creating a tourism task force to prepare for the Rail Pan Afrique,” he said. “And the need for a new minister to oversee the infrastructure planning for the next few years, using United African Nations guidelines. If that’s okay.”
“Sounds like the perfect evening,” she said. “I also wanted to talk a bit more about Njaza Rise Up and their requests. If you’re going to make change why not go big?”
He glanced at her. “You don’t think breaking a generation of isolation by launching a joint project with Thesolo and joining the United African Nations, less than four months into my reign, is ‘going big’?”
“Wow, look at you, reframing the conversation to show the scale of your achievements in a concise manner. Very sexy.” She winked at him and he rolled his eyes, but smiled.
“I do think you can consider the Njaza Rise Up issue as linked to the other two, though,” she continued, thinking of her friends and the angry people she’d seen at Liberation Bookshop. “Announcing big change will make some people happy, but announcing that everyone will have some representation in upcoming changes will make even more people happy.”
“What will make everyone happy? Asking for a friend.” He smiled down at her.
“Nothing. Except maybe my goat stew, which is so delicious you’re going to have to fire that advisor who said it wasn’t good enough once you taste it.”
Sanyu chuckled as he pulled out a thick folder and started flipping through it, and then paused.
“Actually, speaking of what would make people happy—no reports tonight.” He dropped the folder onto the table. “I think we both deserve a break.”
“Oh, I don’t need one,” Shanti said as she tied on her apron and washed her hands before setting up her cooking station. “I mean, that was our deal, right? You come to me to talk politics.”
“And if I succeed then we go on a honeymoon,” Sanyu finished. “You don’t want to barter for affection, but you shouldn’t have to do it for a honeymoon either. You got the very tip of the short stick with that deal.”
Shanti coughed into the crook of her elbow. She hadn’t gotten the tip of anything yet, though they’d come close.
“You said that you don’t like when things change unexpectedly, and neither do I,” she said. “Our current deal is fine.”
“Okay,” Sanyu said. “In that case, let’s skip the reports because I’m exhausted. I’ve been in meetings all day and having to deal with Musoke even when I’m just sitting there is draining enough. I’m requesting a night where we hang out together, eat delicious food, and discuss anything but the politics of Njaza. I think they call it a date.”
Shanti didn’t get flustered easily but her hands shook a bit as she seasoned the meat.
“A date. We can do that if you want.”
He came into the kitchen area and began to wash his hands so he could help her cook dinner. For their date.
He didn’t ask her what to do, just reached into the basket and pulled out some green bananas which he began to peel with a knife to prepare for boiling.
Shanti almost started talking about the banana farmer traffic slowdown planned in protest of dropping prices, but that wasn’t date chitchat, was it?
Politics had been easy; kissing and touching even easier. What was she supposed to talk about on a date? The thought of coming up with something interesting suddenly seemed like an impossible goal.
“So.” Sweat beaded at Shanti’s hairline and she hoped Sanyu didn’t notice. “Date. Datey date.”
Sanyu glanced at her and chuckled. “You’re nervous?”
“Of course not.”
He cut a glance at her. “I may not be good at deciphering many emotions, but if there’s one thing I know it’s nerves.”
“I haven’t been on that many dates,” she said, hoping the hiss of the gas stove covered her words.
Sanyu stopped chopping. “Wait. I thought you were the relationship expert. You were giving me instructions the other day, remember? Against the vase?”
Shanti’s cheeks warmed.
“Of course I remember. I’ve had practice dates and done other research. I’m not an expert but I didn’t steer you wrong, did I?”
Sanyu placed a pot of water to boil and slid the bananas in, then looked down at Shanti where she stood trying to get the gas to catch. She didn’t look at him, though she felt his gaze as she always did. This time she didn’t have to guess at what he wanted, though; her husband was waiting to make fun of her.
“Practice dates?” he asked. “What