Ecstasy by Gwynne Forster

Author:Gwynne Forster
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kimani Press
Published: 2012-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

He had spent the night scrambling the sheets, tossing and dreaming. At dawn, he dragged himself out of bed, more tired than he could remember, dressed, and decided to watch the sun rise in Kenya before meeting Jeannetta for breakfast. He strolled along Uhuru Highway for a couple of blocks until the changing sky announced the coming sun, and leaned against the trunk of an old coconut tree to witness its rise. How could he make her understand the horrifying experience of having the certainty that a person’s life can be snatched away by your error? She didn’t want to accept that, prior to that near-fatal incident, he’d never thought of it in that way, because he’d never considered his fallibility where his work was concerned. He’d been cocky. All-powerful. But he’d gotten a dose of the humility that every surgeon must eventually drink. The sun was up in full, and he’d hardly noticed it. He walked back to City Hall Way, past the elegant government buildings, hardly aware of his surroundings.

“Got a couple of shillings, rich mister?” a boy of no more than seven asked him. Mason fished around in his pockets, careful not to expose any bills in the event the boy had accomplices, and gave the child some coins. To his amazement, the boy handed him a used toothbrush and, when he questioned him, explained that it was fair exchange; he didn’t beg.

“I can show you around the town for some more shillings,” the boy told him. Mason thought about it for a minute.

“What are you doing out here in the street so early?”

“Best time to find tourist. Make money. First bird gets biggest worms. I show you around.” They walked along City Hall Way, and Mason had to admit that the boy knew the town and its buildings and monuments.

“How old are you, and what’s your name?”

“Jomo. Almost eight.”

Mason couldn’t associate an American boy of that age with such sophistication.

“Do you go to school?” He was curious about the boy, but he had a hunch that if he got too close, he’d lose his shirt.

“Second grade. We go to marketplace now.” Here was the Kenya of the common man. Hundreds of traders prepared their wares for the day’s sales. Women hung colorful baskets, woven mats, wood carvings of animals, eating and cooking utensils, ornaments, hides, and an assortment of other goods. Jomo stopped at a stall and grinned.

“This is my grandmother, rich mister. You buy something from her?” Mason bowed to the woman and bought several wooden bracelets on which were carved heads of giraffes, lions, and other animals.

“I can take you to see the Masai for a hundred shillings,” the boy urged. “For some more, my cousin will take you to see Kilimanjaro.”

“What do you do with your money?” Mason had no intention of going miles away from Nairobi into Masailand with the boy, but he didn’t doubt that Jomo could get him there and back.

“I save to buy a wife. I need many shillings.

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