A/N:I don't own Twilight. Stephanie Meyers does, I am just obsessed with them.

This is the first thing I've ever written.

If you feel so inclined, please leave a review. I would appreciate any words of encouragement or ideas that would make me a better writer.

Sincere thank you to my Beta Yeah Her.

_Chapter 8: EPOV

I was introduced to the family. The man of the house, the one who spoke some English was called Ojore, his wife was Aziza, and their four boys were Sundiata, Tulani, Donkor, and Chiemeka. Chiemeka was the youngest child that I was told I was going to be responsible for. Aziza and the four children did not speak any English.

I was trying to remember all that I learned about the Omo River Valley, the Hamar people and their beliefs.

The Omo valley is a beautiful place in Southern Ethiopia. The Hamer tribe are pastoral people whose main livelihood is cattle which they use for milk and meat. Their other staple is sorghum which is used for porridge and beer. They are known for their hair arrangements. Clay and ochre is mixed with the hair this is then braided or rubbed into dreadlocks. They dress in skin from antelope and other animals, the women not covering above their waists. They are generally friendly people.

I still did not understand what they expected of me. Did they expect me to live with them? I did not even know what was wrong with their son. I didn't have access to a hospital or many supplies or medicine. I only had what was in the truck.

Ojore took me to my hut and introduced me to Bohlale who would become my keeper for my time here.

The hut was a living space devoid of any modern conveniences; no electricity or running water, but it was impeccably clean. The hut was made from readily available mud and river clay plastered over a skeleton of branches and the roof was thatched with grass. The clay and grass are good insulators but are also porous allowing air to flow freely so it can remain cool and is a welcome resting place. Inside the hut the cooking pots were made of clay and the utensils of wood. The sleeping mats were made of animal skin, the same as the clothing.

Ojore retired back to his hut leaving Bohlale and I alone for the night. Bohlale spoke perfect English and I began to think that maybe I would finally get some answers.

He asked me if I would like to wash up and have something to eat. I was grateful to wash the dirt from my body with the refreshingly cold water that was in clay basins and when I came back into the main living area I welcomed a cold tella which is a home brewed beer and a snack called dabo kolo which is small pieces of baked bread that are similar to pretzels. After I was done I asked if we could sit and talk for a while.

Bohlale started to talk with little prompting from me. He seemed to be going out of his way to make me feel at home and safe, but he made it clear that I should not try to get away. Word was sent to Humanitarian Doctors Abroad that I was safe and would not be returning to them nor should anyone try to get me. My location was not divulged to them but I was pretty sure they could narrow down where I was based on the communication they received. Bohlale stated that Ojore was a tribal leader and was a kind man seeped in ritualism and old beliefs. His youngest son, Chiemeka was eighteen months old and has been feeling ill. He has been tired all the time and not interested in playing. He has a poor appetite. He was also teething. He was seen by the local healer two weeks ago who determined that he was mingi. Mingi he went on to explain was the state of being impure. Often a child who is considered mingi is killed by forced permanent separation from the tribe by being left alone in the jungle or by drowning in the crocodile infested river. The reason that Chiemeka was declared impure was because his upper teeth erupted before his lower teeth. Reasons for being declared impure or Mingi include birth out of wedlock, the birth of twins, the eruption of teeth in the upper jaw before the lower jaw, and chipping a tooth in childhood. Some who were separated have been reported to shadow the tribe at a distance until eventually succumbing to hunger or predators. Some of the tribes believe that evil spirits or a curse will bring ill fortune like drought or famine to the village if Mingi children are not killed.

Edward was sickened at hearing this and argued with Bohlale. How could a reasonable adult think that this was right? Bohlale explained that the decision to kill the children was the easy part. It was the sacrifice of one infant for the good of the entire tribe — a rite that some of the elders had witnessed hundreds of times throughout their lives in Ethiopia's remote Omo River Valley. As far as the Kara elders are concerned, these rules are as old and unyielding as the Omo River — and every bit as crucial to their survival. The problem was that even though Ojore believed in Mingi, the love he had for his youngest son was interfering with his decision making.

Edward lay in his makeshift bed that night and thought of ways he could right this wrong. He needed to educate the people to stop this practice. He knew what a daunting task this would be but as he started to drift to sleep he did so with a strong sense of purpose.