• Vol. 03
  • Chapter 11
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Arrival in Lamu

She stands alone, waiting for him to come. She's in jeans and a singlet, scarf draped over shoulders.

Once he arrives, they'll head down the jetty and catch a boat across the channel.

It's been three years since she last saw her brother. She fidgets with the rings on her finger, the new tanzanite and the greenstone from back home.

She wonders whether her brother will have changed or whether he'll be his usual very very proper self or whether he'll have totally transformed into a grumpy old man. She questions the wisdom of inviting her brother here in the first place, whether he'll find the lack of cars strange good or strange bad, how many times he'll get lost through the maze-like, narrow streets, whether he'll insist on wearing his fancy leather shoes for her usual morning walk on the beach and over the dunes, whether he'll be able to hold his lunch on the smooth sunset cruise. She wonders whether he'll get totally ripped off in town, whether he'll be able to bargain or whether he'll get suckered. She thinks of the look on his face after discovering the donkey shit everywhere and the screaming after a cold shower in the morning. No, possibly not a good idea, but it's too late now to chicken out.

Now, she can't help but laugh. He always did like a big entrance.

There her brother is, all but screaming in alarmed shouts, riding a galloping donkey, in a suit and tie with a good dozen kids running after him, laughing hysterically as they encourage the donkey on.

Her brother is riding into town on an ass. And hating it.