White Dog Fell from the Sky - By Eleanor Morse Page 0,119

Setswana, “Where are you from?” And before Lulu could warn him, Moses said, “Bophuthatswana.”

Lulu said, “Gaborone in Botswana.”

“That is where you are now,” the black woman said in Setswana. “You are in Gaborone. Lo tswa kae?” Where are you from?

“Gaborone in Botswana,” Lulu said again.

“Isaac o kae?” Moses asked. Where is he?

“He’s not here,” Itumeleng said in Setswana. “We don’t know where he is. He has disappeared.”

Lulu began to whimper.

“You must sleep,” the black woman said. “It’s late now. Isaac will come back.”

“Ke batla Isaac!” I want Isaac! She was wailing now, her spirit pouring out where it could be scooped up, but she couldn’t stop herself. Itumeleng picked her up in her arms, and Lulu felt the hands of Itumeleng’s little girl rubbing her bare leg where it dangled. That little girl had not yet been eaten. Even though Lulu was a big girl and old enough to carry important papers, Itumeleng jostled her in her arms the way a mother does a young child, and Lulu felt herself giving in to the deep crooning that came from the stranger’s throat.

Alice woke before six, tiptoed to the room where the children slept, and paused at the door. Lulu was invisible, under the sheet. Moses slept on his back, arms flung out to the side as though he’d fallen backward into tall grass.

Outside, the crested barbet sang in the tree. Small bits of white paper floated in the air, lit in the tree, fluttered on in the breeze. Her eyes were still full of sleep, and it took her a moment to realize that the white butterflies were migrating. She’d asked Will about them once and learned that one of their host plants was the shepherd tree. They traveled up Africa toward Madagascar, maybe as far as India. Here were a few dozen forerunners, but there would be more coming, and more behind them. Their wings were edged with a soft brown, but she remembered the effect when they traveled in the tens of thousands: a sea of white, the air alive, wind made manifest.

White Dog stretched out her front paws, shook herself awake, and pressed her snout into Alice’s hand. Alice brought out food and water and set it down for her. It was nearly an hour before the children woke. Moses found her in the kitchen, and Lulu trailed behind.

“Dumela, rra,” Alice said. “A o bolawa ke tlala? Are you hungry?”

“Ee, mma.”

Lulu ran away and hid under the covers. It annoyed Alice, and then she was annoyed with herself for being annoyed. Had Lulu ever talked to a white woman? She filled a bowl with porridge and added milk. Moses ate what she’d given him, and a second bowl.

“Lulu o kae?” she asked Moses. He shrugged and put a napkin over his head to communicate to Alice that his sister was shy.

“Take her this, please?” She said it in English, and he began to eat the porridge she’d dished up for Lulu.

“For Lulu.” He laughed and disappeared with the bowl. And came back.

“You’d like more?”

“Ee, mma.” He ate with enormous concentration. When he’d finished, he said, “Isaac o kae?”

“Ga ke itse.” He asked again, as though she hadn’t understood. “Ga ke itse. I’m sorry. I don’t know.” She sat down at the table next to him and they were quiet for a while. His smile melted her heart. She walked into the small bedroom, Moses following.

“Dumela, mma,” said Alice to the sheet. “Lulu, come out, I want to see you.”

“Lulu, come out, I want to see you,” Moses repeated.

Alice tugged at the sheet gently. “Lulu, please come out.”

“Lulu, please come out,” the echo said.

A small hand held fiercely to the sheet.

That night, she called Hendrik Pretorius after the children were asleep. “I’ll call you back,” he said. Fifteen minutes later, the phone rang.

“I tried calling you last night but couldn’t get through,” she said. “I found the children. They’re here, asleep in the other room.”

“Thank god.”

It sounded as though the phone had gone dead. “… Hello, are you there?”

“Yes, yes, I’m here. First let me say I’m sorry. It wasn’t meant to happen this way. Isaac wrote to his mother asking that we send the children to Botswana. He said it was a good place, a safe place, and he wanted them to have a chance at a different life. He mentioned you in the letter and said he was working as a gardener at your house. I was in favor of them going. His mother was reluctant.