The Witchdoctor's Bones

by Lisa de Nikolits

  “You know, luv,” Mia said, “I reckon this trip’s got more than its fair share of nutters.”

  “All the better for us. If we can get through this and into Namibia, no one will notice anything we do. We’ll be home free.”

  Mia giggled and nodded.

  “Look,” Richard said and his expression cleared, “we’re done, everyone’s getting back on the bus, we’re in the clear, my sweet girl. I’m not sure how I would have explained an entire set of monogrammed surgical tools with me.”

  Mia looked petulant. “Still don’t know why you had to bring those ones, yeah? They were a present from me and what if they get lost?”

  “I brought them for good luck and I’d never lose them. I must say, I do feel relieved that this hurdle of the journey has been surmounted.”

  “You must say, must you?” Mia teased him. “I must say I prefer it when you aren’t talking like such a toffee-nosed geezer but yeah I know, everyone trusts a toff. Come on, luv, time to get back on the old scrap heap of metal.”

  While Kate scrolled through her photographs, Rydell hummed and smiled to himself and plucked at his clothing. Kate, unnerved, decided that she preferred the previously morose, depressed version of his persona.

  In the back of the bus, another socio-political argument had broken out but this time more opinions entered the fray. “The end justifies the means,” Stepfan insisted.

  “I still vote for the greatest good for the greatest number,” Sofie argued.

  “You both have it backwards,” Richard asserted, “because we don’t do any of the things we do, for the good of mankind. We do what we do because we crave war. Man’s natural state is that of war and we will find any reason we can to wage warfare. And if we can’t find a reason to be at war, we’ll make one up.”

  “Yes,” Ellie, usually dour and quiet, was eager to agree, “I agree with you, peace is so boring.”

  “You cannot really mean that…” Sofie protested but she fell silent as the bus came to a stop next to a spectacularly unusual tree.

  “Incredible,” Enrique exclaimed.

  “We must get off and take pics,” Kate jumped to her feet and nearly fell off the bus when Treasure opened the door from the other side.

  “Before you get off, I must make an announcement.” Treasure climbed up into the passenger area of the bus, with Jono craning his head through the joining cab window. “You see that tree out there? That tree is the kokerboom or quiver tree and it is called that because the Bushmen made their quivers out of its branches since they are hollow and very light. And do you see that big bush to the left of the tree?” She made sure that the group knew which one she was talking about. “That is the Melkbos bush and it is very, very poisonous. Do not touch it. The Bushmen used to dip their arrows in the juice from it and the poison is so powerful it can kill a very big buck or deer as you would say. Now you have ten minutes to take pictures.”

  Kate bounded off the bus and ran up to the poisonous bush which looked like a large, spongy green sea coral with fleshy, podlike dusky pink seeds.

  “Forbidden fruit,” Stepfan grumbled. “That girl’s going to get herself into trouble one day.”

  “Don’t be so grumpy,” Lena told him, “she’s just having fun. Look, those poisonous bushes are everywhere.”

  Stepfan didn’t answer. He followed Charisse and Bree, leaving his wife behind and alone. Only Gisela saw the quick flash of hurt cross Lena’s face and she moved toward her, but Lena walked away briskly with her head down.

  Ten minutes later, Kate followed Charisse and Stepfan into the bus. They were laughing and Kate saw Stepfan put his hand on Charisse’s back to “help”her climb the stairs, and she watched him cup the girl’s buttock with just the flash of a touch.

  Kate bit her tongue and wondered what Charisse was thinking. Did Charisse not care that she was behaving badly for all the world to see? Apparently not.

  A few seats behind, Stepfan admired the slender curve of Charisse’s neck, the clean line of her jaw. He glanced down at Lena dozing beside him, her neck pillow in place and earphones on — classical music no doubt. If he had an inkling of the rage building inside his seemingly serene wife, he would have been speechless with shock and more than just a little concerned.

  The next camping ground was a strange new world. “It is like we’re on the moon or something,” Sofie commented.

  “It’s all white and brown,” Marika marveled, “as far as the eye can see. It’s bleached and otherworldly.”

  “Rocks and stones,” Enrique added, “no sand, no vegetation.”

  “Very harsh,” Richard agreed. “And it’s jolly hot too. You could fry an egg on my forehead. I’m going to put some ice in my bandana and wrap it around my neck.”

  “Good thinking,” Helen said.

  “Don’t be using the ice for such cavalier things,” Harrison admonished. “Jono just refilled the cooler and it’s got to last until tomorrow.”

  “What’s a few ice cubes between friends?” Richard said, twisting ice into his bandanna.

  “And if we all did that?” Harrison asked. “Then what?”

  “Then we’d all have nice cold necks,” Richard shrugged.

  “And not-nice hot water to drink,” Harrison said. “You think very short-term. And selfishly too.”

  “Give it a break,” Richard returned to his seat. “What I do with my share of the ice cubes is up to me.”

  Harrison clamped his jaw tight and an uneasy silence filled the bus just as they pulled into a manicured campsite, leaving the barren road behind. The prospect of setting up for the night offered a welcome respite from the noisy jolting and their spirits immediately improved.

  “An oasis in the desert,” Lena fanned her face and surveyed the campsite. “All we need are camels and palm trees.”

  “Camels are dirty animals with fleas,” Stepfan grumbled. “Come on, Lena, carry the mats.”

  “Carry them yourself,” Gisela called out as she walked past.

  “Thank you, Gisela,” Lena said, gracefully picking up her backpack.

  Rydell waited until Jono pitched Treasure’s tent and then he moved in close. The peace from his earlier release in Springbok had long since left and he burned with fever, his skin crawling. He was determined to talk to Treasure but she left quickly to prepare supper.

  Meanwhile Kate and Marika set up for the night. “I’m like a homeless person,” Marika laughed, “with all my little bags! Would you like to come for a walk?”

  “Nope, I’m on kitchen duty tonight, I’m going to help Treasure.”

  Kate walked over to the thatched rondavel and found Treasure in a flurry, chopping vegetables. The table was piled high with half-prepared food and it seemed like every pot, pan, plate, cutting board, knife and bowl was in use. “Can I help you?” Kate offered.

  “Yes, my baby, please.” Treasure wiped her forehead. “Jono is cross with me because supper is late but we just arrived. And now I am trying to cut this butternut but it’s not working, Aikona.”

  “Here, give me that.” Kate took the butternut found a better knife.

  Jono walked in and hovered at the edge of the table close to Kate, absentmindedly prodding the grated cheese with a fork. “Tell me, Kate, do you like Africa so far?”

  Kate grinned. “I love it.”

  “And you live in Canada?” Jono asked, feeling foolish for asking such inane questions. “You must like the heat here because it’s very cold there?”

  “Actually,” Helen interjected, returning red-faced and breathless from a punishing run. “Africa feels much colder than the States or Canada. I nearly froze to death my entire year in Underberg. There’s no insulation and people put a space heater in the middle of a room and think that counts as central heating. Then you’ve got the wind that blows right through the windows. Can I help with anything here? I’m
also on kitchen duty.”

  “No thanks, we’re good,” Kate said.

  “Then I’m going to shower,” Helen said, “I’ll do double washing up later.”

  Talk of the cold weather in Underberg reminded Helen of Robbie and how they had laughed together while huddling in front of a tiny heater, and she was abruptly broken-hearted all over again, having forgotten for a fleeting moment that he was extinguished from her previously hopeful future.

  “I’ve come to inspect the hygiene of the cooking situation.” Harrison appeared without warning at Kate’s side.

  “I realize you’re not joking,” she said. “Search away, Inspector. I’m sure you’ll find we’re following health regulations precisely.”

  “Do you have enough hot water to wash the dishes?” he asked, lifting the lid off a steaming pot.

  “Aikona wena. Harrison!” Treasure had enough. “Get away from my cooking, eish! You can clean after I am done if you like but right now, I’m cooking.” She shooed him away and he left looking miserable.

  “There,” Kate washed her hands, “the butternut’s all chopped. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “I’m fine, thank you,” Treasure said.

  “Then I’m going for a walk along the river and try to find a diamond.”

  “Good luck,” Jono called after her.

  “You like her,” Treasure teased Jono. “You know you do.”

  Jono groaned and rubbed his head. “Yes, fine, I admit it. But I say such stupid things to her, that is when I can even say anything. I am making a fool of myself.”

  “A very sweet fool,” Treasure patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, you’re giving your famous Bushman lecture tonight, she’ll be impressed. But just don’t look at Kate because then you will start saying the same sentence again, and again … the Bushman, the Bushman…”

  “Enough eish, I get the picture,” Jono got up, “thank you for making me feel much better and yes, I am being sarcastic. I am going to have a shower.”

  “See you later. Hey, Jono,” she shouted after him in Xhosa, “and don’t worry. I’ll always love you!”

  The Third Night

  LATER THAT NIGHT THEY FEASTED at Treasure’s table. “I am so full,” Sofie sighed and patted her stomach, her plate balanced on her lap. “I ate too much but it was so delicious. That fish was wonderful and the sauce was incredible. What was in it?”

  “The fish was snoek,” Treasure said, “and the sauce was a mix of apricot jam, olive oil, soy sauce, a little bit of white wine, some chili sauce and lots of spices. I am very glad you liked it.”

  “It was superb,” Helen agreed. “Treasure, you are going to make us all fat.”

  “I liked the mashed potatoes the best,” Enrique leaned back, stretched his arms out and yawned. “I think I ate most of them myself.”

  “I loved the butternut,” Gisela said. “What was the secret ingredient in that, Treasure?”

  “Three secrets,” Treasure said. “Syrup, butter, and cinnamon.”

  “Delicious,” Stepfan commented. “Your husband is most fortunate to have you as his wife — not only are you beautiful but you are an excellent cook. The perfect woman.”

  “I want to kill you, Stepfan,” Sofie said, pleasantly. “There is more to the perfect woman than cooking and good looks.”

  “Actually, there isn’t. I just tell it like it is,” Stepfan beamed proudly.

  Rydell was tormented because Treasure had not answered Stepfan. He had wanted to ask Treasure if she was married but he could not find the words, and he twisted his hands, turning purple with frustration.

  Treasure smiled at the group and ignored Stepfan. “I hope you have room for my world-famous dessert — ice cream with hot chocolate sauce made from Bar Ones, which are like Mars Bars but much better.”

  The group groaned. They were sitting on camp stools around a roughly-hewn wooden table that was piled high with the aftermath of a much-enjoyed safari dinner party; every tin plate, bowl, dish, cup and knife and fork had been used.

  Kate surveyed the mess glumly, thinking it would take half the night to clean up.

  Treasure jumped to her feet and blushed slightly at being the centre of attention. “I would like to introduce Professor Jono who will honour us with his world famous talk on the Bushmen. Get comfortable, sit back and enjoy the entertainment.”

  She curtsied to a boisterous clamour of appreciation.

  Jono laughed. “It is true that I would like to tell you some things about the Bushmen and I hope that I will not disappoint you.”

  “Excellent, old man,” Richard said, “Hang on a minute though, anyone for more beer? I’m going to fetch a few cold ones.”

  “While you do that, I’ll move these dishes to the sink,” Kate said, getting up.

  “Good idea, Kate,” Harrison jumped up. “Let me help you. Let’s soak the dishes. That way the food will not sit here rotting and making germs.”

  Kate left him to it and returned to her seat.

  “Do we need to take notes?” Jasmine asked. “Is there a test at the end of it and what happens if we fail?”

  “If you fail, you have to clean the whole bus with a toothbrush and with Harrison in charge of you,” Jono joked.

  “A toothbrush,” Harrison said brightly, dropping a spoon into boiling water. “An excellent idea, it would get right into the cracks. Jono, my friend, you’re a genius.”

  “Here we are,” Richard returned and passed around beers, “Castle Lagers all round.”

  The group fell silent and Jono got started. “Good evening, everybody! To begin with, a question. What is the link between pianos of the 1850s and the Bushmen?”

  “That’s easy,” Rydell spoke up quickly, “elephants and their tusks.” He blushed scarlet and examined his nails.

  “The man is a winner.” Jono declared. “Treasure, he gets a double serving of dessert.”

  Rydell looked at Treasure and blushed even harder.

  “Seven million elephants were butchered, all for pianos and while a lot of ivory came from East Africa, Namibia supplied a large proportion before the depletion of herds in this country. The Bushman were great shots and many white hunters armed them with rifles and then traded them tobacco for ivory. The Bushmen loved tobacco very much and they would trade just about anything for it, even their wives.”

  “I can understand that,” Gisela commented as she lit another cigarette and waved the smoke away. “I might trade one of you if I run out of tobacco.”

  “Us motley crew,” Sofie joked.“You’d be lucky to get one cigarette per person. I cannot believe how many elephants were shot, and just for piano keys.”

  “Simple commerce, my dear,” Stepfan folded his hands behind his head, “market need. A matter of supply and demand….”

  “Anyway,” Jono interrupted Stepfan, “the Bushmen played a big part in this ecological devastation and were not always the guardians of wildlife as some might imagine. But although they were profitable traders, they were not considered to be men, but rather the missing link in the evolutionary chain; that which came between the ape and man.”

  Rydell snickered quietly and snuck a glance at Treasure, wondering if anyone would notice if he moved his chair next to hers.

  The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts, on a summer’s day. The Queen of Tarts, she stole my heart on this summer’s day.

  He snickered again, oblivious to what was going on around him, adrift in a sea of thoughts.

  “But whether or not,” Jono said, “they were considered the missing link or first man himself, they had a bad reputation, because my friends, they were considered to be cruel and ‘untameable.’ One anthropologist said the cruelty with which the Bushman would carry out his raids put him ‘outside the pale of humanity.’ It was said he can never be trusted, that he is the true anarc
hist of Africa.”

  “Jolly good,” Richard said, “the outlaw wild man.”

  “Except that no one thought it was good and by 1905, the life of a Bushman was worth nothing. You see,” Jono explained to his attentive audience, “the Bushman had no respect for money or for the white man values of daily hard work, of always preparing for the future. He lived for his freedom and his tobacco, not for a house and a farm and a routine, and he suffered greatly for it. He was hunted, chained, punished and killed for any number of offences: laziness, stock theft, disobedience, vagrancy, desertion, insult, drink, escape, robbery and murder. He was punished for disobeying the white man’s rules, most of which he had no idea even existed; he just lived as he always had.”

  “We did the same to the Native Indians and Inuit in Canada,” Kate said.

  “And the U.S. did it to the American Indians and the black slaves, and Australia to the Aborigines,” Lena chimed in.

  “South America and the Incas,” Enrique offered.

  “Yes, we get the picture,” Stepfan was sour. “It’s a world-trend through the ages.”

  “Which does not make it right.” Sofie cried out. “It’s no less shocking because it’s historically prevalent.”

  Stepfan shrugged. “Man is man. We like to pretend we’re civilized but when it comes down to it, we’re not.”

  “By this time,” Jono said, ignoring Stepfan, “the Bushmen had been divided into three groups: the ‘wild’, the ‘semi-tame’ and the ‘tame’ and all Bushman behaviour was categorized according to this. White settlers believed that a ‘tame’ Bushman was the ideal one because he would stay and work on the farms as cheap labour. But ‘tame’ Bushmen were rare because staying in one place was contrary to their ways; Bushmen were nomadic by nature and tradition. Being nomadic did not mean that he wandered aimlessly; he knew exactly where he needed to be at different times of the year according to nature and the seasons, but this did not accommodate the white man’s needs for cheap labour and his lifestyle was declared illegal. And then things got worse. It was posited that the semi-erect penis of the Bushmen was a distinctive racial characteristic which was then used to identify him.”