In the dull light that came from the candle on his camp desk, Leonard saw a mosquito zip past on a whining mission to his ear. He slammed his hand against his ear but knew he had missed. The mosquitoes were driving him crazy. How were these Africans able to live in these conditions?
He had been forced to sleep under a net the previous night in order not to risk catching a fever. It was as if the rain of the night before had unleashed battalions of mosquitoes to war against humankind. A fortnight before the rain, two of his white soldiers had contracted malaria and he’d had them transferred to the Royal Niger Company for treatment. But news came early that morning that one of the men, Walter Wilberforce, had kicked the bucket.
The rain, which was to usher in the doctor wind from the Sahar
