Free Stiletto Safari by Kate Metz Page A

was only a small group of people waiting outside the clinic. Ismail smiled at all of them and said, “This is Zara, our new schoolteacher.” No one looked remotely enthusiastic except for Gabi, who was still hanging about. She clapped her hands excitedly.
    I snorted to myself, From dorm mistress to schoolteacher in less than thirty seconds—what next?
    “Okay, everyone, I’m taking Zara over to the school, but I’ll be back in just a few minutes and will attend to all of you then.”
    At this, the small crowd seemed to perk up a bit.
    “What do you mean? Are all of these people waiting to see you?”
    “Well, me or Amy.”
    “But why are they all here?” I wondered aloud.
    “Oh, various ailments. At the moment it’s mainly stomach upsets. As you no doubt noticed on your way in, the drought has been very severe. What little water is left is often contaminated. People, cattle, dogs, and wild animals are all drinking from the same source.”
    “What happens if they drink the water?”
    “Usually diarrhea, vomiting, stomach cramps…but in extreme cases death can result.”
    Guiltily I thought back to my recent iced water. “But what else can they drink if they can’t drink the water?”
    “The school, the clinic, and the volunteer camp have very large water tanks. We’ve been getting them filled every month or so. It’s enough for most people, but not for all. There are plans to start building a few dams around here next year.”
    In order to keep up with Ismail’s long strides, I basically had to jog. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Gabi tagging along behind us.
    “By the way, Ismail, you were wrong about me.”
    “Let me guess: you’re not smart?”
    “No, that’s not it.”
    “You’re not tenacious or resourceful?”
    “Wrong again. Earlier you called me American, but I’m actually Australian. I just happen to live in New York and have picked up a bit of an accent.”
    “So tell me, what brings a young, attractive, Australian-born but American-living lawyer here?” Ismail waved his free hand about.
    “It’s complicated…”
    “It generally is.”
    “Maybe another time, Ismail; you need to get back to the clinic, remember.” I changed the subject. “What about you? Why are you here?”
    Ismail stopped for a moment and peered down at me. “Tell you what: if you make it through the first day I’ll cook you dinner and we can exchange war stories.”
    By now Gabi had caught up to us and had latched on to Ismail’s leg. Effortlessly he picked her up and spun her around. “How’s my favorite terror today?”
    Gabi squealed delightedly. Popping Gabi back on the red dirt, Ismail turned to me and said with mock solemnity, “Gabi, I’d like to formally introduce you to Miss Zara. Miss Zara has come all the way from America to be your teacher, so no monkey business from you.” He gave her hair a ruffle.
    Gabi shyly pushed her messy plaits behind her ears. She was covered from head to toe in grime, and her faded pink dress hung off her tiny frame. She stood awkwardly squinting up at me, hopping from foot to foot.
    Sighing internally, I extended my now-clean hand out to her, “I’m pleased to meet you, Gabi.”
    Gingerly, she shook my hand. Then, grinning up at Ismail, she raced off toward some buildings.
    “What are you going to be when you grow up, Gabi?” Ismail called after her.
    “A doctor,” she shouted back over her shoulder.
    “That’s right,” Ismail yelled after her.
    “I see you’ve been busy indoctrinating the locals. Maybe Gabi might prefer to be a lawyer?”
    Ismail chuckled. “No indoctrination necessary. Since day one, Gabi has followed me around. Whenever she’s not at school, she’s at the clinic. And she’s a natural; she’s already quite a good bandager.”
    “You let her treat patients?” I asked incredulously.
    “No, of course not; she just helps out—don’t tell Amy, though. She’ll go nuts.”
    “Well, let’s see,” I pretended to be