Love On Safari

By Doris Foxworth Odito

Love On Safari is a work of art that is purely fictional, but is based on the Author's imagination, life experiences and lots of research. The events are told to entertain the reader so that there is a greater appreciation of Love and its diversity, especially in the African setting. There are many aspects of Love and it has revealed that one person's interpretation of Love and Romance may not be the same as others.

Love African style is a most intriguing adventure. Sheba falls deeply in Love with a man named Omoja from Kenya, East Africa. She had always dreamed of going to Africa as a childhood dream in search of her true identity. Her dream to Africa finally came true through her marriage to Omoja; but , it was at a costly price to visit the motherland.

Although her major driving force was her powerful love for Omoja, her inner-self helped her to survive and fight with all her strength to keep her lover, husband and friend even though she finally loses him to his family ties, clan and traditions.

Love is many things to many people. This book is a work of art to the many men and especially the women who are searching for love, but find it delusional. It is not your fault. If you will go back to the recesses of your subconscious mind you will be able to see a clear picture of what Real Love is to you.

Love can be painful, bring happiness and much joy. In spite of the challenges of love it is still a great thing to receive Love. Better to have tried love and failed, than to never have loved at all. For all you hurting Lovers out there................

TAKE HEART

LOVE DORIS

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543905328

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A thousand mile journey begins with a single step.

Old Chinese proverb.

When we find someone who is brave, fun, intelligent we have to thank the universe    -Maya Angelou

Summer always seemed so long, Sheba thought, as she puts her clothes into the closet; she had just returned from a project in the state of Michigan the night before. It was hard to imagine leaving home, the great U.S.A. and not being able to stare out of her favorite window facing the Potomac River, and sip her noon coffee. It was also exhausting to think about the idea of leaving home for an indefinite period of time.

Sheba was a strong candidate for a Herbalist Research Project sponsored by the Institute of Research and Immunology in Washington D.C. She saw this as her only opportunity to go on her dream Safari to Africa, something she had always hoped and prayed for.

In spite of everything, she was still very excited about the prospect of leaving the U.S.A; so with a deep sigh, she glanced at her timepiece and got dressed for the interview. Her appointment with the Institute’s Board of Directors would finalize the second part of her interview and medical examination. If she passed, she would be posted on an assignment on an island in Seychelles as the first phase of the research project, with prospects of venturing deeper into the continent. So with a throb in her heart and numbness in her feet she closed the door to her apartment and hurried off.

It was a one and half-hour drive and the speed limit was 65 miles per hour. The freeway was crowded, but cool and breezy, just the usual people driving about their daily affairs. Sheba glanced over the dashboard, peering into the cars of other passengers trying to conceive their thoughts about their future; were their lives also hanging in the balance as hers would be in the next few hours? Instead of deep contemplation, the air began to get concentrated with exhaust fumes of choking carbon monoxide, so she rolled up her window for protection. Sheba chided and fled off into the subway.

* * * * * *

Upon arrival, Sheba quickly brushed her hair and put on a slab of Blackberry lipstick as she entered the front lobby. Nervously she sat down in the first seat in sight to meditate and give herself some reflection time. She splashed on just a little of Estee Launder perfume and straightened out her collar.

Good morning, said Mrs. Samuel’s the receptionist you must be Miss Novel.

Yes good morning, said Sheba rearranging the collar on her blouse once again.

Just wait a few minutes. The advisory board is just finishing the 10:30 appointment. Here, have a magazine, she reached over the desk to hand Sheba a Time Magazine.

Thank you, replied Sheba, too uneasy to engage in conversation.

You seem nervous, but don’t be, you will make it. You’ve got to believe! interjected the receptionist.

Just at that same moment, the Vice Chairman, Mr. Jerome Evans stuck his head outside the door. You must be Miss Novel.

Yes I’m the one, Sheba replied.

We’ll be right with you. You’re the next candidate and it’s good to see you on time. Relax, Mrs. Samuel’s will assist you with a cup of coffee or coke if you like. O.k. see you in a few minutes, he nodded at Mrs. Samuel’s and closed the door to the conference room.

Sheba was beginning to feel sweaty, as always, she wanted to scream, run away, but where could she go. She always felt scared when she was about to accomplish a goal. She really didn’t know why she had many fears. They always appeared at the wrong time. Sheba had heard many exciting, adventurous and depressingly gross things about Africa. She couldn’t figure out why there was such a mystery that hung over the continent, but she was determined to get there and find out.

Sheba was suffering from anxiety so bad that she began to doubt if she could make it through the final interview. Not to mention the good pay the contract would offer her; in addition to travel, Sheba was determined to make her dream come true. She just couldn’t turn back now. Doubts, who needs doubts, she thought. She tried to dismiss all of her negative thoughts and emotions by glancing through a National Geographic Magazine that was on the table.

Miss Portney, a slim dark skinned lady of medium height, sporting a micro-mini skirt with perfume so loud Sheba could hardly breathe, entered the room. Peering at Dr. Sato’s appointment book she looked up at Sheba and cleared her throat, Ahummmm, what is your name madam?

Sheba answered for the second time. Miss Novel.

I’m sorry madam, you don’t have an appointment with Dr. Sato today, said Miss Portney, smacking on chewing gum.

Who me? Oh but you must be confused. I am here for the second interview. Mr. Evans just came and confirmed my appointment, Sheba looked puzzled.

Oh gosh!…I am real sor…ry, she said bashfully. I was looking at the wrong book. Please, I am sorry, she said looking up from the appointment book.

Sheba’s heart almost stopped beating. Her confusion was coming back again.

Mrs. Samuel’s returned with a nice cup of coffee and apologized to Sheba about the mix up. We share a common reception area, and sometimes the different departments get confused over appointments, she said wiping her eyebrows.

Miss. Portney again tried to make small talk with Sheba. Oh yea, now I can remember your name. You’re the nice lady going to Africa in a few months, she said smiling and smacking harder on the gum. You must be scared!

Oh no, not quite, responded Sheba, a bit surprised. She wanted to end the conversation; she didn’t want to talk any more. Sheba sipped on the coffee quietly as she thought about the interview ahead.

Determined to give Sheba information she didn’t want to hear, she asked Sheba another question. By the way, have you heard about the Ugandan AIDS scandal? It was discovered that a certain tribe in Uganda was given HIV positive blood. There’s a lady named Christine Drake who discovered the scandal when she was on a research project about two years ago, she said rotating her chair. Hon…ey…., they said she came back with a strange disease like leprosy and she couldn’t talk. Someone told me she is at Dorothy Dix’s hospital right now.

* * * * * *

Just then the door to the conference room opened. Miss Novel, please come in. Closing the door behind them, the Vice Chairman led her to the front of the conference room. Sheba entered the room in total silence. The floor was completely carpeted and the air was very cool.

Everyone was silent and all eyes were staring at her with intense scrutiny. What am I doing in this place? Again she began to feel sweaty. Her hands were wet and her hair was slowly curling back to its natural state. She wanted to run away from it all, but it was too late. The moment of reckoning had come.

Slowly Sheba sat in her seat. She almost fainted, but managed to keep her composure. No one really noticed her uneasiness, no one except Kackney Wilson, an Assistant Executive Administrator. She had developed a close working relationship with him, even though he was one of her superiors and worked in another department.

He was the Regional Manager of all research projects to be conducted in the East and Central African regions. It was not yet really known where the mission would be, but they were sure they would be together. He nodded his head as if asking if she was all right. She smiled.

Miss Novel, I am Dr.Walter Sato the Chairman of the interviewing committee. We are pleased you are here with us today. Let me introduce you to the other members of the interviewing team. On my right is Mrs. Jolly Essajee our Special Essajee Educational Research Consultant; Mr. Timothy Hicks, the Technical Assistant; Mr. Samuel Evans, the Vice Chairman and Kackeny Wilson, the African Regional Projects Manager.

Thank you, nodded Sheba.

Miss Novel, we are discussing the African mission project in its final stages. Miss Novel, you realize that this project is top secret, and contains very sensitive intelligence research. And not to mention that the search for herbs found in Africa is a very dangerous mission. Miss Novel, you also realize that many junior researchers either never come back home, or there’re never quite the same when they do return.

What do you mean? Sheba inquired with a puzzled look on her face.

"You do realize that this project is an undercover research operation which involves much travel and is very risky in many countries in Africa, including remote islands and countries with a lot of internal and civil conflicts.

Well, yea! Sheba sighed. She was given many difficult questions and scenarios to respond to during the interviewing process. She was quite shocked at the content.

Miss Novel, said Mrs. Essajee the Asian Research Specialist, it is our hope that these questions are vital to your survival in Africa. We are not here to scare you, or to intimidate you, but we must also be sure that you understand its scope and magnitude.

I understand Mrs. Essajee, but I don’t understand why I am being scrutinized so harshly and feeling so intimidated in this interview, she nervously sipped a glass of water.

Miss Novel, this mission is not to scare anyone. Let’s make that perfectly clear, interrupted Dr. Sato, with a demeaning look on his face.

Remember the Ugandan scandal, interjected Timmy, seated at the corner of the table.

Ah-hum, clearing his throat, Dr. Sato quickly responded, We were not discussing Uganda at this time Mr. Hicks.

Miss Novel, the Executive Board and the Interviewing Committee have no reason to doubt that you can’t handle this project. We just want to know all of the facts.

Sheba, almost exhausted from the questions, asked for more water and taking a deep breath, she turned to look at Dr. Sato. Dr. Sato, Executive board members, and colleagues, I am quite aware of the magnitude of the Herbal mission. I am also quite capable of handling the project. I just want to know in what part of Africa the project will be conducted; I heard that it was Seychelles.

Miss Novel, that information is not available to us at this time. It had not been clarified from the International Research Foundation and the Federal Bureau of Investigations. We will let you know once we have proper clearance, said Dr. Sato.

Ok, answered Sheba.

Miss Novel, this session has now ended. We will see you on Thursday of next week for a final review. To complete your interview you must take the Psychological Assessment, and if you are the lucky candidate, you will have a F.B.I. clearance as well. In the meantime, Mrs. Hampton, the nurse at the Psychological Testing Clinic will direct you to the testing section. Thank you Miss Novel, that is all, said Dr. Sato, looking at his watch.

Thank you, Sheba nodded her head thankful that what seemed like an eternity had passed over.

She picked up her purse from the floor and left the conference room to go to the Psychological Clinic. As she stepped into the hallway she was directed into the Psychological Diagnostic Clinic of the Research Foundation. She sat down on the soft red crush velvet chair and almost felt like falling asleep. It was so refreshing and nice.

Sheba started pondering about what happened in the Ugandan scandal. She wondered what was so mysterious, so hidden about the whole experience. Why was it such a big secret? Snapping out of her deep thoughts, she found herself being directed to a very quiet room, with the curtains half drawn. The room was clinically clean and sterile. The walls were painted white with pink boarders. On the front wall was a huge picture of an ocean front with people laughing and playing, and having fun. Beautiful seagulls were in the background.

A sharp smell began to subtly seep into Sheba’s nostrils. She did not recognize the smell right away, but after a few more whiffs she realized that the clinic had an antiseptic smell to it. It was so clean that the smell made her feel nauseated and jittery. Just as she was about to run to the ladies room, a huge lady with stark red hair and freckles came into the room carrying a manila folder. She wore a white uniform jacket, black satin slacks and three-quarter inch high healed shoes, of which her weight caused an imperfect balance. She sort of bounced as she walked, and she carried a silent consciousness about each step, careful to avoid an accident.

Don’t leave Miss Novel. Your testing is about to begin.

Just a minute please. Sheba ran to the ladies room in a big hurry, to find when she got there that it wasn’t her bladder that was disturbed, but that obnoxious smell in the clinic. Bracing herself, she went back to the Psychological Testing Department.

This way madam, as the huge nurse pointed in the direction of the testing laboratory. Comfortably seated and observing the nicely arranged clinical setting, Sheba wondered how well she did in the interview. It was a milli-second short of a horrifying experience, but she knew that nothing comes easy in life, at least nothing she had ever wanted.

In no time the testing procedures were finalized and it was 4 p.m. in the late afternoon. Just enough time to beat the heavy traffic home. Sheba marched to her blue Volvo 240 GL and drove off.

Baada ya kisa, mkasa, baada ya chanzo kitendo (Swahili proverb)

Every happening has a reason; every action has a beginning

Two weeks passed by and Sheba had heard nothing from the executive board; finally, she decided to call and see what was the delay.

Hello, the Institute of Research and Immunology. May I help you? Hello, may I speak to Dr. Sato? Yes, Ok…. hold please …buzz .. The phone was disconnected.

Gosh, what happened? Sheba groaned as she put the receiver down. Quickly and more nervous than before Sheba dialed the number again, this time making a connection Institute for Research in Herbitology, answered a soft and sensuous voice on the other line. This is the Institute of Herbitology and Research, Washington, D.C.

Hello, may I speak to Dr. Sato, responded a stern but gentle voice from Sheba. Sheba almost froze when she heard his voice, so sharp, distinct and direct. At this time there was no reason for freezing, so quickly she started talking.

Dr. Sato, how are you sir? This is Miss Sheba Novel and I am calling in reference to the interview that was conducted last month.

I am sorry Miss Novel; we’re not able to answer any questions about the interview on the phone.

Clearing her throat, U…hum…well, I wasn’t trying to inquire about my possibilities as far as the actual assignment was concerned, but .

Company policy interrupted Dr. Sato in a cold and changed voice. No information is given by telephone.

Ok, then how can I get information? Sheba inquired.

May be you should make an appointment. A long pause ensued. May be lunch! he said over the phone in an overly excited voice. Meet me at the Hilton Hotel near the City Bank of D.C. off 22nd. Street. Sheba cleared her throat and paused. She couldn’t believe he was asking her out. Personally and professionally she wasn’t interested in going to lunch, especially with a man older than her father and not to mention of German descent.

No way, she thought. Lunch for what? On second thought, maybe he’s just kind. She convinced herself. Miss Novel are you still there?…Hello! searching for a voice on the phone Dr. Sato thought Sheba had left the phone.

Yes. excuse me, I am here.

You do want to talk about the interview don’t you?

Well, yes! she said eagerly. Yes, certainly. Sheba remembered saying she would do anything, to get the assignment. Going to Africa meant a lot to her.

Ok, I’ll meet you there at 12:15 tomorrow. Sheba hung up the phone and continued with her work. Her office was in the building directly behind the Research Institute in a different department.

* * * * * *

At 12:00 noon Sheba entered the Hilton Hotel; it was plush and luxurious. She found Dr. Sato seated in a remote corner of the dining room surrounded by beautiful tropical plants; it was the most romantic spot in the area.

The waiter led Sheba to the far corner of the hotel’s dining area after she stated that she was looking for Dr. Sato, even though she had already spotted him as soon as she had arrived. Immediately after she sat down they ordered drinks.

What would you like Madame, Brandy, Wine, Sherry, or Burgundy? asked the waiter with a huge smile.

Well…I will have fruit Juice.

You mean you are not having a drink? responded Dr.Sato in surprise.

Thank you, Sheba smiled coyly. This is a drink, a refreshing health drink, winked Sheba.

Ok . Ok . I should know not to try to persuade a beautiful woman when her convictions are so strong, he grinned scanning over the menu. Lighting a cigarette Dr. Sato puffed about three times before he began to speak.

Hope the smoke doesn’t bother you, he said.

Not quite, but I could do without it.

I’ll try not to be too cumbersome, he nodded.

No you’re not that, Sheba giggled at him for being so conscious.

Miss Novel I wanted you to come to lunch because I wanted to talk with you. You seem to possess a lot of promise and potential. I’ve taken great interest in your work over the past few years and even more so since the interview. You know we can accomplish great things if we are willing to make sacrifices. I’m German and you’re African American. Let’s face it, he said with a slight grin, we have nothing in common.

Did you order the Caesar salad sir? the waiter interrupted.

Yes, replied Dr.Sato.

And madame, I believe you ordered the Lasagna Ala carte.

Sheba looked up, Yes, thank you and more coffee please

Don’t you think you should be ordering tea? After all in Africa, or at least in most countries in Africa, the Africans always enjoy tea. There is a real obsession with ‘any time is tea time’. This is one of the traits they reserved from the British colonialist. You’d better get used to the concept, except for iced tea.

Anyway that’s not important, I gotta get there first, she giggled.

How’s your Lasagna, Sheba, I mean -u-hum…Miss Novel?

Fine, what of your salad? It sure smells great.

Ok, he sighed, eating a peace of French bread.

Now!…. Sheba said. I am sure you didn’t invite me here for my good looks. So what’s the agenda? Dr. Sato gave a look of hesitancy.

As I was saying earlier, sacrifices were made for both of us to be in this great country. Your forefathers paid great prices from the Ivory Coast across the African continent back through the Indian Ocean and finally to this place we call home.

And my grandfather paid a tremendous price when he was a Commander General in Hitler’s Army and had to leave the country as a cargo boy so that he wouldn’t be killed as a traitor. So you can see we’ve all gotten mixed up in a crazy cycle of human sacrifice, some more subtle than others. You see…what I am driving at Miss Novel is that the board has decided the fate of the research project, he frowned and sipped on his tea.

Oh yea, Sheba looked up, what do you mean? She was puzzled. Decided what?" Sheba asked with deep concern.

Well they chose another candidate; you were not chosen Miss Novel…. You don’t understand. I voted for you.. ..Excuse me, he said lighting another cigarette, but you see the board’s decision was unanimous. He made a long puff.

What was their reason? inquired Sheba, with inquisitive eyes.

All I know at this point is that they weren’t too sure about your motives for the project. They didn’t seem to be convinced that you would be one hundred percent project oriented; they felt that you might be having other motives. I am not real sure what they meant, but I think you mentioned wanting to tour other areas in Africa during the interview. I mean it’s not bad to say how you feel sometimes, but I think they wanted a more humanitarian answer to the question. Sometimes mere words can work against us. oh what the hell, he said taking another puff on the cigarette.

Almost crying Sheba asked Dr. Sato to excuse her as she grabbed her handbag, left the hotel and went straight to her car. While driving many thoughts came to her mind. The news was a hard blow to Sheba; it was a blow that was hard to handle at this time. She was sure, with heaven as her witness, that she would be assigned the project. She wasn’t about to give up, even though her grieving process had just begun. It was a dream she had longed for. No, she would never give up, no matter what. She was determined to be as positive as ever. Nothing can stop me she thought, I can’t use disbelief. That would forfeit my faith and that can never be.

When Sheba arrived home she was exhausted. The sun was very hot. She made a glass of lemonade, took a shower and laid across the bed to take a nap. May be tomorrow better visions would come, she thought and turned off the radio to take a beauty nap.

Penye nia hapakosi njia (Swahili proverb)

Where there is a will, there’s a way

In need of much moral support, Sheba called her mom and told her the sad news. As usual Mrs. Novel was empathetic, but she never felt sorry for Sheba. She had a strong faith in her. She never lost hope in her child. Hello mom!…

Hi Sheba! It’s really good to hear your voice. My dear I was just thinking about you.

I am ok, Sheba lied. But her mom always knew the truth. Sheba tried to hold back her tears.

Oh mom…I…I’ve…got some bad news.

Oh yea. What darling? What is it?

You remember the research position I told you about. Well…I’ve been told I didn’t get it. They..I mean, one of the doctors said that the Executive Board had voted for someone else. But I haven’t gotten the official letter yet. Maybe, maybe there is still hope. Sheba said sadly as she burst into tears.

No darling, it’s going to be just fine. just fine. Don’t cry Sheba. Remember you should put your trust in God. Maybe it’s not the right time. God has something better for you Sheba. Don’t cry darling.

Mom it’s so painful. Why is this happening to me?

Sometimes God doesn’t tell us why things happen, we just have to keep on trusting him. Just keep on praying my child, everything will work out fine, Mrs. Novel sighed.

Ok mom, Sheba said drying her eyes. She had already begun to feel better. She wiped her tears from the phone and dried her eyes in reassurance that God had spoken to her. Sure he would answer her prayers in due time.

Her mother’s faith in God was too strong. Sheba never questioned her faith. Oh yea, I’ve been working on other research projects and I believe I have found a sponsor for graduate school. When I see you in November we’ll talk about it. I love you Ma. You mean everything to me. You can’t imagine how much better I feel since we’ve talked.

I’m glad Sheba. I’m happy to know that you feel better. Now don’t forget to pray and God willing, I will see you soon. Take care of yourself love, and remember, don’t forget to pray.

Ok mom and…well, thanks for everything.

My pleasure Sheba; I am your mom. Good-bye now. I love you,

Bye Ma, I love you too! Sheba hung up the phone and fell back on the sofa and switched on the TV. Why was she feeling so much better, so much stronger than before. Boy, Mom’s prayers are so powerful. Wonder if I could be as close to God as she is, Sheba contemplated. Mom is always helping us to be strong hurdle after hurdle. When we stumble she’s always there cheering us on. I will never forget how she helped me through a very dark period of my life. I had just broken up with my boyfriend after I found out he had been dating a white girl; in fact, she was a close friend for such a long time.

* * * * * *

It was one evening in the snowy winter about 6:30 p.m. Sheba had been waiting for her boyfriend all evening. He had promised to come to her apartment and study with her.

As usual she grew very impatient. This time she wanted to know what was the reason for the delay. He couldn’t be found anywhere. She went to his dorm and searched all over and finally when she was about to return to her apartment she saw him walking down the stairs of the student’s lounge with his arms around her. She could not breathe for what seemed like eternity.

They both turned colors. What caused the surprise Sheba just couldn’t figure it all out. The girlfriend turned so red Sheba thought her glasses would burn her nose. Mark was totally frightened. He knew that Sheba also had a temper that should not be reckoned with.

And where the hell do you think you’re going? Sheba hollered at him; Sheba who was supposed to be so cool. And she really was cool, mostly when things were going ok. But there was a fire inside of her that knew how to flair up and this was one of those times. She dashed to her apartment never to see him again, at least not intimately. But she saw him the next morning and her heart was sick and calmed.

On the radio her favorite song was playing, If I Can’t Have You- Yvonne Elliman and she cried for days, almost flunking her Chemistry exam.

It was at this tragic time in her life that she needed her mother the most and she was there. Slowly Sheba’s mind was coming back into focus. Surely her mom was a good mom; there was no other mom like Sheba’s mom.

Sheba got up from the sofa after those sobering thoughts and went to prepare a small salad with boiled eggs and yogurt, Sheba had learnt how to eat nutritiously when she was taking a course in nutrition in college.

The evening was just about over and it was plain to see that her trip to Africa was going to be delayed for quite some time. However, giving up the dream wasn’t an option. I must go, she thought.

Kiburi si maungwana (Swahili proverb)

Arrogance is not gentlemanly

All of her life Sheba had heard about Africa, the motherland, the cradle of mankind, the place of her roots. Even as a little girl Sheba was more curious than ever about her roots. She wanted to see her people, the people that produced her identity, her image, her color, her family, her everything. In school Sheba was always found studying great writers of African and African American history or attending African plays. She longed for the day when she would go back home. There everything would be ok. No racism, no prejudice, no jealousy, at least she thought. In Africa there is only peace, togetherness and unity among the people. Everyone working together to develop the nations, at least she hoped.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door and as she guessed, it was Abdullah, a guy she was dating who was from Egypt. Before she opened the door she quickly rearranged her hair. Her heart was happy that it was Abdullah. There was something about him that was always reassuring. Abdullah and Sheba had started dating off and on for two years. Although she wasn’t in love with him, she couldn’t imagine those cold D.C. winters without him. He was so warm and always there when she needed him. They were good friends.

Abdullah entered and took a seat in his favorite recliner chair. He reared the chair back and picked up the newspaper. Sheba had started preparing dinner so there was no mistake that Abdullah would take his rightful plate.

By looking at Abdullah no one would really know where he was from, but he was such a handsome fellow that a ladie’s imagination could easily play with her. He had the deepest, darkest brown eyes. He often boasted about his African-Arabian heritage.

He was very proud; in fact, any lady would admire or at least wonder about the many Arabian nights he had spent in Yemen, the place of his parent’s home. But he was quick to let it be known that he was born, raised and nurtured in Egypt, where the history of the Pharaoh’s still echo throughout the ages. And instead of Arabian nights, there were Egyptian nights and then one would have to decide in her own mind which fantasy was the better of the two.

It was a most wonderful battle, to decide, to contemplate, to guess, to just sit and try to figure out what Abdullah was all about. Sheba concluded that just being in the presence of Abdullah was more than enough. He was so handsome.

He was medium height. His skin was a cross between a light brown and deep bronze. He was slim and had a very nice physique. His eye brows were deep, and his face had a square-oval shape. Sheba guessed he was from an upper-upper class of wealth. It’s something he didn’t talk much about. It was an old African tradition not to talk about ones wealth or how many children one had. But he was always boasting about his heritage with the Egyptian Pharaoh’s and how his family too had begun to trace their roots as most of his childhood was spent in Yemen. He learned that one of his great grand uncles was a cousin to one of the Pharaoh’s of Egypt. He couldn’t remember the exact time period, but non- the less he was sure he was of royal blood.

He had on a brown and orange African Safari shirt with dark brown pants. The shirt had embroidery on the collar and sleeves. He also wore a dark brown necklace made from porcelain around his neck. He never took it off as it was some sort of lucky charm. He claimed it was handed down to him from his great great grand father. Sheba often noticed the radiation of pride that seemed to bounce off of him when he spoke of his heritage. Sheba really admired Abdullah for his proud heritage and often wondered about her own as well.

He had a rich deep heritage. She never knew hers, simply because it was unknown in part. Her knowledge of Africa was average; but it was not enough. She needed more, a deeper sense of her true identity.

Sheba prepared the table with the China set from Nigeria that she received from a college friend. It was decorated with black and white and brown earth colors. It was the most interesting china set she had ever seen.

When Abdullah returned to the dinner table from washing his hands he noticed how Sheba’s expression had really changed. What’s your problem? he asked cautiously.

Oh nothing, Sheba half-heartedly grinned.

Ah! Come on Sheba, I know you by now, he winked and directed his finger for her to come to him. You never carry that look unless there’s something; let’s talk about it. Come on…. You can talk to me. I am Abdullah, remember.

Well, let me think about it, Sheba groaned reluctantly.

Ok, times up, you’ve thought long enough, he said looking up from his watch with a sly grin. Let’s get on with it. You can’t hide the problem for long.

I was thinking about the interview.

What about it?

Something is disturbing me and I’m not quite sure what it really is. Why would you think that going to a place like Seychelles poses a great danger? Did I hear them wrong or something really happens to people on these projects? One thing is for certain, that lady gave me the shivers when she made her comments before I took the psychological screening interview. She said I must be mighty strong to want to take this trip or something like that. Anyway, I don’t remember her exact words, but it caused me much concern. I had never…in my life been questioned so intensely before.

So what bothers you the most? You seem to be disturbed over all of this. Anyway, Abdullah said with a sigh, Don’t let things bother you so much. Learn to laugh at all of this. Life goes on in spite of it all. Laugh Sheba! Don’t be so serious all the time.

Well consequently, it never occurred to me that I would not pass the interview Abdullah. I am so committed to my dreams and aspirations. So far everything I ever wanted has come to pass. God has been very good to me, but for some odd reason the words of this woman disturbed my spirit deeply. Any way, she said with a smile. I’ve gotten the post. It’s mine; I’ve always been successful and there is no reason for me to begin doubting now. And I won’t, she said boastfully.

Abdullah and Sheba sat down to some Chinese chicken and rice with a toss salad and white wine. The dinner was refreshing. Cooking good food was a favorite past time for Sheba and it helped her to relax. For dessert she prepared a chilled pineapple-watermellon fruit salad.

Sheba how about a movie on Saturday night? Are you free?

I’ll have to check my calendar.

"It would do you a lot of good to get out for a change, relax your mind. I assure you, things