fresh air. Jarrod takes my hand and we run, and I laugh, freer than I’ve felt in forever. And when I look at the hand I’m holding, the man I’m running with isn’t Jarrod at all.
It’s Damu.
“You are okay, Alé?” Damu whispered in my ear, his arm was around my chest.
I relaxed straight away, and although my heart was racing, I could tell it wasn’t a full-blown episode.
From the colour of the sky outside the door, I knew we’d be getting up soon. But I sunk back against Damu’s chest and held his arm where it was wrapped around me until my breathing was back to normal.
When he made no effort to move, or put distance between us, I sighed with relief. “Thank you,” I said quietly. I didn’t know what exactly I was thanking him for. For comforting me, for not pushing me away, for being my only ray of sunshine in an otherwise dark and lonely world. For everything.
When we’d collected water and drank our uji, I went about my morning chores and Damu went in search of Kijani. He gave him the money and a list I’d made with the few things I was after. I had to hope the people at the market could read, because no one at the village could. I’d written in English and the best translations Damu and I could come up with.
I’d also explained, with the help of Damu being my translator, to Joseph and Mbaya what I was after. It would be a miracle if they came back with anything close. I was just grateful that they were trying.
Kijani’s initial “no” to my request was because he assumed I expected the village to pay for the school items. They certainly didn’t have money to spare on such things, so I couldn’t blame him for his kneejerk reaction. I still don’t think he liked me, but he tolerated me and I considered that a win.
Though as the morning went on, I noticed things were different. First off, most of the women were gone. The older women remained, tending to the children, and the middle age-set of boys, ages from around ten to eighteen, were wearing black instead of red.
“What’s going on?” I asked Damu. “Why is Nampasso wearing black?”
“This begins the eunoto .”
“When they will be circumcised?” Then I thought about it. “Ouch.”
Damu laughed. “Yes. Very painful.”
“What happens at eunoto?”
“Their mothers will build a inkajijik , a house, for them to stay in. They will have circumcision, but no sound. Not make noise.”
I’m pretty sure my mouth fell open. “At all?”
“No sound or dishonour.”
I squinted at him. “At all?”
He chuckled. “No.”
Jesus. That hurt just thinking about it. “Wow. Did you make a noise?”
He shook his head proudly. “No.”
“Good Lord. I’m pretty sure I would scream like a stuck pig.”
Damu laughed again. “You have it done, yes?”
“Well, yes. When I was about two weeks old. And I’m pretty sure I would have screamed like a stuck pig.”
Damu chuckled. “Then they will stay there and learn the warrior ways. When this is done, there will be ceremony. New warriors return, old warriors return as elders.”
“Will Kijani not be a warrior anymore?”
Damu tried not to smile. “You not like him?”
“He scares me. He’s intimidating and angry.”
“Yes. Because he is warrior. His job very serious. As he should. He’s important job.” Damu spoke of such reverence for a man that treated him like shit. It boggled my mind. “He will remain warrior. Then he be chief when Kasisi is not. He will take wife after this eunoto.”
I mulled this over for a while. Then I asked, “What about you?”
“What of me?”
“What does that mean to you? Will you become an elder? You’re in the same age-set as Kijani, yes?”
He took a long while to answer, and he gave me a tight smile. “I not warrior. I have no age-set.”
Oh, that’s right. Because his mother died during childbirth. The favoured wife of Kasisi, revered mother to Kijani. And for some reason they blamed Damu.
“Does that make
It’s Damu.
“You are okay, Alé?” Damu whispered in my ear, his arm was around my chest.
I relaxed straight away, and although my heart was racing, I could tell it wasn’t a full-blown episode.
From the colour of the sky outside the door, I knew we’d be getting up soon. But I sunk back against Damu’s chest and held his arm where it was wrapped around me until my breathing was back to normal.
When he made no effort to move, or put distance between us, I sighed with relief. “Thank you,” I said quietly. I didn’t know what exactly I was thanking him for. For comforting me, for not pushing me away, for being my only ray of sunshine in an otherwise dark and lonely world. For everything.
When we’d collected water and drank our uji, I went about my morning chores and Damu went in search of Kijani. He gave him the money and a list I’d made with the few things I was after. I had to hope the people at the market could read, because no one at the village could. I’d written in English and the best translations Damu and I could come up with.
I’d also explained, with the help of Damu being my translator, to Joseph and Mbaya what I was after. It would be a miracle if they came back with anything close. I was just grateful that they were trying.
Kijani’s initial “no” to my request was because he assumed I expected the village to pay for the school items. They certainly didn’t have money to spare on such things, so I couldn’t blame him for his kneejerk reaction. I still don’t think he liked me, but he tolerated me and I considered that a win.
Though as the morning went on, I noticed things were different. First off, most of the women were gone. The older women remained, tending to the children, and the middle age-set of boys, ages from around ten to eighteen, were wearing black instead of red.
“What’s going on?” I asked Damu. “Why is Nampasso wearing black?”
“This begins the eunoto .”
“When they will be circumcised?” Then I thought about it. “Ouch.”
Damu laughed. “Yes. Very painful.”
“What happens at eunoto?”
“Their mothers will build a inkajijik , a house, for them to stay in. They will have circumcision, but no sound. Not make noise.”
I’m pretty sure my mouth fell open. “At all?”
“No sound or dishonour.”
I squinted at him. “At all?”
He chuckled. “No.”
Jesus. That hurt just thinking about it. “Wow. Did you make a noise?”
He shook his head proudly. “No.”
“Good Lord. I’m pretty sure I would scream like a stuck pig.”
Damu laughed again. “You have it done, yes?”
“Well, yes. When I was about two weeks old. And I’m pretty sure I would have screamed like a stuck pig.”
Damu chuckled. “Then they will stay there and learn the warrior ways. When this is done, there will be ceremony. New warriors return, old warriors return as elders.”
“Will Kijani not be a warrior anymore?”
Damu tried not to smile. “You not like him?”
“He scares me. He’s intimidating and angry.”
“Yes. Because he is warrior. His job very serious. As he should. He’s important job.” Damu spoke of such reverence for a man that treated him like shit. It boggled my mind. “He will remain warrior. Then he be chief when Kasisi is not. He will take wife after this eunoto.”
I mulled this over for a while. Then I asked, “What about you?”
“What of me?”
“What does that mean to you? Will you become an elder? You’re in the same age-set as Kijani, yes?”
He took a long while to answer, and he gave me a tight smile. “I not warrior. I have no age-set.”
Oh, that’s right. Because his mother died during childbirth. The favoured wife of Kasisi, revered mother to Kijani. And for some reason they blamed Damu.
“Does that make
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