by Pamela Jekel
Three elephants grazed in the mopani trees off the riverbank, looked like two cows and a yearling daughter. Neither of the cows appeared pregnant; that was a lucky break. Pregnant elephants were generally pissed-off elephants, Jomo once said. The nearest cow ignored him, and with one motion, wrapped her trunk around a tuft of grass, pulled it out, dusted it against her leg, and tucked it in her mouth. She turned to gaze calmly at him, eyeing Neddy as well. Her tail was down. Another good sign. A tail straight out meant anger.
Neddy growled low, and Chase hushed and heeled him. Another cow swiveled to stare at them, her ears flapping and her trunk searching for their scent. Chase slowly sat down, keeping his rifle on his knees and his dog beside him. The elephants were grazing towards a copse of trees, and the yearling went into the bush and then backed out again, with a short scuffle and a screech of alarm. Now all heads turned in her direction, and a large porcupine emerged from the scrub, rear first, stamping its feet and shaking its quills. It backed the yearling up, hissing its annoyance.
One cow grumbled at it, unwilling to give up grazing rights, but the porcupine heaved itself at the elephants one by one, backing towards them, erecting its quills in threat. The largest cow picked up a thick branch with her trunk and shoved the porcupine aside, knocking it over. Furious now, the porcupine squalled like a cat, shook itself violently, and tried to quill the cow. Gracefully, as though she had played croquet in a former life, she swung the branch in a powerful arc and batted the porcupine into the trees. It hit the trunk, fell down in a heap, and scuttled into the bush screeching its humiliation.
Chase muffled his laughter against his arm, holding tightly to Neddy’s collar. The cow hurled her branch after the porcupine as if to say, “that’s what I’m talking about!” and went back to grazing calmly in the twilight.
When he felt he could do so safely, he walked around the elephants in a wide arc, keeping Neddy by his side. One cow turned and chuffed at him, waving her ears in a threat. He kept walking. She ran at him several yards and squealed, but he knew she was only bluffing, and he turned his back on her, listening hard for her approach. She turned back to the other elephants and snorted in disgust at the interruption. He would have to circle the cabin with a thorny bomo, he realized, else the elephants might graze right up onto his porch.
He lit his lantern and opened his wooden shutters so that the night breeze could carry away the heat of the day. He shook out his mosquito netting, tucked it around his cot, and set his water to boiling for tea. A small scurrying sound drew his attention to a corner of the porch. A bat was perched in the rafters, getting ready to sweep the air for his dinner. From the river, he heard the sounds of the elephants moving to the water, splashing and rumbling their pleasure.
Chase could picture himself sitting here, on this porch, in his favorite chair, when he was as old as Jomo. The thought did not alarm him, in fact, it gave him comfort. It suddenly occurred to him that when he saw himself old, he was alone. He was mildly surprised at the fact that in his supposings, no woman moved in the shadows behind him, fixing the tea or getting the bed ready. Alone. Depending on no one but himself. A hunter known throughout the District, a tracker famed for his skills. No family. Well, then, that would work, too. Perhaps the very qualities that would make him a successful hunter, wariness, concentration, an ability to guess what the prey would do and block its escape, a need to spend hours in the bush in silence, would make him a piss-poor husband and father. Whatever.
There was a time when he could feel the loneliness coursing through him like his circulation, constant and irrefutable and seemingly without end. But now, that feeling was so familiar that it no longer felt like loneliness, it felt like safety.
He looked up into the branches of the baobob tree that flanked his cabin. The Kikuyu called it the tree of spirits. They believed it had magical powers. Certainly, it was a crowded condominium, full of owls, bats, probably snakes. Maybe ghosts. He stretched out his legs and put his boots on the porch post. His legs were pushing him farther back onto the porch, as he grew. He was probably taller than Baako now. The lions began to moan down the moon. He went to fetch his tea, adding the sugar Jata gave him. Tomorrow, he would try to find a source for honey on his own land.
* * *
In December, Chase was working with Peter on fence repairs. Baako would be home soon for holiday, and Asha was already in a festive mood, planning the nyama choma, the roasted goats, that would be central to the celebration. Christmas Mass would be a time for the family to gather together to worship, as well as to visit their father’s grave. Desta was weaving straw flowers to decorate the headstone, and each relation would leave a Christmas letter on the tomb. The rains were past, and the summer heat was just beginning to build.
They were down in the lower pasture, replacing boards that the cows had managed to leave sagging, when Chase looked up and saw Asha walking towards them. She waved and called out, and then he saw someone behind her, a tall white man. He stood and waved back, began to walk towards her to see what she might need, and then he stopped. His vision seemed to collapse into a tunnel, his ears suddenly rang, and he reached out to a post to steady himself. He felt his knees actually buckle and waver. It was his father. Even behind the beard, he knew him, knew him instantly, and he quivered with cold, though the sun was warm on his head.
Asha stood there smiling, as his father hurried forward and pulled him into his arms. “Oh my God, Chase,” he said, “I can’t believe it.”
His father’s voice, harsh and cracking with emotion, triggered a landslide in Chase. His grief and rage swept over him, leaving him weeping and shaking. He clung to his father, sobbing like a child for long moments, unable to control himself. It was as though every grief he’d felt in the last years was nothing compared with this flood of feeling that left him shaking and weak, almost ill with new longing that he’d thought he’d killed. He finally pushed away and stood back from him, trying to regain his composure. “How did you get here?” he croaked in disbelief when he could find his voice.
“A plane to Nairobi, a car to Nyeri, it doesn’t matter. I’m here.”
Asha said to Peter, as he came up the hill towards him. “Peter, it is Chase’s father, come from America. Jack Cummings.”
Peter shook his father’s hand. “You come a long way, Mister.”
“I have indeed.” Jack grinned and wiped his eyes.
Asha took Peter’s arm and said, “We’ll leave them to get re-acquainted, yes? And when you are ready, please come up to the house for refreshment.” The two walked away, Asha looking back over her shoulder and nodding to Chase with encouragement.
“Did you get my email?” Chase asked him, rubbing his face with his shirt. “Is mom okay? Is Miranda okay?”
Jack nodded, his arm on Chase’s shoulder. “We got it, they’re both fine, and I have letters from both of them to you. Let me look at you.” He held Chase out at arms’ length. “My God, you’re as tall as I am. You look sturdy and tough as a tree. And your hair is still blond. The sun, maybe? I can see your mother in you. Let’s go sit down in the shade, son, and catch our breath.”
They walked to the barn, and the normal noises of the farm, the lowing of the cows, the call of the ring-necked doves, the distant jingle of a horse harness, all faded to a soft sibilance that felt suddenly new, even foreign to his ears. Chase kept glancing at his father’s face, looking for old landmarks, familiar lines and wrinkles and colors. Jack had aged markedly, was thin and stooped, and his hair and beard were gray with streaks of white.
Chase looked up, and Peter was standing near the barn. Peter’s face and body seemed more related to him than his own father’s figure. He was mildly surprised to look down and see that his hands were brown, rather than black like Peter’s. His hands were the same color as his father’s hands. Somehow, that didn’t seem possible, much less right. He felt more black than white.
“Bwana kijana need anything?” Peter called, watching him carefully.
&nb
sp; “Sijambo,” Chase answered him. No problems.
“What does he call you?” Jack asked.
“Young mister,” Chase said. “Young boss. I can’t believe you’re here.” They sat down on a bench in the shade of the barn. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“I sent three emails.”
“I never got them.”
“Well, that explains why you didn’t meet my plane.” Jack smiled. “It doesn’t matter. You’re obviously healthy and doing fine, which makes me very happy to see. We’ve missed you so much, Chase.”
Chase felt his throat tighten again, but he tamped down his tears. “I missed you guys, too. I didn’t think you’d come.”
“I told you I would. I told you we’d be together again as soon as it was safe.”
“Yeah. You did, I guess.” Chase looked out over the pasture, noticing that the horses were coming up for water. “But I guess I didn’t believe it anymore. And Mom’s okay?”
“More than okay. She’s had a baby. You have a new little brother, Chase. He’ll be eight months old next week. His name is Andrew, Andy for short. He looks just like you did at that age.”
Chase leaned back against the barn wall. “A new brother. And Miranda? How old is she now?”
Jack gave him a quizzical look. “She’s twelve. Still five years younger than you. Just like she always was.”
“Seems like she should be older than that, I guess.”
“It does seem like longer than five years. So much has happened. I’m sure I look older than my years.” Jack shrugged. “It’s been tough. But it’s getting better all the time, and we made it through. That’s what counts. We made it. Most didn’t. So now, it’s time to gather our family back together again, where we belong.”
Chase looked away. “You got my email. I told you I’m not going back there.”
“I got your email, yes.” He hesitated. “But I couldn’t not come. I feel sure you’d do the same in my place. I can’t just let you go like that, son. Not when I feel you’re making the wrong decision. And I came all this way to say that in person.” He shrugged. “There was no way I was going to let you go so easy.”
“So. You came all this way to drag me out of here? To tell me what to do again?” Chase smiled without humor. “It’s too late, Jack. I’m not a package you can just send off and then come and pick up when you’re ready.” He stood up, extending his hand. “Look, I’m really glad you came. It’s wonderful to see you. We’ll have a good visit, and you can take some pictures and letters back to Mom and Miranda, and maybe you all can come and visit me when things get right again.”
Jack stood and took Chase’s hand in both of his. “You have your own place, I understand?”
“Ten acres,” Chase said, leading the way back to the main house. “Good soil, riverfront. My cabin’s not big, but it’s solid enough. You need to come see it.”
“Of course, I will.”
“How long you staying?”
“Four days. The flight leaves Nairobi on Thursday.”
“We’ll have a good visit, then,” Chase said, setting down his rifle, stepping past a dirty backpack, and pulling open the screen door. “Jata will bring us some tea.” He turned and grinned. “Hot tea, they don’t do iced. Get ready, Jack. Nothing’s the same here.”
“I can see that,” Jack murmured.
Asha and Desta gathered with them in the living room, while Jata served tea and chapatti.
“You must tell us the news of America,” Asha said, handing Jack a cup and pouring for him.
“First, you must let me extend my condolences. I paid my respects at the grave of your husband. Mother Superior was kind enough to show me his memorial and provide a ride to you. I understand he was a remarkable man.”
“He was,” Chase said without hesitation. “The best.”
Desta cut him a glance.
“Thank you,” Asha said, folding her hands in her lap. “We still miss him every day. I know he would have been so happy to meet you at last. He thought the world of your Chase, yes? He would have liked to meet the man who raised him.”
“And I would have been proud to meet the man who saved him.”
After a respectful silence, Desta asked, “Did many parents come with you for their children?”
“No, the flight was almost empty. I imagine it’ll be full on the return, but most of the families are waiting for their children back home. The flight is free, of course, provided by the military, but getting to the airport’s no easy matter these days. It took me longer to get to Greensboro than it did to get to Nairobi. I walked to Athens, caught a ride to just past Winston-Salem, and then walked to Greensboro.”
Chase looked up from his cup. “That’s about---“
“Twenty-eight miles,” Jack nodded.
“And how did you get from Nairobi to Nyeri?” Asha asked, her eyes wide. “We could have come to get you!”
“I had no way to reach you. I hitched.” He took a sip of his tea. “Very nice man, actually. We listened to classic rock all the way. Took me all the way to the cathedral. One of the priests drove me here.”
“Father Omandi?” Chase asked.
“That was him,” Jack said. “He knows you well, son. Had nothing but great things to say about you.”
Chase frowned. Something about that rankled, his father and the priest discussing him. He wondered if the privacy of the confessional extended to office visits. “My mother’s had another baby,” he said to Asha and Desta. “A boy.”
“Yes, he’s almost eight months old. Looks just like Chase did at that age.” Jack was watching Chase’s face.
“That’s wonderful!” Asha beamed at him. “Isn’t it a miracle how life goes on, despite all our troubles?”
“Another son.” Desta offered Jack a shy smile. “You must be so proud.”
“I’m proud of all my children.”
“How long will you be staying with us?” Asha passed him the plate of chapatti. “It seems a shame to come so far for just a short visit. We have plenty of room.”
“That’s very kind of you, but of course, I have to make the flight back. It leaves on Thursday evening, so I should leave for Nairobi Thursday morning.”
“Well, Peter will drive you there, and you’ll get a chance to meet my eldest,” Asha said. “Baako’s at Catholic University, you know it? A fine institution.”
They fell silent for a moment. Desta asked then, “Can you tell us anything about the conditions in America? We see news on the television, of course, but what’s it really like?”
“You may know more than I do. We don’t have electricity yet, except from our generator, so no TV. But we’re definitely in recovery mode. All the houses and the farms and buildings are still there, with half the people we had before. Nobody will have to build any houses for a generation, that’s for sure. We’ll have a big garden again this spring; there’s still bream and some bass in the river. Remember, Chase?”
He could feel his father trying to pull him in. He nodded.
“And soon, we’ll be raising chickens. I traded for some laying hens and a rooster, and we’re looking for a milk goat. Leda knows how to make cheese—“
“Who’s Leda?” It was the first question Chase had asked since his father sat down.
“Leda and John and their son, Carl, live with us now.” Jack said this calmly, assessing the impact with each word. “They’re good people. Carl’s two years older than Miranda, John and Leda used to own a farm just a few miles away. We’ve got plenty of room, and it’s easier with more hands. They know a lot more about farming than I do.”
“So you’ve got enough help.” Chase let the relief show in his voice.
“Yes. That’s not the reason I want you to come home, Chase!” His father chuckled. “Of course, a strong young man is always an asset, but we want you to come home because we love you, we miss you, and we want our family to be together again.”
“Perfectly understandable,” Asha said quie
tly.
Chase looked out the window. There really wasn’t much else to say, he thought. Perhaps if he simply let his father talk, Jack would eventually see that there wasn’t any use in doing more of it.
“I should think your father would love to see your land,” Asha suggested.
He could see the mixed compassion and bewilderment in her face. It wasn’t fair to impose this kind of conflict on her, he knew. “Sure,” he said, rising.
“We’ll plan dinner for seven, as usual,” she added. “You’ll join us, yes?” She rose and smiled at Jack.
“Love to,” he said. “Thank you for your kind hospitality.”
Desta said, “He sounds just like Chase did when he first got here, doesn’t he?”
Asha nodded. “It’s easy to see where Chase got his manners.”
“Samahani,” Chase murmured as they went out the door. “Asante.”
When they had left the women behind, Jack asked, “What did you say to them?”
“I thanked them. And I apologized.”
His father said nothing. He leaned to pat Neddy who bounded up to greet them. Chase saw again how stooped his father had become. He looked so old. Tired and weak. He felt a flood of sorrow for him, for them all. So much had been taken from them, most of which they would never get back. He shouldered his rifle. “Might as well leave that here,” he gestured to his father’s backpack. “It’s a long walk.”
They hiked the well-worn path towards the river, Neddy leading the way.
“He knows where he’s going,” Jack said.
“He’s my dog.”
