It was still dark as Pearl followed her yoga companions on Sunday morning. Instead of their usual mid-morning class in the studio, Ajay had suggested an early morning session. They were walking away from the lodge to the top of the escarpment, where they could harness the dawn energy.
Pearl carried a torch in one gloved hand, a bottle of water in the other, and her yoga mat, in its protective bag, was slung over her shoulder.
Ajay whispered into the peaceful atmosphere, “Everyone find a spot, unroll your mats and face me. Be careful as we are close to the edge of the escarpment.”
Pearl did as she was bid, choosing a position to the left and slightly away from the group of giggling women. Through the gloom, she spotted Wendy unrolling her mat close to Ajay.
Pearl sat down, cross-legged, to begin her meditation, and wondered about her journey to this point from a naive and frivolous girl who had only wanted to attend the most hip parties on the arm of a handsome man. But she had learnt that such men did not always respect women, and she had been used, abused and nearly killed.
She concentrated on her breathing, inhaling deeply and imagining, as she exhaled, a golden thread of breath, which carried away her worries and grievances. She felt her mind settle again and thought of blind old Mr Kariuki who had spoken to her of ancient spirits and Kikuyu history and culture.
She realised now that he had given her a feeling of belonging, and she was beginning to understand his fascination with Mount Kenya. As well as the Kikuyu belief that the creator of all things ‘Ngai’ descended to the mountain with the cloud, it also represented permanence and stability.
An orange glow spread across the horizon as the sun began to climb and wake the slumbering Kenyan savannah. She felt uplifted and alive.
She breathed in once more and exhaled her imaginary golden thread, expelling her deepest troubles.
She heard a sound behind her. There it was again. The noise of scuffed earth, of flattened grass, of someone walking.
Opening her eyes, she turned her head and watched the figure of a woman, with her head covered, walk slowly past and out of sight down a path at the edge of the escarpment. That was Nina Scott Watson. She recognised the large hat which obscured most of Nina’s face, but why was she out so early and on her own?
Pearl shrugged. Perhaps like them she just wanted to find a place to admire the sunrise, and to be away from her domineering husband.
She turned back and could see the rest of the group more clearly. Ajay stood and said in a smooth voice, “Shall we begin?”