Hallowed Ground

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Hallowed Ground Page 15

by Paul Twivy


  ‘So, tell me, Shen. What happened?’

  Shen Chi tried to settle himself before answering. He had rehearsed this moment over and over in his head since the scandal struck. Yet now the words seemed like disorderly letters in a Scrabble hand.

  ‘It was a horrendous error and for that I beg your forgiveness.’

  ‘I understand. Tell me what happened.’

  ‘On Friday morning, Wang Lei made his usual visit. He said that Shanghai were angry about the missed targets, that this unfortunate find of a mass grave couldn’t have come at a worse time. He was angry you weren’t there.’

  ‘For God’s sake, I went to Windhoek to see the Minister and try and find a solution to this appalling situation. I hope you explained that.’

  ‘I tried. But he repeated that if you couldn’t find a way to get exploration moving again, then perhaps I should.’ Shen shifted uncomfortably in his seat and put both his hands under his buttocks.

  ‘So, you decided to promote yourself and move the bodies?’

  ‘I realised that there were sensitivities. But, I thought, that if we moved them carefully, respectfully, into crates and brought them to the surface, exploration could continue. I felt confident that you would be able to soothe the Ministry.’

  ‘You felt confident, and yet you didn’t ring me to ask how those meetings went, nor did you think to consult me as to whether you should bring up the bodies.’

  ‘These people were killed over a hundred years ago and tipped into a mass grave. Their bones were all intertwined, inseparable. It’s not as if they have living relatives waiting to identify them.’

  ‘You don’t understand their culture. To them, all relatives are living, however long they’ve been dead. They worship their ancestors. I’ve just been to a site where one Victorian, Scottish explorer was found and every item on his body, and around his body, was painstakingly removed, numbered and labelled. There are protocols for these things.’

  ‘That’s because the European tradition is that the death of an individual is important. To Africans it isn’t,’ Shen said confidently.

  ‘You’re wrong. That’s a myth,’ Li said, ashamed of his Deputy’s lack of respect. ‘To Africans each soul is sacred.’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ Shen asked, already knowing the answer.

  ‘I want you to publicly apologise and then resign, in front of the press, today…before any of this gets any worse.’

  ‘But I was doing what I thought was best. If I lose my job, especially in these circumstances, my family will cut me off,’ Shen pleaded.

  ‘Shen, normally, I would simply ask you to take responsibility and apologise.’ Li stared directly into Shen’s eyes.

  ‘But, in my emails just now, was one marked “Think you ought to see this”. It forwarded an email that you had sent on Friday to Huang’Fu, implying that I was the reason there were delays in prospecting. You said I was cow-towing to local sensitivities. You then declared that, in my absence, you would deal with the bodies and hoped that this would be recognised in future promotions.’

  Shen Chi bowed his head to his chest and stared at the floor silently. The door flew open with sudden force and a gust of sand and sickly, warm air invaded the cabin like bad breath.

  As they drove along the narrow strip of Langstrand beach, in the direction of Walvis Bay, Darius noticed the tide whipping. The wind was rising. Nothing alarming yet, but he knew it needed to be watched. Every time he ventured out, he had to calculate the tides. The beach was never wider than sixty metres, and at high tide it disappeared completely, leaving you cut off in the dunes. So, all his trips had the backdrop of a tidal metronome clicking in his head.

  Silas, his sidekick, had driven to Langstrand earlier with all the quad bikes on a trailer and set them up in the dunes ready to go, complete with helmets and visors. Everyone had their own bike apart from Clara who went with Anne.

  ‘Follow me, guys,’ Darius called after giving them the safety drill.

  They practised on the flat, building up confidence and speed. Joe and Freddie started to weave in and out of each other’s trails, laughing and trading insults. Selima stood up and beckoned to Hannah to do the same. This was the most alive Hannah had felt for ages, the wind buffeting her face, billowing her T-shirt, as she sped along the sand.

  Clara clung on tight as Anne accelerated, whooping as she overtook Sarah, who immediately responded by opening, up, the throttle. Both mothers were building up confidence, loving the liberation. They all needed this. Soon there was a convoy of laughter spraying in the dunes.

  Then came the dune-climbing, hurtling up the slopes - the ‘stoss’ side as Darius had informed them it was called - like a ship climbing a wave in a storm, reaching the ridge with its breath-taking view, and then hurtling down the lee side with a joyful abandonment to gravity.

  No-one else was in sight. It was as if the whole planet was theirs. To cap it all, the moon appeared, its white pallor graceful amidst the reds and blues of the sand and sea.

  It started slowly. Darius noticed little eddies at first. Then a thin, magic carpet of sand seemed to rise shimmering, hovering a few inches above the dunes. Their visors and goggles no longer blazed with sunlight. Ridges lost their sharpness. It was as if an optician had placed one of those blurring lenses in front of your eyes as part of an eye test. It became hard to judge where a slope ended and another started. The sky grew darker, and the air was smoking with sand. Before they knew it, they were in a full-blown sandstorm. It had risen like a cloud of locusts in a matter of minutes.

  Ilana stood with her back to the sea waiting for the whole group to arrive. They settled.

  ‘Ok, we’re now standing on what is called the Mole. It’s a sea wall built by the Germans. From here you can get a strong sense of the layout of Swakopmund.’

  They all gazed back, at the neatly-arranged streets.

  ‘Whoa!’

  A strong gust of wind blew Ilana’s hat off and sent her scurrying after it. Several of her group had to do the same. Their pursuit of their hats, stammering and skimming in the wind, bending low and constantly being foiled, hands snapping shut but empty, took on the appearance of a strange dance.

  Hats finally gathered and dignity restored, Ilana re-started, but with one protective hand, held over her head.

  ‘So, as I mentioned earlier, Walvis Bay, further down the coast, which was the region’s only large, natural harbour, was under the control of the British and so the Germans decided to create their own harbour here…’

  Ilana felt salt spray on the back of her legs and turned to find the ocean becoming frothier by the minute. She’d seen this in winter often enough, but never now at the height of the summer. She looked upwards. The sky was darkening. Then she looked across with alarm at Langstrand. It was swathed in a thick blanket of sand, which appeared to be heading for the city. The sea was now slapping the sea wall, rising and even breaching it. The sails of ships in the harbour started to billow and stretch. Their mast wires jerked like nerves, sending a harsh, metallic sound echoing round the harbour. The tourist group were getting anxious, like prey sensing a predator. Birds flew irrationally close to their heads and fluttered away like paint splodges thrown at the sky, feathers akimbo, seeking shelter.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we appear to be experiencing a sudden sandstorm. I need to stop the tour, I’m afraid. I would suggest that you quickly find your way back to hotel and stay there until the storm passes. Thank you.’

  Just then, as the tourists scattered like breadcrumbs, her breast pocket burst into life, her mobile phone jangling. It was Darius.

  ‘I’ve seen. I’m at the harbour,’ she cried. ‘I can’t even see Long Beach the sandstorm’s so thick. Is everyone OK?’

  ‘It’s madness here. We can barely see five feet,’ Darius said, shouting in order to be heard above the storm. ‘Never known anything like
it. We’ve had to abandon the bikes. Everyone’s OK but the kids are scared. Even Selima. I’m using the compass on my phone to head due west to the beach before the tides come in. I’m not sure I’ll be able to locate the Land Rover, however. Is there any way you can bring the other four by four and drive down the beach with the headlights on?’

  ‘Of course, I’ll come now. When’s high tide?’

  ‘Less than two hours!’

  She detected more than a little panic in his usually calm voice.

  ‘Ben went to the Sam Cohen Library. It would be good to bring him with you if you can. Where’s Ralph?’

  ‘I left him at our house, furiously typing emails. Shall we all come? We need room for you in the car though.’

  ‘He’ll want to come, and Anne and the children need him. Look, I need to get them all on to the beach now. It’s the only way we can be sure to orientate. Stay in touch.’

  ‘Darius, wait… just stay calm.’

  ‘You know me…’

  ‘I love you. You know that, don’t you?’

  There was a pause at his end.

  ‘Good to hear,’ he said, the wind whipping across the phone and stealing his words.

  Ilana had never been so thankful that someone answered their phone rather than go through to voicemail.

  ‘Ben Kaplan.’

  ‘Ben, thank God. It’s Ilana. Are you still at the library?’

  ‘I am. What the hell’s happening? I can’t even see the ocean. In fact, I can barely see across the street. Where are you?’

  ‘I’m walking back from the sea wall. Listen, there’s a freak sandstorm. I’ve never seen it anything like it. They’ve had to abandon the quad biking.’

  ‘Oh my God, the children. I’d completely forgotten. I’ve been so engrossed in the archives. Are they OK?’

  ‘They’re fine, but they’ve had to abandon the bikes in the dunes and they’re walking towards the beach. The problem is that the tide is coming in. If we don’t get to them in the next ninety minutes, they’ll be cut off.’

  The line went silent.

  ‘Hello. Ben, can you hear me?’

  ‘Yes, I can hear you.’

  ‘Stay at the library. I’m getting our back-up Land Rover from the house and picking up Ralph. I should be with you in about ten minutes. Please be ready. Look out for the car.’

  ‘I will, I will.’

  Her phone rang again. She glanced at the Caller ID.

  ‘Hi, Ralph. No time to talk. They’re OK but we need to move fast. I’m running to the house now.’

  Shen Chi steadied himself. Every light imaginable was thrown on to his face. He looked shockingly pale, almost a mirage in front of the darkening horizon.

  He cast a glance in the direction of Li, who acknowledged his gaze with a nod. He signalled for Shen to be calm, by lowering both his outstretched hands in the manner of a conductor steadying his orchestra for the opening bar.

  Cameras were quietly whirring; boom mikes were held aloft just out of frame and notepads were twitched open. Li reckoned there must be thirty journalists, maybe more. For once, the spotlight was on Namibia but for all the wrong reasons.

  Shen coughed, then spoke. Cameras clicked and whirred.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I wish to make a statement about recent events here at the Zjin Mining Company in Namibia. A week ago, whilst excavating here in Damaraland, looking for uranium deposits, we discovered a mass grave of several hundred people. Carbon dating has now confirmed that they perished in the first few years of the twentieth century.’

  Some of the journalists gasped, all of them scribbled. Shen continued.

  ‘Analysis of their skeletons, and some of the possessions found scattered amongst their bones, has confirmed that these were people from the Herero and Nama tribes. These findings, along with many historical accounts, have led us to the conclusion that these are the victims of the genocide perpetrated by the German soldiers during their rule in this country.’

  He paused to let the historical significance sink in and to sip from a glass of water. His throat felt like a desert. Cameras whirred again and flashbulbs splashed. The tension rose several notches.

  ‘Last Friday, when I was in charge of this site, I took the decision to move the remains of these tragic victims of genocide to the surface and place them in protective crates.’

  There was a slight gasp at the frankness of the admission.

  ‘This was done with the utmost care and respect for the bodies and their possessions. My decision to do this, in which I must stress I acted alone, was taken because I feared for the preservation of these bodies with our heavy machinery so close. I was especially aware that pump failure would cause the mine shaft to flood. In making this decision, I failed to consult either with the Namibian authorities, or, more importantly, with the local Herero or Nama Elders. In doing so, I fear I have caused great offence for which I sincerely and humbly apologise. Because of my poor judgement, I have decided to… tender my resignation, to the Zjin Mining Company, and will be returning to China immediately. Thank you.’

  Li slumped back in his seat with exhaustion. He was too tired to feel relief and there was still too much to do that evening. Nevertheless, he was pleased there was some sort of closure, at least for now. Sarah had made the decision not to tell him that she and Hannah were in danger, having calculated that this might push him over the edge, given everything else he was dealing with.

  Ilana exited the track on to the beach. It was a race against the incoming sea. Long Beach already felt narrow. Their visibility was ten to fifteen feet at best. She had switched on every light conceivable: headlights, sidelights, and fog lights; plus, a special spotlight mounted on the roof that Darius only used to find nesting turtles or whale carcasses at night, or in emergencies such as these. From a distance, their jeep looked like a lighthouse on wheels.

  Ben and Ralph wore their eyes out, scanning every inch of the beach and dunes ahead. They had all donned goggles and were breathing through headscarves that Ilana had handed out.

  ‘How much longer before high tide?’ Ralph asked, voice muffled by the scarf.

  ‘Less than an hour,’ Ilana replied. ‘If we don’t find them soon, we’ll have to turn back. Otherwise, we’ll be trapped. Though to be honest, the idea of turning back makes me feel ill. If they are going to have to survive a night on the dunes, then I want to do the same.’

  ‘Agreed,’ chimed Ben. ‘Presumably, if we have to, we can drive this thing inland far enough to get off the beach, cover it and hope the morning brings clear light.’

  The windscreen wipers weren’t designed for sand. Not even on a Defender. They scraped and squealed, threatening to give up. Ilana tried full beam again. The light from the headlights just bounced back from the storm, threatening to blind them.

  Darius wasn’t sure how much longer he could go on. He’d carried Clara a few miles now, feet sinking into the sand, until his back ached. Everyone was shattered and on the edge of giving up. They could hear the sea pounding ever closer but could barely see it. They knew they had to walk North parallel to the ocean.

  They kept their helmets on and visors down to protect their faces from the abrasion of the storm and to help them breathe. If you wanted to speak, you had to lift your visor briefly and talk through a scarf to keep the grit out of your teeth.

  Hannah felt like an astronaut on Mars, walking in slow-motion. It felt as if her feet were being grabbed by thousands of invisible hands. Selima saw her starting to stumble and ran to prop her up. Freddie marched next to Darius holding Clara’s hand. Joe walked slightly ahead of Barbara, trying to act as a windbreaker.

  The temptation to just sink into the sand and just let it absorb you was beginning to feel overwhelming. They dreaded seeing the sand darken under the incoming tide.

  Sarah lifted her visor to shout out.


  ‘What’s that ahead?’

  ‘Please, not another mirage,’ Anne muttered to herself.

  ‘No, look, look,’ screamed Joe. ‘The lights are coming closer.’

  Ilana saw them emerge from the storm as if from the haze of battle, eight figures visibly slumping forward with exhaustion.

  ‘There they are!’ Ilana screamed. ‘Thank God.’ Her eyes streamed with tears which mixed with the on-blowing sand to form tiny rivulets of paste. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, which sand-papered her skin.

  She stopped the car and all three of them leapt out.

  They ran forward, opening visors to talk and kiss.

  Ben lifted Joe clean off the ground and smothered Barbara in kisses. Ralph took Clara from Darius and she clung to him crying. He then hugged Freddie and Anne and helped them to the car.

  ‘Thank God, you’re here,’ Darius said as Ilana, he and Selima hugged.

  ‘Look we’re running out of time,’ Ilana screamed. ‘The tide is coming in fast. Get in. Find wherever you can to sit or perch. Kids on parent’s laps. We need to use every available inch.’

  Ilana turned the car around and twelve of them tumbled over each other. The sea was racing in, but with everyone now on board she screamed ‘Hold tight!’ and set off at a pace, the tyres spinning in the surf.

  It was 9.30 in the evening before Li finished answering all his emails. Sarah called.

  ‘I didn’t want to add to your worries. We were all caught in a sandstorm on the dunes. Ilana, Ralph and Ben had to come and rescue us. It was terrifying.’

  ‘Oh my God, you should have phoned me. How is Hannah?’

  ‘She slept for an hour when we got home. The others have set off back to Windhoek. They’re taking Hannah back to the school with Joe and Freddie.’

  ‘The skies went dark here as well.’

  ‘Are you feeling under siege?’

  ‘Yes. But Shen Chi has publicly apologised and resigned.’

 

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