The Foreign Service Journal, June 2005

H arry has stopped crying. I hope nobody saw me go inside , Harmony thinks. It’s dark in Daniel’s house. A kerosene lantern is burn- ing, creating a small pool of golden color around it. Everything else slips into gray shadows. Daniel has hung a curtain around the sleeping areas where his children are. There are only a few feet by the door to sit, next to the kerosene stove, sitting atop two large bags of cement. Daniel pulls out a short, three-legged stool. “Please sit. You don’t need to be scared anymore. No one will find you here.” Harmony sits with Harry on her lap like an infant. Daniel squats on the floor, his long legs folded like a stork. He seems to be studying her. “Thank you for letting us come inside,” she says. “What were you doing behind my house?” “I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go. I was ru n- ning, you see? And I’m just so tired, and I didn’t know where to stop, and …” “… So you came to me.” “Well, no, I am not coming to you; I am running away. My husband, he beat me, and knocked out my tooth, and Harry and I, we need to get away.” Daniel says nothing in response to this. Harmony thinks maybe he doesn’t believe her. “See? I have no tooth in front anymore.” She opens her mouth wide. Daniel laughs, and Harmony shrugs in embarrass- ment, feeling like maybe it was a mistake to come inside. “I can’t see in this light,” Daniel reassures her, “but I believe you. Where are you going?” “I don’t know. I have an aunt in Mombasa, but I have no way to get there. I have no money. Nothing but what you see here, just me and my son.” “So you want me to help you?” Harmony is surprised at this proposition. No one has ever offered to help her before, even when she asked. She pauses, wondering what she will allow herself to do to get away. Harry pulls at her breast to nurse. She push- es him away, but when he persists she acquiesces. “I have nothing. I cannot pay you to help me.” “You don’t need to pay me. I will give you money, and you can take the night bus tonight to Mombasa.” “What do you want?” He laughs again. “Nothing. Take the money and go and be safe. I will not say anything. Your husband has mistreated you, so you and your son need to go away.” With one long arm he reaches under a curtain and withdraws a Nescafé tin. He pulls out a plastic bag full of bills and coins, and counts them out in the light. “I was saving money to build a new house for my wife and chil- d ren. That’s the cement I was going to use,” he explains to her, nodding to the bags. “But now that my wife has left me, I don’t know what to do with this money any- more.” He stuffs the wad back into the tin, but holds out a few grimy bills to Harmony, “Here is 1,000 bob. It should be enough.” He is expressionless. Harmony pauses. “What about your kids?” she asks. “We have enough. Take it. If this money can’t buy my happiness, perhaps it can buy yours.” Tears fall from her face as she takes the money from Daniel’s hand and folds it into the waistband of her skirt. “Thank you.” “Come, let’s find you a taxi before it’s too late.” H a rmony gets up from her stool and ties Harry to her back. She ducks out of the shack, with Daniel right behind her. Ibori is in front, arms akimbo, waiting for her. She stops. The neighbors, relaxing outdoors in the cool evening air, pause in their movements, like hyenas witnessing a kill. “You whore! You whore! What are you doing in this man’s house?” Ibori looks madly about him at the bystanders and points to Harmony. “This woman has left me to go to her lover. You can see what a beast she is — a bad wife, a bad cook, and now taking our son to go and meet her lover! She is nothing!” He staggers back from the force of his exertion. Harmony pulls her shoulders back and tightens her jaw. With her head up, she steps forward, attempting to sidestep Ibori and walk away. He reaches out and grabs her arm, his grip like a vise. F O C U S 30 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / J U N E 2 0 0 5 No one has ever offered to help her before, even when she asked.