CHAPTER 1
Landing in Nairobi
"Who comes all the way to Africa without a Plan B?" Hannah grunted and rolled her eyes at her mom. After fifteen hours of flying, she was exhausted. And her stomach still ached from the turbulence. Maybe I should have listened to Dad and stayed home. She wanted to cry. My stomach is killing me. I need a ginger ale.
Her Uncle Brian who lived and worked in Kenya was supposed to pick them up at the airport and was not there. "What are we going to do now?" Hannah asked. Her mom sighed. She took a step closer to Hannah and put her arm around her. With one swift roll of her shoulder, Hannah pushed her mom off. She tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows as far up her forehead as they would go. Through her flared nostrils she exhaled an exaggerated breath and started tapping her foot on the tile floor.
Scanning the room for her uncle, Hannah noticed she and her mom — the only white people in the Nairobi Jomo Kenyatta International Airport — stood out like two small children lost in Times Square in New York City. Her white skin made her feel more uncomfortable than afraid. People rushed by. She stopped tapping her foot and observed. Men were dressed in short sleeved button-down untucked shirts with loose-fitting lightweight pants and black rubber sandals. All the colors of their clothes were plain. There were very few women in the airport. Unlike the colors the men wore, the women wore vibrantly patterned dresses, mostly large floral prints, and black rubber sandals. Seeing her reflection in the glass divider at customs made Hannah gasp. She looked down at her clothes — a white short-sleeved t-shirt, a long navy skirt that reached the floor, and orange and blue Asics running sneakers — bothered by how much she stood out. She adjusted her tortoiseshell eyeglasses and tried to ignore her nervousness. Her mom, who seemed oblivious to everything, hustled her along to the desk to purchase visas.
Without expression, the male employee at the counter said, "US Passport and US fifty dollar." Her mom handed him Hannah's passport and $50. He looked Hannah up and down, reviewed her passport and handed it to her. Hannah smiled and thanked him. He nodded, put the money in a drawer and repeated, "US Passport and US fifty dollar." She watched her mom hand him her passport and another $50. He returned her passport and waved them forward. Her mom thanked him and walked ahead like a Pointer dog in search of the perfect spot to bury its bone. Hannah rolled her eyes and sighed, and followed her mom, who looked back every two seconds even though Hannah was right behind her.
There was still no sign of Uncle Brian. They looked through the windows to the outside. Unmarked black cars resembled gypsy cabs Hannah had seen in New York City. Her parents had warned her they were illegal and never to take them no matter how long the wait was for a yellow cab. Her mom tried to put her arm around Hannah and she pulled away again, but this time not too far. It was dark outside and Uncle Brian was still not answering his phone. Outside the airport there were even more strangers and probably fewer people who spoke English. For the first time since they had left home, Hannah nestled in close to her mom.
A man approached them holding a sign, HIGGINS. He had dark skin and his short hair was black with white flecks. In a soft, accented voice, he said, "Meredith Higgins."
She looked at Hannah. What do you want me to do? I don't know who this guy is. She felt her heart skip a beat and hoped her mom would handle it.
Shifting her gaze from Hannah to the stranger, her mom answered. "Yes." Her voice trailed up as she spoke, like she was answering his question with a question. In that moment, the Pointer dog had become an innocent puppy.
The man handed her an envelope. She took Hannah by the upper arm, positioned her where she could see her and opened the envelope. Her face lost its color and her skin looked even paler next to the dark skin of the African man. She handed the stranger her duffel and grabbed Hannah's hand so hard that this time she could not pull it away. Truth be told, she did not want to.
CHAPTER 2
Uncle Brian and the Zinc Lady
"What's the matter? Where's Uncle Brian?" Hannah sat close to her mom in the back of one of the same unmarked cars she had been taught to avoid at all costs. See, Mom? She wanted to say. We're in what's probably the same exact thing as a gypsy cab and everyone is still alive.
"He's stuck on the road somewhere. His bus broke down on its way here. This man is going to take us to a hotel for the night and we'll go to Kisumu tomorrow."
As they drove, it looked a lot like New York City — bright lights and tall buildings. Streets were crowded with people. "Oh," Hannah said. Feeling better with a plan, she reached into her backpack and got out a half-eaten bag of Sour Patch Kids. "Why didn't you just tell me that in the first place? What's the big deal?" She groaned. "You're so frantic." She ate some candy and glared at her mom but kept her thoughts to herself. You always mess everything up. At least Dad's not here. Uncle Brian is going to show me around and take me to buy some cool Maasai bead jewelry.
It was after midnight by the time they checked in to Room 312 of the Intercontinental Hotel. Hannah had no idea what time it would be at home and was too tired to do the simple math. She got out a brush and started combing through her knotted hair. It felt so good to get a brush through it. No more tangles. Just the softness she was used to. Pulling out her long brown strands of hair from the brush, she realized she had lost her hair elastic sometime during the last leg of her trip, but she had plenty more, a pack of assorted colors. She grabbed a green one and tied her hair back into a ponytail.
She stumbled into the tiny bathroom with her toiletry bag — light pink with white polka dots — and turned on the sink faucet. A thin stream of water flowed. She twisted the knob as far as it would go, but the pressure did not change. She could still feel the film from the soap on her face and hands when she climbed into bed.
As tired as she was, she could not sleep. Her parents' harsh words to each other from the night before she and her mom left for Kenya were still fresh in her mind. She heard her mom's voice, her emphasis centering on the pronouns like darts hitting a bulls-eye. He's your brother, Dan. You should be going, not me. I take that back. I am happy to be taking our daughter to fulfill the promise we made to your brother.
Just as sharp, her dad fired back. The promise we made? We? I never promised to do anything.
Of course you didn't. You never would. You're too selfish.
I'm selfish? You're the one dragging Hannah because you want to go. Brian thinks he can change the world, Meredith. He can't. Poverty has been around forever and it always will be. It's bad enough right here in the US. In Africa, it's worse. No one person is going to change that, not anywhere.
You're just too closed-minded to see that even if what Brian's doing helps save one life, he's making a difference.
Oh, stop. You sound like one of those syrupy clips on the news. And what do you know about it anyway? You've never been to one of those places. And how's this all going to work, Meredith? Now you're...
