Blood & Milk (21 page)

“I will.”

And with that, she was gone.

“Come on,” I urged him, walking around the hut toward the gate that would be our freedom.

Kasisi stood at the exit, along with the other elders. The warriors stood back, Kijani amongst them. They would watch us leave, but no more. When Kijani saw Damu was holding his spear, he called out that it should be taken from him.

Kasisi shushed him. “No one takes another man’s spear,” Kasisi said with finality. I had to wonder if Kasisi had given that spear to Damu last night knowing he’d be leaving the next day; a parting gift, if you will.

Kijani mumbled something about Damu’s cut face and laughed with his friends like a bully in the school yard, and I’d had enough.

“Thank you, Kasisi,” I said. Then, because Kijani was an arrogant prick, I added, “Your son will be great chief. I have seen it.”

Confusion crossed Kijani’s face, but he soon preened. He reminded me of a hen house rooster.

I smiled as I found Momboa, the Chief’s five year old son, standing in front of Amali. I waved to him and the small boy waved back. “Momboa will be a very good chief.”

The look on Kijani’s face was worth it. His mouth was open, and realisation dawned on his features. Superstitious by nature, the Maasai lived by the guidance of their visions. And if I just placed a seed of doubt as to Kijani’s role in this tribe, then it was worth any beating he could give me.

Damu gave his father a final nod, and together we walked out of the acacia thorn fence, into the Serengeti plains and the vast unknown.

* * * *

We headed in the direction of th
e
Ngorongoro Conservation Area. It was the huge building on the edge of the Serengeti I had passed when I arrived in a car with three strange men and some goats.

There was a hotel there, from memory. Buses too, and with a bit of luck, a ride back to Arusha.

We walked for what must have been hours. Damu was quiet, and he favoured his injured hand, keeping it against his chest. His eye was almost swollen shut, and I imagined his pain wasn’t only physical but emotional as well.

“We’ll be okay,” I told him. I wasn’t sure who I was trying convince, him or me.

He gave me no more than a nod.

“There’s a creek up ahead. We can stop for a drink and rest awhile. Do you feel okay?”

He nodded again, and I didn’t push him. He’d just lost everything he’d ever known, been kicked out of his tribe, lost his family, disgraced.

I stopped walking. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry Kijani saw me in your bed. If I’d slept on my own bed, he wouldn’t have reacted that way.”

Damu frowned. “Are you sorry?”

“I’m sorry you’re hurting.”

“Are you sorry to meet me?”

“What? No!” I shook my head and put my hand to his cheek. “Never. Meeting you saved me.” He looked like that made no sense to him, so I said, “Last night I dreamed of Jarrod.”

He pulled his face back a little, like my words added another wound to his list of many.

“No, listen,” I said softly. “He spoke to me. He hasn’t spoken in my dreams since he died, but he did last night. He told me it was my destiny to find you. He said you were my path. He told me to take you away, that I had to leave with you.”

“He saw this would happen?”

I shook my head. “He urged me to wake up. He shook me awake, and when I opened my eyes, Kijani was there.”

Damu’s face fell, and his shoulders sagged. I put my hand around his neck and brought him against me for a hug, and Damu simply allowed himself to be held. I kissed the side of his head and realised something.

“See this?” I kissed his not-swollen cheek. “In the sunlight, and I am free to kiss you, touch you.”

The corner of mouth curled upwards, but his whole side of his face was swollen and bruised, his lips included. Again, he nodded, but seemed content just to have me near. Eventually we started walking toward the small river again, and after a long silence, he said, “Did you really see that Momboa would be chief?”

I snorted out a laugh. “Nope. I said that just to mess with Kijani. Did you see the look on his face?”

Damu finally smiled, then winced as his face pulled.

I lifted my hand, but wasn’t sure where I could touch him that wouldn’t hurt. “Come on, let’s drink some water.”

As we sat by the river, I pulled the pouch of berries and nuts that Amali had given us. I was so hungry, having missed breakfast completely, and my body was letting me know it. I was getting weak, and although the circumstances of us leaving were horrible, the timing was right.

I wasn’t sure how much longer I could have stayed there. I felt like I was wasting away, my energy levels were depleted, and my stomach felt empty ninety percent of the time.

I tipped some of the nuts and berries into my hand and held them out for Damu. He laid his spear on the ground, and I expected him to use his good hand to eat with, but he didn’t. He reached with his injured hand. His right hand.

And my heart broke all over again. I hated Kijani with the power of a thousand raging suns. He’d stomped on Damu’s right hand, deliberately, so he couldn’t eat. In Maasai culture, it was a great disgrace to eat food with your left hand.

I took the nuts and berries and lifted them to Damu’s mouth. “I’ll feed you.”

He ducked his head, ashamed.

“Hey, look at me,” I said softly. I waited until he did. “Remember when I was sick and you took care of me?” Recognition flashed in his eyes, so I said, “Then let me feed you. Let me take care of you. It’s what we do, we take care of each other. Okay?”

Eventually he nodded and let me feed him the berries and nuts. He ate them one by one, without a word between us. It was a quiet moment, a profound and gentle moment. I knew then, without doubt, that we’d done the right thing by leaving. When he was done, I leaned up and gave him a soft kiss.

He pulled back and quickly looked around, as if someone might have seen.

I laughed. We were standing in the middle of the Serengeti. “I’m pretty sure the water buffalo and flamingos don’t care,” I said with a smile. I stood up, slipped my backpack on, and picked up his spear, then I held out my hand to him. “Remember when you said you dreamed of holding my hand in the sunlight?”

His gaze went from my eyes to my outstretched hand, and a smile pulled at the corner of his lips. He slid his left hand into mine, and I pulled him to his feet. And we walked, hand in hand, in the sunlight through the tall grasses of the African plains.

Spring had definitely arrived. There were zebras off in the distance and some giraffes near far-off trees. Birds flocked, gazelles grazed, and the irony of new life spawning out before us wasn’t lost on me. As the biorhythms of the animals and land thrummed and thrived, new life beckoned on the horizon―and Damu and I walked towards it.

We walked, our pace careful and slow, until evening, away from the river and the danger of animals who patrolled it, waiting for thirsty prey.  “Shall we start a fire?” I asked, looking for a suitable location. “No fire,” Damu said. “Attract lions who come for meat.”

Instinctively, I looked around. “Lions?”

He chuckled at my expression but quickly recoiled and put his hand to his cut lip and swollen face. “They not worry us here.”

“Your lip is sore,” I noted, gently touching his face. “And your eye.”

“Not so bad,” he replied.

I put my hand on his chest. “What about your heart?”

He sagged a little and he looked toward the ground between us, but eventually he nodded. “Sadness.”

Sliding my hand around his neck, I gently pulled him against me. He came willingly and sighed against me. “I’m sorry they hurt you,” I whispered. “I wish I could heal that pain.”

He breathed in deep. “But you do, Heath Crowley,” he replied. He pulled back and his eyes met mine. “But you do.”

His words warmed my heart. “Like you healed me.”

He kissed my forehead before stepping away. “I look for o'remiti. You stay here.”

I didn’t really have the energy to argue. We’d walked so much slower than normal, our bodies too weary, so I found a spot and flattened the grass the best I could. I laid my shuka out like a picnic blanket and sat on it, watching Damu seek out the plants he was after.

He was a striking figure. Tall, dark, and handsome was so cliché, but he was every sense of the word. He was also hurting, dealing with the rejection of his family, and having to leave behind the only world he had ever known.

I knew tomorrow would be the day that everything changed. Tomorrow we would walk into Ngorongoro National Park base camp, where there were buildings, cars, and people.

Given Damu had never left his manyatta before, he was in for one helluva culture shock. I was reminded of the movie
Encino Man
, and Damu wasn’t much different. As the rest of the world sped through the twenty-first century, Damu had been living in the 1700s. Not only had he never seen the Internet, he’d never actually seen a light bulb or a flight of stairs.

As I watched him, this tall and gentle man, scouting through the long grasses, I wanted to both show him the wonders of the modern world and shield him from it at the same time.

I had no clue what tomorrow would bring. I didn’t know how he would react or if he’d cope at all. But when he came back over to me, holding some different plants and smiling so beautifully, I made the decision right there, to only do whatever he wanted to do.

“Here,” he said, handing me some long, seeded strands of grass. “Eat.”

I took them gratefully. “Thank you.” The grass and grass seeds tasted bitter, but I ate them anyway. My body needed all the fuel it could get.

Damu took what looked like some kind of aloe vera plant and, with his left hand, rubbed the gel on his swollen eye, then dabbed some on the cut on his lip.

“We’ll find a doctor tomorrow,” I said. “For your hand.” Then I remembered. “How are your ribs?”

He pulled his shuka up, revealing where the wildebeest had scratched his side. “Better.” He looked over the egg-sized lump on the side of my head. “And you?”

“I’m fine.” And I was fine. I was more concerned for him. The wound on his ribs did look better, but not completely healed. He dabbed more of the aloe onto that wound as well, and it made my heart ache and my bones weary.

“I’m tired,” I admitted, lying down on my side. Ignoring the pangs of hunger in my stomach, I patted my bicep. “Your pillow tonight.”

Normally he was the big spoon, but after his terrible beating and eviction from his people, I figured he could use the comfort tonight. He lay down gingerly, like his whole body ached, and rested his head on my arm. I slid my arm gently around him and watched as the sun performed its last curtain call on this day. Pinks and oranges became purples, and eventually blackness blanketed us with the most amazing display of celestial brilliance. “The sky is amazing,” I whispered. “Look at the stars. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Damu was quiet, and I thought he may have fallen asleep. But then he asked, “What do the stars look like in Australia?”

“I’ve never noticed them before,” I admitted. “Why?”

He pulled his shuka up over our shoulders and sighed. My question went unanswered.

* * * *

I woke with the sun, to an early morning sky boasting a dozen different shades of blue. It was cool, but with Damu’s back at my front and our shukas over us, I was toasty warm.

I craned my neck to look around and saw a herd of giraffe walking silently, no more than a hundred metres from where we lay. I tapped Damu on the arm. “Wake up.”

He startled, and I quickly remembered how Kijani had violently woken him the day before. “Shh,” I urged him to calm down. “You’re fine.”

He relaxed back into me. “What is it?”

“Look over there,” I said, and we both sat up.

Sure enough, the giraffes were walking fluidly through the grass, like windsurfers on the water. It was a beautiful sight.

“And there,” Damu pointed further east. There were impalas heading toward the river, and further out―maybe five hundred metres from where we sat―was a herd of elephants. “They come for water in early morning.”

“That’s not a bad view,” I whispered, taking in the whole scenery before me. It was so perfect, it looked like a postcard or a jigsaw puzzle.

“And after today we see it no more,” Damu said with a sigh.

I rubbed his back. “We can stay if you want?”

He glanced at me, and he shook his head. “My father was right. My heart does not belong here.”

I leaned in and kissed his shoulder. “He said you have two hearts. One for here and one for somewhere else. You will always be from here. One heart will always belong here. We will find where your other heart belongs.”

His eyes glistened, and he looked away to scan the landscape in front of us like he was seeing it for last time. And who knew, maybe he was. “Where do you see my heart belong?”