Reunion in Barsaloi Read Online Free Page B

first impression myself, to bring back photographs and some video to inspire Napirai to come and visit. If everything goes well, she’ll definitely be with me next time.
    The time flies by and before we know it we’re all being called in to dinner. We’re the Lodge’s only guests. Even back in the old days I never ran across any other tourists here but somehow it still manages to function. This is the first time James has been here and he’s interested to see how they lay out the cutlery on either side of the plate.
    The starter is toast with mushrooms and I have to laugh because I know the Samburu don’t eat mushrooms. James asks cautiously what sort of a dish it is, looking rather embarrassedly at the little piece of toast. I’m laughing so much I can hardly explain to him. All the time I can hear Lketinga’s words: ‘White people’s food is not proper food, you will never be full by eating it.’ He would make exactly the same face that James is making now. Eventually I pull myself together and tell him what it is, and that it’s only a starter. ‘Okay,’ he says, ‘No problem. I’ll try it. I’m a guest after all, and a guest should eat what’s put in front of him.’
    After a few minutes, however, I rescue James from his toast as the second course – a tomato soup – is already being served. He finds thatsomewhat better although still unusual. And then at least a piece of meat arrives. At last that’s something he understands even if it is a bit small by his standards. But there’s nothing I can do to persuade him to touch the last course – a wholly alien chocolate mousse.
    Throughout the meal we’re all talking and laughing and I ask tentatively about Lketinga. James replies: ‘He is not bad in this time.’ It seems things are going okay for him and a month ago he married a second young girl. I’m surprised as nobody mentioned this in any of the recent letters. James explains that Lketinga only decided on another marriage recently. His first wife – or second after me, depending on your point of view – is sickly and has had a number of miscarriages. Until now Lketinga has only one daughter in Kenya, Shankayon, and he would like more children, having waited long enough for them. His sick wife left Barsaloi a few months ago to go back to her mother.
    This is all unexpected news to me, and a bit disconcerting: I hope my turning up doesn’t cause any extra difficulties. But when I tell James of my fears, he smiles and says: ‘No, no, there won’t be any problems.’
    He says that Lketinga didn’t want to be without a wife by his side when I arrived as this might have given me the wrong impression. And as he wants more children anyhow, it’s all for the best. I find the first part of this a bit much but am still pleased that Lketinga has a wife from his own tribe at his side. She’s probably a young girl not much older than our daughter Napirai!
    It may be hard to imagine for us Europeans but in Samburu culture there’s no real alternative for the men but to choose young brides. Girls are often married off to men up to forty years older than them and when they die their wives are not allowed to remarry. They may still have children but they are given the name of the widow’s late husband and never told who their real father is. Marriage for love is relatively unknown among the Samburu. Lketinga and I were a major exception to the rule. I know that he found that something strange and wonderful but at the same time confusing and unsettling.
    I’m fascinated to know how things with his new wife came about. I knew the other wife when she came into our shop as a girl to buy food. Years later I was delighted to spot her again on the video that Father Giuliani took during our marriage ceremony. I would have liked to meet her again as a young woman and the mother of Napirai’s half-sister.
    We go inside from the terrace for a last glass of wine. James sticks to Coke as he isn’t used to wine