Desta 4: Roots

By Getty Ambau

In this sprawling epic, Desta continues his dual mission to earn a modern education and reunite King Solomon's Coin of Magic and Fortune with its twin shekel that he owns. Heeding the ancient prophecy, he journeys to a remote town to pursue his goals but soon discovers that he is there to learn of his ancestral roots and gain the knowledge and tools needed for his quest.

Desta meets Tsadok, his benevolent spirit-guide, who reveals Desta's profound ties from the storied waters and soils of Ethiopia to sacred and powerful Near Eastern monuments and artifacts to all of Western history. He learns that the blood of ancestral prophets, priests, princesses, and kings, from Judah and Egypt to Nubia,courses his veins; and that he has been predestined to safeguard King Solomon's spiritual legacy and magical powers for a heretofore hidden purpose.
Desta's high school studies and a kindly benefactor inspire him to pursue a medical career. Yet as Tsadok's lessons fill in the pieces of a cosmic puzzle, Desta's vow to reunite the magical coins pulls him away from his personal goals. Torn between his dual callings, Desta must choose whether to defer his personal dreams, not knowing where or when his search for the coin will end. His future a mystery, and guided only by faith in himself, his roots, and his destiny,Desta forsakes his familiar world, and embarks uneasily on a voyage into the unnknown.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Getty Ambau
• Release date: Jul 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9781884459078

Getty Ambau

Getty Ambau is the author the DESTA series. Desta, the lead character in the story, is on an epic adventure to find a three-thousand year-old magic coin and unite it with the one his family owns. Prophesied since ancient time, this union is believed to benefit all mankind. . . Like Harry Potter or The Book Thief, these books can be read by all ages.The first volume, DESTA AND KING SOLOMON'S COIN OF MAGIC AND FORTUNE, was a winner of Moonbeam's Young Adult Book award and Independent Publishers Children Book award. The second volume, DESTA AND WINDS OF WAHSAA UMERA, was featured in the February 2014 issue of Kirkus Reviews magazine and their digital copy. The third volume, DESTA: TO WHOM LIONS BOW, was a winner of Moonbeam's 2014 Young Adult Book Award.

Book preview

ONE

1966

Desta was over the moon. He was in the seventh grade, near the end of the second semester, when he became the bearer of the good news. His brother Asse’ged had said he and his wife, Lulit, had planned to move to Bahir Dar, a lakeside city in northern Ethiopia, so Desta would have a secure and comfortable home when he attended high school in the fall of the following year and continued to search for King Solomon’s Coin of Magic and Fortune.

Desta thought, had his life story been public knowledge and had he been living in a media-rich country, this unexpected notification of goodwill would have warranted a headline in the local paper: Homeless, Nomadic Shepherd Boy Gets Big Break! People in the street would have stopped and offered him congratulatory handshakes, and most of his classmates would have been happy for him.

Even if, miraculously, someone had offered to write his story for the paper, Desta would have declined, preferring to keep the celebration close to his heart, which had endured so much and kept him going no matter the circumstances.

After having lived with numerous strangers and distant kinsfolk, and in four different towns, during his early schooling, the significance of this offer from his big brother was not something Desta took lightly, however. He had long craved for a secure and consistent home and a loving relative by his side. He often had wished someone from his family thought him important and worthwhile enough that they might make small sacrifices on his behalf.

Now hearing that his beloved brother and wife would uproot their lives and move to the city of Desta’s aspirations so he could continue with his dual missions and fulfill the prophecy of finding the second shekel had caused his brain to buzz with joy. He felt like what a desert traveler must feel at the first sighting of an oasis. Desta counted the weeks and months he must wait till he might come within the view of his own oasis of comfort.

Or so he thought.

Five days after that generous declaration from Asse’ged, a new piece of news reached the family. Asse’ged was sick and they needed to go see him. He had rabies, one of those diseases with no cure or mercy. Water is the disease’s number one enemy, causing Asse’ged to react violently against the sight, mention, or feel of the harmless liquid. He died of dehydration and heart failure within a few days. Desta was grief-stricken.

Of course, most horrifying of all, Desta had lost a beloved brother, but also his hopes and dreams of having a comfortable home and caring relatives when he went to Bahir Dar the following year vanished like a puff of smoke on the wind.

Desta despaired when it finally came time for him to go and start his high school education and pursue his dream of finding the second coin. He realized he had little choice but to move on, and once again, seek out strangers who would give accommodation in exchange for part-time work.

He walked a day and a half along unfamiliar country trails and caravan roads. He relied on the coin image his grandfather’s spirit had inscribed on his chest as his guide and protector, and his sheer will and determination as the wheels that would propel him to the city of his desires.

The first night he spent as yegzi-abhare ingida—a guest of God—at the nearest home he spotted from the caravan road before nightfall. This is a common practice in the countryside, where there are no hotels or other accommodations for travelers. It was the home of a young couple. Less common was the husband’s readily taking Desta in as soon as he had introduced himself. The next day, as Desta continued his journey, he wondered whether he could do the same when he got to Bahir Dar. He would rather save his money, but he had never heard of townspeople accepting and giving shelter and food to complete strangers.

He had only the clothes on his back and money barely enough to cover his school supplies and a month’s worth of food. He had neither relatives nor acquaintances in the city, nor did he expect to see familiar faces at school. Most of his eighth-grade classmates in Finote Selam had gone to Debre Marcos, the provincial capital, where the only other high school was located. Yet this bleak, unknown city by Lake Tana had drawn Desta like a moth to a flame.

New towns have been full of wonder and excitement for Desta since he was little. They represent new places and things to see and people to meet. For him exploring is like the field where one goes to search for a gem among an expanse of rocks. He must turn every rock over until he finds the prize. In Desta’s case, he had to talk with enough people and find the one family who would be willing to give him room and board in exchange for part-time work.

That morning, as he walked across the beautiful countryside swathed in newly grown teff, barley and corn, Desta was sober and mindful, however. He was going to a place where he knew not a soul, not even a family acquaintance who might give him shelter for the night…. The unknown can be daunting and full of pitfalls, he thought to himself. Yes, but would it be worse than what he had already gone through?

He rolled over in his mind all the things he had faced from birth until now. He survived a two-month premature birth. When he was little he was seen as a curse by his family because he asked too many questions they couldn’t answer. He survived and overcame their neglect, physical and verbal abuses. He lived through crippling grief when his pet dog, Kooli, died and sorrow with the departure of his beloved sister, Hibist, after she married.

Later, when he moved to town to attend modern school, he endured the death of an adoring aunt and uncle who had taken him in. Their loss forced him to move on, living in two different towns and with nothing but strangers. He was starved and treated like a servant by one family, abandoned or let go by others. Despite all these circumstances, Desta remained committed to his dual goals—earning an education and finding the Coin of Magic and Fortune.

That morning, as he walked sometimes alone and sometimes in the company of other travelers and their pack animals, Desta thought about what his life would be like in Bahir Dar. Would it be so miserable that he’d be forced to quit school and return home, as he did when he lived in Dangila? Or would he be compelled to abandon school and take a job to support himself as he nearly did in Debre Marcos a year earlier? Desta didn’t have clear answers to either of these questions. He just had to wait until he got to Bahir Dar and find out.

IT WAS AS if the stars had aligned once Desta reached the city of his dreams. He had arrived early in the morning and was returning to town after registering at the high school when he ran into Kalyon Petrov, a Bulgarian physician he had met at the Debre Marcos Hospital the year before. The doctor had been transferred to the hospital in Bahir Dar and had just gotten to town when Desta spotted him on the street.

After becoming briefly reacquainted, they agreed to dine together later that evening at a nearby restaurant.

The two weary travelers tore into a communal platter of injera and wats: doro, and the legume varieties—shiro and lentils; and turmeric-laced mixed cabbage, potatoes and carrots. After their meals, they settled in to enjoy their spiced black tea and conversation. During this discourse, they discovered the extent of each other’s circumstances—Dr. Petrov, a single man in need of an assistant; Desta, a student seeking food and shelter in exchange for part-time work. It was a match made in heaven. They decided to form an alliance.

Furthermore, since Desta didn’t have anywhere to stay that night, the doctor offered to share his room at the Ras Hotel. Dr. Petrov paid for their dinner and so they left. En route to the hotel, they stopped at a general store, where the doctor purchased canned goods as well as pens and tablets for writing. Desta bought his school supplies.

The hotel room was furnished with two double beds and a pullout accordion divider. Once they got to the room, the two deposited their merchandise on the floor by the entrance and drew the divider between the beds, creating separate sleeping quarters. Soon after, they undressed and went to bed. But Desta had to first forgive all those who had mistreated him during the time he had spent going to school in the different towns.

TWO

The next morning, Desta awoke at six o’clock, his usual time for studying or doing homework when school was in session. Without those obligations, he found himself thinking about the good fortune that had befallen him. He was thankful to Providence for sparing him from having to walk around town like a beggar, asking families and business owners for work, food, and a bed.

Desta didn’t know what it was like to live with someone from another country nor did he know what the man would expect of him. He figured, once he got settled, he would start to get to know the townspeople and arrange for another place to stay, in case things didn’t work out with the doctor. For all Desta knew, Dr. Petrov would be transferred again to another town or even decide to return to Bulgaria.

It was frightening for Desta to realize he would need support for four years, not just six months or one year, and it was unlikely the doctor would employ him beyond 12 months. Where could he find a family that would offer four years of continuous support? If past experience was any indication, this was a tall order he couldn’t possibly attain. He so wished he could have security and constancy for a change. He hated Asse’ged for dying.

His chest heaved and surged with emotion. Tears welled up in one corner of his eye and rolled across the bridge of his nose, streaming down the smooth skin of his face. At moments like these, his tears were his only salvation. They washed away all the anxieties, frustrations, emptiness, and fears that had been gathering in his heart and brain for a long time.

He turned and stretched his limbs, then laid back and stared at the black air above him. Desta felt like a seed cast in the wind. If he were a seed, what might happen to him? He pondered all the scenarios.

He could land on a rock or the bare earth and be eaten by a bird. He could fall into a lake and rot at the bottom or be swallowed by a fish. He could be blown into a forest fire and turned into smoke and ash or dropped in a river like the Abay—Blue Nile—and be taken on a 4,000-mile ride—to be washed up in the end, onto the Nile’s expansive delta near the Mediterranean Sea. He would feed on the fertile Ethiopian soil, a gift from the river to the land. There he would germinate, grow, and reproduce, giving rise to the many seeds of future generations. Desta smiled. Of all the things that could happen to him as a seed, he preferred to be thrown into the Abay. He wished he were a seed. Now he was happier.

Somehow, thinking about the Abay and the seed made him feel good inside.

He stilled himself and listened. For a few moments he heard nothing but the rhythmic beats of a clock on the other side of the partition, like the beats of his heart. Then he heard Dr. Petrov clear his throat and move his legs under the covers. He heard the doctor rise and go to the bathroom. Water poured into the sink. Feet shuffled again. Once Dr. Petrov laid back in bed and got under the covers, everything was quiet once again.

But like a child who had once been burned and therefore resists going near a fire, Desta felt he could no longer live with complete strangers. It was as if all those experiences he stowed away in his brain suddenly resurfaced that morn ing, creating anxiety he neither wanted nor expected. With this, his mind became clearer and calmer.

The alarm clock buzzed but was silenced instantly, as if someone had taken the life out of it. But no, it was still alive. Desta could hear its uncanny, lifelike ticktock, ticktock, ticktock. Had someone designed it to imitate the heart’s lubdub rhythm?

The doctor cleared his throat a couple of times in quick succession, as if to test Desta’s wakefulness. Desta rattled his throat in return.

Oh, good, Desta, you’re awake? Doctor Petrov half-declared, half-asked. I’ll take a shower and get ready for breakfast.

Okay, Desta said. I’ll get dressed soon.

Desta had no extra clothes to change into if he were to take a shower. He would first have to wait until he laundered the clothing he had on.

Dr. Petrov was in the shower for what seemed like a long time, the water running like a steady downpour of rain. It made Desta wish he could feel and enjoy the sensation of warm water on his body, too.

Someone knocked on the door and Desta opened it. A young man in a hunter green jacket was standing a few feet from the threshold, holding a silver tray containing scrambled eggs, freshly baked bread, and a tall glass of steaming spiced tea.

The waiter stared at Desta quizzically.

If you’re wondering whether this is Dr. Petrov’s room, it is, Desta said. Come in. The man set the platter and its contents on the table by the window. Please make sure to tell Dr. Petrov that Dejen, the hospital driver, is coming to pick him up at eight.

Will do.

Soon after this exchange, Dr. Petrov came out of the bathroom shaved, dried, and wrapped in a white towel. When he and Desta had met the day before, the doctor had four day’s worth of beard growth. Now with the stubble gone, his face looked soft and smooth as a baby’s, and the small dimple on his chin was more visible. His damp chestnut hair was parted to the right, combed down one side of his head and whipped into a pile on top.

Good morning! Dr. Petrov said, showing his perfectly even white teeth.

Good morning, Desta said, tipping his head in the customary greeting. The waiter brought your breakfast. He said the driver will come to pick you up at eight.

Dr. Petrov glanced toward the table. Just one? he said, sounding a little disappointed. They didn’t know about you…. You go and tell them to bring us another tray. I’ll pack and get dressed in the meantime.

Outside, Desta ran into the same waiter. He was returning with dirty dishes. Desta told him what the guest in room fourteen had said.

Blossoming red and white roses lined the outer edge of the walkway. Farther away, luxuriant ornamental false banana leaves arced over a carpet of weeds and creeping vines. Steam from the early morning dew rose up, shrouding the garden in an ethereal white haze.

The waiter returned with another tray of food.

Dr. Petrov came out dressed in a rumpled blue blazer over a creamy white shirt and khaki pants. Beige-colored socks and neatly polished brown shoes complemented his clothes. He had pushed back the accordion partition.

He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. We have exactly twenty-five minutes. Better eat quickly and get ready for Dejen, he said.

Desta noted Dr. Petrov’s fine grooming and style as the doctor sat down to breakfast. With his nice clothes, he looked more like the businessmen Desta used to see at the bus stop in Finote Selam than a physician. And the man’s fine straight nose might’ve been the envy of any woman, undermining his otherwise decidedly masculine good looks. His intense, contemplative gray eyes seemed more fitting on the face of someone whose occupation it was to think or create rather than treat the sick.

Desta joined him at the table. The scrambled eggs, with minced red onions, garlic, and herbs, were sumptuous. The spiced tea invigorating.

Dr. Petrov’s strong jaw moved in steady rhythm beneath his solid cheeks. He seemed to be enjoying himself. Desta drank his tea along with breakfast. His tablemate saved his until the end.

I like my tea lukewarm, Dr. Petrov said, smiling a little. That way, I can drink it like cold water, particularly when I’m in a rush. He picked up the cup and downed the brown liquid in three separate chugs, finishing it off with a smack of his lips.

Desta moved to the bed and gathered his personal possessions.

At that moment, someone knocked at the door. It was the driver, Dejen, a short, stocky man with a soft voice. After a quick greeting and handshake with the doctor, he asked, Any luggage I can help you with? He shot a puzzled look at Desta.

Just this, Dr. Petrov said, pushing a blue leather suitcase to the entrance. I’ll carry the briefcase and the paper bag of merchandize.

Dejen grabbed the hefty suitcase by its handle and scuttled to the door with it.

Desta and Dr. Petrov followed him to the driveway where an idling Land Rover was waiting.

Dejen put down the luggage near the trunk of the car and waited. I got the house key from the landlord this morning and we’ll go there directly, he said. We’ll drop off your belongings at the house first and then go to the hospital.

And this young man? Dejen asked, glancing at Desta.

He is a student friend who will be living with me, Dr. Petrov said. His name is Desta.

Dejen paused for a second and said Oh, good…. He can help you with little things around the house. He nodded at Desta.

Just a second, then, Dejen said, as he leaned inside the back of the Land Rover. He pushed around and arranged things that were on the back seat and came out again.

All three got in the car. Dejen disengaged the breaks and pressed on the gas pedal. The car rolled down the driveway. He stopped at the edge of the asphalt road and checked for on-coming traffic. Satisfied the road was clear, he turned right and gunned the engine.

They had not even gone a mile when the asphalt road turned to gravel. The car shook and rattled as it was pelted with sharp rocks, like a torrential rain on a tin roof.

Dejen tried to talk to Desta but the noise was deafening.

They were driving through flat open terrain of mostly shrubs and fungus-clad rocks and outcroppings, as they moved farther and farther from the edge of the town. Desta began to worry. He was hoping to live close to Bahir Dar’s core. He needed to meet and get to know its residents.

After a couple of turns and a lonely drive through a wild grove of thorny shrubs, they reached the rental home. Near the gate, a middle-aged watchman sat under a thatched-roof shed. He rose when the car approached and greeted the visitors with a bow. He opened the gate and let Dejen drive in.

The driver stopped the car and all three filed out.

Although the morning was still young, the air was warm, as if it had been rising up from hot charcoal. Desta and Dr. Petrov followed the driver to a tiled portico, where, in one corner, a rectangular wood table was bookended by wicker settees. The bougainvillea on the stone wall facing the portico burned like an eternal flame, arresting Desta’s eyes and causing him to pause for a few seconds and stare at the flowering vine, transfixed.

Dejen unlocked the house door and they stepped into what appeared to be a multifunctional furnished room. The front part a living area, the back dedicated to cooking and dining. The air smelled stale and musty. Dejen said that the home was recently vacated by a German doctor who had returned to his country after his contract with the hospital ended.

They quickly toured the home, the men’s shoes echoing as they walked over the immaculately polished tile floor, their eyes gliding along the walls and furnishings in the rooms.

There was a cream-colored divan in the living room, sitting on a large, faded brown rug. Hanging above it was a framed dreamlike photograph of fog, mountain peaks, and minarets. A painting hung on the wall facing the sofa. It depicted a sunset over an expanse of water and two large golden ovals superimposed on the side of a misty cliff, below which silvery foam washed over a stretch of gray sand. The dominant colors of burnt sienna, red, and gold in the painting were captivating.

Farther down along the same wall was a world map. A couple of feet from the map, toward the back wall, was a four-burner cooking stove atop a sturdy table, next to which stood a five-shelf pantry. A few utensils, pots, and pans dangled on the wall adjacent to the pantry. A four-sided dining table, covered with a floral plastic table cloth, occupied the area near the back wall, under the window.

From this room they walked through an arch leading into a hallway, where there were two small bedrooms on the side and a larger sleeping quarters at the end. The bathroom was located at the opposite corner, near the back entrance.

One of these rooms was furnished with a neatly made bed; it had a light blue checkered blanket tucked under the mattress and clean white pillow. A wood desk with a chair inhabited the space under the window. The second of the smaller rooms was empty.

The master bedroom, at the corner of the house, was furnished with a large bed, mahogany wardrobe, table, and chair. The bed split the top portion of the room in half, its headboard touching the wall. A navy blue blanket was draped over the mattress and pillows, the edges drooping along the sides. Both the dark wardrobe and blanket appeared in sharp contrast to the beige hue of the walls.

After the tour, all three went to the car and got their belongings. Dr. Petrov carried the canned goods, the paper bag of writing things, and his briefcase. Dejen brought in the doctor’s luggage, while Desta carried his own cloth pouch and his bag of merchandise. Inside the house, the doctor placed the cans of food on the kitchen shelf and the notepads and writing instruments on the desk near the window by the front entrance.

After talking to the doctor, Dejen assigned Desta the small furnished bedroom. The two men then left, encouraging Desta to make himself at home. They would return at noon for lunch.

To Desta, make-yourself-at-home was a phrase with little meaning or sentiment.

His earlier anxieties returned and settled in his bosom like cold winter air. Against this dreamlike backdrop, the realities of his past life came back to haunt him. By degrees, he started to feel chills all over his slender body and through to the bone—chills caused not by any outside elements but by his emotions, stemming, again, from reminiscences of his past experiences. Homelessness, hunger, abandonment, and beatings loomed before him like apparitions. He squirmed in his seat, closed his eyes, and sighed deeply. But it appears I’m going to be much better off for now than I had ever been anytime in the past, he thought.

In all manner of speaking, he was. From the look of it, he was going to have a comfortable home, three meals a day, and only one person to answer to. But Desta also knew better than to allow himself to be lulled by any oasis of security.

The doctor could be transferred again or return to his country, as the German doctor had done. Or he could ask Desta to leave for any number of reasons. And Desta would be out in the cold yet again. This was the downside of depending on the kindness of strangers. These relationships were neither unconditional nor reliable.

If Desta could no longer live with Dr. Petrov, he would have to move from one stranger’s home to another for the next three to four years. He would have to live like a nomad once more. No matter, he thought to himself. He needed to start getting to know the locals as soon as possible.

He looked out the window of his bedroom, hoping to spot a neighbor or two nearby. But all he could see was the stone wall barrier, with ghastly glass shards in hues of green, orange, and blue, sprouting along the ridge, over which peeked the tops of a few distant trees.

He remembered they drove through the open countryside for miles before they reached the rental home. He didn’t recall seeing any houses or neighborhoods, other than a white two-story building. This meant, if Desta wanted to meet people, he would have to walk the long distance to town. This was neither practical nor appealing.

He picked up his feet, moved away from the window, and continued reflecting. He reached deep into himself, examining his past experiences to find the courage and inspiration he would need.

At that moment, he heard a rustle and murmur directly outside the window. Desta dropped his feet, walked to the casement, and looked out. All he saw was a bird with light green plumage perched atop the stone wall, brushing against the glass shards. It looked familiar, more as if he had seen it in a dream, not in real life.

Desta blinked. In that instant, the object of his curiosity morphed into a green oblong mass, which soon slid down the wall and stood erect, now large and longnecked, like an ostrich. Stunned, Desta shook his head and blinked again. When he opened his eyes, the nearly giant creature was transformed into a man. He remembered him. Desta called him Defaru. They had met once under the warka tree in Finote Selam. This was the vision that had given him the root that cured Hiwot. She was the sister of Dinknesh, the woman in whose house Desta lived for a year.

Defaru took two steps forward. You worry too much about the future, instead of focusing on the here and now. Leave everything to the powers that have charted your course, the ghost said in a scolding tone.

Desta stared at Defaru, trying to gather the courage to say something.

Most of your problems are now behind you, the apparition said. You’re at the fourth stage of your journey, the double two’s, which are the representatives of the two coins you’re trying to unite. It means you’re now on stable ground, at the center of the earth’s four directions. One of them is the correct path to where the second coin is located.

Desta had not even been thinking about the coin recently but he was astonished. Do you know which one of the directions I’ll need to follow?

I don’t know. I just came to assure you that your future is not as bleak as you might think, the specter said. You’ll have challenges, yes, but not in the way you’re thinking. All you need to do is study hard and continue to be diligent in your search for the second magic coin.

How much more diligent can I be? Desta mumbled, too shocked to ask a more meaningful question.

Try to remember all the clues your grandfather’s spirit had given you. Therein lie your true path to the ancient relic…. Good luck and good-bye.

Desta remained standing for some time, still struck by the sight of the apparition and what it had said. Then he tossed his head like someone who is powerless to alter the course of events or effect change. I’m not new to these kinds of incidents, he thought. Apparitions are a part of my life, too. For now he wanted to get out of that room and do or see something. He turned and headed for the door. I’ll indeed make myself at home, he thought. He left his bedroom and wandered into the living room.

Of the things he’d observed when they arrived earlier, the painting on the wall facing the sofa had the most pull on him. At a distance, the sun, ghostlike, hung over an expansive body of water. In the foreground, two gold-colored circles were suspended on air, like pendants. Farther up and around the celestial orb, the sky was a mixture of gold, brown, and red, with tinting that suggested the impending night. On the shore, bubbly white foam had washed up in arcs and streaks over the gray sand.

In a strange and mystical way, this image reminded him of the location his grandfather’s spirit had described, although the painting in front of Desta was not as vivid. The person who owns the second coin of magic was supposed to live near this place. Then, as Desta looked up at the two suspended ovals, he noticed they resembled the head and tail of the coin his family owns. This is weird, he said under his breath. His hair prickled on the back of his neck. He tightened his lips and pressed the knuckles of his right hand against his mouth and stared at this pair of golden images as his mind reeled.

He dropped his gaze to the bottom of the frame and saw an initialism of something. It said ACCSNBP on the right corner and the number 4819 1-24 on the left, near the artist’s signature.

Desta’s mind raced, his lips quivered. He wanted to say, Who did this? Where did it come from? but nothing left his mouth because it all looked cryptic and nebulous. He lifted his face and scanned the room, trying to see if there was someone, like Defaru, who could explain these mystical numbers and their references. Baffled and frightened, he headed for the front door.

The brilliant red bougainvillea vine stole his attention anew. It was all over the wall—wild, untamed, beautiful.

He stood on his toes and tried to see whether there were any neighbors on this side of the stone wall. He still couldn’t clear the top of the stone wall, the tuft of bougainvillea leaves shielding much of the view. He sought someone to talk with and pose questions to about the area, which felt so far from everything and with hardly any trees around.

He stepped down and went to the gate. He wondered whether the watchman might still be there. He pushed and pulled on the door, but it was immovable. The watchman was there. He came and opened it.

Do you want to go somewhere? the man asked, bending down and bringing his shaggy face close to Desta’s.

I just wanted to talk to someone who would tell me about the area, Desta said, looking up at the guard. This house looks so remote and lonely….

My name is Gebru Dargey. What’s your name?

Desta.

Gebru continued. It’s a new house, Desta—two years old—far from town, yes, but close to the hospital.

Where is the hospital?

A short distance on the other side of the home.

Are there any more houses around?

There are—just for the doctors, most of them foreigners, like the man who is going to live here and the German fellow who left last week, and an Italian man before him.

Then Gebru added unsolicited details. A few businesspeople in town built them after seeing the big demand. This one is owned by the manager of the bank.

Desta looked away thoughtfully. He turned a deaf ear to the extraneous information. Not only was he disheartened by the lack of local people, he was now feeling as if he were at the bottom of the world. Everything around him was nearly flat, with few reference points. For someone who grew up surrounded by mountains, this area was hard to relate to.

He turned to Gebru. Do you know if there is a ladder here?

A ladder? Gebru asked, netting his brow. What for?

I just want to lean one against this stone wall and look around.

Gebru smiled. Where are you from?

From the highlands of Dega Damot, Desta said, referring to the region’s name instead of his birth valley.

Let me see if I can find one, Gebru said, and went into the compound.

Here, look all you want, Gebru said, as he tilted the ladder against the side of the stone wall.

Thank you, Desta said. He quickly scampered up and stood on the third rung from the top. With one hand gripping the top of the ladder firmly, he examined his surroundings. Among a sea of leafy thorn bushes, the roofs of about a dozen homes rose like islands. To the east, a few miles away, a dense grove of eucalyptus trees marked the outer edge of Bahir Dar. To the northeast, a good walk away, Lake Tana spread before him like a giant sheet of glass.

Two large mounds of trees, or so they seemed, one bigger than the last, lurched on the lake. A third mound, along the western shore, had the effect of a cumulous cloud. Desta looked down at Gebru. What are those huge masses of trees doing on the lake? he asked, puzzled.

Gebru smiled benignly. "Those are dekes—islands. They contain ancient monasteries with many historical books, crosses, and the like…. You should go visit them one day."

Gebru pulled his bench out from under the shed and stood on it. He pointed with his index finger. That one near the eastern shore is Tana Kirkos, the one closest to us is Kebran Gabriel, and farther down on the left shore is the Zege Peninsula.

Desta was captivated. How do you get there?

"You have to ask one of the locals to take you there on their tankwa—papyrus boat. If you have a lot of money, you can rent a merkeb—motorized boat—from the Marine Authority. They are a lot faster and safer, too."

I’d like to, Desta said, wistfully looking away. I’ve more important things to do than risk my life trying to see ancient books, crosses, and other things, as you say, but I’d still like to visit them one day.

This response of his somehow sobered Desta. It’s true: He had the coin owner to look for and to study his lessons. He couldn’t really waste his time going on excursions to see those kinds of things, at least not now.

He came down from the ladder and stood next to Gebru. I assume you have been looking after this house since its owner began renting it, he said, "Do you know what the average stay of the doctors who come here is?

Some stay one or two years, others just six months. It depends on whether they are transferees or fresh from their homeland.

Desta’s stomach lurched. Did any of the previous doctors have a student living in the house? If they did, what happened to the student after the doctor left?

None had a student live with them, Gebru replied. He studied Desta. So you’re a student? His face hardened.

Yes, I am. I’ll be starting the ninth grade. He lowered his head and began rolling a rock with the tip of his shoe.

"You said you come from very far away, in the highlands. How did you meet this Ferenge—white man?"

Desta looked up and told Gebru the story behind his stumbling upon Dr. Petrov and the arrangement they had struck up. And the reasons why he chose to come to Bahir Dar from so far.

That coin better be worth a lot of money for you to take such a risk in coming to a place where you don’t know anyone, Gebru said. He stared at him gravely. "Highland people don’t adapt well in a warm climate like ours. And then there is the added problem of woba—malaria."

What’s that? Desta asked, his face tensing up.

"It’s a disease spread by bimbi—a mosquito—found mostly in places like here, where there is lake water and swamps, Gebru said. And this is the worst time of the year."

Is there a way to protect oneself from malaria?

Not that I’ve heard of, Gebru replied. The sanitation department has been spraying chemicals in the areas where mosquitoes breed, but people come down with the disease anyway…. Just make sure you close the windows at night and do not let any mosquitoes bite you during the day.

Desta wanted to ask more question about the woba disease. The thought that Dr. Petrov could leave in six months and he would be without a place to live was a more pressing concern. Do you know where I could find someone to live with if the doctor goes back to his country?

I can’t help you with that, Gebru answered. And I don’t know anyone who would offer room and board to a stranger. Most people have their own children to run their errands or they just don’t need help. Gebru’s voice faltered.

Desta had had enough of his bleak prospects. Will you tell me where I can return the ladder? he asked, now anxious to go inside, be by himself, and think about what Gebru had said.

I’ll do it myself, Gebru said. Go back inside. It’s getting toward noon and hotter out here. I’ll shortly retreat to my shed, too.

Thank you for all the information, Desta said, as he returned to his assigned room in the house. His head swam with thoughts. He lay on his bed, hoping not think about anything anymore. But he did.

HANNA LEGESSE, Dr. Petrov’s cook, was a pretty round-faced woman of about 32 years of age. She had a button-shaped nose and smiled with her teeth as well as with her soft brown eyes. Dejen brought Hanna to Desta’s room to acquaint the two. The strangers shook hands and chatted for a bit. I understand you’re a student, Hanna said in a hopeful tone.

Yes, I am, Desta confirmed. I’ll be starting the ninth grade.

Oh good, Hanna said, You can help translate things for me then. Every time a new doctor comes, the beginning is always the hardest.

Why? Desta asked.

I often bite my nails, wondering if I heard right what they wanted me to prepare for them.

I’ll be happy to help out, Desta said. Just have a list of the things you want to ask or need explained and I can communicate them to the doctor.

Come, Dejen said, You will get to taste Hanna’s cooking. She has brought us lunch.

Pleasure to meet you, Hanna, Desta said and followed Dejen to the bathroom. Both washed their hands, one after another, and joined Dr. Petrov at the dining table for lunch.

Before him was a big colorful platter arrayed with a half-dozen drumsticks soaked in rich red sauce, with boiled eggs; mixed cabbage; carrots and potato slices laced with turmeric; and a mound of split peas, lentils, and sautéed cubed lamb meat. Dr. Petrov had already begun eating with gusto. There were also three opened Fanta and Coca-Cola bottles.

I’m sorry I couldn’t wait for you two, Dr. Petrov said, grinning even with food in his mouth. I’ve not had such a flavorful meal in a long while.

You can have it every day, Dejen said. Just give Hanna the money she needs and she will be happy to prepare it for you.

Good to hear, the doctor said, picking up his Fanta. I enjoy your food.

After they finished eating, Dr. Petrov went to his bedroom to take a nap. Dejen told Desta that the cook would come to prepare their food in the kitchen house every day once the doctor settled in and formally hired her. And part of Desta’s responsibility would be to help her in the kitchen. Desta also would clean up the yard and help with washing the doctor’s clothes. Having entrusted these responsibilities to the new errand boy, Dejen left. Desta went to his room.

THREE

There was something that bothered Desta about his new school when he came to register the day before. He didn’t have time to check it fully or articulate his feelings then. He needed to go back in town and look for an accommodation for the night.

This morning, however, anxious and excited to start his classes, he rose early, ate his breakfast, and left. The campus was only about a quarter mile away and he hopped and skipped there in no time. He arrived thirty minutes before classes started, giving him ample time to walk the grounds and figure out the exact cause of his misgivings.

The stark, long two-story building looked like anything but a school. It had no fence or real feel of a campus. It was surrounded with mostly brush and a smattering of warka trees.

Much of the terrain near the school was craggy and covered with wild thorn bushes. The only clean and level earth was a patch of grass in front of the building and a large field farther away. There was no name or insignia anywhere. The paint from the walls and metal rails along the extensive balcony and down the two openair staircases on either end was old and faded. There were no other buildings.

Desta’s mind went back to the great campus and the beautiful stone buildings of his elementary school in Finote Selam. Here in Bahir Dar, he was supposed to be attending a secondary school, where the local students as well as the pupils from far-off towns come to earn a higher education. Yet it was not even in the same league as his elementary school in Finote Selam.

Did he make a big mistake by coming here instead of going to Debre Marcos, like most of his classmates? Was he a fool for trekking to this town on blind faith, hoping the person who holds the second coin might be living here? In the process, might he be compromising the quality of his education?

The school’s austere facade and spare surroundings were the symptoms of more serious and consequential deficiencies that lay within. As Desta found out later, this school had no books—texts or references—library or laboratory. And there were the extraordinary teachers, who were a discovery in themselves. Desta and the rest of his classmates had to get used to.

After the flag ceremony, students lined up by grade level (from seventh to twelfth), said the Lord’s prayers, sang the national anthem, and went to their classrooms. Desta’s ninth grade had two sections and he was in 9A.

The first teacher to enter Desta’s ninth-grade classroom was a slender six-foot American Peace Corps volunteer named Robert Harris. He was assigned to teach biology, but that he was new to the air, culture, and people soon became apparent during the class introductions. The names that exited the students’ mouths—Desta Abraham, Yohannes Teklewold, Bisrate Taffese—became distortions when wrapped around Mr. Harris’s tongue.

His embarrassment intensifying with each new name, Mr. Harris picked up speed and switched to the business of teaching biology with the determination of a racehorse. Since this seven-letter word is a story about the vast world of life, he was intent on beginning with its tiniest member, the cell. He drew a circle on the blackboard and quickly sketched in all the different parts that allow the cell to function as a self-sufficient unit—to live, grow, and replicate.

The cell’s most esoteric features, the tangled mess at the core called chromosomes, were the most fascinating to Desta, particularly the DNA—the long string structure that Mr. Harris said contains an organism’s biological history.

Discrete sections in this chain, called genes or codes, are records of an individual’s ancestral past, the unique attributes of people—both the visible, such as the hair and skin color, and the invisible, such as intelligence or the potentials they bear for future generations, just as they became the manifestations of the potential when copies of these genes resided in their ancestors’ bodies.

For Desta these codes were the windows through which he could glimpse the chains of his ancestors who once owned his family’s Coin of Magic and Fortune, just as the ancient relic had encoded messages from King Solomon.

That morning he discovered the true answer to his childhood questions about the physical and psychological variations in his brothers: skin tone, hair texture, and personality—for example, Tamirat and Asse’ged were extroverts and Damtew and Teferra were somber and aloof. These differences were not a result of the mother’s womb being like leopard skin, as the adults used to say, but the manifestations of those specific traits of their ancestors that reside in Desta’s DNA.

After the forty-five-minute session was used up, Mr. Harris left with the promise of more biology to come. Desta wished he’d had more books about genes he could devour.

The next teacher he met was called D.K. Jain and he taught chemistry. He was a short rotund man with jet black hair that appeared as if a cow had licked it. Mr. Jain spoke with his head, hands, as well as his mouth. The words that came out of him had their own distinct texture and flavor and were harder to understand than Mr. Harris’s.

Do you know where this man comes from? Desta asked, turning to the fellow next to him.

India.

From his childhood in the country, Desta knew that every time a cow licks its calf, its hide becomes flat and glistens in the sun. He was tempted to ask the boy if Indians keep cows at home to lick their hair every morning, but he resisted.

Mr. Jain didn’t bother with the business of formal introductions. After a few preliminaries, including reminding the students to take careful notes and memorize everything he wrote down on the blackboard, he went right into the subject of chemistry.

He defined chemistry as the study of all matter that has mass and occupies space. He said one of the reasons we study chemistry is because we live in a chemical world and deal with chemicals all the time. Our body is full of chemicals. The air we breathe, food we eat, and water we drink are all forms of chemicals.

Mr. Jain drew two concentric circles, one bigger than the other, on the blackboard. He used the end of a thin piece of chalk to dab a bunch of dots inside the inner circle, like sheep in a pen. These represented protons and neutrons. He then drew a scatter of similar dots on the outer ring, orbiting in their own circle, like Desta’s boyhood goats looking for the freshest acacia leaves. The teacher called them electrons. One set of the inner dots were positively charged, the other set neutral. The electrons were negatively charged. All the dots and circles together, Mr. Jain said, represented the atom, which is among the smallest units of mat ter. Many billions and billions of atoms are added together to form matter, like a piece of wood or a rock we can feel and touch.

Desta was relieved that Mr. Jain was writing what he talked about on the blackboard because he began to speak faster and faster and was therefore harder to understand. Desta glanced to either side of his row and noticed the glazed looks on the students’ faces…. When the bell rang, Mr. Jain gathered up his things and left.

Desta stared into space, deep in thought. There were no books, and he could only understand part of what the two teachers had talked about. There was a sickening, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Ms. Mintwab Kebed was one of the third-year university students sent to help with the country’s teacher shortage. She would teach Amharic, Ethiopia’s national language, for one year. Ms Kebed had a pretty face, a big set of eyes, and teeth that flashed like a beam of light. Ms. Kebed looked foreign to Desta, but only her clothes, shoes, and coiffed hair, which had been straightened and combed to curl around her ears like a ram’s horns. She wore a cream-colored short-sleeve top and a faded green skirt that barely reached her knees. She stood in a pair of needle-point-sharp high heels.

Desta could not take his eyes off of them. Ms. Kebed didn’t have books for the students, either, other than one copy of her own. She spent much of the fortyfive minutes of class time getting to know the students and eventually covering the course outline. The bell rang and she left.

The school broke for lunch. Desta walked home, his head taken up both by the new things he learned and what he feared might be a low-quality high school education. He realized it was not just his living arrangement that was tenuous, his academics were, too. He couldn’t imagine going through four years of high school without books.

"WOULD YOU LIKE ye-ferenge or do you feel more comfortable with habesha migib—Ethiopian food?" Hanna asked, stopping Desta by the back entrance of the house.

Desta furrowed his brow. At that moment, all he could think of was porridge, remembering what his father had once said was the food all white people eat. Desta was about to say ye-habesha migib when Hanna continued. She had noticed Desta’s confused look. Ye-ferenge migib, you know—like spaghetti and macaroni.

I’ve never eaten that kind of food, but— Desta said. The thought of tasting the exotic food appealed to him.

Once he got inside and sat at the dining table, Hanna brought out a mound of tangled, slithery things on a bright white plate and placed it in front of him. He peered down at the mess, thinking how in the world he was going to pick it up and stuff it into his mouth using the metal rake she had left shoved into the pile.

Try it, Hanna urged. It’s good for you.

You’ve not eaten spaghetti before?

Desta shook his head. He always hated these moments. It made him feel like he was still a farm boy.

Here, Hanna said, pulling out the rake. She rolled the spaghetti strands around the fingerlike metal tips and handed it to him.

Stiffly and awkwardly, Desta took it. He stared at it.