Nairobi Dreaming - Complete!

Chapter 15: Confrontation

It was right before we left for lunch that I saw one of the teachers sitting on a chair, by herself, in a sliver of shade. It was the woman I had sat down next to the day before, the woman with the large hands who had said her father was the chief. Yesterday, I had found her detachment off putting but today there was something so overtly defiant about it I found it captivating. She was painting her nails a pastel lime green, each brush stroke a master class in either patience or a commitment to doing things as slowly as possible. Either way she was not even trying to hide her lack of interest in everything else that was going on.

I approached her and she looked up at me for just a moment, her onyx black eyes broadcasting boredom before returning to her task.

"You're not with the other teachers," I observed.

"Have you seen him," She said, her pacing languid and tone so attenuated that what was clearly a question became a statement.

"Him?"

"The Principal."

I glanced at the gathering under the acacia tree. Arthur was standing on one side of the flip board, Kay on the other. The teachers were all showing varying degrees of interest but Mr. Odinga was on the edge of his seat, as excited as though they were revealing the meaning of life itself to him. He kept vigorously nodding, virtually at every word and watching Arthur and Kay with rapture. I couldn't hear what they were saying but I doubted it was that interesting.

"Yeah," I said.

"He thinks this will prevent him from being chased off like the last one."

I waited but she did not expand.

"Why did you chase the last one off?" I prompted.

She dipped her brush back in the bottle and took her time reducing the amount of pigment on the brush, swiping it back and forth in the bottle's opening before she answered. "The last one was not so good. So we ran him off. The teachers and the parents."

"Is Mr. Odinga better?"

She chuckled and it was a low, resonant sound that came from the back of her throat. "He thinks we will all be so impressed with you Americans we will think he is."

"Is that why you're not with the others?" I asked, "Because you don't think there is anything real to learn?"

"You are not the first group to come by here," She said admiring her handiwork on her left hand, her pale green nails curled toward her. There was not a drop of nail polish out of place. "Will you come back?" She asked, looking at me directly for the first time since I had walked over. I couldn't read her expression. It was neither hopeful nor judgemental, only blandly curious.

"I don't know," I answered honestly.

"You won't," She said before turning back to her nails.

I stood there, awkwardly, for a few moments longer before I saw James waving at me. "Lunch," He shouted.

"We'll be back," I said lamely. "After lunch."

She didn't look up or acknowledge that I had said anything so I just left.

On the ride back to the house James sat next to me, close enough so that his thigh and shoulder were pressed against mine and leaned in to whisper to me.

"That teacher training was a total waste of time," He said. "They spent the whole time talking about class planning without ever asking if the teachers knew what it was. Turns out they did and they have plans and they're really quite impressive. But even after that that was all Arthur had scheduled so back to the lesson on class plans."