Poolside in Khartoum

We walked onto the pool deck and sussed out loungers in the shade – prime real estate in the 44 degree mid-day heat of Khartoum. Two women, enjoying a little Greek Club oasis, on a Friday afternoon. Little did we know that our lives were about to be changed forever.

Do you remember the moment when the magic first happened? I’m sure you do. Was it as I demurely passed onlookers in an attempt to slip unnoticed into the pool? Was it as my friend and I slid through the water to find a place that was both cool and without the distraction of our all-male in-pool contemporaries? Or when I returned to my lounger and covered up to reassert my modesty while contemplating life’s Big Issues with the friend beside me?

As you sat in my line of sight, I tried to continue on with my conversation with my friend, but your attention was palpable. I fought against the pull your gaze was eliciting, but the magnetism of your stare was resilient.  Was it really hours that your eyes vied for my attention? Or did it only feel that way?

When you pursed your lips at me, I felt it in the pit of my stomach, but I couldn’t let you know. No. That wouldn’t do.

Then you relaxed into the back of your chair and entwined the hair on your chest between your forefinger and your thumb, never letting your stare lose sight of me, and it was almost more than I could bear.

As you slipped your plush body into the water and waded around with flourish, I felt a momentary rush of delight. But don’t worry, it didn’t take me long to realize that you hadn’t forgotten about me and the show was in my honor. Each time you surfaced I knew your first thought was to replenish the air your lungs craved and your second thought, only a moment later, was to see if I was watching.

From behind the discretion of my dark shades, I could see the look in your eye.  Were we thinking the same thing? Of all the warm afternoons we could spend lounging around this very pool? You dabbing the beads of sweat from your brow while I braid the tufts of hair growing from your shoulders?

After the agony of your distanced attention all afternoon, and the struggle to resist the temptation to make eye contact, I summoned my last morsel of energy so that I could pull myself away.

Walking towards the car, my friend and I engaged in an enthusiastic ‘high-five’ in celebration of my resilience.

And then, there you were. 

Behind us.

Khan you said your name was. Or maybe it was Haan. It must have been my nervousness that made it difficult for me to understand you, it certainly wasn’t because of your accent.

“Promise me you’ll come back tomorrow” you said.

The most I could muster up was a slightly apologetic “probably not”.

A heart broke a little in that moment.

“Please? Please, I must see you again. Tomorrow”

“Um, maybe, we’ll see” I said

“Yes, please. Please, you must

Please…

Please?

I will wait for you all day"

When my friend whispered in my ear that the begging was getting embarrassing , I'm sure she was just jealous.

“Maybe” I said. “Bye”, and tore myself away.

I felt the affectionate heat of your stare - as strong as the mid-day Khartoum sun that had recently hung above us - follow as we walked away.

Tomorrow, when I scour the city in search of a new pool to lounge beside on my days off, I’ll be thinking of you, my Hairy Khan man.