by Mark Helme
“I understand why you’re all angry. I myself questioned the fairness of this situation and asked a wise friend of mine in Kenya what he thought about it. He told me not to be so stupid. He asked me if I would like to sit in court rooms hearing case after case, realising that this boring misery would go on for hundreds of years. He said he preferred to burn brightly and enjoy his time on Earth, delighting in the excitement of children and grandchildren, rather than live forever like that.”
I sent the drone back and was amazed that my few words had stunned the crowd. I walked back to the resort as the crowd began to murmur quietly and began to disperse. As I reached the back gardens where I frequently spent my evenings, I spotted out of the corner of my eye a dark shadow darting along the fence, disappearing into the maize. That evening, I closed all the doors that opened into the gardens that bordered the fence and left prominent notices saying ‘Beware of scorpions’, hoping that this might deter people from interrupting us should my nymph reappear.
I chose a seat under the shade of an angel trumpet bush, enjoying the beautiful scent as the sun sunk towards the westerly mountain range.
I must have closed my eyes momentarily as when I looked up she was standing just a couple of metres from me on the other side of the fence.
“Hi, I’m pleased you came back. I’m Ewan, who are you?”
“I’m Miriam.”
“Why are you so frightened? I won’t hurt you.”
“The manager of the resort says I mustn’t come to the wire. He once fired a stone at me using a catapult. I thought you might’ve been sent by him to scare me off. I heard your booming voice today at that meeting. What was all that about?”
“Nothing really; some nonsense about the poor guy responsible for us.”
“Is he the little young white chap?”
“Yes.”
“He’s responsible for us as well. I’ve heard him speaking to our leader. He seems a nice guy, but our leader is too proud to accept aid and certainly won’t take his advice. I’d better go now. There is a blue flowering jacaranda tree at the southern end of the resort; no one ever goes there. Meet me there on Saturday evening at sundown.”
This became our meeting place and I learnt the story of her grandmother’s escape from Kerala forty-five years ago and how she’d been happy with her new Christian family.
“My grandmother told me that there was plenty of land to begin with. The different Christian denominations each had their own areas to live in. Family planning was ignored and the population soon spiralled out of control. Mum and Dad were sensible; I only have one sister. My lovely grandmother died last year. I miss her dreadfully. Our community is always hungry; we have to lock up our maize as theft is rife. I look at the beauty of your gardens and how plump and happy everyone seems. I hate this place and want to escape.”
“I’m sorry but it may be impossible for you to leave as you can’t survive on this side of the fence without this thing on my wrist. Let’s meet on Saturday and maybe I’ll have thought of something by then.”
Miriam replied, “It’s worse than you think. They operated on me when I was twelve and implanted an electric shocking device deep inside, which activates if I leave the electric fenced area.”
During the week, I realised that there were two insurmountable barriers. One, it would be impossible to get her over the high electric fence without being detected. Two, where could we safely live?
This implanted device might be real or just possibly a ruse to keep people from escaping. Certainly, the regime was very capable of such deceit. I certainly wouldn’t be able to remove such a heinous device.
When we met up, I listed the barriers. I also said that we couldn’t keep meeting at this tree as otherwise someone would wonder why I kept going to a place where there was nothing to do. Before I returned to Shiretown, we agreed to meet here the following week.
Out of the blue, I received a hologram from Zilgrim Mcmanus (our Commissioner). He was thanking me for saving the day at the protest and as a reward gave me five holiday credits.
I chose to take my first week straight away. I drove my speedboat up to Nkhata Bay and then surfed up and down the western shore of the lake on my skimmer, looking for anything that might help me free Miriam. I noticed a small stream emerging from the base of some high cliffs. At this point, the electric fence had veered a little inland and I could just make it out at the top of the cliffs. I hid my wave-skimmer in some long grass and followed the stream. It was the dry season and the stream was empty and easy to follow. It emerged from a small cave. I crept inside but could make little progress as it was soon pitch-black. I turned back, but my spirits lifted with this glimmer of hope.
The next day, I returned armed with a powerful torch and shoes that would grip damp rocks. The cave narrowed as it climbed. Ultimately, I was stopped by a very short ‘squeeze’ which was just too tight for me to get through. In despair, I sat down and turned my torch off as I pondered how I could use this cave. I tried to chip the rock with a stone. It had little impact and I feared the rock was probably made from hard limestone. I feared it would be difficult, if not impossible, to widen the passage enough to pass. As my eyes adjusted, I noticed a faint glimmer of greyness seeping through the ‘squeeze’. The cave might open out as it went higher and lead to a proper opening, but there was no way I could check. I descended the steep cave and took my wave-skimmer out onto the lake, noting the position of the cave, and returned the following day with binoculars. From about a mile offshore, thanks to image stabilisers, I spotted the unmistakeable shape of paw paw growing in a plantation above the cliff. Behind me was an island with a massive granite boulder poking out of the forest like the bald pate of a medieval monk.
That Saturday, I met up with Miriam in our usual place and told her what I’d found. I asked her to try to meet me at the narrow point of the cave the following Saturday afternoon. I described where the paw paw plantation was and asked her to look for a dry stream bed that had flowed towards the lake. If she were to follow it downstream, I thought it would disappear underground into a small cave. If that occurred, I suggested she try to climb down as far as she could go and I would be waiting on the other side of a constriction.
A week later, I waited; she was late. I feared she might have been caught trespassing through the paw paw plantation as this would be outside of her family’s neighbourhood. Then I heard a stone bouncing off the walls and leant back against the rock as it rattled past. “Hold on tight, do you need a rope?” I shouted, fearing it might be too steep to be safe.
“No, sorry about that pebble, I’m fine but it is too dark for me to get down to you.” I stayed pinned against the damp wall in a most uncomfortable position, fearing more loose stones as I thought about this.
“Okay, I’ll get you a torch and some shoes with good grip. I’ll throw these over the fence by the jacaranda next Saturday morning and we’ll meet here that afternoon.”
During the week, I thought about where we might hide from the authorities if she did escape. I’d heard about an uninhabited place called Likoma Island and went to explore it. It was larger than I’d expected. As I moored my boat on an old jetty, I heard the high shrill calls of African fish eagles. The pair had a large nest in a tree by an old ruined church. I hoped this might indicate abundant fish in the lake. In the abandoned gardens were avocado, mango and bananas. There were also passion fruit, paw paws, tomatoes and maize, which must have survived via seed dispersal. There was surely enough food for one person. I found a well. When I dropped a pebble into it, I heard a comforting plopping sound. By the ruined church was a tumbledown hotel with its incongruous sign ‘The Grand’ still visible. There were remains of houses covered in vines, but no sign of recent human life. I found a gap at the back of the church. The roof of the nave had caved in, but the walls were still intact. They surrounded a tangle of shrubs growing amongst the rubble. Off to one side was a
door which yielded to my shoulder, and I stumbled into a small room which might at one time have been a vestry. It was covered in dust, droppings and smelt disgusting. At least it was dry as the roof was intact. Vines had forced their way through a cracked window, and I guessed the droppings belonged to bats that had egressed through this. I felt this place might be a suitable hideaway if I could clean it and block up the window.
Saturday, and I was back waiting at the ‘squeeze’. I’d switched my torch off and was thrilled as a beam of light penetrated the darkness from above. For the first time, we were able to touch each other’s hands, but although Miriam was extremely thin, her hips just prevented her from getting through the narrow gap. One area of the rock came to a slight ridge, which seemed to be the problem.
“I’ve found an island where there is an old church where you could hide. There’s fresh fruit and tomatoes on the island. I’m sure there are plenty of fish. If you were living there, I would visit as often as possible, bringing other supplies. You would be on your own, though, most of the time. What do you think?”
“Thanks, Ewan. That sounds like paradise; but however hard I diet, I’ll never be able to get through this narrow passage.”
“You’re right, but I think with a hammer and chisel, you could work at that ridge that’s keeping you prisoner. I’ll bring them here tomorrow. Could you find time to work on this while I prepare your hiding place?”
I put everything I needed into my boat during the night, and just before dawn set off across the lake. I dropped the hammer and chisel at the ‘squeeze’ and took a shovel, mattress, bucket, fishing rod, iron cooking pot, some rope, cutlery and a quern to Likoma. Six days later, I felt satisfied that the vestry was habitable. The water from the well was sweet and clean, and I had found a perfect spot to fish. I left at noon and by early evening was waiting in the cave. I was pleased that Miriam had obviously worked hard and it looked wide enough now. I was peering through towards the daylight when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I froze, thinking that I’d been followed, and turned, fearing the worst. To my great relief, it was Miriam who was now in a fit of giggles as her torch shone on my astonished face.
“You bastard!” I was laughing now, and had to grab hold of her arm as she threatened to slip down the rocks. I didn’t want another of my friends to break their spine.
“What have you told your family? Won’t your mother think you’ve escaped?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not stupid. I told her I was going to stay with my cousin who lives about a hundred kilometres west of Nkhata Bay. We have no way of communicating across our enclave and so she may never learn that I didn’t make it.”
“Are you okay about risking the shocks you told me about? If they start, you’ll have to turn back.”
“Sure, I know. Let’s hope for the best.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s Gran’s hairbrush, it’s all that I have to remember her by. Actually, it first belonged to my great-grandmother who died in India. It was Gran’s most treasured possession.”
I put the gear and the hairbrush into my rucksack. After a reassuring embrace, we started to climb down the slippery rocks. I could feel her tension. We slowly edged down. A glimmer of natural light gave me hope, and finally we were in the open, well outside the fence. I picked her up as she giggled with happiness and relief. The final rays of the sun picked out the bald rock at the top of ‘Monk Island’ as a wedge of egrets flew towards their colony for the night. It was dark by the time we launched the boat. Miriam used the torch intermittently to check there were no approaching rocks or hippos as we silently headed towards Likoma. We arrived in the middle of the night and collapsed on the mattress, completely exhausted. We had one morning to get to know each other. I showed Miriam around her new home before I had to return to Shiretown for my next group of tourists.
That year was the happiest of my life. I worked hard to get more credits and spent all my weekends and holidays enjoying Likoma with Miriam, who gained weight with the plentiful food on the island. This ‘lost soul’ had become the laughing, teasing love of my life. Six months later, as I moored my boat on the jetty, she ran to meet me beaming with joy. She was pregnant!
Zig
writing from AX48 to AX50
Shiretown and Nkhata Bay were happy places. Tourism was going from strength to strength. Our population numbers had evened out and most of my people were earning credits and made good use of these around the continent. A couple had even saved up the ten credits needed to reach the Moon. (There is now a permanent base there with a Commissioner in charge of the robots that mine lithium, cobalt and many rare earth metals that are required for high-tech devices back on Earth.) From there they had flown in one of our spaceships around Mars and back. It made sense to me that people spent so many credits to visit this wonderful place. I often visited the Moon when I had time off, where I enjoyed flying the fighter ships which are stationed there in case of an alien invasion. All the pilots are part-time volunteers as it was never expected that we would use these ships in anger. I loved the majesty of the universe and the beauty of Earth from space.
In contrast to Shiretown and Nkhata Bay, the Christian enclave in my territory was a disaster. The population had become unsustainable. Their leader hadn’t considered contraception to be that important. I think there is some primeval instinct to have extra children when a disaster decimates the population. It grieved me to see their children crying from hunger, their bellies distended and their hair turning orange. I arranged a meeting with their leader, Paul. He was arrogant, foolish and certainly the most stubborn man I’d ever dealt with. He refused to accept the provisions that I offered. I even suggested that we might consider adopting some of their starving children. He declined that as well. I concluded that he preferred people to suffer rather than admit that he’d made a mistake. “The door will always be open if you change your mind.” I congratulated myself for just managing to contain my anger.
I was totally reliant on Jas. I could never love her and would sometimes wake in the night having dreamt I was making love to Petra in the yoga room. I would then lie awake for hours, bereft; wishing I’d persuaded Petra to come away with me.
-----
One day, the head game warden visited my office. He was reputed to be very bright and knew everything about the game park. He was a small diffident man of Indian ethnicity. He crept through my door when I called him in. His head was slightly bowed, appearing to be studying my carpet intensely. He held his hands tightly clasped together just beneath his chin as if he couldn’t trust them to be moving freely.
“How can I help you, Sanjeev?”
A mumbling whisper fell from his barely open mouth.
“Sorry, Sanjeev, I didn’t catch that.”
He looked up. “I ha-have a st-st-strange film I wo-would like to show you.”
I really didn’t have time as I was due in court in twenty minutes, but he never normally bothered me.
“Go ahead, I’ve fifteen minutes.”
He’d transferred it onto his X-talk, and images of impala and a leopard flashed across my wall. I love African wildlife, but I didn’t have time for pretty pictures.
He paused the film, not on a beautiful bird or some svelte cheetah, but a crouched young African with what looked like a traditional bow and arrow in his right hand.
“What the hell’s he up to? Do you allow hunting in the park?”
“Th-th-that’s the p-p-point, sir, he sh-shouldn’t be there. I th-think he’s a p-p-poacher.”
“Thanks, Sanjeev. Leave it with me.”
“V-v-very good, sir,” he stammered as he backed out of my room, as if I was some omnipotent maharaja.
I prepared myself for my court case. I can normally concentrate, however mundane a case might be, as I know how critical the outcome can be for the accused. Today’s case involved two neighbours who had been throw
ing weeds into each other’s gardens, and the conflict had escalated into cow dung being smeared on a window, followed by the entrails of a pig being left in the other garden in retaliation. I really couldn’t concentrate on this trivia, although the entrails could attract dangerous animals and vermin, as I was trying to work out what a poacher might be killing in our game park.
As soon as the case ended, I returned to my office, fascinated by this poaching mystery. He couldn’t be bringing his kill back into town as this would have been picked up on surveillance. He obviously couldn’t sell anything as there was no currency, and I wasn’t aware of any bartering trade in animal parts or meat. Perhaps he enjoyed cooking the meat over an open fire and eating it somewhere safe from prying eyes or cameras.
I asked Xanasa to register all chips that were present in the park the previous day. Then I asked her to remove all those that belonged to wardens and tourists. That left one chip that belonged to Joshua Simango. I learnt that he was an assistant coach at the Shiretown Boy’s football team. He had a wife and two boys and they lived with his parents conveniently near the football grounds. He had an unblemished record and was hard working, averaging five holiday credits a year. I wondered if his elderly parents might still yearn for bushmeat and perhaps he smuggled it back into town for their benefit.
I asked Xanasa to give me the surveillance data from his chip from the time he’d been caught on camera. He’d been moving quickly through the park for the next few hours, and as he neared the eastern edge of the park, he’d remained stationary for nearly an hour. I asked Xanasa to give me a satellite view of this location at the time he’d been there yesterday. She zoomed in on a thicket of scrub bushes with a grove of tall acacia trees. I couldn’t see Joshua anywhere. A family of dark grey warthogs were rummaging for food, kneeling to snuffle for roots and grass. Suddenly they all leapt sideways and rushed headlong into the thick bushes. I could imagine their squeals, although my images were silent. Then I noticed that one which had been grazing on its own was now on its side, its legs kicking frantically as it twisted its head, trying to bite the arrow in its flank. The elephant grass parted. Joshua bounded to the side of the dying warthog; a heavy club quickly despatched the unfortunate creature. He picked it up by one of its legs and swung it over his shoulder. I noticed that blood was dripping down his back as he moved fast, continuing east. I lost him on the satellite as the trees were taller and thicker here. The chip gave an exact location where he stopped and presumably sheltered for the night. He started moving again in the early hours and moved at about twelve kilometres an hour straight back to Shiretown, arriving soon after dawn.