Free Stiletto Safari by Kate Metz

people’s lives here…”
    He shrugged his shoulders. “Man, I sound preachy, don’t I? Anyway, all I’m saying is, stick around for a month or so and see how you feel. If you still want to leave then, at least you’ve tried. Also—and here’s where the selfish part kicks in—we could do with your help right now. Both the clinic and the school are really understaffed at the moment. So what do you say: a one-month trial?”
    Perhaps it was the cool drink and the refreshing towel or simply the thought of getting back on a really long flight, but I was now feeling much calmer and more rational. If they needed me, of course I could handle a month. Smiling at Ismail, I held out my hand, “Deal. But if things don’t work out in a month, it’s the Internet café for me.”
    Ismail solemnly took my hand. “Deal. I’ll even drive you to Windhoek myself. Now let’s get you settled in. Usually all the volunteers live down at the volunteer camp, but because the school is so understaffed at the moment, we need you to supervise the girls’ dorm.”
    My face must have completely dropped at this suggestion. Teasingly Ismail said, “They’re girls, not monsters, and it’s just temporary. The school is looking for a replacement teacher as we speak.”
    He picked up my things and we started walking through the clinic toward the exit.
    “Well, where is the school? I didn’t see it on the way in.” I was trying to buy some thinking time.
    “Not far from here. It’s about 250 meters from the clinic, so if you really can’t handle sixty little girls, all you need to do is scream and I’ll come and get you.”
    I blanched at this, “Sixty girls? Are you crazy? I’ve never been in charge of any kids before. There’s no way I can handle sixty of them!”
    Ismail halted in his tracks and put my bag on the clinic floor. He earnestly studied my face for a moment. “Zara, I know it’s a lot to ask of you. But if you don’t stay in the dorm, it will be shut down. The kids live in villages miles away from here. It’s too far and too dangerous for them to walk to school every day. It’s only because the school is free and provides them with a roof over their head and meals that they’re even allowed to attend. Many of the locals don’t value education, especially not for girls. Girls around here get married as young as thirteen or fourteen and start having babies straight away. What kind of a life is that?”
    I stood there pondering what Ismail had said. Outside the fly-wire door of the clinic, I could see some very young-looking mothers cradling babies on their laps.
    “Well, aren’t there some women from the village who can sleep in the dorm with the girls, or even some fathers who can help out?”
    “Zara, these are overworked poor women. They do everything—the cooking, the cleaning, the child-rearing—they even help build their own houses. Like I told you, most of them don’t even value education, so it’s not like we’re inundated with offers.”
    “But what about the men?” I said hopefully.
    Ismail rolled his eyes. “Zara, do you think it’s a good idea putting a man in charge of a girls’ dorm? It wouldn’t happen back home, would it? Plus, bushmen are typically nomads. They’re often away from the village for long stretches of time herding cattle.”
    Clearly, I’d reached a dead end.
    “Ismail, I’m not saying I won’t do it; I’m just not sure if I can do it.”
    Ismail put his hands on his hips. “So tell me, what do you do back home, Zara?”
    Ah, my opportunity. “Well, I’m a lawyer actually, an M&A lawyer, so as you can see I’m very ill equipped to deal with sixty children!”
    “Lawyers are smart, tenacious, resourceful and work long hours. You’ll be perfect!”
    Exasperatedly I threw my hands up into the air. “Fine, a month. And if anything goes wrong I’m holding you responsible.”
    Grinning, Ismail picked up my bags again and led the way out of the clinic.
    By now there