Rula Sinara - Every Serengeti Sunrise

“Your mind wasn’t here. I could tell I had a chance halfway through the game. Anything I can help with?”

Haki shook his head. “Just tired. Long day.”

The camp had quieted; even the baby elephants were sound asleep in their pens with their keepers, but the ebb and flow of insects crying out for their mates rippled through the air like waves licking at the parched, hot sand. Nightfall masked the harsh effects of the drought. It masked a lot of things. But Haki’s father had a way of seeing through veils, even in the dark.

“Perhaps you should have taken the day off and flown with them to Nairobi.”

“No need,” Haki said quickly. He closed the wooden case.

“I said nothing about need.”

Haki smiled and stood.

“Are you going to try to checkmate me all evening? Don’t let one win go to your head.”

Kamau laughed and pushed back his chair.

“All right. Deflect, but you know I’m here if you need to talk, or gain insight into the minds of women...or for tips on how to win at chess,” he added with a chuckle.

“Hey,” Haki said, shaking his finger at him. “Tomorrow will be the start of my next winning streak. You’ve been warned.”

Kamau left the screen door creaking to a close behind him and Haki caught a glimpse of his younger brother, Huru, sketching in the family room. At fifteen, an age when most kids wallowed in hormones and angst, Huru was as mellow as they came. Maybe he channeled it all into his artwork—there was no doubt he had a gift—but sometimes Haki had to wonder if names carried enough power to define a person, or if it was the emotional state of the mother at the time of naming and rearing the child that made all the difference. Huru had always had a carefree way about him. Free, just as his name meant in Swahili, or perhaps how their mother felt at his birth: married, happy and loved, unlike how she’d been when Haki was conceived in an act of violence. Haki meant justice. And there had never been a time when he didn’t find himself wanting it. Wanting those who caused pain and harm to be held accountable, wanting to be sure he’d always be the kind of honorable man Kamau was...and not like the criminal whose blood he shared.

* * *

MADDIE CLOSED HER room door gently and tiptoed downstairs. Everyone but Simba and Chuki, who lived nearby, had opted to stay the night, rather than fly out of Nairobi in the dark. Her uncles had crashed in Chad’s empty room and Pippa was hogging most of her bed. Not that it mattered, given that Maddie couldn’t sleep. It was almost midnight, but for her it felt like midafternoon.

She turned on the kitchen light and squinted until her eyes adjusted. Maybe some chamomile tea would help her get sleepy. What she really needed was to force herself not to nap during the day. The one she’d taken on the way home from the airport had given her a second wind.

She set her laptop on the kitchen butcher block and went to put a kettle of water on the gas stove. If sleep wasn’t happening then work was. She needed to be prepared for tomorrow. The last thing she wanted was for the lawyers overseeing the case to call up Levy and ask him why he’d sent them someone clueless. She pulled up a stool and flipped open her computer.

“A bit late for work.”

She startled but immediately relaxed when her dad put his hands on her shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She closed her eyes briefly and took it in. Moments like this, his love felt unconditional. Earlier, he’d wrapped her in a bear hug that she never wanted to leave. There was no mistaking he loved her. But that only made it more hurtful when he was critical. She closed her laptop. Maybe just tonight, this first night, she could avoid a serious conversation with him.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she said. “But you should be. I hope I didn’t make too much noise.”

“Nah.” He padded over to the fridge and pulled out a wrapped sandwich. He held it up for her to see, then unwrapped it. “I tell you, I’m spoiled. Made and waiting for me.”

“A sandwich at this hour?”

“Peanut butter and honey. My go-to late-night snack. You want one? It’ll help you sleep. I can’t sleep if I’m hungry.”

“No, thanks. I ate so much at dinner. Hunger isn’t my problem.”

As much as he’d eaten, she couldn’t imagine why he’d be hungry, but then again, his work was quite physical.

“You look great, Mads.” He took a bite. “Tired, but great. They treating you well at that firm? Good health-care coverage? They’re not bumming off their worst cases on you, are they?”

So much for the warm fuzzies.

“I’m happy there, Dad, and yes, I’m covered. I did read the fine print when I signed on with them. It’s a habit they teach in law school.” The kettle began whistling and she hurried to turn off the stove so it wouldn’t wake anyone.

“I don’t doubt it. Good habit, too. So is carrying pepper spray, or better yet, not leaving work alone after dark.”

“Dad, I’m twenty-six. I can take care of myself. You don’t have to worry.”

“You work in Philadelphia. Big cities have crime problems. Predators lurk in parking lots after dark. If you leave the building every night at the same time, they’ll catch on to your pattern.”

“I know. You went over every safety tactic when I left for college, and I haven’t forgotten the self-defense moves you taught me, either. Luckily, I haven’t had to use them. Do you want a mug of tea with that?” she asked as she poured water on some loose chamomile, dried from the garden.

“No, I’ll grab some milk in a sec.”

“I’ll get it for you.”

“Thanks. Did you hear that Chad got promoted? Lance corporal.”

“Mom didn’t mention that. Just that he was okay.”

“Yep. He’s okay. More than okay. He’s working his way up.”

“That’s good.” Chad had always wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps. No doubt he’d command a unit someday. Obviously, their dad was proud.

“Ryan and Philip are both at the top of their classes, too. Smart boys.”

“It’s so good to see them. I can’t get over how tall they are.”

“So what’s this case you’re here for? If I have any contacts who can help, let me know.”

He had to ask. She set a glass of milk next to him, then cradled her mug of tea as she sat down. Might as well put it out there and deal with the backlash.

“I’ll be stopping by our sister office tomorrow to meet with the barristers, but I’ll also need to spend time in some of the villages. I’m thinking of staying at Busara or Camp Jamba Walker and taking day trips to talk to the village elders and leaders. I’ll be looking into the hardships some of the farmers are experiencing and getting testimony in their defense.”

“Defense of what?” Ben took his last bite of sandwich and brushed the crumbs off his hands.

“A proposal was submitted that calls for harsher punishments against Masai farmers who kill elephants. We intend to have it thrown out.”

His brow furrowed and he cocked his head.

“On what grounds?”

“On the grounds that they’re already enduring hardship and the fines proposed are beyond anything they could afford. The prison terms would prevent families from being able to keep up with their farms or generate income to feed their children and survive.”

“What are you doing, Mads?” He got up, shaking his head, and dumped the last sip of his milk in the sink. “Of all cases, why would you take this on?”

“What do you mean? Why would I fight for human rights? That seems like a no-brainer to me.”

“What about animal rights? You know what goes on out there. Half of your family works to fight poaching. You lived here. You know this. That proposal is needed to discourage native tribes from aiding and abetting. Busara is about elephant rescue. You plan to stay there and expect them to take you around so you can fight this?”