Once Upon the Congo

by Applewhite, Claire; Harper, Chap

  “Barclays has it all,” Roland said.

  “Perfect. This will be easy—I use Barclays too.”

  “Want me to get involved and get everyone off their asses?” Lu said.

  “No way! Roland and Zoe might need these people in the future.” He knew Lu would rain down fire on anyone not moving ninety miles an hour.

  “Hey! You guys planning a revolution over there?” Mit yelled as he moved towards a make shift bar.

  “Yes! We just enacted a non-German zone around the bar,” Lu said not realizing that she was assisting in the breaking out of somewhat dark German humor.

  “Too late. This Nazi has arrived to enforce the selective drink rule. I select who drinks and who doesn’t. Right now, you must have been a part of a country ruled by Hitler, or a former Jansen swim suit model. No one else is qualified.”

  In a strong German accent, Mit apologized with weak sincerity.

  “Ha! In diesem fall mein Fuerhrer sie dick kopf bitte mix mit dieser hure einen woodka tonic,” Gretchen said. She had now broken through enemy lines and apparently joined the Nazi party, in order to get her drink.

  Mit became unglued and laughed so hard, he could barely fix her drink. Gretchen had a slight smile on her face, but really needed a drink after helping build showers and latrines all day.

  “Okay. My German is weak, what did she say Mit?” Angel said.

  “In this case, my Fuehrer, you dick head; please fix this whore a vodka tonic.”

  There was general laughter, which continued into the night. Carol, Charlie, Peter and Sony joined them, and Gretchen had to repeat her famous line for them. There were snacks left from dinner and plenty of booze. They did not really feel, at least on this night, that they were in the African Congo. Rather, they were at just another party with good friends.

  Creeping along the narrow logging road, Bahati’s men were in the truck that led to the spot where the four expedition vehicles were parked. He had been told they stopped at about nine miles in, and he wanted to give a two mile sound buffer before he sent his two commando types ahead. Finally the truck stopped. The driver nodded to Bahati and pointed to the odometer. From somewhere in the truck two men emerged with night vision goggles, flak jackets, and sniper rifles. They disappeared quickly in the darkness. Bahati had his men take a knee and wait either for their return or a radio signal.

  Isaac left two of his men to guard the vehicles. Since nothing happened other than forest buffaloes marching through their campsite, they had relaxed any pretense of being vigilant.

  One of the guards was asleep in a tent. The other sat in the rear truck, snoring and slumped over his weapon. One of the intruders reached up, put his hand over his mouth until he made no sounds, and slit his throat. The other attacker went to the tent, unzipped it, and poked the soldier encased in his sleeping bag.

  “What de fok!” he yelled, before he realized he was under attack. Since he had an automatic rifle pointed at his face, he didn’t bother to grab his weapon.

  The commando was joined by his partner who had called in to Bahati. They tied up the guard, and put him in a folding chair in the beam of the headlights of one of the trucks. Not long afterwards, the leader of these UCFF forces stood over this man, asking questions. They spoke a common language, so Bahati assured him he would not be harmed if he cooperated. The soldier knew he was a dead man, whether he talked or not. He wouldn’t tell them anything for a while. Bahati’s men removed the car battery from one of the trucks, and hooked a jumper cable to the battery. They instructed the soldier to stand, pulled down his pants and underwear, and forced him back into the chair. They tied the man to the chair, while others poured water on his groin area.

  “Mr. Soldier, do you like your balls? How about your dick? If you tell me what I want, you may keep these items. I need to know where these soldiers went—how many—their weapons. I need to know what they are mining for and what they have found. You know these things because you have a radio. Will you tell me now?” Bahati held the cable and the spring loaded clamps and clicked them together, sending enough sparks to briefly light up the jungle. The truck was started, so the full voltage ran freely through the clamps.

  “Fok you,” he said, and screamed. Two clamps tore into his testicles, sending burning voltage and amperage through his body. He almost fainted, but held on.

  This was taking too long for Bahati. After the second shock, he decided to remove the soldier’s fingers one at a time. A bloody affair, but usually effective. Bahati asked which finger he wanted cut off first. The soldier had a look of horror in his face.” We will start with the little finger,” Bahati said. “Jambi! Bring me a wooden board.”

  Bahati pleaded with the soldier to give him some information, so he wouldn’t have to cut off his fingers. The soldier was well aware of the game. He would endure all he could, give them the information they wanted, and then there would be a bullet to the brain.

  “If I give you the information, can you just turn me loose in the jungle?” he pleaded.

  “Of course, that would not be a problem. A leopard will eat you for breakfast,” Bahati said.

  “I don’t believe you. I will tell you nothing.”

  The board arrived. After the third finger was severed, he fainted. The tormentors threw water in his face, and he came to, begging to tell what they wanted. As soon as he told Bahati everything, one of the men shot him between the eyes. For the poor soldier, the bullet was a blessing.

  “These are our problems to be solved. We have twenty miles of jungle to go through, and most of it tonight. Once we get through, we have a river to cross. Then, there is a 500 foot cliff with two bunkers, maybe three, at the top of the cliff. After that, there is a forest with a freshly cut trail that goes for about three or four miles, to a rock wall that is circular and twenty feet tall with soldiers in bunkers. Once inside, there are armed workers. There are thirty or forty of them and twelve of us,” he said, smiling the whole time.

  The group discussed each problem one by one. Because the soldiers they had encountered guarding the vehicles were inept, they assumed all were poorly trained. The soldier did not tell Bahati there were four Haitian commandos at the quarry, and no one had brought up the subject of the natives.

  The main reason Bahati wanted to risk his life to gain access to the quarry was the information the tortured soldier gave up. He told Bahati about the large amount of diamonds found in the quarry, as reported over his two-way radio. Had it not been for the diamonds, Bahati would have turned his troops around and gone back.

  Captain Ismael Bahati started that night through the jungle, having charged the hopes and dreams of his men with the promise of an equal share in the diamonds. During their difficult trek through the wet forest and entanglements of the Congo, that promise was all they had.

  Chapter 30

  Visit to Natives

  Fog, mist and a suffocating heat contributed to a morning of misery. Water dripped everywhere. Insects woke up to a brand new day of attack. If they could bite long enough, they just might use some unsuspecting person for a nursery ward for larva of some disgusting insect species. Then there were the tsetse flies, whose bite is guaranteed to kill, if not treated or rendered harmless by a vaccination.

  A large smoky fire was a welcome refuge from most insects as well as the damp coolness of the morning. During the night, Devil Man and Osse killed snakes when they came under the gates. Just before the natives arrived, Jemi killed a rare green mamba outside the gates. All the snakes were pitched into the forest where creatures, bacteria and fungi waited to devour anything.

  Charlie, Carol, Sony, Peter, and Rishi had packed up to make jungle visits to various villages of the Efe and Lese tribes. Devil Man and Jackie would tag along, because the natives’ screams would provide unlimited entertainment for the little safari. The two girls asked if Gretchen would accompany them, both for medical assistance and for study of the two native tribes’ natural remedies. Modesto offered to go with her, but she wai
ved him off, as so many projects demanded attention in the quarry. Bruny and Isaac asked the group sitting around the fire pit to take pistols with them.

  “Carol, where is your pistol?” Sony asked, while he showed off his weapon. “Mine is a .40 caliber Glock,” he said, as he proudly slid the receiver back, and pushed a round from the clip into the chamber.

  “It’s in here someplace, dear,” she said. She dug deeply in her purse. After handing Sony a package of tampons, lipstick, her birth control pills, and what looked like a century old package of Rolaids, out came a tiny stainless steel automatic pistol.

  “Is that a gun or a cap pistol?” Sony said. He held it by two fingers, as though it was contagious.

  “It wasn’t cheap. It’s either a Beretta Bobcat, or Alley Cat. It has little bullets like a real gun. I put them in myself—about seven or ten—can’t remember. They have a number like—twenty something.”

  “Twenty-two maybe? This gun might be good for the wilds of Iowa, but not the Congo,” Sony said.

  “I don’t think there are wilds in Iowa,” she said.

  “Exactly my point.”

  “I’m not wagging some Dirty Harry gun around. I have you to protect me with your forty caliber cock,” she said, smiling up at him.

  “That’s a Glock!”

  “Whatever you want to call it, dear,” she said and watched the rest of the group almost fall into the fire laughing.

  Everyone had breakfast and assembled by the gate. Charlie and Carol had large expensive digital cameras to record the visit. Gretchen had a small medical bag. Devil Man and Jackie had AK-47s in case the natives got restless. Everyone had small knapsacks loaded with food items, in case they weren’t fond of the particular insects of the day on the native menu.

  The safari of eight climbed down the ladders to the bottom of the cliff, and took one of the larger inflatables to cross the river. Three pygmies met them on the other side and led them into the jungle. The small natives were perfectly built to weave in and out of the overhanging vines and limbs. The group had to ask the natives to slow down several times, since the pygmies’ bodies could handle the heat and humidity better than larger humans. Gretchen was anxious to study the reasons why they rarely died of jungle diseases; however, they did have high rates of mortality from pneumonia. She believed living in almost one hundred percent humidity took a toll on the lungs. She had read they died from forest hazards such as falling trees, snake bites, and other accidents, rather than sickness.

  “Can we take a break?” Carol said. She was having second thoughts about borrowing baggy clothes from Charlie. Gretchen made everyone drink water. As they stood in the jungle on a trail used by natives for maybe a hundred thousand years, the hikers realized that stopping meant letting the insects catch up or at least make their attack. Ants began to move up from the ground. Other insects landed, while others dropped from hanging foliage. Slapping and cursing was followed by jumping and stomping. The natives were laughing so hard they actually rolled on the ground.

  “I’m glad somebody is enjoying this,” Carol said. She had just slapped herself in the face to kill something.

  “They say it is better to keep moving,” Rishi said.

  “If you stop, you die—if you go on, it’s a heat stroke—you die. Sony, it has been fun being your jungle wife,” Carol said, trying to adjust to one of the most inhospitable places on earth.

  “Hang in there, dear—it will only get worse.”

  Walking did help in escaping non-flying insects. Ones with wings saw a good meal on the hoof and, like fighter pilots, dove and attacked at will. Insect repellent may have actually worked on some insects, but many were attracted to it. Finally, the ladies put insect nets over their heads and stopped the nonsense. The number of insects that collected on the netting shocked them.

  The men certainly shared in the attack from the insects, but beards and male scent were less attractive. The ancient trail went inland, and followed very old paths that avoided elephant and large game trails.

  The first village they came upon was on a slight ridge above the river. Bare dirt was exposed all throughout the village, and a large fire was going in the center. Children were playing, and women were holding babies in cloth pouches around their necks. All stood up and greeted them, with hugs or holding of hands. They seemed to be a very loving tribe. The smell of the village was strong, coming from bodies that live in a jungle and rarely bathed. When they did, they went in the shallows of the river, without soap. Charlie and Carol said strong smells may repel some insects. Gretchen felt that harboring so many bacteria made them immune to their harmful effects.

  “Are you saying I’m not nasty enough?” Sony asked.

  “Something for you and Carol to work on,” Gretchen said.

  Carol and Charlie had Rishi ask if they could take pictures. Given the okay, each woman would get photos of all the people in the village, and with Rishi’s help, record discussions.

  Gretchen asked to talk to the village’s healer and found that most of the older women shared duties. Two elderly Efe women took Gretchen’s hand and walked her into the jungle. The rear view was of a mother holding hands with two very old grey haired children. Rishi followed, as did Jackie. Questions were asked about different illnesses and injuries. As Gretchen would ask about an infection from a wound, the women would harvest different leaves, vines and tubers. Gretchen took notes as to how they should be prepared and put the botanical items in a Ziplock bag. These remedies actually worked and had been used for thousands of years. The natives told Gretchen if they didn’t work, they wouldn’t use them. Although they didn’t have a cure for cancer, they had a very strong opiate to ease the pain. Gretchen collected samples of the opiate. Cancer was not commonly contracted by the pygmies. Gretchen thought either diet or the environment were factors. The women did provide her with a plant medicine that helped types of skin cancer. She was thrilled with that information. The problem was, many of these plants were only indigenous to a small part of the Congo. When possible, she collected seeds, spores, and tubers.

  Back in the village, all the kids and young girls were standing around Devil Man, giggling with their heads bowed. He was like a giant black God to them. He didn’t like them being afraid, so he sat on the ground and put his rifle in a sling on his back. Then he opened a bag of hard candy, smiled and held them in his hand for them. Some of the brave children came over for the candy and a few even looked in his face. Soon he was a mountain for the kids to climb on, which made him laugh out loud. He had transformed himself from one of the most feared to the new rock star of the village.

  They traveled to a Lese village next and found it a little more structured, with a chief who had to approve everything done by the group from the quarry, including photos and interviews. This village had a formal healer, who was reluctant to reveal his healing methods. He was interested in pneumonia, which had taken a lot of his people. Gretchen worked out a deal for his skin cancer treatment. She would conduct a couple of full treatments for pneumonia in exchange. She warned a few people might have an allergic reaction to the drug, and explained how to deal with possible reactions.

  At the next village, they found the traditional combination of Efe living adjacent to the Lese. The Efe would provide meat and help with the crops, and the Lese would produce vegetables for the Efe. The anthropologists believed this had been the way for thousands of years. At this point, they shared a meal prepared by both tribes. Both tribes prepared a meal centered on a small antelope they had killed and cooked on coals. Rounding out the dinner were several types of plantains, tubers, forest beans, bananas, and of course, grubs and insects. Clay pots held forest honey with huge pieces of combs—some with the larva of the bees in them. The entire group enjoyed the perfect meal and the visit—not the typical place to be on vacation.

  They thanked everyone and more gifts were given by the group—practical things like non-stick cooking pans and canned meat, including sardines and bottles of raw honey. Al
so, the group gave them another solar light for the village, which Sony and Peter installed.

  The walk back to the quarry would be long, and they would have to get there before dark. Jackie and Rishi led the way. Devil Man was the rear guard.

  Bahati’s dirty dozen only had a few miles to go before they reached the river. The night march had not been without incident, because an elephant trail was in use when they crossed it. A few blasts from their automatic weapons scattered the elephants. Captain Bahati had a plan to stay at the edge of the jungle until after dark. The first play would be to launch rocket propelled grenades, to take out the bunkers on the cliff. He would have people positioned on the ladders rush in, to become snipers in trees that overlooked the enclosure.

  After the snipers had done their work, his main force would attack. Although hauling the rocket propelled grenades had slowed them during the night, these powerful weapons would be an equalizer in the fight against forces far outnumbering themselves. The snipers in the trees would use the powerful weapons to rain death down into the quarry. As they neared the river, Bahati had his men rest on a trail, while he sent two men ahead as scouts. When they sat down to recoup, insects started to take them apart. The best they could do was pace around in a stupor.

  As the two scouts emerged from the jungle and stood on the banks of the river, two natives eased back into the vegetation, unseen. Bahati’s scouts quickly backed up to hide when they saw people on the island. Expedition members were returning from the village tours and unloading their gear from the rubber raft. The scouts watched as the small assembly crossed from the shore to the ladders, where the men took most of the gear from the women. They observed the soldiers who manned the bunkers standing up to assist the people making the climb. Of great interest were the two large Haitian guards who looked like monsters next to the rest of the people. Having taken notes on distance and placement of personnel, they eased back into the jungle.