But why would anyone with money come to a camp if they had the chance to buy off officials back in the city? Saba asked.

Curse on them, the woman said, drowning out Saba’s question. Six of us, me, my husband and our four children, live in one hut.

Let’s throw them out now, the athlete said.

The judge arrived in time to stop the athlete and his group of friends from carrying out the threat. We have been in this camp for a long time, the judge said. And suspicion festers in isolation. We must reserve judgement until we know all the facts.

Saba noticed a glow under the door of the largest hut. Jazz music poured out. The door opened and a young bare-chested man came out wearing only shorts. Papa vieni fuori adesso.

The music stopped.

We came to greet you, said the judge, shaking the father’s hand. Welcome to our camp. It is a simple place but we have safety and sometimes that is all you need to reflect on life and its purpose. If you need anything, everyone present here would be happy to help.

Saba followed the eyes of the tall, broad-shouldered man as he inspected the crowd. He was wearing a blue robe with a spotted silk scarf knotted around his neck. He smiled and strode back inside the hut and shut the door. Then he turned the music back on.

Saba lay on her blanket with her hands behind her head and stared at the thatched roof, thinking about the father and son in their three huts. Sweat rolled down from her underarms. Hagos arrived holding wild flowers. He sat next to his sister and turned up the wick of her lamp, his eyes shining against the flame as he leaned towards her. He showed her his own hairless armpits.

Hagos, I do like it when you shave and look after yourself, but I prefer to be the way I am.

Hagos didn’t say anything.

I am like a wild animal, she said. She made a growling sound and curled her hand into a claw, mimicking a lion.

She laughed.

Silence.

Are you upset with me, Hagos? Saba asked.

Hagos shook his head. And then nodded in confirmation.

You are trying to confuse me, she said. Is that a yes or a no?

Hagos chuckled and kissed Saba on her cheek. He then rubbed flower petals between her fingers.

Put some here, Saba said, pointing to his long neck. Actually, let me do it for you.

Hagos tilted his head to the side. Magic, Saba exclaimed as she perfumed his neck.

Some time later, Saba perched on a stool behind the open furnace and made tea for her mother and the midwife. The women were full of mirth as they reminisced about the days they cooked chicken stew every Sunday.

I miss that life, said the mother.

I remember, said the midwife. Even my husband preferred your chicken. God bless his soul.