Reunion in Barsaloi by Corinne Hofmann

the local colour.
    Lketinga points to one young girl just coming down to the river with her herd. He recognized her from afar as Natasha. The name immediately rings a bell with me. Sixteen years ago I gave that name to the daughter of one of Lketinga’s half-brothers. We were visiting him in Sitedi, and I was handed the naked newborn to hold. When I asked what her name was the mother laughed and said to me: ‘You give her a mzungu name.’ Off the top of my head I came up with Natasha. I’m pleased to see she’s kept it.
    And now here she is standing in front of us. I want to say hello to her so Lketinga comes with me. Of course she doesn’t know me, except that I’m the one who gave the girl her name. She is very shy and won’t say a word. I’m cross with myself for having nothing to give her, not even a few sweets.
    When I mention to Lketinga that I wish I had something to give her, he suggests a few Kenyan shillings and then she can run into the village quickly and buy herself a nice new kanga. Somewhat doubtfully I ask who’ll look after her goats for her. Lketinga has a few words with one of the warriors who has also brought his animals down to drink, and heagrees to watch Natasha’s herd for her. She takes the money and runs off with great strides towards Barsaloi.
    While she’s away I keep my eyes on her herd too. I hope none of the animals go astray or it would turn out to have been a bad deal for the girl. Just like in the old days I find myself wondering how they can tell their goats apart. Most of them are white and to my unpractised eye all look much the same.
    Back in the shadow of the tree I enjoy the panorama of the river bed. A little further on two warriors are sitting naked in the sand washing their gracious dark bodies while their red kangas hang drying in the hot sun on a piece of rock. No one pays them any attention. It is a peaceful, almost biblical scene.
    A little later Lketinga says: ‘Natasha is coming back.’ And indeed here she is, jumping and bounding along the road with a bright yellow shawl across her shoulders. It’s wonderful to see the joy she gets from letting it flap behind her. She says ‘thank you’ shyly and even gives me some change, which I find really touching. This present cost me so little, almost nothing really, and yet this girl can hardly believe her luck at getting a new piece of clothing. I find her happiness contagious as I watch her bounding back down to her herd like that.
    For a moment my thoughts turn to Napirai, who is about the same age. It’s a lot more complicated finding something for her to wear. The whole experience of bumping into Natasha has cheered me up and lifted my mood after the difficult conversation with Lketinga earlier. Even so, there’s still a perceptible coolness between us.
    As the heat continues to rise, the river bed gradually clears as people drift away. Then all of a sudden an old woman appears in front of me holding out her shin, the skin of which is dried and flaky so that it looks almost grey. She lets me know that she needs ointment, but I have to tell her I can’t help. But at least Klaus has his sunscreen with him and that satisfies her and she vanishes as suddenly as she appeared. It’s time for us to head back too. Everywhere you look there are goats lying in the shade of the trees. It’s incredibly hot now and the ground is too hot to touch without shoes.

Our Old Shop
    I t’s quiet back in the village. Everyone has retreated into their huts or found shade somewhere else, but I’m off to find our old shop. All of a sudden I find myself standing outside a dilapidated building which bears only the slightest resemblance to the magnificent big shop we used to keep. Paint is flaking off the walls all over the place, the windows have iron bars across them and the door is closed. Above it the word ‘Hotel’ has been scratched on the wall. I try to get a glimpse inside and then, totally unexpectedly, the door opens, almost