by D C Macey
‘I don’t know. I’ve a feeling we probably don’t want to.’
Helen remembering some of the awful things she had seen during her time working as a nurse in West Africa, before she joined the Church. ‘Should we do something?’
‘Helen, I don’t want to do anything that will obstruct my finding the runway and rescuing Bob Prentice. Mauwled’s out of the picture now so I need these people; it’s certain they know exactly where it is.’
‘Okay, but it’s not nice to think what will happen to that man, even if he’s a killer.’ Deep down, Helen knew there was nothing they could do. Justice in the bush was a blunt instrument. It had to be, the nearest law officers might be a hundred miles and more away. It was simple, people defended themselves and theirs in every way they could.
As they drove across the open space in front of the boma, they could see a herd of livestock just disappearing into the bush - their escorts needing to do nothing to encourage them onwards as the animals hurried towards the riverbank and their first drink of the day.
The Land Rover veered off the track and came to a halt to one side of the boma’s entrance. They got out and pulled open the rear passenger doors. Mauwled was conscious though decidedly groggy. As they prepared to lift him out, Helen and Sam were pulled away by the moran who had journeyed back with them. He pointed towards the boma from where several women were emerging.
The women lifted Mauwled out and carried him off. Helen insisted on following, and she took the first aid kit, leaving Sam to deal with the moran.
Glancing about as she walked through the boma’s gateway opening, she saw that there was a stack of cut thorn bush to one side, guessed it was a gate they would close at night. Directly ahead of her was another stack of cut thorn bush that presumably represented the gate to the inner ring of thorn bush where the cattle stayed. She could see through the opening that the corral was almost empty. Two or three cows stood on the top of the strangely domed hillock that was the livestock pen. Close up, the space was much bigger. She thought that it would easily hold three hundred cattle, perhaps more.
The women carrying Mauwled had turned off to the left, walking past a line of huts that arced round, following the curved space between the two thorn tree fences. Helen moved quickly to catch up. Passing successive huts, she became more aware of the children, lots of children. Toddlers hurried, and frequently fell over, in their rush to join the bigger children; the fours and fives and sixes who were running, determined to be close to Helen. As they hurried, they made little lion roars and raised their hands, clenching and opening their fingers like lion claws.
She came to a halt outside a hut through whose arched entranceway the women had just ducked. Taking a little breath, she stooped to enter. Pushing aside the heavy leather flap, she stepped into the gloomy interior and paused to allow her eyes to adjust.
Mauwled had been placed on a raised sleeping frame where the women were making him comfortable. Amongst the women, she recognised the two she had met the previous evening. They smiled and beckoned her across the floor of the hut.
Then the flap behind her was pushed to the side and little faces appeared, anxious not to be left out. The bravest of the little boys slipped into the hut and stood beside Helen. He made a roaring sound and continued to clench and flex his fingers. Helen mimicked him, and the children crowded at the entrance squealed in delighted mock fear. One of the older women rattled off a blast of Maa that immediately had the children fall quiet.
The women all laughed, and the little boy’s mother crossed the hut and cuddled him. Then she looked at Helen, made the same roar her little boy had done, reached out her hand, took a strand of Helen’s hair in her hand, and made a roaring sound again. Her son mimicked her and all the children in the doorway laughed and joined in, and they found the courage to edge into the hut too.
The young woman stroked Helen’s hair again. Finally, Helen realised what was happening; the children saw her red hair as lion hair. They were completely fascinated by it. The young woman smiled at Helen, and her little boy tentatively reached out his hand and gave her hair the briefest of touches. He quickly pulled his hand back even as all the other children gasped at his courage. When they saw that Helen had permitted the contact they all excitedly crowded round to take their chance to touch, twirl, and stroke her auburn hair.
After a minute, the older woman, who clearly had a position of authority, spoke sharply to the children, and reluctantly, with final touches of Helen’s mane, they left the hut.
As the entrance flap fell shut, excluding the children and the sunlight, the old woman put her hand on Helen’s shoulder, drawing her across the hut to be welcomed into the group. Pulling a torch from the first aid kit, Helen started to take a closer look at Mauwled’s condition.
• • •
Sam was sat on a solid old dining-room chair. Helen sat next to him. He had no idea where the chair came from, but he could see three or four more dotted amongst the range of other seating including benches, logs and several sturdy, if roughhewn, handmade seats. They were all arranged in an approximate square. Each seat was occupied by a serious-faced man. The elders and the morani. Beyond the square was a table on which women had placed rows of big mugs. Enormous teapots appeared, and the women began pouring hot thick tea, which was passed round.
Helen and Sam got their drinks at the same time as the chief, who was sat directly opposite. They thanked the woman who handed them their mugs. Then Sam took a double take, they were old British Army issue pint tea mugs. The steaming liquid soon heated the enamel-coated tin to blister point and he was pleased to put his on the ground beside Helen’s. How the mugs had ended up in a Maasai boma was a mystery.
Helen spoke quietly to Sam. ‘We need to get Mauwled proper medical attention. The bullet went right through his shoulder. All the bleeding’s stopped and I’ve stitched up his head too. But it’s a certainty his wounds are going to become infected. Can we get him to a doctor or hospital?’
Sam did not get a chance to answer her as Charles’ father stood to speak and everyone fell silent. He spoke in Maa for a couple of minutes. Whatever he said elicited a murmured round of approval, and the men drank a mouthful of tea. Sam and Helen joined them in drinking, then smiled and nodded their approval of the brew. The elder smiled back and was supported by a further round of murmurs. In faltering English, he welcomed Sam and Helen before reaching out a hand to where Charles, his son, was seated. Then the elder sat down.
Charles stood and looked around the gathering, then focused on Helen and Sam.
‘I want to apologise again for what happened at the clinic. My nephew is dead, and our peace has been broken. Those were bad men and not of us. They will all pay a heavy price. What they have done is not the Maasai way, but we will settle it our way.’ He paused and spoke to the audience in Maa, repeating his message. The men cheered approval and clapped their hands.
Charles turned his attention back to Sam and Helen. ‘First, although this is a bad day, I must thank you both for my son’s life. I am in your debt. You were brave as the morani would be. Anything we can do to help you, please just ask.
‘My father has told me that you want permission to visit the runway, though Mauwled did not tell him why. He and the other elders indicated yesterday that they thought I would not allow such a thing, and they were right.’ He paused for a moment as he saw Sam shift in his seat. ‘They were right because I had agreed to allow another man the sole use of the runway. It would have been wrong to dishonour my word.’ Charles stopped talking and thought deeply for a moment.
Then he resumed. ‘Those men who attacked this morning, they are from the runway. When they attacked, they breached our trust. When they killed my nephew, they became my enemy, became all my people’s enemy.’ He stopped, looked round the assembly and repeated what he had said in Maa. Again, the men clapped and stamped their feet in agreement.
Returning to English, Charles reached out both his hands towards Sam and Helen. ‘Y
ou are both brave, brave like the morani. You risked your lives to save one of our children, my child. This morning, you both fought with the morani against an enemy. Yesterday, you stood for us, and today, you stood with us. I promise, we are one. You are morani; you, Sam, and you, the Lion Lady.’
The assembled men read the spirit of Charles’ words, clear in any language, and they stood as one to cheer when Charles crossed the space between them to shake Sam and Helen’s hands and welcome them into his family. First Sam’s hand, then Helen’s. She was delighted at the outcome; at last, they were making progress towards recovering Sam’s friend. Secretly delighted, too, at having finally got the handshake right but delighted most of all by her Maasai name, Lion Lady.
As the meeting broke up, Sam got the satellite phone out. They needed to organise medical treatment for Mauwled, and it was time to report to the authorities. Just as he flicked the phone on, a cry went up from the children hovering around the entrance to the boma. Others picked up the shout and morani began to rush for the gate, clutching a variety of spears and clubs.
Sam looked at Helen and flicked the phone off again. ‘Come on; let’s see what’s going on here.’ They both hurried to the entranceway, arriving at the same time as Charles and the elders. Everyone stared out across the clearing. Three of the morani who had set off earlier in the morning on the blood trail were returning and they had two prisoners. As they approached, it was clear that both men were very frightened and had experienced some rough treatment at the hands of their captors. It was also clear these men were not Koreans but Africans.
The morani threw their prisoners to the ground at the boma entrance; the senior moran stood square to Charles and addressed him in Maa. He waved his finger in front of him, pointed his spear behind him, towards the direction they had just come from, described an arc across the bush with his spear and returned it to the front, to point it at the two men lying before him. When he finished speaking, he raised his spear, the morani beside him raised theirs and the crowd cheered.
One of the prisoners raised his head and called to the chief, his voice quickly drowned out by a round of heckling from the crowd. Helen felt a twinge of recognition, she knew that voice. She pushed herself forward through the crowd to get a better look. One of the prisoners had raised his head and was trying to address the chief, with little success.
‘Angel? Angel, what are you doing here?’ said Helen. She stepped forward and then knelt beside the priest. ‘Sam! I need you here.’
Sam had followed her through the crowd and now joined her. The senior moran was looking concerned over their intervention. He glanced at the chief, and Charles stepped forward.
‘Who is this man? Is he a friend?’ said Charles.
Helen looked up to Charles. ‘Yes, he’s an Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church priest. He’s a friend of ours.’
‘Hold on,’ said Sam. ‘We think he’s our friend, but what’s he doing out here? Perhaps we’d better hear his story before vouching for him. Don’t you think?’
Helen had pulled Angel up to his knees and pressed her water bottle into his hand. ‘Well, okay, but remember what he’s done for us. I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt for now.’
Charles spoke a line of Maa to the senior moran while raising his open palmed hand in an up gesture. The warrior and his team responded at once, pulling the prisoners up to their feet.
‘You can join us,’ said Charles to Sam and Helen as he turned to make his way through the crowd. The morani followed with their prisoners, though now their control was less domineering. Sam and Helen came next then the crowd rolled in behind - in only a couple of minutes they were seated back in their places at the square. Now though, the clear space in the middle was occupied by the two prisoners and the morani who had caught them stood to one side, spears to hand should anything threaten to get out of hand.
At a respectful distance, behind the seated morani and elders, were gathered most of the women of the boma. The children milled about excitedly, finding vantage points where they could. One little boy sidled up behind Helen and was pressing against her. His hand reached forward to be held in hers, his head peeping round her shoulder. His other hand, free behind her back, crept up to her hair and once again wrapped little fingers into the lion’s mane. There was a ripple of giggles from his friends. It was silenced by an older woman’s voice that demanded order.
Helen felt the little boy go in an instant as his mother hurried forward and snatched him up and away. The senior moran, whose men guarded the captives, had been speaking quietly and hurriedly into Charles’ ear. He finished, straightened up and joined the rest of his team. Then silence fell when the chief rose from his seat. He addressed the gathering in Maa, speaking for several minutes, then he looked at Helen and Sam.
‘I understand this man might be your friend, but one of my warriors was killed this morning. I, my people, need to understand what these men were doing here and why. Were they involved?’
Sam stood. ‘Charles, let me thank you for taking the time to investigate this. It is a wise thing to do. I hope we can help.’ He waved his hand towards the prisoners. ‘We do not know that man, but we know this one, his name is Angel. He has been good to us and helped us before. He is a priest of our God, not a man of war. We don’t know why he is here. That we will have to establish - we must question Angel. But first, how did your warriors find him?’
Charles looked at Angel, then over to Sam. He gave a dry little laugh. ‘I think Angel is a good name for a man of your God, yes?’
‘Yes, a good name,’ said Sam.
Charles looked around the assembly and translated what Sam had said. The words were met with murmuring and nods of acknowledgement. Then Charles turned his attention back to Sam and Helen.
‘The morani followed the blood trail as I ordered. It led to a big off-road vehicle, 4 x 4. We know the man who ran got there. He left lots of blood on the driver’s seat but didn’t drive away. He set off into the bush again. This time there was no blood trail, he must have bandaged his wound. So, following him was not so easy, but our morani can do this. I don’t understand why he didn’t drive away.’
The morning’s action triggered a thought in Sam’s mind and he raised a hand. Charles stopped talking and gestured for Sam to speak.
‘He may not have been the driver. The driver would have had the keys in his pocket, so this other man could never have driven the vehicle away. Remember Mauwled, our driver, had his vehicle keys in his pocket.’
Charles nodded and then translated for the gathering. They looked from one to another and nodded agreement.
‘The morani continued the hunt. Eventually, they found him. He was with these two, in a little bush clearing, getting ready to drive away in another vehicle. When my warriors challenged them, the wounded man tried to fight. He pointed his weapon at my senior moran, but never got the chance to shoot as he was speared by the others. These ones surrendered. Unlike their friend, they did not try to fight back so the morani did not kill them at once. They thought I might want to speak to them first.’
Helen stood, while giving an involuntary shiver; the morning’s death toll continued to rise. And the chief’s, at once, implied it hadn’t finished yet. She looked at Angel, could not work out why he would have sided with Ro and the Koreans. He knew how important this all was to Sam and her. ‘Charles, thank you. Your warriors have shown great skill and courage, and please tell them how I admire them. But I am sure there is more to learn. Can Angel speak?’
Again, Charles translated for his people, and then looked back to Helen.
‘Of course, since our Lion Lady wishes it.’
‘I do. Thank you, Charles.’ Helen looked down to Angel, read his worried face. ‘Now, Angel, you’ve got some explaining to do. Please tell us how you are mixed up in all this and, please, why are you even here?’
Angel made to stand and was halted when one of his captors reversed his spear and pressed the shaft down on to Angel’s shoulder.
He remained kneeling. He glanced from the chief and back to Helen.
‘This is all a misunderstanding. I had nothing to do with the man the warriors speared. I had never met him before. Not in all God’s creation did I know he existed until this morning. I swear it on all the saints. Please, Helen, tell them I am your friend, I beg you.’
‘Angel, stop jabbering. Three questions. Who is that man kneeling next to you? Why were you with the Korean when the morani caught up with you? And why were you out in the bush, as far from your Arusha church as you like?’
Angel hesitated for a moment. Helen had already bought him a breather; if he answered wrong, she wouldn’t be able to do so again. He knew of the Maasai’s fearsome reputation.
‘This man is a member of my church; he is my driver, nothing more. Whatever else happens he does not deserve to be involved.’
‘Okay, I could buy that one,’ said Helen, casting a glance across the floor towards Charles.
‘We were not with that man. I had never seen him before he came running out of the bush towards us. He made my driver get into our vehicle; he wanted to be taken somewhere. I don’t know where. When the warriors arrived, he was about to get on board. I think he was about to shoot me. The warriors thought we were together, but we were his prisoners.’
‘Alright, so misunderstandings can happen, sometimes. But Angel, if you didn’t know the man, why were you parked up in an area close to his vehicle? Are you trying to tell me it was a coincidence?’
‘Yes, a coincidence, that’s it. A coincidence. I’ve never seen him before. My driver and I were just having our breakfast when we heard shouts and screams and gunfire. Then everything went quiet, so we were just about to drive closer to the building when the Asian man burst into the clearing. He pointed a gun at us, like I said. He made the driver get in, then the warriors arrived. That’s it, I promise.’
‘Drive closer to the clinic, why? Why were you in the bush there anyway?’
‘I was instructed to watch you. I’ve been on your trail since you left Arusha.’