Pigment Read Free

races. I’ve never been so far from home, but somehow feel like I’m coming home for the first time in my life.
    Don’t tell Mama I said that.”
    #
    They land in the afternoon. Aliya loads her bags and boxes onto a cart and wheels them out to passenger loading. The air is so clear here compared to L.A. The street is bright and bustling, full of diversity. Kennen isn’t there to meet her, but she trusts he’ll be along soon.
    As she waits, she keeps her eyes on the passersby, people being greeted, people reunited. She has that unsettling feeling again, that she’s being watched. She casually looks around. Practiced at this discretion, she takes broad sweeps, spanning the scene, assessing everyone with her eyes. She looks for something reflective to scout indirectly as she waits for Kennen.
    She remembers to call home and takes her phone from her pocket and dials. The answering machine picks up. They’re all at work or school. “Hi Mama, Mike and Reggie! Mimi niko hapa. Mimi nina katika Afrika!” She translates, “I’m here. I’m in Africa! I miss you. I’ll call again soon.” As she hangs up the phone she is sensing an invasive energy, closing in. She can’t spot its source yet.
    There’s a piece of shiny metal that braces the glass of a window, which she uses to see behind her. There he is. A distorted dark, creepy man staring at her from across the street. He looks away, trying to appear casual...or maybe Aliya is misreading him and he’s not interested in her at all. She decides she should move, just in case, and gathers her cart and belongings and goes closer to the curb. She dials another number watching all the while, her defenses up. Kennen doesn’t answer. She calls the one other contact she has in Tanzania.
    “Mr. Teigen’s office.”
    “Hi. Is Mr. Teigen available?
    His secretary says. “He’s out in the field.”
    She wants to tell her more, that there is a man, that she doesn’t feel safe, but she doesn’t want to sound like a hysterical American girl.
    The secretary calls into the silence, “Miss?”
    Aliya resolves that maybe she’s just tired. “Will you please tell him that Aliya Scott called for him?”
    “Aliya Scott...Mr. Teigen left a message.”
    She braves another glance into the metal. Creepy Man is gone. She turns, her feet planted firmly.
    “What is it?”
    “Mr. Teigen invites you to a party on July 6th at the Hotel Protea Cottages for Saba Saba, our independence day. We emailed you details.”
    “Thank him for me. I will try to come.”
    She spots Creepy Man. He’s crossed the street and is coming straight toward her. She can’t read the look in his eyes, too far away. Is it fear? Hate? There is no white in his eyes.
    “Miss?” the secretary’s voice trails off as Aliya’s hand takes the phone from her ear. “Miss?”
    He’s thirty feet away. She’s facing him. It is hate.
    Kennen Dunnovan steps in her view, and Creepy Man steps aside into the crowd.
    “There you are!”
    “Kennen!” her dear Irish friend saves the day. He’s good hearted, a diehard aide worker with a genuine big smile and light green eyes that Aliya would admit to getting lost in sometimes. They hug each other, an extra long hug. They first met at a camp for people with albinism that Aliya attended for a few summers, and where he worked. They’ve been friends ever since. Although, sometimes it feels like they’re more than friends. She notices his muscles are more developed than last year. He’s manlier.
    Aliya can see Creepy Man over Kennen’s shoulder still, there assessing them, gearing up to make another move.
    Horns blare for Kennen to move the camp’s old, beat-up van.
    “And we’re off.”
    They quickly load everything and climb in, Creepy Man runs toward them. Aliya snaps his picture as he yells, “Deil, Deil!”
    Kennen stares the man down as he starts the engine and pulls away.
    “What does he want?” Aliya asks.
    Kennen is still staring at him and doesn’t