Every Serengeti Sunrise

by Rula Sinara

  “I was entertainment? A funny face?” Boy, she must have had more of an expressive face than people had told her. Haki tipped his head and tapped his thumb against his jeans.

  “I wanted to understand you,” he said, his voice softening. “To really know you. And I figured that if I had any hope of that, of getting your attention, the secret Maddie-girl would be in those books.”

  Maddie’s chest warmed and her stomach fluttered. He’d wanted her attention? He’d cared that much? Back when he was just a boy to her, he had cared enough to understand her. And if he’d truly read those books with her in mind, then he understood a part of her no one else did. Maybe he’d only taken an interest because he knew she’d suffered and Haki hated suffering. He’d always had a good heart and a precocious sense of responsibility. That had to be all it was. He was reminiscing. But then why did something in his voice make it seem like he was saying more?

  Because her ears were playing tricks on her. Because a part of her wanted to hear it. A part of her longed to hear it. She rubbed at the sudden pang in her chest.

  “Pippa loves you, Haki. You’re meant to be together.” She closed her eyes but it only made the burn in her cheeks more intense. She’d blurted that out all wrong. Revealed too much. “What I mean is—”

  “I know what you mean. She loves you, too. I was just remembering. A lot has changed since then. We’re not the same kids anymore.”

  He started the jeep and continued westward on the unpaved road.

  * * *

  HAKI UNSCREWED THE cap on his metal thermos and offered it to Maddie. He needed water. His mouth felt dry despite his efforts to stay hydrated, but he’d seen her drink the last drop from her canister over half an hour ago and the temperature had risen considerably since then. He had another bottle, but they’d need it for the trip back. She accepted his thermos and drank a few sips. She hadn’t said a word the rest of the way to the village. It had him worried. He didn’t know what had come over him, but he’d said too much. He’d wanted her to remember how much she loved this place and the connection she used to have with animals. Instead, he’d overstepped. Crossed a line.

  “Thank you.” She handed back his thermos and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  He took a long drink, tightened the cap and put it away. He picked up her pen from the door’s side pocket. Native Watch Global was printed on the side. He handed it to her. She wanted her notes; she could have them.

  “Let’s get this done,” he said. This was the first place on her list, and he knew it well enough. It had been the site of the last crop raid a few days ago.

  A young warrior wrapped in scarlet-and-orange garb with a blue-and-orange-checked wrap thrown over his shoulder and wooden staff in hand marched his herd of white goats out of the entrance to the enkang and off to pasture. The ochre-stained head and red shuka of another warrior stood out against the pasture beyond, as he tended to a herd of thin cattle. It wasn’t too unusual for warriors of the tribe to help with the herding during a long drought. Everyone needed to help during times like this. The women were often the hardest working of all, building their homes and maintaining life in their tribal village.

  The enkang was marked by a wall of thorned acacia branches that served to protect the huts within, as well as the flocks, from nighttime predators. Maddie tucked her pen into her pocket and hugged her notepad against her blue camp shirt.

  “Do we need permission to enter the compound?”

  “They’ll recognize me. I was here recently. I’ll take you to the father who works the crops—over there.” He pointed out the small sorghum field not far from the enkang.

  They passed the thorny gateway and came to a clearing lined with small huts.

  “You were here recently? Because of the same incident I’m investigating? Why didn’t you say so? No wonder you weren’t checking any maps.”

  “Makes me a good guide, doesn’t it?”

  She was trying to establish a boundary between the two of them. He could feel the wall going up.

  “I suppose. It also means you’re a step ahead of me and you were lying by omission. There wasn’t a killing here, though, was there? Not from the information I got, at least.” She flipped through her notes to check.

  “No, there wasn’t. I was in the area and the KWS vet was held up on an emergency. When incidents are first reported, it’s not always clear if an injured animal will be found. One in need of emergency veterinary care or possibly one that’s dead. If the cause of death isn’t immediately apparent then a necropsy is needed. Sometimes there’s no mark on them because they’ve been poisoned. And sometimes, they’re not even found near the site. One of the men from the village might go and hunt it down after the fact, so we have to check the entire area.”

  “I see. So the authorities’ only concern is for the elephants?”

  “I didn’t say that, but, yes, that’s a major concern.”

  “What about those children playing over there? What if they got injured in a stampede or went hungry because of crop-related income loss?”

  Haki dug his heels into the hard ground and braced his hands on his waist.

  “We don’t want anyone hurt. Do you think such cases aren’t reported or cared about? Be reasonable, Maddie. You know me. I’m not an extremist. It’s about balancing humanity and nature. But man is not in danger of extinction here. We cannot condone the hunting of elephants, be it for a warrior’s rite of passage or for retaliation, and especially not for ivory. Do you really think that in any elephant death, the ivory is left to waste? One incident is all it takes to perpetuate the cycle. There are dangerous, conniving men out there—poachers who’ll do anything for a sale, including bribery, blackmail and threats. And desperation equals motivation. Unfortunately, a farmer desperate enough, financially, will be motivated to work for poachers. They might even use crop destruction as a defense. We have to have consequences in place that are strong enough to serve as counter-motivation. Punishments that will make anyone think twice.”

  Something shifted in Maddie’s face. Something as piercing as the eyes of a lioness who’d spotted her prey and knew exactly what she needed to do to feed her cubs.

  “The Masai and other tribes have a unique culture and way of life that has been under constant threat. You want balance? Look at the maps that NWG plotted out showing how much land they’ve lost. Every time a reserve or national park is formed or some private company manages to get their hands on land that shouldn’t be touched, the living boundaries for the native peoples shrinks. These were nomads forced into farming. Balance means you can’t protect and provide for elephants and not do so for the people native to the same land. Punishments are not always the answer, Haki.”

  “You’re the lawyer. Your entire career is centered on punishment.”

  “Defense law. I’m defending the rights of these people.”

  “Is man the only one with rights on this earth?”

  Maddie sucked in an audible breath and curled her lips. He’d hit a nerve.

  “You see those inkajijik?” Maddie asked. She pointed toward the rows of huts built of walls plastered with mud, cow dung and urine and topped with a dried grass roof held up by a meshwork of twigs and leleshwa wood poles. “People being forced to change their way of life or forced onto designated areas of land is an injustice that happens all over the world. It’s been happening for centuries, yet now you want to punish them for being forced into a corner and trying to survive?”

  “How far back do you want to go? I believe the elephants and other native wildlife were here first. And now they, too, are restricted to protected areas—otherwise, people hunt them to extinction. The tribes have adapted. The elephants...well, one can’t adapt to getting slaughtered. They can’t adapt once they don’t exist anymore. For them, there’s only one solution. To punish the killing,” Haki sai
d.

  Maddie rubbed the back of her neck, then pushed her silver bangles up her forearm.

  “I don’t want anyone suffering on either side. That’s why your bill needs to be stopped, but I suppose getting through to you will be like trying to claw my way through that thorny enkang barrier. I’m here to speak with and for the Masai. I’m not here to argue with you about the importance of human life.”

  “You left Kenya. You left your family and friends behind, but I stayed. I stayed to help care for family and have dedicated my life to helping both the wildlife and people here. So don’t go lecturing me on who’s important.”

  She’d abandoned him. He had been heartbroken and dejected that year. Everyone blamed it on his age and hormones and no doubt those factors made everything seem like the end of the world. But the main reason was Maddie. That kind of blow was hard to forget for a teenage boy. He pinched the bridge of his nose. That was all in the past. He was over it. Over her. It was just that being around her was bringing back old memories.

  Maybe driving her out here hadn’t been such a good idea after all. He should have stuck with his initial plan and kept his distance from the start. He wasn’t sure there was any of the old Maddie left in her.

  Change. Adaptations.

  The faster she obtained the information she needed, the faster he could get back to his normal routine...and Pippa. He adjusted the radio on his belt and walked through the entrance. Maddie was at his heels.

  “The elephants know,” he said. “They don’t react the same way when they cross paths with a person from a tribe that’s attacked them than from one like the Luo or Kikuyu. They’ve shown this in behavioral studies. That kind of awareness makes them almost human, doesn’t it? Or perhaps it is humans who should be more like them.”

  A group of women passed them. They smiled at Haki and Maddie and one waved. Maddie waved back. He hoped their argument hadn’t carried too far on the breeze. Haki recognized them as the wives of the farmer, Lempiris. One carried a large bundle of firewood and another held several calabashes, likely on her way to fill the gourds with fresh cow’s milk. He knew the tallest one, Esiankiki, was pregnant with her first child. She announced their arrival in her native Maa and Lempiris stepped out of one of the inkajijik and walked to Haki and Maddie.

  “Sopa.” Lempiris stood tall and proud, the sinewy muscles of his neck and shoulders framed by stretched and adorned earlobes much like the women had.

  “Sopa. Kasserian ingera?” Haki asked. It was considered good manners and a traditional greeting to ask about the children before all else.

  Lempiris eyed Maddie before deciding to respond in English. He adjusted the bright red shuka draped over his shoulder and his earrings dangled and danced with his movement.

  “All the children are well. And your families?”

  “All are well, thank you,” Haki said.

  Lempiris knew he didn’t have children. He’d asked him during his last visit and had taken pity on Haki. A man without children was truly poor.

  “Meishoo iyiook Enkai inkishu o-nkera. May Enkai give us cattle and children. Rain would be a blessing, too,” he added.

  “Yes. May this drought end so your herds and family have plenty,” Haki said. He didn’t bother explaining. He knew Maddie had learned about their culture when she was a child and per their earlier argument, she clearly remembered her history lessons or she’d refreshed her memory recently. They’d learned about all the Kenyan tribes in their schooling. Like how the Masai believed they were the chosen ones and that their God, Enkai, had entrusted them with his most precious gift, cattle. The Masai believed all cattle belonged to them. Their ancestors tended the herds. They didn’t farm. Enkai had made the Kikuyu farmers and they were supposed to be the ones to deal with loss of crops. And he’d made the Torrobo the hunters and beekeepers and left them to deal with the dangers of wild animals and stings. Yet, here were the Masai, the noblest tribe in their own eyes, dealing with it all. Times changed. People had to change to survive.

  “Lempiris, this is Maddie Corallis. She’s here to ask about the crops and the elephant raid.”

  “Sopa,” Maddie said, earning a broad, toothy smile from Lempiris. She caught on quickly, saying hello in Maa. “I’m afraid my Maa is limited, as is my Swahili. May I speak in English, or would you prefer that Mr. Odaba translate?”

  “English is okay,” he replied in a concerted effort to disguise his accent, but it came out sounding almost drawl-like. “I understand very good. I speak so-so.”

  “Great. Then stop me if I say something you don’t understand. Okay?”

  “Yes, yes.”

  “Do you mind if I take a video recording?”

  “It is okay.”

  Maddie pulled out her phone and started recording.

  Haki kept quiet as Maddie explained who she was and what she was hoping to learn from Lempiris. It wasn’t the time to argue, though he was impressed. Maddie the lawyer was quick and to-the-point. She was much more sure of her footing than the Maddie who got stuck in trees. She’d also paid attention and didn’t miss the importance of including children in her reasoning. As she finished, Lempiris’s smile vanished. He tapped the end of his staff against the earth.

  “We lose too much. The elephants eat everything. Destroy ground. They have their area and we have our land. They come here and destroy.”

  “I understand. I want to help. May I see your plot that was destroyed?”

  “Yes.”

  Lempiris motioned for them to follow. From the corner of his eye, Haki caught Maddie looking over at him as they walked to the farmer’s small field. She marched ahead by a few steps, camera in hand. She seemed awfully sure of herself. Anna was right. There was a strength simmering inside her. Or maybe it was stubbornness, just like her cousin’s. How was a guy supposed to tell the difference?

  “See. All gone.” Lempiris waved a weathered hand through the air. The trampled rows Haki had seen the day of the raid seemed almost ready for new plantings. It wouldn’t be the same crop. The rainy season would come soon and then cooler weather. Lempiris’s grain harvest was lost for the season. At least from this particular plot.

  “How much loss would you say there was? Will you replant?” Maddie went on with her questions and recorded his answers. Haki had heard it all before. It didn’t change anything as far as he was concerned. Lempiris still had his cattle and goats and another field that was holding up in the drought.

  “Would you be willing to come to Nairobi for testimony if needed?”

  Lempiris shook his head left and right, but then up and down and left again.

  “It is a far trip. I am needed here. If I must, I will.”

  “Understood. Now, I don’t see where the elephant came through,” Maddie said, scanning the area. The fence was intact.

  “Good man,” he said, pointing at Haki, who stood at the edge of the first row, behind Maddie. “He helped me to fix the fence. Man of his word.”

  Maddie’s lips parted and a crease appeared on her forehead. She glanced at Haki.

  “A man of his word,” she repeated.

  He gave her a small shrug.

  He might have rebuilt the farmer’s fence, but he was pretty sure he’d just weakened Maddie’s.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  EVEN THE SKY seemed confused. Maddie looked up at the cluster of wispy, frail clouds that looked like they’d wandered off their trail and gotten lost. The rest of the sky was a vast canvas of blue nothingness—not even a hint of the promise of rain—and the late-afternoon sun was hot and cranky. Or maybe she was. They’d stopped at two other villages but she hadn’t gotten much more information, though she’d confirmed the farmers’ willingness to testify if called upon. She was beginning to wonder why she’d been sent out here.

  Grasses whirred past the jeep, and be
tween the hypnotic visual and the soft vibrations of the engine, her eyes began to drift shut. A flock of birds taking flight over a herd of zebras had her lifting her chin and stretching her eyes open. This leg of the trip, she hadn’t touched her notes. She was tired, her mind was too full and—she pressed a hand to her stomach, hoping the grumble had been drowned out by the engine—she was hungry.

  Haki pulled up under the shade of an acacia tree, scanning the area before turning off the engine.

  “You need to eat something.” Haki hopped out and went around back. He pulled an insulated box out of the jeep and carried it around to the driver’s seat.

  “I’m sorry. Did I fall asleep?” She stretched and rubbed at her face.

  “More like meditation on wheels. Your eyes never closed, but a few more minutes and your head would have hit your lap.”

  “How much farther?”

  “Far enough. We won’t make it back today.”

  That woke her up. She sat up tall and looked around. There wasn’t so much as another enkang in the distance. Nothing but wilderness surrounded them. What had she expected when Anna warned them about camping? Some kind of lodge with tourists on safari?

  “For real?”

  He judged the position of the sun in the sky and the corner of his mouth creased.

  “The sun sets a little earlier here than you’re used to back home in America. We could make it part of the way to the last stop you have on your list, but we’d have to set up camp either way. Might as well do so here. It’s a better spot than what lies ahead. If we head out early in the morning, we’ll have plenty of time to pass through the next homestead, then detour slightly through the Mara to pick up Pippa if she’s still there and still make it back to Busara before dark. Tomorrow.”

  She pulled off her scarf and gave her scalp a soothing scratch. When she’d been given this assignment, she’d never imagined that she’d be spending the night in the middle of nowhere with Haki Odaba—friend, enemy and more of a real man than she was used to being around. She pinched the bridge of her nose. He was also the only person she trusted to keep them safe out here, other than perhaps her uncle Mac, or maybe Kam. Haki reached for his radio and leaned on the jeep, watching her as he checked in with Camp Jamba Walker as planned. She let out a sigh, tucked her notebook in her sack and waited for him to end the communication.