Broken Together (39 page)

His
hands dropped to my sides. “Maybe this isn’t the best time for a massage.”

“No!
I… I need a massage.” Every muscle in my body ached from that fishbowl exercise.
Brogan, Aidan, Kadyn, and Jase took their roles very seriously. They didn’t
allow Cory or me any slack when we mediated their conflict. Thankfully, Sammi
and Shae joined the conflicting parties so they could demonstrate how to
mediate from the table. They shared their parties’ positions, but they proved
more willing to compromise as the moderates on each side.

Rafael’s
fingers poured into my shoulders like liquid gold. “Then tell me how you’re
feeling about today.”

“I
feel cautiously optimistic. They understood the theories and the strategies we
discussed. The fishbowl exercise was a little intense. I thought we might lose
some of our students when Kadyn threw that chair.” He was so convincing, they’d
forgotten it was an act.

“That
was your defining moment,” Rafael claimed. “I could see the light bulbs
clicking on with the vast majority of students. Some looked embarrassed and
ashamed.”

“I
hope that will inspire them to seek change.” My eyes slid closed. Rafael’s
thumbs were coaxing the stress from my lower back. “This massage feels
heavenly. Please don’t stop.”

Rafael
chuckled. “What’s your plan for tomorrow?”

“We’re
going to tear down enemy images, establish common ground, and build trust…
although not necessarily in that order.”

He
kneaded my arms. “How do you achieve that?”

I
melted into the pillow. “We’re going to identify all of the interests, values,
and needs they have in common. We’ll have them share what they respect and
admire about one another. Then, we’re going to blindfold them, stand them on a
chair, and have them fall back in one another’s arms.”

His
hands stalled. “You cannot be serious.”

“As
a heart attack.” I smiled against the pillow. “We can’t mediate their conflict
until we change their perspectives on one another. Trust me, the mediation will
prove far more effective if we improve their perceptions.”

“What’s
the end goal?” Rafael wondered.

“We’re
going to ask them to establish some strategies for reducing violence and
improving their school,” I answered.

He
loosened another knot in my shoulder. “What about their political ideologies?”

“Their
political ideologies should have no bearing on the quality of their education
or the security of their school. If they want to establish a student
government, then we’ll encourage a power sharing arrangement. If either party
feels the need to prove their superiority, then they’ll be encouraged to do so
through good deeds, not through violence or intimidation.”

Rafael
laughed. “God, I love the way you think.”

I
rolled over so I could face him. “I love the way your hands feel on my body.
Kiss me.”

“Don’t
tempt me,” he warned. “You don’t know how enticing it is to have a brilliant,
scantily clad peacekeeper pinned beneath me.”

I
bit back a smile. “There’s nothing wrong with kissing. Kissing is perfectly
acceptable as long as it doesn’t lead to other things.” I now knew how Eve felt
when she offered Adam the apple.

Rafael
linked his fingers in mine before pressing my hands into the pillow. “Then I
shall kiss you senseless.” He trailed warm, wet kisses along my collar bone, my
shoulders, neck, and jaw before delving deep inside my mouth. Within seconds, I
was lost in the most intimate kiss I’d ever known.

*
* * * *

I
popped the lid off the Expo marker. “Do you want to be part of the problem or
part of the solution?”

“The
solution!” the students exclaimed. I’d posed this question so many times, it
had become our new mantra.

My
hand hovered over the Post-it easel. “Then I want each of you to identify three
things that you
personally
can do to improve your school.”

Their
hands shot into the air.

Shae
called on the students while I recorded their suggestions.

“I
can organize a fund raiser dat will enable us to restore dee hostels.”

“I
can clean up litter.”

“I
know how to paint.”

“I
can solicit donations from local businesses.”

“I
can encourage oder students to help in our university newsletter.”

“I
can post someding on Facebook.”

“I
want to start a peer mediation program.”

“What
about a peer mentoring program?”

“We
can do bod!”

I
ripped sheet after sheet off the easel. Cory and Sammi posted them at eye level
on every wall in the room. Once the ideas were on the table we established
committees and strategies for recruiting other students. Our brainstorming
session ended the day on such a positive note, the students didn’t want to
leave.

“We
will firm up our plans and establish a timeline for accomplishing your goals in
the morning,” Cory assured them. “Then, we’re going to strengthen your
mediation skills. Wear comfortable clothes tomorrow!”

We
exchanged glances when the students filed out of the room.

“I
can’t believe how well that went,” Shae whispered.

“Me
either,” Sammi confessed.

“They
were on fire,” Cory agreed. “Not a single one of those students wanted to
maintain the status quo. They want change. Better yet, they want to
be
that change.” His eyes met mine. “Great mantra by the way.”

“Thanks.”
I smiled, thoroughly pleased with how the mediation had gone.

Dr.
Jalloh rose from his chair in the back of the room. He’d been silently
observing the process with Kadyn, Rafael, and Jase. “Do you have any idea what
you have done?”

My
teammates and I froze.

His
eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “I have never seen my students as excited as
dis. You have inspired a movement, a movement dat could change everyding for
our university.”

“A
great deal of work remains to be done,” Cory warned. “Your students are energized
now, but they’ll become discouraged when challenges arise. Can you identify
areas where the faculty, the administration, and the alumni can help?”

Dr.
Jalloh nodded. “Yes. I will solicit deir help tonight.”

“We’d
like to hold a small awards ceremony, acknowledging our students’ efforts on
Friday. Would it be possible to hold this award ceremony at the school?” I
inquired.

He
fished the cell phone from his pocket. “I will see if dee amphideater is free.
May I invite dee media?”

“Not
if it puts our students at risk,” Sammi replied. “The APC and the SLPP have
been frequenting the campus, fueling enemy images, and inciting violence. I’m
concerned that our students will face some backlash when these political groups
discover they are collaborating with one another.” The political groups the
students had formed on campus were linked to these larger political groups.
Most of our students bore scars from cigarette burns and lacerations as a
result of their initiation into these groups. A refusal to join could
compromise their ability to secure jobs once they graduated from school.

Dr.
Jalloh frowned. “Dis could be a problem eider way. I will consult wid dee
provost on dis. I do not wish to put dee students at risk.”

“We’d
love for you to join us tomorrow,” Shae said. “Perhaps you can advise the
students on how the faculty and the alumni can help.”

Dr.
Jalloh nodded. He shook our hands and said goodbye.

Rafael,
Kadyn, and Jase joined us when Dr. Jalloh walked away.

I
gave Rafael a hug. “I’m starving. Are you guys up for an early dinner?”

“Absolutely,”
Jase answered.

“I
could eat,” Kadyn agreed.

Rafael
tucked me beneath his arm. “Momka recommended a restaurant a few blocks from
here. Should we give that a try?”

“Sounds
good.” Shae reached for her satchel.

“I’ll
carry that.” Kadyn eased the satchel out of her hand and anchored it over his
shoulder.

Sammi
linked arms with Cory as we filed out the door. “Are we driving or walking?”

“Driving,”
Jase answered decidedly. He called our drivers while Rafael texted Brogan and
Aidan.

Emmanuel
waved us over when we entered the lobby. “I have learned dee meaning of Shae’s
name. Shae means courteous.”

Shae’s
cheeks turned the prettiest shade of pink.

“That
fits her well,” I assured Emmanuel.

Within
minutes we were being seated at Tessa’s. Tessa’s was owned by Momka’s Aunt
Theresa. Her son, Ivan, served as her co-chef. Since this was a family owned
restaurant, and Momka and Amad were quite obviously family, they joined us.

I
ordered the
Chicken Shawarma,
which was served on pita bread with a
fresh cucumber and tomato relish and tahini sauce. Shae ordered grilled chicken
with
Jollof Rice
and plantains. Everyone else ordered seafood.

We’d
barely placed our orders when Momka and Amad pulled a bunch of board games from
a storage closet in the back of the restaurant. They deposited Sorry, Monopoly,
Connect Four, and Scrabble on top of our table. “Tonight is game night,” Momka
announced.

“Dibs
on Scrabble!” Shae and I exclaimed as one.

Kadyn
reached for the box. “Rafael, would you like to join us?”

He
smiled. “Sure. Why not?”

Sammi
sifted through the remaining boxes. “Momka, would you and Amad like to play
Sorry with Cory and me?”

“Yes,”
Amad answered.

“Certainly,”
Momka agreed.

Brogan
eyed Aidan and Jase questioningly.

Jase
grabbed the Monopoly box. “I get to be the car.”

“As
long as I’m the banker,” Aidan countered.

Brogan’s
expression grew pained.

The
waiter distributed three baskets of rice bread between the board games.

Sammi
shuffled cards while the guys set up their pawns. “Do you want to go to the
market tomorrow?”

“I’d
like to pick up some souvenirs.” Shae handed me the bag after counting out her
tiles.

“Me
too. Are the markets still open after four o’clock?” I asked Momka.

He
nodded. “Yes, dee market is open until six o’clock.”

Cory
tried the bread. “When do you want to go to the orphanage?”

“Thursday
after the training or Saturday morning appear to be our only options,” I noted
with a frown. We were flying back to Portugal on Saturday and returning to
Virginia on Sunday.

“I’ll
call the orphanage tomorrow morning to see what time works best for them,”
Rafael offered.

I
rearranged my tiles while silently scoring my options. “Will you find out how
many children they’re caring for? I want to make sure we have enough candy for
the children at the orphanage before we distribute candy at the market.”

Rafael
nodded. He was too busy scrutinizing his tiles to respond.

Our
food arrived a few minutes later. We settled in to enjoy the traditional Sierra
Leonean cuisine and a little friendly competition. Momka’s aunt and his cousin,
Ivan, stopped by our table to chat for a little while. They surprised us with
Benny cakes for dessert. The atmosphere was so relaxing and fun we vowed to
return the very next day.

*
* * * *

“Kri?”
Shae mewled. We were being swarmed by children in tattered clothes.

“I
told you this was a bad idea.” Jase was trying to establish some sort of
perimeter around me that would keep the street children an arm’s distance away.
Kadyn was guarding Shae in much the same way.

Rafael
chuckled. “They’re fine. The candy’s almost gone.” He snapped another picture
with his cell phone.

The
children crammed the Starburst, Skittles, and Tootsie Pops inside their mouths.
They were thoroughly confused by the Sour Patch Kids, but that confusion
morphed into toothy smiles, wide eyes, and squeals of delight. Some of the
children followed us through the market but most wandered away once they realized
our bags were empty.

The
King Jimmy Market was a lively place. Brightly colored umbrellas and corrugated
metal shaded the merchants’ tables. Still, poverty was reflected in the
merchants’ faces, in the street children’s wary gazes, and in the skeletal
frames of the dogs nosing the litter that lined the muddy passageways.

Momka
and Amad were serving as our honorary tour guides. Amad led us through a
crumbling brick building where additional merchants were selling their wares.
“Dee Portuguese built dis market in dee early nineteen hundreds. Dere have been
no renovations by dee government since dat time.”

Momka
diverted us to a nearby tunnel. “King Jimmy Market was not always such a
pleasant place. Dis market was once dee center of dee slave trade. Dousands of
people were forced into dis tunnel in heavy leg irons and handcuffs.”