After we’ve written our names in the best-looking slabs of red clay, we troop to the well, rinsing our tools and our feet with a rapidity that I’ve seen when the banamayo are working together on a time-sensitive task. I could see their futures just then in the blue twilight: their vigor, & what that could translate into if more opportunities don’t surface for them. I give them lollipops, thank them, & say good night. Then they ask when we can finish the remainder. I resist, then say Saturday…
A Story About a Lion 