Read Online Walking Home by Eric Walters - Free Book Online Page A

family.”
    “As it should be with friends. Jomo is distressed that we are leaving you behind.”
    I didn’t know what to say.
    “If there was more space, or we had more—”
    “I understand, sir. I understand.”
    “I have written down the name of our village and my family name.” He handed me a small scrap of paper. “Someday, perhaps, you will come and visit our homestead. You will be an honored guest.”
    “The honor will be mine. Thank you, sir.”
    “We are taking our few possessions with us.”
    “But not all,” Jomo said. “This is for you.” He reached down, picked up a blanket and gave it to me.
    “I can’t take your blanket.” I held up my hands to stop him.
    “It is for your mother,” Jomo said.
    That I couldn’t refuse. “Thank you,” I said, accepting the blanket.
    “I wish we had more to leave for you, but we have so little where we are going.”
    “You have also left me with your friendship and an invitation to visit. That is worth much.” But I had one more question I wanted to ask Jomo’s father. “Sir, out there,” I said, gesturing beyond the fence. “What is happening?”
    He moved in closer. “There are still problems,” he said very quietly—so quietly that only Jomo and I could hear. “Nairobi has remained a tinderbox.”
    “What does that mean?” Jomo said.
    “There are still protests against the elections. There is still some violence spilling out from the slums. There are still clashes between different groups and with the police. There are still roads blocked with rocks or tires set on fire in parts of the city.”
    “But don’t we have to travel through Nairobi?” Jomo asked.
    “There is no other way. All roads lead
to
and
through
Nairobi.”
    “But how will we get through?” Jomo looked anxious.
    “The protesters block the roads, and then the police clear them away. We will travel during the day, when it is most safe. The police and army will protect us.”
    “They didn’t protect us in Webuye,” Jomo said.
    “There are more of them now, and they are more determined. Still, we will be most safe when we get to our village. Sometimes you must pass through danger to get to a better place,” Jomo’s father said. “We have to leave soon or darkness will delay our trip one more day.”
    “Thank you for speaking of this to me,” I said. “I will leave you to finish. I need to get back to my mother.”
    His father and I shook hands again, and then Jomo came over and offered his.
    “Goodbye, Jomo.”
    “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Not goodbye. We will meet again, my brother.”
    “Until again,” I said, smiling.
    The girls were hugging Jata, and all three were in tears.
    “You must promise us you will bring her to see us,” Kioni said.
    “I promise.”
    “Perhaps we could trade?” suggested Makena. “You keep Jomo and we get Jata!”
    “No,” I said. “Jomo is my brother, but Jata is my sister. She must always be at my side to be cared for.”
    “As it should be,” Jomo’s father said. “As it should be.”
    I stood sheltered from the sun by the tents, Jomo’s blanket draped over my shoulder, trying to see but not be seen. I wanted to be there to watch them leave. I knew it was going to happen, but somehow I needed to see it with my own eyes.
    I heard the little engine first and then saw the car—the one carrying Jomo and his family away. It had mattresses on the roof, and they were all crammed inside. I was close enough to see, but not close enough to see well. I could make them out inside the vehicle, but I couldn’t see their faces clearly. I didn’t have to, though, to know that they would all be smiling.They were going to a new home, and they were going together.
    The little vehicle rocked and bumped along the footpath until it came to a stop at the gate. One of the guards walked up to the driver’s side of the vehicle while the second opened the gate wide enough to let them pass. The car started up again and eased