Sailing along then, in early afternoon, the dhow attracted dolphins which swam along with them for a long while, escorting them, appearing to race the dhow, torpedo it from the sides. Definitely they were relating to the dhow and the people on it, making noises back at them, and all the people on the dhow were relating to them, like friends unseen for too long.
After crossing intersecting currents among the islands, enjoying a short, rough ride in the dhow, the crewmen anchored off Wasini Island. The dinghy took the passengers into shallow water.
From shallow water, the passengers walked over ow-ow up to Ras Mondi.
“Hey.” Barbara clutched Fletch’s hand as they walked carefully over the ow-ow. “We’re having a nice time.”
“Things are beginning to come together,” Fletch said.
Only the party from the dhow was at the restaurant.
Because of the language barrier, the Italians sat at one table; Juma, Barbara, and Fletch at another.
After the sail and the swim they were thirsty for fresh water and only a little beer. Their hunger made them compete playfully for the first food they saw, sesame-ball appetizers. They thought the enormous steamed crabs were a big enough lunch, all there was, and ate them slowly, savoring them. When plates piled high with
“Sheila and Carr will be right disappointed if they don’t find anything,” Barbara said. “Can’t we think of something that might help out? At least to console them?”
“All over Africa, people are looking for their pasts,” Juma said. “Digging up bones, and pots, and spear tips. You’d think Africa is nothing but a museum.”
Fletch asked, “How come there are fish, perch, from the Nile River in Lake Turkana? The two bodies of water are hundreds of miles away from each other. Nothing, no river, flows from one to the other.”
Barbara said, “They must have been joined at one time.”
“Why are people so interested in their pasts now?” Juma asked. “Why do people come to Africa from all over the world to search for their ancestors, first man, first bone, first fossil?”
“‘Mild curiosity,’” Barbara said.
“What difference does it make?” Juma asked. “The way to the future is the present, not the past.”
“It doesn’t make a difference?” Fletch asked. “It doesn’t make a difference to you that an East Indian elephant was found buried at Koobi Fora?”
“No,” Juma said. “What difference does it make?”
Barbara said, “It suggests that at one time Africa and India might have been joined together. Doesn’t that mean anything to you, Juma?”
“Sure,” Juma answered. “You want me to say East Indians belong here, in Africa.”
Fletch asked the air, “Why did I come to Africa to meet my father?”
“‘Mild curiosity,’” Barbara repeated.
“Why did you come, Fletch? You are who you are. What does your father have to do with you? You don’t even know him.”
“Cultural flow.” Fletch spoke to his plate. “Moral flow.”
Barbara said, “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know.”
“When people look into the past,” Juma said, “they only expect to find good, good things. Supposing they find bad, bad things?”
Fletch asked, “Am I going to find bad, bad things, Juma? You know my father. I don’t.”
“I think maybe people are better off going into their futures without worrying about, carrying bad, bad things that might be in their pasts.”
“I think you’re trying to warn me,” Fletch said.
“There are people here,” Juma said, “people my age, who insist on living the way their ancestors did thousands of years ago. Like that
“Spears come in handy, too,” Fletch said. “There are still snakes. You used a spear to rescue Sheila.”
“And a Jeep,” Juma said.
“Here’s something about the future,” Fletch said. “Carr told me that someday the Rift Valley is going to rip open at the top, and the Red Sea is going to come flooding down. There will be a sea where there is now a valley.”
Barbara said, “They know the future, in this case, from studying the past.”
“Things change,” Fletch said.
“Yes,” Juma said. “Things change. Nomads know that. Constantly we move away from our pasts, because things change.”
Fletch said, “Things change …”
“You’ve stopped eating,” Barbara said to him.
Juma asked Barbara, “You like leather fish?”
“Leather fish?” Barbara asked. “I’m eating leather fish?”
“
“Oh, my God.” Barbara looked at the little left on her plate. “I’m eating something called leather fish.”
Fletch said, “I’m thinking about the Mississippi River.”
“There are no leather fish in the Mississippi River,” Barbara said. “Catfish. I don’t like to eat catfish, either.”
Fletch said, “It is also said the Mississippi River is going to change course.”
“Right,” said Barbara. “Then New Orleans will really be blowin’ the blues.”
“Rivers change course, sometimes,” Juma said.
Fletch shook his head, as if to clear it. “I’m beginning to have an idea. All these things I’ve heard, rattling around in my head—”
Juma said, “Carr and Sheila are digging along a river that exists now.” He laughed.
Fletch said, “Thousands of years ago …”
Barbara put down her fork. “… the river might have been somewhere else.”
“So Carr’s
“… but the river might have moved,” Juma chuckled.
“Oo, wow,” said Barbara.
“Of course the river might have moved,” Juma laughed. “Why didn’t you ask me?”
“Nice time,” Fletch said. “Let’s go back to Carr’s camp.”
“Can’t move,” Juma said. “Ate too much.”
“Absolutely!” Swooping the airplane through the sky in joy, Carr dipped the wings.
“No doubt about it!” Barbara was in the seat behind Carr.
Juma was beside her, trying to look out all the airplane’s windows at once. “Looks good!”
“Carr,” Fletch said, “I need to be set gently on the ground.”
“You mean, it’s true?” Her encased leg stuck out into the airplane’s aisle, Sheila had to shout from the rearmost seat. “There was another river?”
“
Everyone was shouting over the noise of the engine.
“Damn!” Carr swooped the plane lower for another horizontal look, this time from the west. “All the times I’ve flown over this area, and I never noticed. Damn me!”
“Soon,” Fletch said.
“That line of trees, all the way to the ocean, is distinctly different,” Barbara said.
“The whole line is indented,” Juma said. “You see? A different growth. Deeper in the ground. Greener,
