Everyone except Esteban was unprepared for the chaos in the airport arrival area. All foreign arrivals had to go through Customs. The group was taken along with their luggage to a side room. They were led to this unlikely spot by two men in dirty uniforms with automatic pistols holstered in their belts.

At first Esteban had been excluded from the room, but after a loud argument on his part in a local dialect, he was allowed in. The men opened all the bags and spread the contents onto a picnic-sized table.

Esteban told Jack the men expected bribes. At first Jack refused on principle. When it became apparent that the standoff was going to last for hours, Jack relented. Ten French francs solved the problem.

As they exited into the main part of the airport, Esteban apologized. “It’s a problem here,” he said. “All government people take bribes.”

They were met by Esteban’s cousin whose name was Arturo. He was a heavyset, enormously friendly individual with bright eyes and flashing teeth who shook hands enthusiastically with everyone. He was attired in native African costume: flowing robes in a colorful print and a pillbox hat.

They stepped out of the airport into the hot, humid air of equatorial Africa. The vistas in all directions seemed immense since the land was relatively flat. The late-afternoon sky was a faraway blue directly overhead, but enormous thunderheads were nestled all along the horizon.

“Man, I can’t believe this,” Warren said. He was gazing around like a kid in a toy store. “I’ve been thinking about coming here for years, but I never thought I’d make it.” He looked at Jack. “Thanks, man. Give it here!” Warren stuck out his hand. He and Jack exchanged palm slaps as if they were back on the neighborhood basketball court.

Arturo had the rented van parked at curbside. He slipped a couple of bills into the palm of a policeman and gestured for everyone to climb in.

Esteban insisted that Jack ride in the front passenger seat. Too tired to argue, Jack climbed in. The vehicle was an old Toyota with two rows of benches behind the front bucket seats. Laurie and Natalie squeezed into the very back while Warren and Esteban took the middle.

As they exited the airport they had a view out over the ocean. The beach was broad and sandy. Gentle waves lapped the shore.

After a short distance, they passed a large unfinished concrete structure that was weathered and crumbling. Rusted rebars stuck out of the top like the spines of sea urchins. Jack asked what it was.

“It was supposed to be a tourist hotel,” Arturo said. “But there was no money and no tourists.”

“That’s a bad combination for business,” Jack said.

While Esteban played tour guide and pointed out various sights, Jack asked Arturo if they had far to go.

“No, ten minutes,” Arturo said.

“I understand you worked for GenSys,” Jack said.

“For three years,” Arturo said. “But no more. The manager is a bad person. I prefer to stay in Bata. I’m lucky to have work.”