Adwele already have a mother?”
“Yes, but he’s missing a father.”
“You applying for the position?”
“Back off, Bruce. He’s a smart kid, and he’ll need all the help he can get. Babu didn’t leave much behind.”
“I’m just curious whether you’re doing it for Adwele or for yourself. You will be leaving at some point, you know.”
McKinney studied Haloren for a moment, then nodded as she realized he really was just looking after Adwele’s best interests. “I get what you’re saying, but Babu was a good friend. He kept me safe on more than a few research trips. If I can help his family, I will. Even after I go home.”
Haloren studied her too. Then he stopped suddenly. “All right, then. I’ll leave you to it.”
“Hey!”
Haloren turned.
“I promise not to tell anyone you’re not really an asshole.”
He saluted before heading off. “Much appreciated.”
She smirked, shaking her head as she watched him fall in alongside another researcher heading in the other direction.
McKinney hung in an arborist saddle sixty feet above the jungle floor. A cacophony of tropical birds and vervet monkeys echoed in the trees around her. She shaded her eyes against sunlight glittering between the leaves overhead and examined the tree’s crown, looking for weaver nests. Fortunately she didn’t see any.
The lowest branches of this Outeniqua yellowwood tree-or Afrocarpus falcatus — were still twenty feet above her. Her rope hung down from a branch even farther up. She had launched a throw line over it with a crossbow and hauled her climbing rope up after it, securing both ends using climbing knots and a dual line technique she’d learned as a grad student to hook up her harness.
Readjusting her position, McKinney gazed out across the jungle from this hilltop tree at the densely forested peaks of the Usambara Mountains still shrouded in mist in the distance. There was an immense diversity of sights and smells. It was always breathtaking up here. She never failed to notice how beautiful these mountains were, wrapped in low cloud cover and jungle canopy-humid and profuse with life. Reveling in the natural world was as close to the spiritual as McKinney got. She knew it was on this continent-possibly in this very jungle-that the first hominids arose, beginning the journey that separated mankind from the other animals. Becoming self-aware. She felt humbled by the vast stretch of history this place had seen.
She looked down to track the progress of her companion, a sinewy African boy of about ten. He, too, wore a rock-climbing helmet and sat in a climbing saddle suspended from a separate rope. He was laboriously working his way up-his booted foot looped through a rope stirrup. The boy grunted as he pushed up with his leg, ascending another few inches, then readjusting his knots.
McKinney pointed. “Don’t grab the Blake’s Hitch, or you’ll lose ground. Keep your hands below it. That’s better, Adwele. Good.” She smiled at him. “How you holding up? Need a rest?”
He shook his head. “No, miss. I’m good to go.”
She nodded. Adwele was always good to go, ready to learn something new. Unafraid. “Don’t push too hard. Take your time and concentrate on form.”
He glanced down. Then looked up, flashing a white smile. “Look how high we are!”
“Check that out…” She leaned back on her rope and pointed at the hills. “This is the way birds see the Amani.”
Adwele looked out at a view he’d never seen, though he’d lived his entire life here. A grin spread across his face.
McKinney could see the wonder in his eyes, his growing fascination with the natural world. She saw so much of herself in him. It gave her pause.
A maternal pang was all it was, she knew. The lost decade of her postdoc work, the long hours and low pay of an associate professor. While other people were settling down, she’d been traveling in the remote regions of the world doing field research. It was an adventurous life, but not one suited to being a parent. Besides, there were already enough people in the world, and what she was leaving behind for future generations was her research. She took a deep breath.
“Let me see how your knots are holding up.” She walked the tree trunk to come alongside him. McKinney checked Adwele’s rig section by section. “Stopper knot’s still solid. Nice bridge. Figure-eight looks good.” She examined the Prusik knot wrapped around the main line and pushed the loops more tightly together. “Was this slipping when you ascended?”
“A little.”
“Keep it snug like this, and it won’t slip even if the rope gets wet.” McKinney glanced below them. “About time to add another safety knot too. Every ten feet. Remember.”
“Yes, miss.” Adwele nodded and deftly tied a slipknot into the rope that trailed away beneath him. There were similar knots at intervals in the line below.
She rapped on his helmet with her gloved hand. “You’re becoming a pro. Now, remember, it’s important to follow all of the steps. What happens when we get careless?”
“Hospital or worse.”
McKinney nodded. “Yes. Very good.”
“Why does Professor Haloren use a metal tool to climb instead of all these knots?”
“You mean an ascender? Because Professor Haloren is lazy.”
Adwele laughed. “He says you’re cheap.”
“Equipment can malfunction, and when it does, you’d better know how to do this yourself. Once you can tie these knots without thinking, you can use an ascender if you like.”
Adwele was already gazing past her, up into the tree’s crown. He pointed. “Look, a kipepeo.”
McKinney followed his arm to see a pink, parchmentlike butterfly flexing its wings on the leaf of a nearby tree. “ Salamis parhassus. Also called ‘the Mother of Pearl Salamis.’”
Adwele took a small notebook and pen that hung by a short cord to a carabiner on his harness. He flipped through the pages and entered a tick mark. He counted. “Fourteen more than last year so far, and there’s still a month to go. Is it the butterfly farmers at Marikitanda?”
“Could be. Although it could also be because you’re surveying more.”
Adwele nodded as he put his notebook away. “My sister says I cannot become a scientist. She says it is a white man’s job, but I told her that you’re a woman, and you are a scientist.”
McKinney gave him a serious look, then planted her feet firmly on the tree trunk, far above the jungle floor. “Do you know why I love science, Adwele?”
He shook his head.
“Because science is the best tool we have for finding truth. For instance, to the naked eye you and I look very different, but it took science to help us see that there’s almost no genetic difference between us. And that’s a great truth. Remember that.” She slapped him on the helmet playfully. “It’s what you put in here that counts.” And she poked him in the chest. “And what’s in here. Don’t let anyone ever tell you you can’t try for something, Adwele. No one knows what you’re capable of yet-not even you.”
“Yes, miss.”
“Time to head back.”
He nodded.
“What’s the first step when descending?”
Adwele thought for a moment, then looked down to the base of the tree. He cupped a gloved hand over his mouth and shouted, “Down check!”
McKinney looked down to see an Amani Reserve ranger named Akida wave back and give a thumbs-up.
“Clear!”
She looked back at Adwele. “Okay, good. Remember, we do this slow and steady so we don’t overheat the rope. Two fingers on top of the hitch, with your control hand holding the line. Depress the Blake’s Hitch lightly, and remove the safety knots as we reach them…”
