Every Serengeti Sunrise

by Rula Sinara

  “Good morning.” Mr. Levy hit Send on what she assumed was a text, then set his smartphone on the polished cherrywood conference table. “Have a seat. Where’s Patrick?”

  “I saw him at the fax. I’m sure he’ll be in any minute. Oh, here are the files on the Clear Lake housing developments you needed.” She set the pile—all but her laptop—next to him, then went to the opposite end of the table to sit. “It includes signed affidavits from tenants who’ve been discriminated against, as well as some who’ve tried contracting new builds. Incident specifics are there, as well, including emails and text messages between defendants and the builder.”

  “Excellent.” Mr. Levy began scanning pages. “Good work. Ah, Patrick,” he said, as Patrick waltzed in. He stuck out his hand, which Mr. Levy didn’t hesitate to shake. “Have a seat.”

  The brownnoser sat in a chair right next to Levy, without greeting Maddie. Maddie fiddled with her bracelets under the table. Man’s world, much? She’d known coming into this practice—which was a huge honor in and of itself—that competition for senior partnership years down the road would be high, but the subtle animosity and jealous streaks among the juniors was worse than she’d expected. Downright ugly, in her opinion. This place redefined competitive.

  You grew up surrounded by brothers and a hard-nosed dad. Remember, Patrick is nothing but a twerp, and your boss is a teddy bear in disguise—on some plane of existence.

  “I called you both in here to discuss the next two months. Ms. Corallis, we spoke briefly about you helping out temporarily at our office in Nairobi.”

  Patrick scooted his chair closer to the table and scratched the side of his neck. A junior lawyer being sent to an exotic locale was a pretty big deal, although Kenya wasn’t exactly exotic to her. At least not in the way it was for those who’d never lived there. Eight years of her childhood, plus regular visits since she began college in the US, made Kenya a second home to her. Not a vacation spot. Plus, traveling overseas and coming back a week later would be exhausting. She’d get jet lag whiplash. And since this was a work trip, she’d barely have time to see her family.

  However, the color creeping up the back of Patrick’s neck did remind her of a sunrise over the Serengeti, or better yet, the vibrant red dress of a warrior in the Masai Mara. She tipped her chin up ever so slightly.

  “Yes, sir. The Native Watch Global case.” The one she had yet to be fully briefed on. The one that, incidentally, had nothing to do with Patrick. Maybe he was being sent to their London office for something related?

  “I had Helen book your tickets. I’m assuming you’ll be able to stay with your family while there.” Mr. Levy passed an envelope down to her via Patrick. “We need you to leave on Wednesday. I trust that all works for you?”

  About a week sooner than expected, but did she have a choice?

  “Of course,” Maddie said as she opened the envelope. That wouldn’t give her enough time to check on her grandparents a few hours west of Philadelphia. She’d call them. She also needed to drop by the store and get a slow-release vacation feeder for her Betta fish. She pulled the ticket out of the envelope.

  “Patrick,” Mr. Levy continued, “I’ll need you to take over this Clear Lake discrimination case in her absence.”

  Everything registered in the same second. The dates on the ticket. Mr. Levy turning her stack of blood, sweat and tears over to the enemy. Maddie’s feet went cold.

  “Sir. I think there’s a mistake with the tickets. These have me gone a month. I was only supposed to be in Nairobi for a week. I think I’ve given you everything you need for now on the Clear Lake case, but I’ll have my computer with me if you need anything else.”

  It had better be a mistake. She didn’t care if she sounded territorial; she couldn’t lose that discrimination case to Patrick. It had high-profile written all over it. If she helped propel her seniors to victory on it, it would build their confidence in her and, in turn, increase her chances of eventually making partner. Handing all her work over to the twerp was worse than a slap in the face. The corner of Patrick’s mouth curved up as he flipped through her files.

  “I’m afraid we need you overseas longer than we previously thought,” Mr. Levy said. “Patrick, I’d like you to familiarize yourself with that paperwork, then return it to me after lunch. Today. I want you on the same track we’ve been on with it. This won’t add too much to your workload, given the Kline-versus-Boone case is over. I must say, I love a victory.”

  “Absolutely, sir. I won’t disappoint with this one, either.”

  You won’t disappoint because I did all the work.

  She wanted to scream. She folded her hands on the table in as poised a manner as possible, crossed her legs and let her dangling foot buzz back and forth like a hovering hornet, itching to sting someone. Patrick sat back, all smug, in his chair.

  “Feel free to get started on that right now, Mr. Cole.” Mr. Levy gave him a raised brow. Patrick jumped up and gathered his—no, her—assignment.

  “Of course. Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Levy. I’ll have this back to you today.” He hesitated briefly on his way out of the conference room. “Have a safe trip, Maddie. Say hello to your family for me.”

  Maddie’s foot kicked up speed, but she managed to keep her lips sealed shut and her look composed from the waist up. What a phenomenal jerk. He didn’t know or care one iota about her family. He just wanted to emphasize to Mr. Levy that he’d be working hard while she’d probably waste time in Kenya lounging around with her siblings. Having younger brothers had helped her develop a certain level of immunity to button-pushing, but this kind of insidious workplace manipulation just irked the—

  Her shoe flung off her foot and hit...something...with a thud.

  Oh, God. Please, not Mr. Levy’s leg. Anything but the leg.

  Mr. Levy frowned at her. Maddie smiled back, big and bright. She was toast.

  She ducked her head under the table. Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you. Her heart eased back into its normal position. Her shoe had only knocked the table’s Federal-style leg. Hopefully the grooves would hide any nicks. She stretched her leg and managed to get her foot back in the pump, hands-free.

  “Sorry about that. Umm...new shoes. They, uh, don’t fit well.”

  He nodded as if that all made perfect sense. Then again, he was married. She’d seen the boutique heels his wife paraded around in whenever she dropped by the office. Shoes Maddie could never afford. Maybe it did make sense to him. She curled her toes in the knockoffs that were doing absolutely nothing for her confidence.

  “Better take a more sensible pair to Kenya. You won’t be walking in the city,” he said.

  “About that. With all due respect, I can handle both cases. I’m the one who brought the Clear Lake discrimination situation to our attention. I did all that research. The people involved know my name and face and—”

  “And you’ve done a remarkable job with it. That’s in part why I personally recommended you for the Kenya case. Listen...” He folded his arms and sighed. “I understand your frustration. I was at your stage in my career once, more years ago than I care to mention. Everyone wants a high-profile case, or at least one that’s bigger than the rest. The Native Watch Global case may or may not be big in terms of headline news, but it’s significant in terms of humanitarian impact. When I interviewed you out of school, you made it clear you were interested in human-rights law.”

  “I am.”

  “Good. Because NWG is counting on us. What’s happening with Kenya’s native tribes—the Masai, in this case—is very similar to the type of land loss or encroachment our own Native Americans are still suffering. And on top of the tribe’s desperation, a more recent proposal was submitted to increase punishment for defending their crops against destruction by wildlife. Our barristers at the Nairobi office are currently inundated with other c
ases. Of course, they’ll still handle any actual court appearances with this one, as required by law there. However, they need the extra manpower in gathering firsthand research to counter this proposal before it goes to the Kenyan cabinet for approval.”

  Maddie placed her hands on her laptop and nodded. Manpower. More of the same work, only overseas. It was like being a ghostwriter. A behind-the-scenes ghost lawyer. And they were getting off without paying for a hotel, to boot. She took a deep breath and was assaulted by the overuse of air freshener in the old building.

  This case was absolutely a critical one. She couldn’t argue with that. She understood the cause and loved Kenya and its people. She really did. But the difference between being a lowly junior lawyer in the US and being one in Kenya was that her family was over there. She loved her family, but an entire month under the same roof? She hadn’t lived there since she was eighteen. A whole month under the watchful eye of her overprotective dad, her medical doctor mom...and her brothers.

  Chad had made their dad proud by following in his footsteps and joining the marines. Ryan would be headed to college soon and said he wanted to study medicine like Hope. Maddie felt a bit sorry for Philip, Hope and Ben’s only child together, whom Maddie adored. He was only fourteen, and she could tell from his emails that he was feeling the pressure of keeping up with everyone else. As for Maddie, on one level she knew her accomplishments were great. She’d worked hard because she always felt the need to prove herself. Success meant getting out from under her dad’s umbrella. Sometimes his protectiveness and worry came off as critical no matter what she did. And now, he’d get to see firsthand how she was barely getting by as a lawyer, let alone excelling. She’d handled shorter holidays in the past with skillful maneuvering around certain topics of conversation. And those trips had been about kicking back. But a monthlong work trip was enough for everyone to catch on to the fact that she was basically a nobody. And then, heaven forbid, the career advice would start pouring in.

  She shifted in her chair and put her hands in her lap, noticing belatedly that she’d left sweaty handprints on her matte laptop cover. Mr. Levy had probably noticed it, too. Could her day get any worse? She wiped her palms against the scratchy tweed of her skirt. The bottom line was that she’d been given her orders. Nine in the morning and she was already spent. She felt like a teenager all over again, getting told what she needed to do with her life. What she needed right now were her sweatpants, slippers and some ice cream.

  “I understand, Mr. Levy. I’ll do my best.”

  “I know you will. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that to win, you need to have the right person on the case. I’m not putting you on this one just because of your dual citizenship. I want you on this because you finished your undergraduate studies in three years, graduated law school at the top of your class and do everything meticulously—down to the way I’ve seen you water the ficus tree by the break room that everyone else forgets about—and you’re fluent in four languages to boot.”

  “Three, sir. I only know a few words in Swahili. I wouldn’t call myself fluent.” She was fluent enough in French and Spanish, though not as comfortable with them as English.

  “Well, that’s a few words more than I know. More importantly, you have an understanding of the people and culture. Their needs. The cultural dynamic. We need someone to actually get out in the field. And, yes, you have family who can take you around to gather information, but if you need help with that, let us know. Visit some of the Masai villagers who are being essentially pushed off their land. Find out their views and concerns regarding potential new punishments imposed on them. Get to the heart of it all, but I don’t want emotion—I want solid facts that’ll stand up in court. You have a tendency to think outside the box. I like that about you. Let me put this bluntly—if we win this case, you’ll be number one on our list the next time a promotion opens up.”

  A jolt akin to the one she got from the first sip of a hot, salted caramel mocha latte coursed through her. He’d actually taken note of her work and effort? Top of their list? Her cheeks warmed. She’d had no idea he had that level of confidence in her. Everything in her seemed to shift. This was it. This was her big break. She pushed back a lock of hair that had liberated itself from her bun.

  “Thank you. Mr. Levy, that—that means a lot to me. I won’t let you down.”

  “I hope not.” He stood to leave. She followed suit, but gave her right hand another subtle wipe on her skirt, just in case he extended his. He didn’t. “Helen should be emailing you some files for review on the case. Easier for travel. Other than that, there’s only one thing left for you to do. Go home and pack.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She gathered her things and walked out of the conference room. She could do this. The assignment, she could handle. If she felt too smothered at her parents’ house, she’d go spend time at Busara. After all, she’d be out there anyway to visit tribal villages. And seeing Pippa again would be incredible. No doubt she’d see Haki, too. The last time she’d seen him he’d gotten so much taller and...older. He’d always been mature for his age, but there had been something different about him. She’d also noticed how his relationship with Pippa had changed, even before Pippa had confided that she and Haki had become more than friends. They were an item. A couple. It was a beautiful thing, it really was, but something about it unsettled her. Probably just fear of being a third wheel.

  Maddie took a deep breath and let it out as she stepped onto the sidewalk outside the building. Yes. She could stay with Pippa if she needed a break from Nairobi and her father. Pippa, though she was almost five years younger than Maddie, had always been the spunkier one when they were kids. She never let anyone pick on Maddie back then. She still always had her back.

  Maddie would always have hers, too.

  CHAPTER THREE

  IF THERE WAS ever a prime example of man versus nature, the disaster Haki was witnessing was an arrow in the bull’s-eye. Good thing there was no bull in sight—this time. Haki trekked through trampled earth and mutilated scraps of what had been rows of sorghum. Understanding Swahili and a few of the tribal dialects was an asset to his work, but all he could do right now was nod his head and let the Masai farmer continue to vent. He’d slip in peace talks at the right time. He was just relieved that the elephant bull hadn’t been caught “red-handed.”

  He assumed it was a bull because one such bull had been reported missing that morning from a conservation area dedicated to transitioning teenage elephants into the wild. It was the same group that took on the orphans rescued at Busara once they were too old to stay there. KWS had been trying to locate that missing bull all day. Haki was hoping the elephant would be found alive.

  Just a few weeks ago, another farm had suffered a raid by a hungry elephant in search of food. The farmer had killed it in retaliation. Had KWS not found the body in time, the farmer might have even tried selling the tusks to make up for income lost from crop destruction. And that would have fed into the illegal ivory market, which would in turn have encouraged more poaching, and the vicious cycle would go on. Late-summer droughts made everyone and everything, including vegetation and wildlife, desperate. And desperation had a way of pushing a person’s moral boundaries.

  Crops could be replanted. Fences could be mended. But driving a species to extinction—eradicating it because of either anger or greed—was an irreversible, unconscionable act.

  Haki understood the plight of farmers in the region. He understood that they had children to feed. But killing was not the answer. If the tiny oxpecker bird could ride the back of a massive rhino in peace—trading the benefit of a bodyguard and free meal for keeping the beast’s hide free of insects—then surely humans could figure out a way to live symbiotically with other species.

  A group of women swathed in a geometrical-patterned fabric of oranges and reds, with equally colorful beads a
dorning their necks, stood watching expectantly. One held tight to a toddler. That had to be the farmer’s young child. The one he said had been playing near their garden when the elephant came stomping through.

  Haki wiped the sweat off his forehead with one khaki sleeve, then turned to two of his crew near their medical unit. They’d come out to assist, in case an injured animal was found, after a bush pilot spotted the damaged field and reported possible trouble in the area. Haki’s team had been nearby and the KWS vet assigned to this area was on another emergency call. Luckily, the only casualties here were the crops—not that that didn’t have an impact on the farmer.

  “Let’s help him repair his fence before we leave,” Haki said. The fence wouldn’t hold up if the elephant returned for another meal. Even the electric fences used to block off large areas of land reserved for farming weren’t always enough to keep elephants from roaming in from the forests and reserves. But it was all he could do to temper the situation for now.

  “We’ve been called out. Another aerial tip. A young elephant stuck in a mud pit. I have the coordinates. KWS still has their area vet unit working with a bull they had to dart. Infected hip wound. No time to build fences,” his medical unit driver called out.

  Mud pit. That was one of the repercussions of drought. Haki braced his hands on his belt and stared at his worn and weathered boots. No time. Ironic, given that the savannah was all about time...the cycle of life from dawn until dusk. Yet they were constantly running out of it in an attempt to save lives here, to stop the unique beauty of this place from disappearing.

  “Okay. Let’s go,” he said, signaling the medical team to get a move on. He called over to Lempiris, the farmer, and his older sons, who were beginning to clean up their planting rows.