Later that afternoon, Precious and I sat beneath the large neem tree near the center of the compound.
The breeze carried the scent of dry leaves and distant cooking fires from neighboring houses.
Her father joined us.
For a long moment he simply watched the sky.
Then he spoke again about his past.
"You know," he said quietly, "people often think wealth protects them from suffering."
He picked up a small stone and rolled it between his fingers.
"But sometimes wealth only hides the storms that are already coming."
Precious listened silently.
I could see the sadness in her eyes.
"Before Precious became ill," he continued, "our life looked perfect to everyone outside."
He smiled faintly.
"We owned a beautiful home in the city center. I had three successful businesses."
"What happened?" I asked gently.
"Time," he said simply.
"Medical treatments drained everything."
He looked at Precious with deep affection.
"And I would do it all again."
Precious reached for his hand.
"Dad," she whispered.
But his expression darkened slightly.
"There was another problem," he added.
"What?" I asked.
He sighed.
"Kenty."
Precious looked surprised.
"She started choosing the wrong friends. People who cared more about excitement than responsibility."
My mind immediately thought of Sonko.
But before I could ask anything further, a sudden sound echoed from behind the kraal.
Her father turned his head sharply.
"Who is back there?"