The problem was that tourist schedules weren’t sun—or Africa-time friendly. Five minutes late and they’d start complaining. Five minutes late was nothing around here, but add an hour or two and she’d have no customers at all.
She had found that out the hard way a few weeks ago. No one had even cared about the fact that a male ostrich had decided to challenge her jeep. And then she’d inadvertently driven too close to a rhino and her calf in the brush. She’d made her escape only to hit a piece of scrap metal in the middle of nowhere that resulted in her having to change her tire. No doubt, the lodge director and tour group parents had thought she was making up stories when she’d finally arrived at the hotel.
The trumpeting of elephants in the distance shook the air as if to give her a warning that she would be running late soon. She gave Adia a hug, then quickly scanned the enkang. The place bustled with activity, from the familiar act of women grinding corn, to making beaded jewelry and continuing to repair and build their huts. The village would crumble without the tireless work the women did here. Most had never left their clan, yet they had the focus, strength, persistence and motivation that so many students and people Pippa had met during her recent year of travels lacked. People who took the opportunities they had in life for granted.
“I don’t see your father. Did you talk to him?” Pippa asked as they walked toward her jeep. She really hoped that Adia’s father wouldn’t be opposed to the girl pursuing an education in Nairobi. Adia scratched her tightly cropped hair, then fidgeted with the colorful bracelets that ran halfway to her elbows.
“No, not yet. I’ll talk to him when you are here next time. With you. Please?”
“Okay. But I don’t want to offend him. This discussion is between you. The decision is his.” There was a fine line between advocating for a kid like Adia and crossing boundaries when it came to family, expectations and culture. The fact that everyone knew Pippa around here might help a little, but upsetting the tribal leader might put a hitch in her efforts to teach others in the village. She respected the Maasai and this particular family tremendously, and offending them was the last thing she wanted to do.
“Of course,” Adia said, following her outside the enkang’s fence to where the jeep was parked. Pippa reached into a backpack on the passenger seat and pulled out another pencil and small notebook. She handed them to Adia, gave her a hug and waved as the girl hurried back to her hut.
Pippa settled behind the wheel of her jeep and looked one more time at her watch. Talk about addictive. No wonder people succumbed so easily to the power of clocks and schedules...and stress and anti-anxiety drugs. How would someone like Adia adjust to that world? Would she lose her bond with and appreciation of her culture? Was Pippa causing more harm than good?
She took a deep breath, and her stomach rumbled as she started the ignition. Her home in the Busara Elephant Research and Rescue Camp was along the way, but she didn’t have time to swing by for a bite.
She had six kids booked for the hike, and she couldn’t risk being late. There weren’t a lot of opportunities out here for her to save up. As much as she hated the outside world leaving its footprints on this majestic land, being near the Maasai Mara meant tourists hungry for a glimpse of Kenya’s Serengeti and its wonders—and that meant money.
Funny how the things that annoyed her were the very things that she relied on to achieve her goals. Balance rarely happened without sacrifice. Everything from relationships, marriage and the circle of life that surrounded her proved it. The balance and beauty of the savanna relied on both predator and prey. Death was a necessary evil, but it provided for new beginnings. It, paradoxically, gave hope. She floored the pedal and held her breath till the dust she roused was nothing but a dissipating cloud in her rearview mirror.
She was making it to Tabara Lodge on time if it killed her.
THE FOOD AT the lodge was better than fantastic and the atmosphere was incredible. Nothing came between them and the outdoors except canvas curtains that Dax was told were only drawn in bad weather. Natural wood covered the ceiling and walls and African art adorned the place. The restaurant opened onto a breezeway that overlooked grasslands dappled with acacia trees and boulders. The view from their table was breathtaking. Dax had been too rushed earlier to really appreciate it. He set his napkin down and looked at the barely touched dishes in front of Ivy and Fern. They’d eaten the chapati flat bread, but the stew hadn’t been much more than picked at.
“You have to at least try it.”
“I can’t identify all the ingredients,” Fern said.
“The waiter told you how it’s made. Three times.”
“Smells...different.” Ivy crinkled her nose.
“It’s called spices and the stew is delicious, so if you don’t want it, I’ll eat it.” He reached over for their plates, hoping they’d stop him. They didn’t. Fine. Their choice.
Living outside of the United States was going to be good for them. They obviously needed to learn to try new things. Houston was full of great, authentic, hole-in-the-wall restaurants, but come to think of it, he couldn’t recall taking them to any. When he ate out, it was usually with a colleague at lunch. He added their stew to his empty bowl and took a bite. “You can’t live on bread forever. If you’re hungry enough, you’ll eat.”
“Yes, we know. There are starving children in Africa.”
“You’re in Africa.”
“We know that, too.”
“Have it your way,” Dax said, spooning more food into his mouth. Man, the spinach, potatoes and lamb were good.
“I’m a vegetarian,” Ivy said. Fern stilled for a fraction of a second, then pursed her lips and nodded in agreement. Dax set his spoon down and rested his elbows on the table.
“A vegetarian. You, too, Fern? Or did you become one a second ago?”
“We’re definitely vegetarians,” Fern said.
“You both begged me for hamburgers before our flight here. I recall you eating every last bite, too.”
There was no comment. Dax sighed. As if they weren’t picky eaters already.
“You do know that even vegetarians don’t live on bread? That you’ll have to eat more vegetables and beans?” They hated beans, unless they were baked beans that came out of a can and were loaded with sugar. Neither twin made a comment. Stubborn times two. “Okay, then. We can order you vegetarian meals. They had plenty of options that weren’t on the dessert menu.” He gave them a knowing look. No doubt they were hoping he’d give up on real food and let them order anything they wanted, so long as they didn’t starve.
“We’re not really hungry anyway,” Ivy said. Fern shot her a frown.
“I am,” Dax said. “So you’ll have to sit and wait while I finish this delicious, savory dish.” He took another bite. “Man, this hits the spot. Really good.”
Ivy and Fern rolled their eyes and pulled out their e-readers. Their grandmother had bought the gadgets for them last Christmas and got them both international charging kits for this trip. He didn’t condone reading during a meal, but right now, if it kept them busy and cut the smart-mouthing he had to listen to so that he could actually enjoy his food, he’d let it slide. Besides, between virtual schooling, e-readers and the occasional movie or game, any pediatric recommendations on limiting screen time were null, void and completely archaic. It had taken him a while, after becoming a single father, to finally figure that out. Nutrition, however, wasn’t. Sooner or later, they’d need to eat something. He hated it when they challenged him like this. It was as if