Hallowed Ground

by Paul Twivy

  The San impress me more each day. They are nomads and see themselves as custodians of these vast lands which they call “Nores”. Because they roam and hunt, they are expert trackers. I am convinced they could help me find the burial site. They also believe in one Supreme Being, which gives the missionaries hope that they are ripe for Christianity. I remain unconvinced.”’

  ‘He clearly loved the Herero as well,’ said Ilana, ‘judging by what he has written about them. A rare man for a colonialist. No wonder they buried him with garlands.’

  ‘And took such care to bury his possessions with him,’ Sarah added.

  ‘We must pray for such people in our era,’ Ralph said.

  ‘Amen to that,’ Ilana added.

  ‘Why are you all sounding so religious? I don’t understand adults,’ Clara declared.

  ‘Good,’ said Anne kissing Clara on the nose. ‘We are often not worth understanding.’

  ‘Hold on. I think this might be important,’ Sarah said, unravelling one of the scrolls and laying it flat. It was partly her understatement that drew them all round.

  A very old and battered map lay open in front of her. She had pinned it down with rocks at the four corners. It looked crude like a child’s drawing. Nothing seemed to be in proportion. There were very few words and even they were indecipherable, written in some African script. It was largely pictorial with symbols and animals. It looked more like an Egyptian papyrus with hieroglyphs than anything else. In the top right-hand corner, in faded writing, were two words underlined in English: ‘Must decipher!

  ‘This isn’t his map,’ Ben said, ‘but that is almost certainly his comment. He clearly thought this particular map was important. It’s African.’

  ‘How can you tell?’ Ralph asked.

  ‘It’s on animal skin for a start, which no European would use,’ Ben answered.

  ‘I recognise some of these symbols,’ Ilana said. ‘Many of them are used in rock paintings. Especially at Twyfelfontein.’

  ‘Oh my God yes!’ Hannah declared ‘Isn’t that the Lion Man? The lion with the tail that ends in a hand, that Ubuntu showed us!’

  ‘Yes, it is!’ said Selima. ‘Mum, you and I have seen it a hundred times.’

  Darius remained silent. There was something in the topography of the map that he recognised but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

  ‘I might be able to translate the language,’ Anne offered. ‘I would need some reference books though.’

  ‘I’m sure that we can get you access to the language archives,’ Ilana said.

  ‘The University in Windhoek will help,’ Ben added.

  ‘The question is…’ said Joe, ‘what is this map and why did he consider it to be so important?’

  They packed up the journals and maps. Ben and Ralph both signed the release forms that the Museum Director had provided for the artefacts.

  Alexander’s body and the rest of his possessions were crated up, numbered and taken to the Museum in Windhoek.

  Exhausted, their minds on a torture rack of possibilities, the four families returned from the site to Swakop in late afternoon. They desperately needed some normality and so they all walked to the Mole, the colonial, sea-wall on the ocean, and sat having dinner, overlooking Palm Beach. By the time they finished eating, it was dark and the Swakop lighthouse was casting its hypnotic beams across the ocean.

  When they returned home, everyone except Hannah crashed into bed. She was haunted by Alexander’s journals. She hadn’t been as possessed by a book since the one she wrote for her stillborn sibling.

  It must have been close to midnight when Freddie was woken violently by a pounding on his bedroom door. It wouldn’t stop and he remembered that he had locked the door. He wasn’t quite sure why.

  Slowly, he dragged himself off the bed and unlocked the door. Hannah stood swaying in front of him like a hypnotised cobra, her eyes ablaze despite her obvious exhaustion.

  ‘What the hell, Hannah…’

  ‘You don’t understand. I’ve been reading for almost three hours and I’ve found it.’

  ‘Found what?’

  ‘In his journal. Listen to this… “The San have given me a map. If I could decode its symbols, it will lead me to the burial site. More importantly, if I can find this site, then the secret of the Fairy Circles will be revealed. I am convinced of it.”’

  Just then an almighty crash seemed to envelop the house. Freddie thought the ceiling was about to cave in.

  A thunderstorm had started overhead and was doing its best to clear the air.

  8

  Disturbance

  It was Monday but The Augustineum had a Staff Training Day and so, happily, there was no school, extending Half Term by another day. The families had decided they would stay longer in Swakop to enjoy the cooler temperatures and sea air and return to Windhoek that night.

  Li’s mobile broke into his sleep like a burglar. Whatever ringtone he chose, it was only days before that new sound induced the same kind of dread as the previous one. This morning it sounded particularly grating.

  ‘Turn it off, for God’s sake,’ Sarah grunted.

  He picked it up and looked at the number that was ringing him.

  ‘+8621…’

  Damn. It was Shanghai. Why now on a Monday morning?

  ‘I have to take this, Sarah, I’m sorry. It’s work. Hello, Li Chiang.’

  ‘Li, it’s Huang’Fu here,’ the voice said. ‘What the hell’s going on? How could you have let this happen?’

  ‘Huang’Fu, we’ve started looking for alternative sites. You know these things take time.’

  ‘I don’t mean that. I’m talking about disturbing the bones.’

  ‘Bones? What about the bones?’ In his half-awake state, Li could only think about Captain Alexander’s skeleton, about which he had been dreaming a large part of the night. But then how did his boss know about their private dig?

  Huang’Fu continued.

  ‘Some of the bones from the Herero and Nama genocide that you found in the test mine have been moved up to the surface without the Namibians being consulted. The local people are up in arms. There’s practically a riot at the site.’

  ‘I don’t understand. I haven’t been at the site since Thursday. I left Shen Chi in charge.’

  ‘Well, the bloody idiot has made a catastrophic error. Why didn’t he check in with you before making such a major decision? Doesn’t he understand that we are dealing with the victims of genocide here… revered ancestors?’

  ‘I don’t know what on earth possessed him,’ Li responded. ‘We have all been feeling the pressure. Perhaps he felt if the bones were moved to the surface, we could continue to explore the test site.’

  ‘That may seem entirely logical, but we need to bring people with us. Now we’ve upset the Namibian Government, profoundly upset the local community on whose goodwill we rely, and, to add insult to injury, the Germans are furious because the genocide, for which they refuse to apologise, has reared its ugly head again. Hold on Li…’

  Li could hear an urgent voice in the background.

  ‘Oh great,’ Huang’Fu continued, ‘now I’ve got the Ministry of Foreign Affairs on the phone from Beijing. Got to go. Deal with it, Li!’

  ‘I will, Huang’Fu. Rest assured.’

  The call went dead before he’d even got to the end of his reassurance.

  ‘What was all that about?’ asked Sarah.

  ‘There’s a riot at the test site. They’ve moved the Herero bones we found to the surface, without consulting anyone,’ Li informed Sarah.

  ‘How stupid of them. Why didn’t they ask you? You’re going to get the blame for this, of course. They’ll ask you to fall on your sword.’

  ‘I’m driving to the mine.’

  Ralph woke up early from a restless night. He had vague recollecti
ons of a thunderstorm. Despite travelling the world, he never slept well in a new bed.

  He went downstairs, made himself a coffee and switched on the television to watch the morning news, rapidly reducing its volume with the remote control for fear of waking anyone.

  Before he could change channels to BBC World, the local news caught his attention.

  There were angry crowds chanting, and a scuffle between two Chinese men in hard hats and several protesters. He edged the volume up a little.

  ‘Hundreds of protesters have gathered at a test mine in Damaraland operated by the Chinese Zjin Mining Company, after the bones of Herero and Nama people killed in the German genocide of 1904, were taken up to the surface without any consultation.’

  Li entered the room, dressed for work and looking hassled. He nodded at Ralph.

  ‘Morning, Li. Is this mine on the news anything to do with you?’

  Li stopped in his tracks and looked at the screen, recognising some of his team. ‘Oh God, don’t tell me it’s on the news already! That will not be helpful.’

  ‘Looks like you’ve got a tough day ahead of you. Can I help in any way?’

  ‘If you have any means of calming the Namibian Government, I would be most grateful. My deputy decided to move the bones, probably with the best of intents, but without consulting me.’

  ‘I will see what I can do,’ Ralph reassured.

  Li nodded in gratitude, slammed the door and left.

  Ralph’s mobile started to vibrate. He picked it up. He knew it was the Foreign Office before he even looked at the number. They wouldn’t miss breaking news like this.

  Ralph braced himself. ‘Ralph Wilde.’

  ‘I’ve got the Minister for you, High Commissioner. Can you hold…?’

  The Minister’s voice was unexpectedly upbeat, contrary to expectation.

  ‘Ralph, this is marvellous news. Two for the price of one. Tell me you had a hand in this, and I assure you your next post will be a major one.’

  Ralph winced at the thought that Namibia was a minor post and tried to compose himself in the face of this onslaught.

  ‘Good morning, Minister. Nice to hear you sounding so cheery. No, I’m glad to say I had nothing to do with the genocide controversy and I’m just watching it on BBC World now.’

  ‘Well you’re a recipient of good fortune then. Not only have the Germans been forced to re-acknowledge their dress-rehearsal for Hitler in Africa, the Chinese look like the new imperialists…which, by the way, they are. Even better, their Governments are falling out with each other as well as with Namibia. Merkel apparently believes the Chinese have done it deliberately to scupper her own mining plans.’

  ‘I happen to be staying with the man in charge of the test site: Li Chiang,’ Ralph informed him.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Our children go to school together. I thought we ought to try and calm things down a bit. It’s a crass mistake but it is a genuine mistake. His deputy made a rash decision in his absence. He seems a very honourable man.’

  ‘Look, Ralph, I have no sympathy for them, and I don’t see any reason why you should, despite your personal connection. The Germans should have made proper reparations years ago.’

  ‘Have we made reparations for all of our colonial misdeeds?’

  ‘That’s irrelevant. The Chinese certainly should know better than to put mining needs ahead of sensitivity to human suffering.’

  Ralph couldn’t disagree with the principle of what his superior was saying, but, the manner, in which he said it, stuck in his gullet. Long ago he’d abandoned the idea of the moral superiority of one nation over another. He’d seen too much.

  With Li gone to the mine, and Ralph now embroiled in work emails, Anne and Sarah decided to take Freddie and Hannah and join the other families for breakfast. Ilana had invited them, partly under pressure from Selima who was desperate to get the Four Teenagers of the Apocalypse together.

  Hannah had shared her discovery from Alexander’s journal on WhatsApp with Joe and Selima soon after bursting into Freddie’s room last night. The moment they were awake, they read it, triggering a flood of early morning messages and speculations as to the possible link between a burial site and the Fairy Circles.

  ‘Mum, the map…’ Hannah said across the breakfast table, ‘when can you start to translate it?’

  ‘Well, I do have a job, Hannah, as you may remember. Two, if you include being your mother.’

  ‘But this is more important than any job could be.’

  Ilana listened smiling as she made pancakes for everyone. They all sat around the scrubbed, wooden table in her kitchen. Darius was removing various tools, loose screws and rags from the table, under instruction from Ilana to ‘make it look respectable, like a normal household.’ Selima was dishing out plates and cutlery, delighted not to be sitting alone at breakfast for once.

  ‘I know you’re all very excited by these journals and maps, but you do need to calm down a little,’ Barbara cautioned. ‘This explorer – Captain Alexander – could be a crackpot for all we know.’

  ‘Who’s a crackpot?’ Ben asked as he entered the kitchen. He usually found that this word, or something similar, was used of him.

  ‘I am talking about your explorer, the corpse of the moment!’ Barbara had grown weary of Ben’s string of unearthed, ancient heroes. She felt their ghostly presence hanging over her like a third person in their marriage. They suppressed her husband’s appetite for the present, for her. They tore his concentration out of their conversations. His obsessions were exhausting. She hadn’t agreed to marry into burial sites.

  ‘He’s not a crackpot. You read some of his extracts and you heard others. He was intelligent, caring, sane.’

  ‘He was clearly obsessive,’ Barbara pointed out, ‘like someone else I know!’

  ‘Sometimes we have good reason to be obsessive,’ Ben retorted.

  ‘And this might be that reason,’ said Hannah, passing Ben the section of the journal she had struck upon. He read it avidly.

  ‘Fascinating,’ said Ben. ‘I can’t for the life of me see how a burial site would hold the clue to the Fairy Circles, but I’m intrigued to find out.’

  ‘What are we doing today, Mummy?’ Clara asked. Clara had always been like this as long as Anne could remember. She needed the scaffolding of her day to be built at its beginning.

  ‘I am not sure darling. We have a day in Swakopmund ahead of us. I’m sure there are many things we could do.’

  ‘Darius, are you going to tell them your idea?’ Ilana prompted.

  ‘Yes, I thought you guys might want to go quad biking on the sand dunes at Langstrand,’ Darius suggested.

  ‘Brilliant,’ said Freddie.

  ‘Yeah, Gucci!’ added Joe. ‘I’ve done it back home but never on sand dunes.’

  ‘Hannah, you’ll love it,’ Selima added, sensing that Hannah was up for a day of researching rather than escapism. ‘It’s like sandboarding but on four wheels. Come on, you need a break. We all do.’

  ‘Clara, we need to keep you to the flats and the Kiddies Track if you’re on your own,’ Darius said, ‘but you can always ride the dunes with your mum or me.’

  ‘You must all stick to the areas that Darius tells you,’ said Ilana. ‘We have strict zones marked out to stop any damage to the wildlife.’

  ‘Are you joining us, Ilana?’ Anne asked.

  ‘I am afraid I have a tour group this morning, but I know you’ll love it. You’re in safe hands with Darius.’ She felt the truth of her words as she said them and lingered momentarily on how she underestimated this vital quality in him.

  ‘And I have an appointment at the Sam Cohen Library to research some Victorian newspapers,’ Ben interjected. ‘Which should prove useful in relation to you know who….’

  It was settled: the sandboarding party set off in Dar
ius’s trusty Land Rover Defender and Ben and Barbara’s somewhat less trusty 4x4.

  The scene at the perimeter gate was chaos. As Li drove up, his car was mobbed by angry locals, Herero and Nama alike, appalled that their dead ancestors had been disturbed from their burial place.

  They banged on every square inch of metal, spat on his windscreen and tried to rip his wing mirrors out of their sockets as if they were tiny, misshapen hands. Their eyes were ablaze. The local police made a token effort to restrain them but clearly sympathised with the Herero cause. Only the security guards hired by the mining company ensured his safe passage through the gates intact.

  Once inside, Li tried to slow his breathing. As he approached the small cluster of Portakabins that made up their temporary offices, he saw a large, sprawling group of crates, draped in black. He assumed these held the remains from the mass grave. They certainly hadn’t been there when he left last Thursday night.

  Shen Chi was waiting for him, looking pale and exhausted.

  They stepped inside Li’s cabin, the rising wind banging the door shut like an accusation.

  ‘Let me first check what horrors await me,’ Li said signalling for Shen to sit down.

  Li entered his password on his desktop’s home page and opened his emails. His inbox was flooded. The subject headings for each one said all he needed to know: ‘PR Guidance’; ‘Fwd: Chinese government expected to make an apology’; ‘Phone me now’; ‘Fwd: Is this the beginning of the end for Chinese mining in Africa?’; ‘Think you ought to see this’ and ‘Strictly Confidential’.

  He spent a few minutes reading the most important. Over the years he had perfected the art of speed reading, his eyes darting between paragraphs, seeking out significant phrases, like a heat-seeking missile. When he’d learned enough, he raised his gaze to his now-trembling deputy sitting in the corner of the cabin. He felt sick, for the Nama and Herero, for Shen and for himself.