Free Blood & Milk by N.R. Walker Page A

I’d done before I came here, that not only was displacement a threat to their culture, but so was the fact the younger Maasai needed to leave their lands to get schooling.
    The three elders spoke then, too fast and all at once, so I couldn’t understand. Kijani looked at Damu, and I couldn’t believe they were brothers. Sure, they looked alike, but their demeanours were polar opposites of each other. Kijani was stress and anger, and Damu was calm and peace.
    Kijani barked something at Damu, and I didn’t have to understand the words to know what he was implying. I put my hand up. “No. This was my idea. Damu is not to blame.”
    Damu dropped his head like this was the worst thing I could have said. I didn’t know what was customary and what was forbidden. But I wanted to do this, and it would be on my head, not Damu’s. “Damu.” I waited for him to look at me. “If it was wrong of me to ask, then I am sorry. I just want to help.”
    Apparently this was not to Kijani’s liking. “You seek his forgive?”
    “Yes,” I answered, looking Kijani right in the eye. “Damu is my guide. He has shown me my way here. He has shown me kindness.”
    Kijani leaned toward me, never breaking eye contact, and I briefly wondered if people had died for speaking to him in such a way.
    Again Kasisi raised his hand, silently quelling all talk. He spoke again in rapid Maa and he, Mposi, and Kijani quickly fell into conversation like I wasn’t there. They turned and started to walk away, their conversation never stopped.
    Damu put his hand on my arm. “They will discuss.”
    I turned to him. “I am sorry. If I caused you problems, that was not my intention.”
    He replied with a small smile and a nod. “Come. We must get water.”
    And just like that, he collected his bucket and we made the trek to the river.
    “Do you think they’ll allow me to do it?” I asked. “To teach the children?”
    “Do not know.”
    “But it’d be good, right?”
    Damu just smiled as he walked but didn’t answer.
    “Then they wouldn’t have to leave,” I added. “They could stay with their own people. They could learn here, and they could teach me more words in Maa.” The more I spoke about it, the more I was convinced it was the right thing to do.
    We approached the river, and given the women and children were long gone, Damu sat on the bank and took off his shoes. Then he proceeded to unwrap his shuka and let the red cloth fall on the rocks. He stood, wearing only a small wrap that was more a codpiece than underwear.
    I tried not to ogle, but I couldn’t look away. He was tall, lean, his movements fluid and graceful. I’d used the word “striking” to describe him before, but he was more than that. He was stunning.
    Then he dropped the codpiece and stepped into the water.
    I looked away to give him some privacy, but not before I saw him completely naked. He was, well, to put it politely, he was in proportion. His flaccid cock hung, long and thin. Just like the rest of him, tall, dark, and beautiful.
    He immersed himself in the water, finally surfacing with a deep breath and a smile. He began to bathe himself.
    I wondered if I could do the same, because the water sure looked inviting... I stripped down too, completely naked and not caring for modesty, and dived into the water. It was cool and fresh and felt heavenly against my skin. I didn’t realise how gritty I’d become. Sure, I’d dived into the water a few times in my time here but never fully naked.
    It was sublime.
    Underwater, I raked my hands through my hair letting the water sluice through the strands to remove any grit and sand. Daily face washes, shaving, and teeth brushing served its purpose, but a proper bath was unbeatable.
    I’d forgotten what a shower felt like. And as amazing as the water felt, I didn’t miss running water. I didn’t miss electricity. I didn’t miss anything.
    Except Jarrod.
    I broke the surface, gasping for air. As usual, the memory of Jarrod