Beverly Hills Maasai by Eric Walters Read Free Book Online Page A

asked.
    “The person who finishes first gets $250,000!”
    “I had no idea,” my mother said.
    “Second place is worth $150,000, third gets $100,000, and fourth place receives $75,000.” I turned to Nebala. “You’re running for the money?”
    He nodded.
    That didn’t make any sense. Maasai didn’t collect money, or cars, or houses. All that mattered were cows. The more cows a warrior owned, the richer he was. Wait … maybe that was it.
    “I understand! If you win, then you can buy more cows, right?”
    He shook his head.
    “Then what are you going to use the money for?”
    He picked up his glass and held it out toward me. “Water.”
    “Sure, we can just ask Carmella for another bottle.”
    “No, no, the prize money is for water.”
    “You’re going to buy … water?”
    “We will dig a well so that we have water for everybody.”
    “I’m confused,” Olivia said. “You mean, you
don’t
have water now?”
    “The rains did not come this season—again. The river has dried up. There is little water … not enough. What water we have is not good.”
    “And that’s why you came here to compete in the marathon. That’s why you need the money,” I said. Now it all made sense.
    “Yes. People are sick … cattle are dying.”
    “Have you had cattle die?” I asked.
    “I have no cattle,” Nebala said, his words barely audible.
    “Of course you have cattle … you even told me how many cattle you have.”
    “Had,” he said sadly.
    “All
your cattle have died?” I gasped. “That’s awful!”
    “All my cattle have been sold.” Nebala gestured to Koyati and Samuel. “We all sold our cattle. That is how we got money to fly here.”
    “I just can’t believe you’d do that,” I said.
    I knew that to a Maasai, his cattle were second inimportance only to his family. I couldn’t imagine a Maasai selling his cattle.
    “There was no choice. Without water
all
the cattle will die.” He paused. “People will die.” He paused again. “And that is why we
must
win the marathon.”

CHAPTER EIGHT
    I shifted my weight in bed and turned over onto my other side. I’d drifted off a couple of times but hadn’t really been able to get to sleep. Too many thoughts, too many surprises. In my wildest dreams I had never imagined that Nebala—and two other Maasai—would be staying in my guest house. This was all beyond belief.
    I sat up in bed and tried punching my pillows. If I could get them in just the right positions maybe I could settle in and get to sleep. My father always joked that I was like “The Princess and the Pea” and needed my bed to be just perfect.
    I snuggled back into the pillows and kicked at the covers until my feet were free. I had to get to sleep, which meant I had to forget about Nebala and go to my “happy place.” Not that I wasn’t happy aboutNebala visiting … I was. It was just that it was all so strange and unexpected. And my thoughts drifted back, of course, to my summer in Kenya.
    Who would have thought that a shoplifting charge, combined with an angry judge, would have landed me in Kenya with a program to build schools? And if it hadn’t been for that, I never would have met Ruth—“my Maasai sister,” I called her—and I would never have learned to look at the world in an entirely different way, and … This wasn’t helping me get me to sleep.
    I rolled over again to face the window. The breeze felt soft and cool and … Where was that breeze coming from? I looked over. My window was open. I hadn’t left my window open. I
never
left my window open. I opened my eyes as wide as I could to try to capture whatever light was coming in through the window—through the
open
window. Trying not to move much, or more important to be seen to move, I slowly turned my head so I could look around the room. It was dark. I could see only shadows and—Was there somebody standing in the corner? I stifled a gasp and felt a scream rise in my throat. Wait … it couldn’t be a