Morani – 2. Americans

The orange sunset kissed the windshield on that Sunday evening as he drove towards Kilimanjaro International Airport.

He was there to pick up his visitors flying in from America, who needed transportation to the Kibo Palace Hotel in Arusha’s central business district.

Waiting by the arrival doors, he held up a cardboard sign that read “TIM” and quickly caught the attention of his guests. One of them approached and greeted him, saying, “Hi, you must be Dishon.”

“Yes, welcome to Tanzania,” Dishon warmly welcomed them.

“Thank you,” they replied.

“How was the flight?” Dishon asked.

“Ah, it was good. The landscape is amazing,” Tim responded.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. There’s much more to see. My car is this way,” Shon led the way.

Dishon focused on the road while Tim engaged in conversation. “So, the name Dishon, it must be a traditional one, right?”

“Yes, it’s a Maasai name. It means ‘the calm one,’ but you can simply call me Shon,” he replied.

Shon drove with a headache, which limited his ability to engage in conversation. However, they arrived at their destination in no time.

He dropped them off and informed them about the morning schedule. “If you need anything, feel free to contact me, okay?”

Shon drove off to his girlfriend’s apartment in the city. He had never mentioned the recent snake bite to his girlfriend, Saria, until that evening.

Saria had only been to the farmhouse twice during their two years together. “Why did you keep this from me?” she expressed her dissatisfaction.

“There was no time at all. Everything happened so fast,” Shon explained as he sat down on the couch.

“Babe, you need to get an apartment in the city. I don’t want that farm to be the end of you,” Saria voiced her concern.

“Anyway, I’m happy that you’re here in one piece,” she added, sitting on his lap and placing her hands on his shoulders. Just then, Shon’s phone rang.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone. It was a WhatsApp call from an unsaved United States number. He answered, saying, “Hello.” It was Tim.

“Sorry to call at this hour, man. My colleague here has misplaced her iPhone. I hope you don’t mind checking your car because I think she may have dropped it there,” Tim explained.

“Okay, just a sec,” Shon replied before heading out to the car.

He entered the car and spent about 15 seconds inside. “Found it,” Shon informed Tim, followed by a sigh of relief.

“I’ll bring it to the hotel right away,” Shon told Tim.

“Nah, it’s alright. You can bring it in the morning,” Tim replied, sounding relaxed.

Shon glanced at the lock screen of the phone, and a black French Bulldog stared back at him. He quickly placed the iPhone in the dashboard cabinet and returned to the house.

“Was that a work call?” Saria asked, curious about the phone conversation.

“Yeah, one of the visitors forgot their iPhone in the car, imagine,” Shon explained.

“Where is the phone now?” Saria inquired.

“They said I can give it to them in the morning, so I left it in the dashboard. I didn’t want to risk forgetting it in your apartment,” Shon replied as he grabbed a glass from the kitchen cabinet and turned on the tap for water.

“Do you know what else could be the end of you?” Saria provocatively asked.

“Hmm, what?” Shon questioned.

“White girls,” Saria stated bluntly.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Shon was taken aback.

“White girls and pink coochie will be your downfall, Shon,” Saria said, rolling up a joint as she manifested negative thoughts.

“Babe, relax. You’re overthinking. I could go and get the phone to prove otherwise, but we’re too mature for that,” Shon brushed off her concerns.

“Show me one African man who has ever passed on an opportunity to sleep with a mzungu,” Saria said, smoking her insecurities away, leaving Shon baffled.