Mists of the Serengeti(37)

“I am not a guard. Never claimed to be. I am an actor. You paid me to stay here until you returned. You got back last night. The way I see it, my contract ended then. Besides, I am only playing the role of a guard. When people see me, they see a fierce Maasai warrior they don’t want to cross. That’s all that matters. Their perception. They don’t have to know I wouldn’t harm a fly. So, you see, everything gets resolved peacefully. No combat, no fighting. But hyenas in the middle of the night? They’re all yours.”

“Well, you can help me bury this one,” said Jack. “And then I’m hoping you can drive Rodel to Amosha so she can pick up her things. It turns out that I need you a little longer. I’ve been gone a couple of days, and I need to catch up. I could do with some help until Rodel and I leave for Wanza. You think you can handle that?”

Bahati rubbed his chin and glanced at the hyena. “Same pay?”

“Same pay.”

“No bonus for disposing of dead bodies?”

“No bonus. It’s still a lot more than what you make from your trips and The Grand Tulip,” said Jack. “You want in or not?”

“Yes, yes. Of course. Just checking. But I think we should have a code. For emergencies, you know? In case I need you. Your farm is a dangerous place. Yesterday, I saw a snake. It crossed the path right before me. Maybe I should get a whistle. What do you think? And all this stuff with Scholastica gives me heartburn. I hardly slept a wink while you were away. Goma forgets to lock the front door. And your house is old. It makes a lot of noise at night. I keep having panic attacks. And then this shooting. Wild animals sniffing around. I should get some kind of compensation. Health and hazard . . .”

I retreated slowly as he prattled on. I wanted to slink away and pretend that my insides weren’t jangled, that the tingling in the pit of my stomach was from the early morning scare, and had nothing to do with Jack’s scorching appraisal.

When I got to the house, I turned around.

I could have sworn Jack was still watching me.



“I AM GOING to town with Rodel and Bahati,” announced Goma.

“What for?” Jack refilled his water bottle and leaned against the counter. He’d been out all morning, and his face was flushed from the sun.

“Someone needs to follow up on that girl’s father.” She gestured to Scholastica. “He’s missing, and no one seems to give a damn.”

“His sister already filed a report with the police.”

“Yes, I spoke to her. Rodel left me her phone number in case of an emergency with Scholastica. Anna said the police think Gabriel’s abandoned his daughter. If that’s the case, fine. But I want to hear it from him. I’ve jotted down all his details. I’m going to visit my friend at the police station and have them track Gabriel down.”

“Just be careful, okay?” Jack couldn’t hide the concern he felt for his grandmother. “Don’t let them know we have Scholastica here. In case someone knows he has an albino daughter.”

“I’m no fool, boy.” Goma put on a pair of mirrored, rainbow sunglasses. They covered most of her face and reflected the world in two colorful, round saucers. “You’ll keep an eye on Scholastica?”

“We’ll check in on the calf,” replied Jack. “Would you like that, Scholastica?” He switched to Swahili and sat down beside her.

Jack and I were avoiding gazes, which was fine with me. Dealing with the high voltage zinging between us was one thing; having it pointed out by Goma just served to amplify the whole situation. We were both feeling guilty for it because desire has no place at grief’s table, and yet, there it was, sitting between us like a shameless, uninvited guest.

“Well, we’re off,” said Goma, as we stepped out the door.

“Kwaheri!” Scholastica waved goodbye. She seemed to have grown closer to Goma while Jack and I were away.

“Look how my Suzi is shining today!” Bahati preened as Goma and I got into his jeep. He had waxed and polished her to a dazzling gleam.

“If you spent half as much time paying attention to a nice, young lady, as you do to your Suzi, you’d have a family by now.”

“Family is fickle. My Suzi—” he thumped the dashboard “—she is solid. Reliable. Jack said you met my father, Miss Rodel?”

“It’s Ro.” It was funny how he called Jack and Goma by their names, but was more formal with me. I was learning it was his way of distancing himself. “And yes, I met Olonana. Your grandmother gave me this.” I held up the bracelet so he could see it in his rearview.

“They were nicer to you than to me. You know what my father gave me? My nickname. Bahati. Bahati Mbaya.”

“You don’t like it?” I asked. We had left the stone pillars of Kaburi Estate behind and were driving down the main road to Amosha.

“You wouldn’t like it either if you knew the meaning. Bahati means luck. Mbaya means bad. My father thinks I am bad luck. When I was born, Lonyoki, our oloiboni, had a vision. He saw me riding the back of a giant, black serpent. I was fighting my own kind, helping the white people. Many years ago, the colonialists took our land. We are still trying to recover and hold on to our way of life. Lonyoki believed I was a threat to the village, but my father loved me. He listened to Lonyoki on all matters except that, and it displeased the oloiboni. He blamed every misfortune on me. If the rains didn’t come, it was my fault. If his spells didn’t work, it was my fault. If disease wiped out our cows, it was my fault.