This is me.
This is me.
This is me.
“She looks exhausted,” said Jack. He was seated at his desk, working on some invoices.
“She does, doesn’t she?” I stroked her hair, wondering how much of her apparent tiredness came from knowing it was her last night on the farm. “Are you feeling okay?” I asked.
She might not have understood the words, but she took her glasses off and laid her head on my lap.
“Well, I’m all done for the night.” Goma snipped a thread and held the skirt up for inspection. She folded it and placed it on the pile of other clothes she’d stitched for Scholastica. “I’ll take her upstairs. Come along.” She held her hand out for Scholastica. “Let’s get you to bed.Twende kulala. Big day tomorrow.”
Bahati let out a long sigh as they left the room.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“There is absolutely nothing to do out here,” he moaned. “I’m bored out of my mind, and it’s only 8 p.m. Don’t you crave the lights and action, Jack?”
Jack glanced up, and then went back to what he was doing.
“How about we play book charades?” I asked.
“What is book charades?” Bahati perked up.
“It’s charades, but with these.” I pointed to the shelf. “We pick a book and see if the other person can guess the title.”
“I’ve never played charades with two people. That’s silly.”
“Oh, come on! I’ll go first.” I pulled a book off the shelf, read the spine, and placed it, cover down, on my chair. “Okay. Here goes.” I held up three fingers.
“Book, obviously. Three words.”
I nodded and tried to communicate the first word, holding my nose up and walking haughtily around the room.
“Fart! You smell a fart!” exclaimed Bahati.
I glared at him and shook my head.
“Sounds like . . .” Bahati interpreted my ear-tugging gesture. “Cowboy!” he said, as I pranced around.
“Pride and Prejudice,” said Jack, without looking up.
I turned to him with my mouth hanging open. “That’s right. First word sounds likeride. That’s what I was trying to convey,” I said to Bahati. “Okay, your turn.”
“So, who wins?” he asked, removing another book from the shelf.
“Jack, I guess,” I replied.
“But he’s not even playing.”
“It doesn’t matter. Just get on with it, Bahati.”
Bahati made a face when he checked the book he was holding. He put it aside and thought about it for a while.
“Book. Two words. First word . . .” I hesitated as he pointed to his butt. “Umm. . . rump, rear end, backside, tush.”
Bahati motioned for me to keep going.
