I whispered.
“You’re not too bad yourself,” she murmured, and we both grinned like kids getting away with something.
The ceremony unfolded around us like a calm tide. The words were familiar—timeless vows about love, commitment, patience, strength. But every phrase felt brand new in my mouth. I meant every syllable like I was speaking a truth into being.
When the moment came to exchange rings, my fingers trembled just slightly. Not from fear—but from the sheer weight of it. The magnitude. I slipped the ring onto her finger, and her hands steadied mine.
And then the officiant smiled. “You may now kiss the bride.”
I didn’t hesitate.
The kiss was soft and sure, her hands rising to my shoulders, mine to her waist, everything else falling away. There was applause, laughter, the rustle of people rising from their seats—but all I could feel was her.
My wife.
We turned to face the crowd together, hands clasped, and I couldn’t help it—I laughed, breathless, overwhelmed in the best way.
Bliss leaned in. “You ready?”
“I’ve never been readier.”
Together, we walked down the aisle, back into the light.
The soft peal of the final hymn still echoed faintly as Bliss and I stepped through the arched doors at the back of the church, blinking into the bright sunlight. Just outside, under a shaded awning, the receiving line was already forming.
Arthur, Kele, Bliss’s parents, and her grandparents had moved ahead to help shepherd people toward the reception site. That left us to greet the rest of the guests—family, friends, and those who had become something more than colleagues during our time in the Delta. Bliss curled her fingers through mine and leaned close. “Ready for the gauntlet?”
“Only if you promise not to let go.”
She smiled, and we turned to face the line of well-wishers.
Joseph reached us first, beaming. “I still say she’s way out of your league,” he teased, giving me a hearty handshake before pulling Bliss into a hug. “But I’ll allow it. Congratulations to you both.”
“Thanks, Joseph,” Bliss said, laughing. “You’re family now. Officially.”
Next came Thandiwe, in a soft lavender dress that suited her usual understated elegance. “You two,” she said, shaking her head with a fond grin. “Honestly, I didn’t think either of you had the guts for this kind of leap. Shows what I know.”
“Your toast better include that admission,” I said.
“I’ll think about it,” she said with a wink, then hugged Bliss tightly. “You’re radiant.”
Then came Malebogo, walking hand in hand with a tall man in a sharp suit. “Finally!” she cried. “I’ve been waiting for this since the first time I saw you two pretend you weren’t madly in love.”
Bliss laughed and hugged her. “And you brought the mystery man.”
“This is Kabelo,” Malebogo said proudly. “Ben, Bliss—my plus-one, and the reason I survived grad school.”
Kabelo shook my hand firmly. “I’ve heard more about you two than you’d ever believe. Congratulations.”
“Glad we finally get to meet,” I said. “You’ve got a great one here.”
“Don’t I know it,” he said, squeezing Malebogo’s hand.
Next was Bessie, radiant in a deep blue wrap dress, her smile luminous. She cupped Bliss’s cheeks in both hands. “My girl,” she said softly. “You were glowing.”
“Thank you,” Bliss said, eyes misting. “We couldn’t have done this without you.”
Then Bessie turned to me. “You did it, Ben. Properly. Respectfully. I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you,” I said. “That means more than I can say.”
Naledi popped up beside her, practically bouncing in her dress shoes. “Okay, now it’s official! Mr. and Mrs. Carr!”
Bliss burst into laughter and hugged her tightly. “I’ll take that title.”
Naledi grabbed my hand and shook it solemnly. “Good job, Ben.”
Tiro approached next, his usual calm laced with something warmer. “You two are already a team,” he said simply. “This just makes it permanent. I’m proud to know you both.”
Bliss hugged him while I shook his hand. “Thanks for everything, Tiro. Seriously.”
Dr. Ellington’s turn came next. He had that trademark calm authority about him, but there was genuine warmth behind his glasses. “Mr. and Mrs. Carr,” he said with a small smile. “You make a fine match.”
“Thank you for being here,” I said. “It means a lot.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it,” he said. “And I expect you both back to work soon—after a proper honeymoon.”
We laughed and assured him we’d take care of both aspects.