White Dog Fell from the Sky - By Eleanor Morse Page 0,61

the outside but open on the inside.

When they were out under the open sky, he felt Ontibile’s body relax into his. She could not understand anything. She thought he was taking her to Kagiso. He wished with all his heart that his breasts could pour out milk for her. He didn’t know what to do, where he would go. His legs took him to the post office to mail the letters he had written, and then toward Naledi. Ontibile seemed to sense that she was headed toward home. Her throat made a little humming sound, and by and by her head fell onto his shoulder, and she slept as they walked. He took her on a route around the she-been so the loud music wouldn’t wake her. By then, the sun was already hot. He put his hand over the top of her head to give her shade, but still, little beads of sweat formed along her hairline and on her upper lip, and her springy hair felt moist in the palm of his hand.

A policeman was standing guard outside Amen’s house, and a few people were watching to see what would happen. Nothing was happening. It felt like a cursed place. He asked an old woman staring at the house if she knew Ditsego, a friend of Kagiso’s who had a baby about the same age as Ontibile. The woman shook her head and moved away from him. He was sure that Ditsego lived not too far distant. From what he remembered Kagiso saying, she had known her friend before coming to Naledi.

He went next door. “No, rra,” the woman there said, “I do not know Ditsego, but you could ask Grace Moatihaping who lives just there.” She pointed to a shack made of tin. “She knows everyone.”

Grace was not home, and he sat on her stoop to wait. Ontibile was still sleeping and growing heavier in his arms. He looked into her face, so peaceful in her dreaming. Grace did not come. Ontibile woke and was hungry. He fed her the biscuits the nurse had given him and gave her the bottle of milk to suck. He asked other people whether they knew Ditsego, and he asked them when Grace would be coming. By then it was afternoon. No one knew anything, or perhaps because of the shooting, they were afraid of him, a stranger.

At the end of the afternoon, Grace returned. She was a large woman who smiled easily. Her complexion was ash colored like the side of a cooking pot, and her teeth were very white. He told her the story, all of it. She had known Kagiso. She reached for Ontibile and took her onto her lap.

“You know Ditsego?”

“I will take you there,” she said. But first she offered him tea and bread, which he refused. They set off toward Ditsego’s house as the sun was setting. Dust from the day’s labors had risen all over Gaborone and caused the sun to glow huge and orange. And then the day’s furnace was gone in a blur, and the sky turned a fury of red. Ditsego’s house was not far distant from Grace’s but it was difficult to get there, the paths twisting this way and that. They found her sitting outside with her baby, who was nursing drowsily. The baby’s mouth moved a little, and then it was still for some time until she remembered the breast and sucked once or twice more.

Ditsego listened and wept, her tears falling into her baby’s hair. She rose, took the baby inside, and came out without her. When she lifted Ontibile from Isaac’s arms, it was as though she’d been born for that moment. She sat back down on the stoop and offered her breast, and Ontibile took it and sucked eagerly.

It became dark before she took Ontibile inside and laid her down on the mat beside the other baby. As the half moon rose with its ragged edge, Isaac talked with Grace and Ditsego about what to do. Yes, Ditsego knew Kagiso’s family in Mochudi. She did not know whether they yet knew about their daughter’s death. But she said she would take Ontibile there by bus tomorrow or the next day. Isaac offered to go with her, but she said her husband would be returning from Francistown on the morning train and he would come.

She said she would offer to the family to nurse Ontibile until she was not needing the breast any longer, and then