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‘No schoolroom?’
‘We are hoping one day that the village will have enough money,’ Dominic says. ‘It is difficult for the children to sit still in the heat and harder when the rains come. If they come.’
He waves to the teacher and indicates that we wish to stay. With his blessing, we then sit down at the back of the class on a spare bench and listen to the lesson. The children twist and turn in their seats to get a glimpse of me and then giggle into their hands.
‘Is this is how you started your learning?’ I lower my voice.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Then I was very lucky to go to the mission school. We want to keep our customs, Just Janie, but we also see that we need to be an educated people. The Maasai cannot live by cattle alone now. Times have changed and so must we. I have encouraged my people to invite tourists into our manyatta as visitors. We cannot manage without them.’
Is that how they view me? I wonder. As simply another goggle-eyed tourist? Do they know that I am with Dominic as a partner? That I want to be with him for a long time?
I watch the children eager to learn, shouting out their language lesson. How on earth they manage to concentrate under the baking hot sun is beyond me. Plus it strikes me that there’s no two-week Christmas break for these kids like there is at home.
‘The problem is that when our young people go to school and to university, then they do not want to come back to the village any more,’ Dominic tells me.
‘What about you, Dominic? You see such comfort, an easiness of life at the camp. How do you then come back to your village and cope with such a hard existence?’
‘I will not lie, Janie. It is a difficult thing.’ He shakes his head sadly. ‘I do not know if I am now Maasai warrior or Western man.’
‘Do you think you could live anywhere else?’
Dominic shrugs. ‘I talk to the people who come to Kiihu camp and they tell me how beautiful their own countries are. England, America, France, many, many places. I think one day that I would like to see them. I would like to see the world. But I have never been in a plane. The only time I have been in the sky is in the balloon yesterday.’
‘Really?’
‘Oh yes.’ Dominic sighs. ‘This is the land that I love. My home. How would I leave Kenya?’
I place my hand on his arm and we look into each other’s eyes. How indeed? I think.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Too quickly, the time comes for me to leave. With a heavy heart, I pack my bag and say goodbye to the camp. It has been a wonderful few days with Dominic, the best Christmas holiday ever, well worth the extortionate expense. But, I ask myself, will I ever come back here again?
Last night I lay in Dominic’s arms, but we both avoided talking about what might happen next. It seems impossible that Dominic could leave here and come to England. His ties, his people, are in this land and yet I know that I could never make my permanent home in the Maasai Mara either. So where does that leave us?
Never before have I felt like this about a man, yet the barriers, the distances, the differences between us seem insurmountable. What do we do? Do I simply come back here as often as I can manage? When will that be – once, twice a year? If I save every single penny that I can, I could just about do that. Will the relationship, the love between us gradually dwindle so that my every waking moment isn’t spent dreaming of Africa? Perhaps I’ll move on, find someone else to love, someone like Mike who will always be there for me, kind and caring.
Dominic drives me to the airstrip in the bus and our mood is sombre. He parks up and then we watch the sky, waiting for the plane to arrive to deposit the next lucky band of tourists.
My Maasai warrior takes my hand.
‘OK?’ I ask.
‘I do not have to the words to tell you how I feel,’ he says. ‘It is as if you are taking my heart away with you.’
‘And I feel as if I am leaving my heart here.’
‘It is very sad for us, Just Janie.’
‘Oh, Dominic.’
He musters one of his trademark grins. ‘Oh, Just Janie,’ he mimics.
‘I’ll phone you,’ I say. Hang the expense. ‘And we’ll talk on Facebook.’
He nods but his expression says that it’s not enough and in reality, I know that’s the case too.
Then we see the plane appear on the horizon and its drone gets louder and louder, until moments later it touches down in front of us. The turnaround is amazingly quick and soon it will be time for me to go. This little plane will take me back to Nairobi and then my connecting flight to Heathrow is later this evening. The tourists pour off the plane and join their safari groups, kicking up the dust as they disappear.
