AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I think of when I offered to do Mike’s ironing for him when he had lent me the money to go and visit Dominic and my heart goes out to this kind man.
‘You have to find your own way, work out which chores suit you both,’ Mike adds.
Dominic shakes his head. ‘With the Maasai way, everyone knows what their role is. Here, it is all mixed up.’
‘Who knows whether that’s better or worse,’ Mike admits. ‘That’s just the way it is.’
‘Janie goes to work all day, while I must stay at home.’
‘Your situation is temporary,’ Mike points out. ‘Hopefully you’ll get your work permit, then you can find a job. But it’s not unusual here now for the woman to be the main breadwinner.’
‘Breadwinner?’
‘The one that earns the money,’ he explains. ‘Then, the man tends to take on the lion’s share of the household stuff. It’s no big deal.’
‘I have a lot to learn,’ Dominic says.
‘You’re doing great, mate,’ Mike assures him. ‘It’ll all come right. Just give it time.’
Dominic nods as he contemplates this. Then, as he stands, ‘Which herbs would you like me to cut, mate?’
Mike claps him on the back. ‘Let’s have a bit of this.’ He points to the herbs. ‘A bit of that too.’
‘I like to use the herbs as medicines,’ Dominic says and he wields the scissors at the thyme, holding them awkwardly.
‘Don’t know much about that,’ Mike admits. ‘Swear by Nurofen and red wine myself, but I like to whack them in my cooking.’
In the kitchen, I quickly turn my attention back to the newspaper – though I haven’t read a word of it – as the two men come back inside.
‘Right,’ Mike says. ‘Now we can prepare the veg.’ He peels the onion and chops half of it. Then, along with the paring knife and the chopping board, he hands the other half over to his attentive student. ‘Here. Why don’t you chop this up for me?’
Dominic frowns at the tiny knife and at the onion and there’s a bit of an uncomfortable pause. A moment later Dominic draws his large machete from the waistband of his tunic. ‘This is the Maasai way.’ And with more vigour than style, he hacks the onion into little pieces.
When he’s finished, Dominic stands back and admires his handiwork.
Mike high-fives him and laughs as he says, ‘That works too, mate.’
Chapter Sixty-Eight
We all eat the lunch that the boys have prepared together at the kitchen table. Mike cracks open a bottle of red wine, which he and I demolish. Dominic, quite wisely, sticks to his milk.
‘What do you think of Dominic Ole Nangon’s home-cooked pasta extravaganza?’ I ask. ‘Prepared meticulously to the Mike Perry special recipe, of course.’
Dominic toys with the spicy minced beef. ‘It is quite good,’ he says with a shy grin.
Secretly, I think he’s rather proud of himself and the first meal he’s produced. After we’ve cleared up, we go and flake out on the sofas in the living room. We split the various sections of the newspaper between us and Mike and I squeeze in bites of Mrs Duston’s excellent muffins.
‘This is a traditional English Sunday afternoon,’ I tell Dominic. ‘Eat too much, drink too much, flake out for the rest of the day with papers. Except we should have had a roast dinner instead of spag bol.’
‘That could be our next project, Dominic,’ Mike ventures. ‘Full roast dinner.’ He rubs his stomach. ‘Although I’m going to have to do some more exercise if I keep eating all this good food.’
‘Jump with me,’ Dominic offers.
That clearly takes Mike by surprise and I stifle a smile.
‘Jump?’
‘In my village, every day the men jump together. It is a good thing to do.’
Mike puts his newspaper down and says gamely, ‘I’ll give jumping a go.’
‘This I’ve got to see.’ That’s me.
‘Come on then.’ Mike drags himself from the depths of the sofa. ‘Before it gets dark.’
‘You might want to wait until it gets dark,’ I suggest.
But before Mike has the chance to ruminate on this fine idea, Dominic is on his feet and halfway out of the door.
‘Looks like jumping is on the cards now,’ Mike says with a wry smile at me.
‘Just make sure that you don’t see your dinner again,’ I warn.
Putting down the paper, I follow the men out into the garden. The dampness of a winter evening is settling now, the watery sun low on the horizon.
‘You need the stick,’ Dominic instructs.
I perch on the cold wall and watch.
