Blood & Milk Read Online Free

assume were the tribal elders, sat at the front, and the angry warrior from last night was the first to see me. He stood and thumped his spear into the dirt, yelling fierce words in my direction.
    Now the entire tribe stared at me. The children cried out and ran to their mothers.
    But it was the small elder, the oldest of all the tribal leaders, who stood up and called for calm. He was the same man who called me the ghost of Kafir , the same man who said I could stay. He motioned for me to come forward, which I did obediently. He wore a headdress of beads and feathers and held what I first thought was a stick with a tuft of hair sticking out the end, but I realised, a little belatedly, it was an animal’s tail wrapped with twine of some sort. I couldn’t tell if it was a zebra tail or a warthog’s or a lion’s. God, I had no idea. What I did know was that from the headdress and utmost respect from his tribe, this little old man must be what the Maasai called their ‘diviner.’ Before I knew differently, I probably would have called him a witchdoctor.
    It was then I noticed Damu had come forward with me. He stood by my side, facing the elders with his head bowed. I took his cue and did the same.
    The diviner pointed his tail-stick thing to the tribesmen who sat to my left, and gave them what appeared to be an order. Without a murmur, they stood and filed out. Then he did the same to the women, and they left, taking the children with them.
    “Damu,” the elder said. He spoke to him in Maa, then he shooed him away with his hand. Damu hesitated in leaving me, but the diviner repeated his order, and Damu backed away. I didn’t see where he went. I didn’t dare look.
    The diviner smiled, revealing a few missing teeth, and he seemed friendly. He had a kind face, and I liked him. “Sit. Sit,” he said.
    I sat right where I had been standing, and the diviner sat with his back to the wall of a hut with the other elders. The angry warrior stood for a moment longer, no doubt to remind me of his status, and subsequently, reminding me of mine.
    They talked a little amongst themselves, and I realised this was a trial of sorts. My stay here was still being decided. Maybe even my life. I just sat there, staring at the dirt, and waited.
    It was only when they spoke in English that I looked up. “White man,” one of them said. It wasn’t a racist comment, it was merely an observation. I nodded my acknowledgment and looked at each of them in turn, hoping it would show my respect. Of course it allowed them all to see my different coloured eyes, and they started talking amongst themselves again.
    “Kafir! Kafir!” one of the men cried. “Eyes of Kafir.”
    “He dreams,” the diviner told them.
    They talked amongst themselves some more. All the while the angry warrior never took his eyes off me. “Where you come?”
    “I’m from Australia. A city called Sydney, in Australia,” I answered.
    “You have wife?”
    “No.”
    “You no wife, no children, no cattle?”
    “No.”
    “You come here for wife?”
    “No.” Even if I wasn’t gay, finding a partner was the last, last, last thing I wanted.
    He stared at me, like my life and intentions were unfathomable.
    So I said, “I want to help you. I want to live here and help, be a part of your people.”
    “How you help our people?” the diviner asked.
    I reached into my shirt pocket and pulled out a wad of notes. It was probably fifty thousand Tanzanian shillings or about thirty Australian dollars. I had more money stashed and figured buying my way in for thirty bucks was money well spent. I held out the money. “For your people.”
    Apparently this was a good thing. They were pleased, even the angry warrior seemed mollified after he’d snatched the money from my hand. So, while I was in their good graces, I needed to know some names. Diviner and angry warrior were apt and all, but hardly polite. Not that they’d made any attempt in asking me my name―I guessed they