Listening for Lions Read Online Free PDF

said.“I’ve notified the hospital in Nairobi to see about a doctor keeping an eye on your hospital. They said they can do nothing. They are overworked with their own influenza cases.”
    I had written down the name and address of the president of the missionary board. Reluctantly I handed it to him. “Is there someone in Nairobi who could contact the board?” I tried to keep my voice steady. “To let them know what happened—and that I am here.”
    â€œYes, yes. I’ll see that a cable goes off. Just leave it to me. I have sent your servant back. Our car will take you and Mrs. Pritchard to your home. She will help you to pack, and then you must come and stay with us until some plan is made for you. I know you have a sad duty. I’ll send some boys along to help with the burial of your father.”
    I was taken aback. I had felt very much alone, so their care was welcome, yet I had a feeling of being taken over, which frightened me. However friendless I was, I was not sure the Pritchards were the friends I needed or wanted. Their sudden concern puzzled me.
    I drove back with Mrs. Pritchard. It was the first time I had been in an automobile, and for a moment the strangeness of it swept away my suspicions of the Pritchards until I overheard the Kikuyu driver and the man, Njora, who had come with him to help in the burial. They spoke in Swahili, which Mrs. Pritchard must not have learned. Perhaps they believed I did not understand it as well, orperhaps they were kind and wished to warn me without the Pritchards knowing. The driver said, “ Bwana and Memsahib will devour the small one like the wild dogs swallow a little antelope.”
    A moment later we pulled up to my house, and there was Kanoro. He stared at me as I got out of the car with Mrs. Pritchard. Instead of hurrying to greet me as he normally would have, he stood there as if he were unsure of what to do.
    Mrs. Pritchard said, “No doubt you will want your father buried next to your mother. You must tell my man where the coffin is to go. I suppose your fellow can put a coffin together? Now let’s go inside and pack your things.”
    It was just at this moment that I should have said, “I won’t pack my things. I won’t go back with you. I’ll stay here and wait for the mission board to tell me what to do.” I didn’t say it. My parents had brought me up to obey my elders. How could my parents know that one day I might be obeying the Pritchards?
    I went into the house, which had never seemed so deserted. I found an old suitcase and began to pack my few belongings, conscious all the while of Mrs. Pritchard standing over me, a distasteful look on her face as she saw how worn and shabby my clothes were.
    â€œPerhaps you had best leave all of that,” she said.
    I could not follow her. “What will I wear?”
    I saw her face tighten. “We have suitable things at the house.”
    I was puzzled until I realized she was speaking of her daughter’s clothes. “Oh, I couldn’t,” I said.
    â€œWe’ll decide that later. I believe your man is at the door.”
    I bristled at the way she called Kanoro “your fellow” and “your man,” as if he belonged to us. Kanoro must have felt her distain, for he had always come into our house as a member of the family. Now he stood uncertainly at the entrance. “We are ready,” he said, not calling me by name as was usual.
    When we went outside, I was startled to see hundreds of Kikuyu gathered in the churchyard. There were many familiar faces. There was the man who had recovered from a bad case of blackwater and the woman who had been cured of a snakebite and the little boy who had come to the hospital with a badly shattered arm. “Kanoro,” I said, “I thought the families had all gone away because of the sickness.”
    â€œThe word went out, and they have come back for your father,” he