Free Blood & Milk by N.R. Walker

crossed, like a school kid at story time, and Momboa climbed into my lap. And when they finished singing songs, Momboa asked me to sing a song. “Alé sing.”
    I had no clue what I was supposed to sing, and I looked to Damu for help. He just laughed. “Sing song,” he said, grinning as though he knew how much I didn’t want to. God, there was no getting out of it. So, with Momboa in my lap, I took his hands in mine and clapped his hands together. And I don’t know why, but I sang the alphabet song.
    And when I’d done A through to Z, the kids all clapped and bounced, then demanded I sing it again.
    By the third time I’d sung it, they were singing along with me and even some of the women, Yantai and Damisi, were singing along too.
    Just when I was sure I was going to be singing it all night long, the warriors all stood in an adumu, a circle for jumping. The women stood near them and began a chanting beat, completely a cappella and completely hypnotic. The warriors took turns to jump, leaping tall in the air. As the sun set on the horizon, the sky changed from blues to oranges and purples. The Maasai, as a whole, the Serengeti, mesmerised me. I nudged Damu to join the adumu, but he shook his head no. “Not my place,” he whispered to me. He watched the warriors, not with jealousy or longing like one might expect, but with admiration and respect.
    And that was why I liked him. He had an inner strength I admired, and I wished the others would see him like I did.
    That night, I expected my dreams to taunt me. Not only had I thought of Jarrod and had those emotions of loss and longing pummel through me, but I’d also admitted to myself that, even for the briefest second, I looked at another man like I swore I never would again.
    But I didn’t dream that night. And I woke up with a new sense of purpose. I knew what I had to do.
    Damu was already awake, standing outside the hut. He was watching the sun rise. I squeezed out the small door and stretched my back, feeling every kink pop as I did. “You sleep without dream,” Damu said.
    I looked up at him. “I did.”
    I wondered if he missed my nightmares and the excuse to pull me onto his mattress. I hated to admit that, while I didn’t miss the vivid, haunting dreams, I did miss the safety of his arms.
    But I wouldn’t allow myself to think like that. That wasn’t why I was here.
    “Where is Kijani?” I asked.
    “Why?”
    “I need to ask a favour of him.”
    Damu looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
    I smiled at him. “I want to teach the children English. I want to teach them how to read and write.”
    * * * *
    Kijani was talking with Kasisi and Mposi when I approached them. I figured it would work in my favour to have Kasisi there, as he’d always been favourable toward me. Kijani, not so much.
    “May I interrupt?” I asked, my head bowed with respect.
    Kijani looked at me with his usual contempt, and when his gaze shot over my shoulder, I turned to see Damu was behind me.
    “Ah,” Kasisi, the small elder addressed me with a smile. “Eyes of Kafir. Ol-óíborr .”
    Nice. My knowledge of Maa wasn’t great, but I knew enough to know he’d basically just called me “white man with weird eyes,” and this was from the one that liked me.
    I nodded. “I have come to ask a favour,” I said, still with my head bowed, but not low enough to miss Kijani tightening his grip on his spear. They waited for me to speak. “If the elders approve, I would like to teach the children. Like a school, to read and write English.”
    Kijani’s immediate reaction was to stomp his spear. “No.”
    Without taking his eyes off me, Kasisi raised his hand to silence the angry warrior. “Why you do this?” he asked me.
    I looked up then, into their eyes, so they would see the sincerity in mine. “Because I am able to. I can teach them, basic words, so they don’t have to leave to go to school.”
    Maybe that was a low blow on my behalf. I knew from what little research