hand. A gentle breeze blows and the leaves shake like countless faces in a crowd. She closes her eyes and feels the energy as the wind blows across her skin and through her loose reddish-blonde afro.
When she opens her pale eyes, the Elder is standing in front of her, close, too close for her comfort. He isn’t smiling now, just studying her.
“He likes you.” Kennen breaks the intensity of Elder’s stare. Aliya moves out of the shade of the tree with a polite smile for the odd old man. Kennen pats him on the back. “See you around, Man.”
Elder squats at the trunk, and catches Aliya’s gaze through the window as Kennen and she drive away.
8
Kuchuna
May 10 (later) - 11
The converted large shack, which houses the Kuchuna office is makeshift. There’s a solitary, old computer on a desk, a couple of chairs, and the rumble of a generator outside the back wall. On a poster that hangs without a frame is an image of the earth and people of diverse ethnicities. The text reads, “Kuchuna: The smaller the world gets, the more we are all accountable.”
A dark black, handsome man in his late twenties is sitting at his desk, trying to fix the fan. He looks up as Aliya rounds the corner. There is no denying their mutual instant attraction.
He says hello. “Hujambo.”
Aliya nearly stutters for the first time in her life, surprising herself. “Hi. Mimi ni pamoja...”
Kennen appears in the doorway.
“Kennen, brother.” Rhadi rises to greet him and shake his hand.
“Hey. What’s going on, man?”
“This beautiful malaika just walked into my office.” He translates the compliment for Aliya. “‘Malaika’ means angel.”
“Oh.”
Aliya and Rhadi can’t take their eyes off each other.
“I like your shirt.”
Aliya blushes girlishly. She’s still sporting the “Skin Deep” T-shirt.
Kennen is put off by the obvious spark he is witnessing.
“I’ve been trying to fix this fan to get some air moving in here. Take a look at it while I show Aliya what we’re working on.”
He hands Kennen the fan. Kennen sort of looks at it, though not really.
Rhadi leads Aliya to his computer and pulls up the Kuchuna website.
“I’ve been to your site.”
“Then you know what we do?”
“Yes, but Kennen told me you do more than what’s online.”
Kennen puts down the fan and positions himself between them, a little too close to Aliya. “I told her about the Internet campaign with Amnesty International. How you could have been more honest.”
“Yes,” he concedes, “The son of the jailed journalist did not receive threatening letters, as we alluded.”
“Amnesty wasn’t happy to learn you lied.” Kennen chides. It’s clear he’s disapproving of this tactic.
“But it did get the journalist and his father the media attention needed to get him released and both of them to safety.” Rhadi defends with no regrets.
Kennen insists, “Right, but it cost Kuchuna the trust of Amnesty.”
#
Later, having had dinner, Kennen is passed out on the floor. Rhadi and Aliya are talking softly.
“They need us. They can’t make the extreme moves that we can. They are too big. We must do what we do to get things done. There is no one else who will do it. Our current mission may directly involve you, Aliya. As you know, we need to have an impact; we are trying to find bolder ways to show the world what is happening to albinos here. They are too few and too small a casualty for the larger organizations to pay attention. Will you help us?”
“That’s why I’m here,” she answers.
Rhadi and Aliya are staring into each other’s eyes. Aliya is blushing. Kennen coughs to interrupt them. He had awoken and been watching them.
“Of course,” she blurts out eagerly.
#
Next morning, the van is loaded with supplies. Kennen’s frustration is clear by how hard he slams the cargo door.
Rhadi resists saying goodbye to Aliya. “See you in two weeks. We have much work to do.”
“Yes.”
Kennen
When she opens her pale eyes, the Elder is standing in front of her, close, too close for her comfort. He isn’t smiling now, just studying her.
“He likes you.” Kennen breaks the intensity of Elder’s stare. Aliya moves out of the shade of the tree with a polite smile for the odd old man. Kennen pats him on the back. “See you around, Man.”
Elder squats at the trunk, and catches Aliya’s gaze through the window as Kennen and she drive away.
8
Kuchuna
May 10 (later) - 11
The converted large shack, which houses the Kuchuna office is makeshift. There’s a solitary, old computer on a desk, a couple of chairs, and the rumble of a generator outside the back wall. On a poster that hangs without a frame is an image of the earth and people of diverse ethnicities. The text reads, “Kuchuna: The smaller the world gets, the more we are all accountable.”
A dark black, handsome man in his late twenties is sitting at his desk, trying to fix the fan. He looks up as Aliya rounds the corner. There is no denying their mutual instant attraction.
He says hello. “Hujambo.”
Aliya nearly stutters for the first time in her life, surprising herself. “Hi. Mimi ni pamoja...”
Kennen appears in the doorway.
“Kennen, brother.” Rhadi rises to greet him and shake his hand.
“Hey. What’s going on, man?”
“This beautiful malaika just walked into my office.” He translates the compliment for Aliya. “‘Malaika’ means angel.”
“Oh.”
Aliya and Rhadi can’t take their eyes off each other.
“I like your shirt.”
Aliya blushes girlishly. She’s still sporting the “Skin Deep” T-shirt.
Kennen is put off by the obvious spark he is witnessing.
“I’ve been trying to fix this fan to get some air moving in here. Take a look at it while I show Aliya what we’re working on.”
He hands Kennen the fan. Kennen sort of looks at it, though not really.
Rhadi leads Aliya to his computer and pulls up the Kuchuna website.
“I’ve been to your site.”
“Then you know what we do?”
“Yes, but Kennen told me you do more than what’s online.”
Kennen puts down the fan and positions himself between them, a little too close to Aliya. “I told her about the Internet campaign with Amnesty International. How you could have been more honest.”
“Yes,” he concedes, “The son of the jailed journalist did not receive threatening letters, as we alluded.”
“Amnesty wasn’t happy to learn you lied.” Kennen chides. It’s clear he’s disapproving of this tactic.
“But it did get the journalist and his father the media attention needed to get him released and both of them to safety.” Rhadi defends with no regrets.
Kennen insists, “Right, but it cost Kuchuna the trust of Amnesty.”
#
Later, having had dinner, Kennen is passed out on the floor. Rhadi and Aliya are talking softly.
“They need us. They can’t make the extreme moves that we can. They are too big. We must do what we do to get things done. There is no one else who will do it. Our current mission may directly involve you, Aliya. As you know, we need to have an impact; we are trying to find bolder ways to show the world what is happening to albinos here. They are too few and too small a casualty for the larger organizations to pay attention. Will you help us?”
“That’s why I’m here,” she answers.
Rhadi and Aliya are staring into each other’s eyes. Aliya is blushing. Kennen coughs to interrupt them. He had awoken and been watching them.
“Of course,” she blurts out eagerly.
#
Next morning, the van is loaded with supplies. Kennen’s frustration is clear by how hard he slams the cargo door.
Rhadi resists saying goodbye to Aliya. “See you in two weeks. We have much work to do.”
“Yes.”
Kennen
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