Page 196 of The Sun Sister
With a tentative smile and a nod at the two Maasai, Cecily left the clearing.
In the following month, Cecily found herself drawn to the young woman who lived in the woods. Rather than walking across the open fields that gave such wonderful views of the valley below, once the heat of the day had passed she and Wolfie would set off to visit their young neighbour. November brought with it sudden heavy downpours that made Cecily worry for Njala’s health, but she remained safe and dry within her little shelter, as Nygasi had had the foresight to build it on a raised mound so it would not flood.
At first, Njala would only stand behind Nygasi as Cecily took her daily offerings out of her bag. The chickens Bill had bartered for from a Kikuyu were proving to be wonderful egg layers, so she had plenty to spare.
The first time she’d taken eggs to Njala, Cecily had watched the girl grimace in distaste as she had whispered something to Nygasi.
‘She say come from bird bottom,’ Nygasi had imparted solemnly and Cecily had had to stifle a giggle.
‘Tell her that eggs are good for baby. Look, I’ll show you.’
Cecily had commandeered the pan that sat beside the fire and mixed two eggs with a little milk, still warm from the cow’s udder, adding a little salt and pepper from the twists of paper she’d brought with her.
‘There, you try it,’ she’d said, offering it to Njala once it was cooked. The girl had shaken her head firmly.
‘See?’ Having no fork or spoon, Cecily had used her fingers to take some of the scrambled egg into her mouth. ‘Good.Supat.’
Njala had looked to Nygasi, who had nodded encouragingly, then she’d stepped forward and dipped her own long fingers into the pan. With an expression that looked as though she was about to eat poison, she’d tasted the concoction.
‘See?Supat.’ Cecily had rubbed her stomach.
Njala had reached for more, so Cecily had offered her the pan and, finally, the girl had knelt down and eaten the remainder contentedly.
After that, Cecily took her guest eggs every day, and thought that Njala was actually starting to look pleased to see her. She only wished she could communicate better with her and tell her that she understood her plight. So she had begun to take the small chalkboard she kept in the kitchen to mark up reminders of groceries she needed to purchase.
‘Can Njala write?’ she had asked Nygasi, demonstrating the movement with her chalk.
He had shaken his head.
‘Oh. Then perhaps I could help teach her. Here.’ Cecily had beckoned Njala closer. Then she had written ‘Njala’ in large letters on the board and drawn a star beside the name. She had shown the girl the letters, pointing to them, then to Njala.
‘Njala – you.’ She had gone through the same process for her own name and finally, after much gesticulating, the girl had seemed to understand.
‘Njala.’ She had pointed at herself. ‘Cecily.’ She pointed to Cecily.
‘Yes, me!’ Cecily had clapped her hands together in delight and Njala too had smiled, showing off her lovely white teeth.
From then on, after Njala had eaten her eggs, Cecily would write basic words such as ‘Hello’ on the board. She would consult the Maa dictionary and ask Nygasi to provide her with the correct pronunciation. As Cecily repeated the Maa word, Njala hesitantly spoke the English word. After a couple of weeks, not only was Njala able to string a basic English sentence together, but Cecily found the girl waiting for her eagerly in the clearing. Cecily didn’t quite know how to describe it, but slowly a warmth developed between them. One morning, she saw Njala wince and clutch her stomach.
‘Baby kicking?’ Cecily mimed the movement with her foot and Njala nodded.
‘Can I touch?’ She reached out her hand to Njala’s stomach. The girl took her hand and placed it on her own belly.
‘Oh my!’ Cecily breathed as she felt the movement of a limb beneath the ebony skin. It made her want to weep with joy and sorrow in equal measure. ‘He or she is strong! Strong!’ she repeated, flexing her arm muscle, and both of them giggled.
‘You look very bright and breezy tonight,’ Bill commented as Cecily made supper. He hadn’t been home for the past three weeks, unable to get away from his desk at the War Office in Nairobi. What with her newfound friendship with Njala, Cecily had hardly noticed.
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I feel it.’
‘Then you’re probably the only one in Kenya who does,’ Bill sighed. ‘Things are pretty grim in Nairobi, I can tell you, especially with the blackouts. The town is heaving with the military.’
‘There have been no airstrikes yet, though?’
‘Only one in Malindi down on the coast last month, but since Mussolini declared war, there have been skirmishes between the Allies and the Italian army on Kenyan soil; everyone’s preparing for an invasion from the Abyssinian border. You can’t move around town without tripping over a sandbag.’
‘Oh, how awful,’ Cecily said distractedly as she placed supper on the table and sat down opposite Bill.
‘As a matter of fact, I have been asked to take command of a battalion of the King’s African Rifles.’
