Free Fever by V. K. Powell

her surroundings for danger now rested solely on the woman at her side. Sara fought a wave of jealousy, wishing she was the object of Zak’s attention.
    Sara nodded, still enthralled with the sudden changes in Zak and the familiar interactions between her and Imani. Surely this relationship ended at friendship. Homosexual activities were taboo in Africa, especially in the more traditional areas. Suddenly she didn’t want to leave Zak here while she traveled deeper into the savannah.
    “Let’s go meet everybody,” Zak said, walking toward the interior of the compound.
    Children flocked around them, a halo of flies encircling their heads. They pulled on their clothing and laughed as Zak and Imani spoke to them in their native language. The entire village lined up to welcome them. Zak evidently knew many of the older folks and some of the kids. Everyone called her Ebony. When Ben joined the group, he handed Zak her rucksack. She opened it and sat down on the hot ground. Children climbed on her, screaming with delight as she pulled pencils and note paper from the bag and passed them out.
    With Zak occupied, Sara sat next to Ben on a thatched rug he’d thrown on the ground. “You’ve known Zak a long time?”
    “Oh, yes, miss. She came to us as a child.”
    “As a child? I don’t understand.”
    “Her family lived in our village three months every year, to help with the medicines. Me, Imani, and Ebony were very young. She is family.” His rhythmic tone was friendly and soothing.
    “How did she get the name Ebony?”
    “Imani called her as Ebony. She must tell the story.”
    While Zak and Imani played with the children, Ben shared tales of growing up with a gangly little white girl as part of their Maasai family. Others gathered around and added their memories of the outgoing, enthusiastic, strong-minded child who wanted to do everything. She struggled with the language but spoke fluent Swahili by her second year. The women taught her to fix meals, string beads for sale at the market, and help build the cow-dung-and-urine huts. The men were reluctant to share their tribal ways, but year after year she returned more determined than ever to learn. Eventually she was allowed to make weapons, use the spear, and tend the herds. At fifteen, the age that Maasai recognize adolescent boys as men, Zak was finally allowed to hunt with the warriors. It was the first time a woman had been allowed to join any Maasai tribe on a hunt. As Sara listened to their stories, her picture of Zak Chambers became clearer.
    Her willpower had certainly helped her assimilate with the Maasai. Learning to live off the land surely contributed to her self-sufficiency. Her disdain for wealth and possessions was obvious, as it appeared that everything she needed was in her old rucksack. Zak’s love of this country and its people was ingrained in her as surely as the heat was integral to the environment. Then why the lone-wolf mentality? It was apparent that these people placed a very high value on family and communication. Maybe it was about her birth family.
    “So, Zak has been coming here every year since she was a child?” she asked Ben.
    “Not for three years now. Until then, every year.”
    “What happened?” Even though Sara was sure Zak would think she was snooping, she couldn’t stop herself from asking.
    Ben looked at her and his big brown eyes suddenly appeared very sad. He stared out across the savannah. “She must tell the story.” His statement resembled one of Zak’s evasive answers, but from Ben it seemed to convey respect. His affinity for Zak was palpable.
    She smiled at him as a group of women and older men gathered around her. “Where are all the young boys?”
    “They tend the herd, sometimes very far from village. Come back at night.” He launched into the responsibilities of young men in the tribe as Sara watched Zak and Imani with the children. They were almost like a teaching tag-team, entertaining one minute and