Life in the baobab was not always easy. Asumini adapted with a cheerful attitude. Complaining did not make the work any easier, and it only lowered morale. So while she worked hard, she refused to complain.
Still, Metutu saw her one day working hard in the hot sun to gather herbs for him. He stood over her as she grubbed in the dirt with her stick.
"Get up, you."
She stood, a bit woozy in the heat. He put his arms around her and kissed her. "You come inside. You know that Jasmine does not do well in bright sunlight. I’ll take over."
He knelt and with the stick began to work up some roots. The sun was powerfully hot, and there was not much water left in the gourd. After only a few minutes, he was sweating profusely. "What have I pulled her into? She must really love me."
Occasionally someone would stop by the baobab. A cub with the colic, a lioness with a thorn in her leg. Even Ahadi came by to ask Metutu to pull ticks. It was a lot more enjoyable to have someone to talk to, and he enjoyed spending time with his new friends getting to know them better. Where Asumini would shamelessly hug his mane and kiss Ahadi, Metutu used the excuse of grooming him to fondle him and enjoy his company. Ahadi seemed to understand this, and he would make a habit of coming by frequently. Sometimes Ahadi would note the poor condition of Metutu’s fur and groom him as well. It became an outlet for their deep mutual affection.
That evening, Uzuri came in from the hunt flush with victory. Metutu sought to ride that wave of good feeling and went directly to her. “So you brought down your prey?”
“It was a team effort,” Uzuri said, noting a red spot of gazelle blood on Yolanda and grooming it away with her pink tongue.
“I bet you feel like the mighty huntress tonight!”
An eye looked away from the grooming. “Guess so.”
“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Guess so.”
“Well, tell me about it. That is, if you don’t mind.”
Her answer came in short bursts, punctuated with licks to Yolanda. “Not much to tell. Old gazelle female. Pincers maneuver. No big deal.”
Uzuri was looking keenly at Yolanda, continuing her grooming though the blood had disappeared. He took the hint and walked away to nurse his hurt feelings. He really liked Uzuri, but he got nowhere in a hurry, and felt he probably never would.
While Yolanda was getting all the affection she could handle, Metutu contented himself playing with Ajenti. The cub was strong and had sharp claws. He had to practice great restraint and caution to keep his hide intact and still show her a good time. Finally he took her paws in his hand and pushed her claws back enough that she got the message. “Your Uncle Metutu is fragile. You have to retract those claws.”
When Metutu was alone with Makedde, he got the lecture he’d been expecting. “Give her time, brother. Her love is like a beautiful flower. First comes the sprout, then the bud, and then one day it opens and it’s beauty takes your breath away.”
“Why are some people like that, Makedde? Why don’t they just say what they feel?”
“When you say what you feel, you can never take it back. Remember when you came back from Busara’s cave and you were so excited you wanted to tell the whole world? And mother thought you were in love!”
“Did father tell you about that?”
“He sure did. Cuddling with a dead lion and everything!” Makedde laughed. “You are still young. You want everything now. But the reason Aiheu gave us a lifetime is because it takes a whole lifetime just to live!”
“But think of the time we waste? Uzuri could have been friends. I really like her. You think everyone will live forever, and things will never change. Then one day your mother starts beating her head on a branch.” His eyes misted up. “Then she’s gone. I think you should tell people how you feel, and live for the day.”
Makedde smiled indulgently. “Brother, no one ever really dies. Really. When you love someone the way I love you, death is inconvenient and painful, but it cannot break the bond between us.”
Metutu bit his lip, then put his arms around Makedde. “You always knew the right thing to say.”
Two days later, Uzuri came back from the hunt with a cut. She went to Makedde and asked him for help.
Makedde thought a moment, then said, “I have a number of things to do this evening. But Metutu will be glad to help you.”
Metutu got some disinfectant and pain killers to patch the small wound. Then he used Dwe’dwe resin to seal the edges of the cut together.
“It will leave a scar,” she said morosely. “It’s my first. I thought I was better than that, but I made a stupid mistake. Stupid, stupid, stupid!”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Metutu said. He mixed some Dahlia rubidium with a few drops of her own saliva. “This will prevent scarring if you have discipline enough not to lick it off.”
“Really?”
“It works miracles, especially on furry regions of the body.” He put some on the cut and began to rub it in lightly. “We rub it in, then restore circulation in the skin around it.”
She patiently endured the rubdown, especially when it did not cause discomfort. Finding it pleasurable, she let him stroke her whole shoulder. Before long, he began to get venturesome soon he was stroking her gently, looking at nothing in particular. She sits silently, her eyes half closed. Eventually she starts to purr. He half smiles. “The other shoulder could use a little work,” she said dreamily. He was embarrassed, but complied.
“No, up a little. Oh yes.” She sighs contentedly. After a moment of such bliss, she said, “Goodness, I have to see Yolanda!” She got up, stretched, and started out the door. She paused for a moment and looked back at Metutu with a smile.
"If you have more problems, don't hesitate to come back. Please."
"Thank you," she says. She had started down the side of Pride Rock when she stopped again. Uzuri called after him, "Do your people have any star lore?"
"Yes we do. I love watching the constellations.”
“Remind me sometime and we'll trace the night sky together."
After she left, Metutu looked back at Makedde. “Brother, I think I have a friend.”
Makedde nodded. “Just don’t push it. You’re doing fine if you just let Nature take its course.”
“Indeed, brother. You have ground that same bit of Campa shoot five times over.”
“It needs to be fine.”
“I wouldn’t say it NEEDS it.” Metutu smiled and put his arm around Makedde’s shoulder. “Still I guess it can’t hurt.”