She’d given them only the sketchiest version of events, but the Azanians were jumpy and confused, and didn’t seem to expect much from a desert apparition like herself. The camp’s director was a portly pipe-smoking black Azanian named Edmund Mbaqane. Mbaqane was bravely attempting to look bureaucratically unflappable and very much on top of things. "We’re so very grateful, Mrs. Webster ... forgive me if I seemed abrupt at first. To hear yet another story of this genocidal Bamako regime—it does make one’s blood boil."