‘This is the house,’ said Shani. ‘It looks … fine. I like what they’ve done with the sunflowers. It’ll be good for you to be with family again, Makena.’
Makena didn’t respond. Some days, most days, it was too much effort to speak. Today was one of them.
Samson Chivero had insisted on driving them. He waited until a lorry had hurtled by, spewing black smoke and dust, before parking outside a pink house with a blue door. The paintwork looked as parched as the fields they’d passed on the way to Isiolo in Kenya’s drought-wracked north.
Despite that, an attempt had been made to create a mini front garden. There was a square of thirsty grass and a bed of scarlet geraniums. Two goats were trying to get at them through the wire fence. A tunnel of nodding sunflowers lined the concrete path.
They knocked twice before the door was flung open. A woman emerged in a clinging hot-pink dress. She had a baby on her hip and was strikingly attractive in a hard, coy way. Makena remembered overhearing Baba confide to her mama that, as a youngster, his half-brother Edwin had rarely been out of trouble. He’d only settled down when he’d moved to Isiolo and become a respected mechanic.
‘Then he married the best-looking woman in the district and got himself a whole heap of other trouble.’
For a moment her aunt seemed to have forgotten they were coming. Then she seized Makena with her painted nails and crushed her to her breast. ‘Poor, poor child. Priscilla’s gonna take good care of you.’
Makena pulled away at the first opportunity. The baby smelled as if its nappy needed attention.
‘You’ve missed Edwin. Some emergency at the garage. Probably a spark plug needed changing.’ Priscilla waved a hand dismissively. ‘Men!’
Inside there were more children: a boy of five and girl of seven. They all shared a room barely big enough to contain a narrow bunk bed and the baby’s cot.
Shani’s brow wrinkled. ‘And Makena …?’
‘It will be tough but we’ll manage,’ Priscilla sighed. ‘In the beginning, she will have to sleep on the sofa or top to toe with my daughter. After that, God willing, some money will come in to help us finish the extension.’
She gestured towards the open back door. Through it they could see four breeze-block walls with wire and weeds poking out of the top. ‘All it needs is plaster, paint and a roof and Makena can have a room of her own.’
‘What about school?’ Shani asked over tea. ‘Makena has already missed so much. It’s been over six weeks since her parents … since … You know, it’s been hard. We tried to send her to her usual school but she couldn’t cope. Too many memories. A change will be for the best, don’t you think, Makena? New friends, new teachers.’
Makena had not spoken since leaving the car and she said nothing now. What difference would it make? Soon Shani and Samson would drive away, leaving her with these strangers. She’d met Uncle Edwin a handful of times over the years and remembered him as a tall, lanky and sweetly charming man. But she barely knew him.
From what she’d heard, he was not someone to be counted on. ‘Weak as water,’ was the phrase her mother had often used.
Shani was still going on about school, as if it mattered any more. ‘Makena is so bright and talented. She used to be top of her year at English and science. Her mother’s hope was that she might one day go to university.’
‘The difficulty is, now we have an extra mouth to feed,’ said Priscilla. ‘Things will be tight but, of course, we will do our very best for Makena. There is a first-class school in Isiolo. It goes up to eighteen years. Though there would be uniforms to buy, text books, exercise books, pens, shoes, hats, sports clothes, tennis rackets and trainers, swimming gear, netball … The list goes on. Some day if we are blessed with money we will send her there. Until then she will go to the local school. There are only two teachers for all ages, but what can you do?’
Uncle Samson cleared his throat. ‘I can help. Not me, personally, but the New Equator Tour Company. We were broken-hearted by the loss of Makena’s father, our finest mountain guide. We wanted to help his daughter. Our manager organised a charity auction and people were so generous in their donations. We thought of giving you a cheque but we didn’t know your banking arrangements.’
He patted his jacket pocket. ‘I have the cash. It should pay for a year at the good school and buy many of the other things you mentioned. Uniforms and such like. It might even stretch to the paint and roof for Makena’s new room. Next year, we can try again to raise funds to put her through high school. It would be our pleasure to do this for Makena.’
He produced the fattest bundle of notes Makena had ever seen. Priscilla glowed. Uncle Samson’s eyes widened as she spirited it into her bra.
‘This will make all the difference. Once a person has money, the world is her oyster.’
They moved out to the vehicle. Uncle Samson had deposited Makena’s rucksack and suitcase in the children’s bedroom. They contained everything she owned in the world – clothes rescued by Shani from her old home, a few new ones, and shampoo, soap and toothpaste. Li had kindly given her three new books, bought with her own pocket money.
‘I wish Makena could have stayed with us for ever,’ said Shani. ‘After six weeks, she’s family to us. But we have four children of our own and my husband’s business is struggling.’
‘Do not concern yourself,’ said Priscilla, all smiles now that her bra had won the lottery. ‘Makena is in excellent hands.’
Like Uncle Samson, Shani had tears in her eyes when she hugged Makena goodbye. ‘You know where we are if you need anything.’
The SUV was moving off when it suddenly screeched to a halt. Shani leaned out. ‘Priscilla, I almost forgot to tell you, Makena is a vegetarian.’
‘A veg what?’
‘A vegetarian. She only eats vegetables, rice, beans, fruit and ugali. No meat, not even chicken or beef stock. She loves animals, you see. Sometimes she’ll have a bit of fish.’
Priscilla’s smile slipped. ‘We will have to see what we can do. The problem is the cost of vegetables and fruit. The drought has pushed them sky high.’
Makena saw Shani bite back a comment. She opened her handbag and gave the woman all the cash she had. ‘Will this be enough?’
‘For now,’ purred Priscilla.
Makena wanted to crawl into a hole in the barren earth. Since that wasn’t an option, she forced a smile and waved goodbye to her friends. Seconds later, the dust had swallowed them up.
Priscilla took her by the hand. Her nails dug into Makena’s palm. ‘Come, darling, show us what you have in your suitcase. We can’t have you keeping everything to yourself. In this family we like to share. There are no princesses here. You will have to help out too, same as everyone else. How are you with babies? My youngest needs his nappy changing.’