Mists of the Serengeti(73)

“That’s a splendid idea. I would love to get some pictures of you with all the children you brought in.” Josephine ushered us out through the back gates and went to get her camera.

The lake lapped around us, dotted with purple blossoms floating on mats of waxy green leaves. Boulders lay scattered in the water, some balancing precariously on each other, as if put together by giants playing with pebbles. We lined up against the shore, sixteen of us, brought together like random threads in a tapestry, to meet at this junction, for one big, bright flash of the camera.

“Another!” said Bahati, striking a pose.

I felt the warmth of Jack’s arm around my waist as we smiled into the lens. He turned and kissed me as the next flash went off.

“I’m going to wash your hair when we’re alone,” I whispered.

“Not a fan of the untamed, wind-whipped look?”

“Just returning the favor. And you’re wrong. I find it sexy as hell—I can’t wait to run my fingers through it.”

Jack choked. He actually spluttered. “You should . . .” He coughed to catch his breath. “You should ride trains more often. They seem to have a liberating effect on you.”

“Yeah?” I stood on my tiptoes so I could coo into his ear. “I can think of a few other things I’d rather ride.”

I’m pretty sure the next photo caught him with his mouth hanging open.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he said through clenched teeth.

“Think of it as payback for playing hard to get, and then disappearing on me.” I smiled for the camera.

“You know, two can play this game.” His voice dropped a few notches as all five of his fingers slid onto the back of my neck. He grabbed my hair and tugged, holding me immobile. “Say cheese, Rodel.”

By the time the next flash went off, I was squirming.

“What’s the matter?” he teased, as he traced a long, sensuous line down my back, from my nape to my waistband. “Your English garden can’t handle the tropical heat?”

“Thank you. That should do,” said Josephine, wrapping it up.

Oh, thank God. I hopped away from Jack, thinking this must be exactly what it felt like to have a corset loosened at the end of the day.

“It’s time to go inside, kids,” said Josephine. “Say goodbye to your friends.”

My throat closed up as they hugged me, one by one.

“Kwaheri,” they said. “Asante.”

I kissed their snow-white cheeks and held on to them, knowing this was just the beginning. They still had a long, long way to go.

Please, world, be kind to them, I thought. And if not, just let them be.

I stood aside as Jack and Bahati said their goodbyes. Something whispered in the trees around us, sending shimmers of peek-a-boo sunlight through the leaves. I walked to the small boulder on the shore and unzipped my backpack. I took a deep breath and retrieved a notebook, letting it fall open to the page where I’d stored my sister’s Post-it notes.

It was time to say goodbye.

The lake was mirror-calm, reflecting angel-white clouds against a shimmering blue sky. It was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

It’s the perfect spot, Mo. Free and endless.

I held the three sticky notes and read the first one silently: July 17—Juma (Baraka)

Then I lowered it into the water and let go.

Goodbye, Juma. I’m sorry we didn’t get to you in time.

I smiled when I looked at the next one: Aug 29—Sumuni (Maymosi)

Goodbye, Sumuni. Keep rapping. Don’t ever let them silence you.

I smoothed out the last one and was hit with a surge of emotion: Sept 1—Furaha (Magesa)

Goodbye, Furaha. We’ll never meet because you’d already left with your family when we got there. And you’ll never know. Because of you, a lot of lives were saved. We came for you and found the others. Wherever you are, I hope you’re well. I hope you’re happy.

I sat back and watched the three yellow pieces of paper float away from me. They bobbed gently in the water, sending ripples in ever widening circles until they disappeared, like echoes in a vast valley.

Goodbye, Mo. The tears gradually found their way down my cheeks.

A breeze ruffled through the grass. Wildflowers unfurled slowly, like coral arms waving at low tide. I slipped my backpack on and started walking away. Then I paused and turned around. I’d left my notebook behind. As I bent to get it, a wave broke against the boulder and splashed me.

I sucked in my breath from the shock of cold water on my sun-warmed skin.

Where did that come from? The lake is so calm.

And yet it was all over me—my arms, my hair, my face.

“Look at you,” said Jack, when I joined him and Bahati. The kids had gone back inside and the two of them were waiting for me. “You look like you just took a glitter bath.”

“A glitter—” I stopped short and held my arms out. Beads of water clung to my skin like little sparkles of silver. “Oh, my God.” I laughed. Joy bubbled in my heart as I glanced back at the water.

“What is it?” asked Jack.

“My sister. She filled a balloon with glitter and left it in my closet. It popped and I looked like a disco ball for days. I think she just said goodbye.”

Jack and Bahati exchanged a puzzled look.