Free Fever by V. K. Powell Page A

instructing the next. Occasionally Imani brushed against Zak’s shoulder or touched her hand, and then their eyes would meet for a second. The more Sara learned about Zak Chambers, the more questions she had.
    “Time to make fire.” Ben rose and spoke in Swahili. The women gathered twigs and limbs from the surrounding area and piled them into the fire pit in the center of the enclosure. “Night comes, animals too.”
    Sara had been content to listen to stories and watch Zak as the day slipped by. A huge orange sun was dipping across the plains, painting the sky a contrast of red and blue. The vast expanse of earth absorbed the setting evenly and reverently, unlike the jagged gnawing of the city skyline at sunset. She’d never seen an evening so alive, though nothing moved as far as she could see. The enormity of the sunset nearly took her breath. As light slowly faded from the sky, the subtle shifts in color and mood mesmerized her. The sight was magnificent, and she suddenly wanted to share it with someone she cared about.
    She dialed Rikki’s cell, oblivious to time differences or cost. She was anxious to enjoy this amazing event with her lover. She’d never felt so connected to the enormity of the universe and wanted to experience it with the person who shared her life. With each unanswered ring, her enthusiasm waned. When the message began, Sara hung up.
    “It makes you realize how insignificant we are in the big picture, doesn’t it?” Zak stood behind her, watching the last glow of light leak from the sky.
    “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. And it certainly puts things into perspective.”
    “We should move closer to the fire. The ceremony is about to start.”
    “Ceremony?”
    “The traditional Maasai welcome dance. Afterward we’ll eat and rest.”
    Every member of the village seemed to have changed from mundane everyday wear to more colorful, festive attire while she watched the sunset. Men on one side of the fire, women on the other, they began a rhythmic humming combined with a chant and echo. The men jumped straight up in the air and the women shook the bead plates around their necks and stomped. Zak sat next to her on the ground and explained the significance of the bright clothing, beads, weaponry, and the purpose of each new performance.
    The participants’ bodies rippled with energy and a sense of respect for the perfectly choreographed dances. The drumbeats vibrated deep in Sara’s chest and the chanting called forth images of primitive ancestors performing the same ritual. She was caught up in the culture and revelry and in watching Zak’s reaction. Zak appeared mesmerized. She tapped two sticks against a stone in time to the drums and mouthed the words of both the chant and echo. It was the most animated she’d seen Zak Chambers since meeting her. Life in this place agreed with her. Sara was disappointed when the music and dancing stopped.
    Then food was brought to the fire, blessed by the chief, and passed to the elder men first. As they waited their turn, Zak moved closer and whispered, “The meat is guinea fowl, so it’s probably safe.”
    The bird tasted like roasted duck and the corn paste was similar to mashed cornbread. The meal was delicious, or maybe she was just starving from the day’s activities. After they finished eating, everyone sat around the fire and sipped from a gourd that passed from person to person. When it was Sara’s turn, Zak said, “I’d pass on that if I were you.”
    “Well, you’re not me and I don’t want to seem inhospitable. Besides, I want to try everything.” She took a big gulp and was immediately sorry. The thick iron taste stuck to her tongue and almost gagged her. She could barely swallow without heaving the rancid mixture back up. Her face must’ve been telling because Zak gave her an I-told-you-so grin. When she could speak again, she asked, “What is that?”
    “Milk and cow’s blood. It’s a staple and an acquired