UMTATA

  Naomi was convinced that John had tried to use and manipulate Veronica just to suit himself. It seemed that the African man was born to deceive and be unfaithful.

  Jim Partington worked hard as a supervisor for a small contractor fabricating and erecting tanks for the mines. He was a rotund character who enjoyed his life with Pet; his social life was limited, although he did play golf. Otherwise he barely ventured outside his pretty bungalow. On one of the few occasions he did go out, it was on a company social booze-up, which was also held at the golf club.

  It was on this occasion that he met and became friendly with an Irishman called Brendan Keogh. He was a single man who had been living in Zambia for five years and worked as the manager of a foundry in the Kitwe area. Small and chirpy, he was also immensely strong, probably after many years lifting heavy forgings whilst working in the foundry, and was popular with the other expats at the golf club. His humour was dry and he would do anything to draw a smile from the people he kept company with.

  As he was based in Kitwe, it was not long before Jim invited Brendan to his home. His humour was tested at the Partington household following his introduction to the three women; all, it seemed, were suffering from pre-menstrual stress. Naomi seemed to be forever moping and grieving over her missing children, Veronica was perturbed about being used by her man, and Petula was concerned about the drop in the price of emeralds. Brendan fitted into the group immediately, even though the women outnumbered him and Jim. His humour was not wasted on the others, especially with its light sexual connotations.

  It wasn’t long before he struck up a friendship with Veronica. Their association developed quickly and they soon found a way to live together either at her place or his. Life got even better for them both when Veronica found a job in Kitwe, close to where her new boyfriend worked; it was a bonus, and they made the most of the change.

  Naomi always managed to attend when the Partingtons threw a party. Her unhappiness was plain to see, although she never complained about her situation, and those around her always showed kindness. She became an enigma, always arriving and leaving parties alone, dancing by herself and never holding a conversation with anyone longer then a few minutes; when she did dance alone her style was exotic it tended to transfix those who watched her. It was a cross between Pilates and Arabic belly dance: she proved to be quite a cabaret, everyone clapping enthusiastically when she finished.

  Although generally unhappy, she always appeared to enjoy herself at the parties; they took her away from the unhappiness of her everyday life, and with her eyes shut she transcended into another world. It was as if she was in a cocoon; her body pulsated rhythmically with the music, sometimes appearing to be static, whilst at other times vibrations shuddered through her. Her hands, large and beautifully shaped, artistically manipulated the rhythm with grace and flamboyance.

  Veronica and Petula were sympathetic to Naomi’s loneliness; however as a single person she created an uncomfortable atmosphere within the group, especially when the men talked to her with more intent than they did with their partners. She needed someone, it would keep her mind occupied, and it would comply fully with the other females.

  They persuaded Brendan and Jim to look out for a potential mate for her. But when the subject was mentioned to Naomi, she flew into a rage: “I do not want a man, they are users; my love is for my children and only my children.”

  The others soon realised that this subject should not be raised again. But despite her attitude, her friends continued to keep a lookout for a suitable partner for her. He would need to be supportive, understanding and sympathetic to Naomi’s needs.

  It was the end of the day, the sun had set and the sky was a brilliant red. The bush below looked dark and mysterious as the four drank cocktails on the veranda, enjoying a spectacular evening, the likes of which they had seen many times before.

  Brendan was staring into space, Veronica’s head cradled in his lap. He suddenly perked up. “Jim, lad, if there’s not someone up at the golf course who can give that Naomi a big kiss and make her forget her troubles just for a moment, then I’m a Welsh leprechaun.”

  Jim didn’t look up, but grinned, nodding in agreement.

  Veronica lifted her head slightly from Brendan’s lap. “Today I visited town with Naomi. It was really nice: we shopped, we walked and laughed, it gave us fresh air and exercise; then when I went into a shop I left Naomi outside and she met someone.”

  “Met someone – who?” The other three were all ears.

  “I am not sure who he was.

  “A man approached Naomi and opened the conversation. He said, ‘Don’t I know you from somewhere, dear?’

  “She quickly looked to see who owned this educated voice. ‘Maybe you do. Perhaps from the Mindolo Institute, as I work there,’ she answered.

  “‘Yes, that is at the Economics Foundation; you are the receptionist and I remember you very well. My name is James Khakkeki.’

  “Naomi took a closer look at the man. He was perhaps forty, and yes, she did remember him; he was something to do with Shell or some other company. Although he was balding slightly, he was elegant.

  “‘Look, my dear, when is your day off? Perhaps we can go for a drive?’

  “Naomi stalled. ‘I am busy until next Monday; I don’t know.’ She tried to put him off.

  “‘It’s been a pleasure meeting you,’ said Khakkeki. ‘I’ll see you a week on Tuesday and I will not take no for an answer.’ And he was gone as quickly as he arrived.”

  Naomi pushed the situation to the back of her mind, and forgot about him until she saw him drive up to her accommodation the following Tuesday. She panicked and ran to the bathroom. The bell rang in her small flat and, still in her dressing gown, she half-opened the door.

  “Hello, my dear. Would you care to come for a drive to Luanshya? I have business there; then perhaps we can have a meal in the mine restaurant.”

  The Luanshya mine mess was perhaps the best eating house in Zambia, and the thought appealed to Naomi as she hadn’t eaten for two days, having overspent her allowance. “Wait for me in your car, please, Mr Khakkeki; I will be just ten minutes.”

  The two-litre super saloon purred along the road west from Kitwe, and Naomi and James Khakkeki sat in silence. She thought of her youngest son, who’d been two when she’d last seen him, and still in recovery after a heart operation performed by Dr Christian Barnard in South Africa. He was a fragile young boy, but because of his predicament attracted a special devotion and had been spoilt as a result of all the attention his family thrust upon him.

  A tear ran down her cheek, and she tried to change her train of thought, but then she suddenly became aware of where she was going and it jerked her into reality. “Where are you going, Mr Khakkeki? This is not the road to Luanshya.”

  “Don’t worry, Naomi; I have some business in Ndola first and this is the shortest way there – it will save us time and money. If we are delayed due to my business interests we can stay at the Naoma Lodge which is situated between the two towns, then travel back first thing in the morning.”

  Oh my God. Naomi was in a panic. I am to be used again, she thought, by a man who wants his way and doesn’t give a thought to what I want.

  They remained in silence for the next hour until a few small white houses came into view. Khakkeki turned left, swinging the car right into a government-style building, then switched off the engine and got out.

  “I will not be long; please be patient.”

  Naomi sat staring out at a large evergreen hedge. She asked herself what she was doing in the middle of nowhere with a man she hardly knew; she should have stayed at home. He seemed nice and looked respectable, obviously well connected, probably financially comfortable, but almost certainly had a wife and children at home.

  Her mind raced, and she reviewed her options. Should she get out of the car now and walk, stay and deman
d a ride back to Kitwe, or stay with him in the lodge? Walking was out of the question – a young woman walking alone was just too dangerous, with rape, robbery and death all possibilities. She shuddered. She could demand a ride back to Kitwe, but if this was the case and it was brought to the notice of the Mindolo Institute she could loose her job. If the story got about in the campus everyone would think that I am a stupid person. If she stayed with him he probably would demand sex and what if she resisted and a struggle occurred anything could happen she started to cry. Oh God. Please help me! Naomi’s mind whirled. What if she became pregnant? She had not been on the pill for two years. She suddenly thought it best to escape from the car and obtain a lift from a passer-by. She fumbled with the door catch but found it difficult to open. Everything she tried was unsuccessful, but eventually she opened the window, stretched her head out into the warm air and located the outside door latch. The door opened, and she put her long leg onto the tarmac.

  A voice startled her. “How silly of me not to tell you where to powder your nose. Come, my girl, follow me.” Khakkeki held her arm, escorting her into the building. “It’s through the swing doors and immediately left,” he said. “I will wait in the car.” And he left her.

  She pushed her way into the toilet, trying to think of an excuse to make him take her home. She could shame him, but the police were out of the question; an investigation would blight her and she would almost certainly lose her job.

  Why had she accepted this date with a man she did not know? She was in a perilous situation. If she did submit to him she could become pregnant, and what of venereal disease or even HIV? She was beside herself.

  She stood up from the toilet seat and pulled the door open, their were two large African women talking, one had a baby in a shawl that was wrapped around her back, their was not much room so she gently edged past them and walked from the building. She found the car empty. It was open, and she got back into her seat. The situation took her aback; everything was silent. He was nowhere to be seen, damn him. She opened the car door and slid outside again, looking around, but she was alone.

  Then Khakkeki appeared as if from nowhere. “Look, my dear, it’s getting dark, and with the road as dangerous as it is, I have made arrangements with the local hotel for the night.”

  Naomi said nothing, and the brave face she had put on a few minutes earlier deserted her. She made her retreat and could only think of a way to minimise the obvious.

  21

  An Experience Best Forgotten

  The hotel was small but clean, and the room sparsely furnished. Khakkeki followed Naomi inside, and she suddenly turned to him. “James, I need to explain that I have three children, and I feel that this is a mistake.” She pleaded with him. “I have a young child at home and he is sick.”

  “But, my dear, you didn’t mention this before, and it is too dangerous to go home now, and by the way did you mention that you have two girls as neighbours, can’t they look after the child ?” He seemed genuinely concerned, and she softened.

  “Thet are too young!” Naomi said dejectedly, then blurted out, “This situation is a mistake. I do not want to share this bed with you, and I want to go home tonight.”

  Khakkeki smiled warmly. “Who said anything about sharing a bed?” He put his hand gently on her shoulder.

  Naomi glanced at him.

  “Look, Naomi, I am going to step out for a short while; I have some local business. Please bolt the door and get some rest; we will talk when I get back.” He smiled down at her. “Please be ready for me when I get back. I will not be long, and don’t worry, I will take precautions.” With that he moved swiftly to the door and disappeared outside.

  Naomi was alone, and a black emptiness came over her as she lay down on the bed with her eyes open, her thoughts scattered.

  Suddenly she was with her children again; everyone was laughing, and they were throwing a ball from one to another. The youngest boy was strapped into a small pushchair but was clapping his long, thin hands in unison with his brother and sister, who were singing an African song.

  The spell was broken. It seemed only minutes since Khakkeki had left the room, when there were shouts outside the hotel, then gunshots. Her dream was shattered.

  She froze and listened. There was calm, and then she jumped in fear at a loud knocking on the door. At first it was intermittent, but soon it became louder and more frenzied.

  “Naomi, Naomi – be quick, it’s me, Khakkeki.”

  Immediately she had unlocked the door, Khakkeki pushed into the room and collapsed; she saw blood spreading across the wooden floor. Feeling sick, she put her fist in her mouth to hold back a scream. Khakkeki moaned, and she bent down to see what she could do for him.

  “Go, my dear, get out quickly; they will kill you.” He spluttered more blood. “Take this and go now, hide in the bush, but get out.” His blood-stained hand held a leather tag with writing and a code number was stapled to it. “Go now!”

  Frightened, she left the room and ran down the stairs; at the bottom there was a fire door which she kicked open and ran from the hotel, heading for the nearest bush. She was familiar with the environment from her home village, and knew how to survive in it. Stopping briefly, she broke a branch from a nearby tree and with the leaves brushed over her tracks, disguising the trail.

  In the bush she kept her eyes open, carefully picked out her route and edged along a path, moving away from the hotel as quickly as she could. She moved stealthily, moving the stick in front of her to distract any snakes or nasties that were present. She knew that snakes have poor eyesight, and will strike at the first thing that moves. After maintaining a slow rate of progress, she was scared and her hands were shaking, her top lip trembling, she stopped and took stock of her position and the safest way to get away without detection.

  She had no way of knowing if those who had hurt Khakkeki were aware of her existence; they would probably have guessed, if they had gone to the room after she’d left, that someone had been with him. She had left personal items on the bed; if they found them and not the tag with the code number it was certain that they would try to find her.

  Cold, hungry and scared, she used all her know-how to find a way home through the bush. She was relying on her own intuition, and hoped it had not deserted her.

  It was the first time in her life that she had needed to use the bush tactics her family had taught her. They were helping her survive now, but it was one thing to be trained in something and another to put it into practice.

  After zigzagging through the terrain for miles she reached a small road. It was well maintained, the tarmac fresh and the surface frequently used. She checked her position with the moon and stars and headed in the direction of Ndola, keeping close to the edge of the road to avoid drunk drivers and being discovered by the wrong people. She passed some village people along the way; each gave her greetings and she replied in their tongue so as not to arouse suspicion.

  Her mind played tricks, and she became confused. She visualised her junior school in Lundazi; she thought of her old school friends and wondered what they were all doing now. After a time her mind cleared and she realised she had been walking for nearly four hours.

  Turning a bend, she met with a junction that intersected with a much larger road, and guessed it was the main connection between Ndola and Kitwe. She continued to walk as quickly as possible, her bare feet cool on the tarmac, but before she even noticed it was there an old bakkie stopped beside her.

  An elderly man was struggling with the gear stick, and shouted, “Do you want a lift to Kitwe?” Once he crunched it into gear, he followed up: “If you do then jump in the back quickly, and I will be on my way.” She did not want a second offer and leapt into the back; there were a number of elderly women already sitting there and she assumed they were travelling to the fields for work.

  The bakkie dropped her off in Kitwe and she walk
ed quickly to her small accommodation at the institute. Her hands were still shaking, there was perspiration on her brow, her life was again in turmoil, and what had happened to Khakkeki? Who had done this to him, and why?

  She looked at the note to see if she could ascertain anything from the numbers. It was hopeless; she did not have a clue, and to inform the police would draw too much attention to the Mindolo Institute. If it became known that she was involved with anything underhand going on, the governors would certainly dismiss her, which was the last thing she wanted. And what about this wretched number – what did it mean?

  She picked up the phone. “Petula, is that you?”

  “Yes, my dear, what can I do for you?”

  “Do you know a man called Khakkeki?”

  “I know a few men by that name, my dear, what does he look like?”

  “He is a big man, very expensively dressed, and he took me against my will to a hotel.” Naomi was breathless.

  “That is nothing extraordinary,” said Pet.

  Naomi continued. “But he went out just as we arrived and came back after an hour with blood all over him.”

  There was silence at the other end of the line, then Petula asked, “Who knows about this, and how did you get home? Were you pursued?”

  “I don’t think so, but he gave me a paper with a number on it before he passed out. I think he died, there was so much blood.”

  “Have you told the police?” asked Pet.

  “No, should I?” Naomi waited for a reply.

  “Do not do anything, do not speak with anyone about this until I return your call, do you understand?”

  “Yes, thank you, Pet.”

  The line went dead.

  Naomi had calmed down and now her situation simply felt surreal. Relaxed, she went to work as though nothing had happened and the day passed quickly.

  At eight o’clock that evening the phone rang. “Naomi, I have some news. Your man Khakkeki survived and is in hospital in Ndola.”