Amie in Africa Box Set 1

by Lucinda E Clarke

  “Of course, I will.”

  “There was one night when he came home so tired I’m sure he wouldn’t have noticed if I was there or not! He tumbled straight into bed, ignoring me and his dinner and went out like a light!”

  “Richard has learned to pace himself. His company has worked in Africa for so long they have a total understanding of how slowly things can move. We’re lucky there.”

  “And being much older, Richard has more experience ...” Amie trailed off realising what she’d just said. That was so rude, but Diana just laughed.

  “That’s exactly right. We’re old hands at this game now. Richard works hard, but he’s proved himself and he’s learned not to let it get him down. Jonathon will too in time, just wait and see.”

  Amie didn’t sleep well that night. She’d made a firm resolution not to get into any vehicle that stopped outside her gate the next day, unless Ben was already sitting inside. But what if they said they were on their way to pick him up and then didn’t? What if the driver and passengers didn’t speak any English? No, that was stupid, there needed to be one person to tell her what to film.

  All too soon the dawn arrived, and Amie felt as if she’d not closed her eyes all night. ‘Early’ in Africa meant any time after five, and Amie didn’t think the car would arrive that early, but she was ready by six o’clock and much to her surprise just as she finished her coffee, three old and battered Land Rovers drove up and stopped outside the gate.

  Much to Amie’s relief, Themba jumped out and banged on the outside gate. Pretty let him in and Amie asked quickly, “Is Ben there as well?”

  Themba nodded his head and picked up some of the camera gear. Amie stuffed her cell phone into her pocket and grabbed her coat, a packed lunch, her bag and the camera. She called goodbye to Pretty and followed Themba out of the gate.

  I was such a fool to worry, Amie thought as she squeezed into the back of the second vehicle next to Ben. She was so pleased to see him, she had to refrain from giving him a hug.

  “Do you know where we’re going?” she asked him quietly. He shook his head and looked away. Amie wondered if it was the presence of the soldiers which made him so quiet. Usually he was full of smiles and always ready to talk. There had been the odd occasion when she wished he would shut up if only for a moment.

  Themba stowed the equipment into the back, climbed up into the third vehicle, and as soon as the doors were closed, they set off at quite a speed.

  The driver and the front seat passenger were both wearing army uniforms. Colonel Mbanzi had warned her he was sending his men, and Amie wanted to twist round to see if all the others were in uniform too, but it was such a tight squeeze she couldn’t move.

  They passed swiftly through the centre of town and then, by Amie’s reckoning, they headed north. The drivers took no care to slow down, bumping over the corrugated gravel road, and she wished she could find a seat belt as they swerved from side to side, and slammed in and out of the occasional pothole.

  They’d travelled for over two hours before the cars slowed to a crawl. The soldier in the front leaned forward and brought his gun out from beneath the seat. Amie wasn’t sure if it was an AK47 or not, it just looked dangerous. He removed the magazine and checked it before drawing back the breach to ensure it was loaded and ready to fire. Amie began to feel very uncomfortable. Why did they need guns? What was going on?

  They came to an abrupt halt. The soldier jumped out of the front seat and squatted down by the door. He was quickly followed by the rest of the soldiers from the other Land Rovers, and, holding their guns close to their chests, they fanned out on all sides.

  The driver turned around and indicated she and Ben should stay where they were for the moment. Amie had no intention of getting out any sooner than she had to, and she tried to sink lower in her seat. Her heart was in her mouth and she was beginning to feel very scared. She looked at Ben, but his face didn’t give anything away; she couldn’t even guess what he was thinking.

  One of the soldiers who had gone ahead, returned and signalled to give the all clear. The driver turned to Amie and indicated with a wave of his hand that she should get out.

  She hesitated before slowly and deliberately sliding out, staying as close to the door as she could. Seeing no danger, the soldiers had relaxed, some of them lit cigarettes and chattered in small groups.

  Amie looked enquiringly at the driver, he seemed to be the one in charge. He nodded and indicated they should take the camera equipment and get ready to film.

  “I can’t see anything here to shoot, can you?” Amie asked Ben quietly.

  “It will be close by,” he whispered.

  Grabbing the microphone, camera, cables and spare batteries, Amie, Ben and Themba reluctantly left the false shelter of the Land Rover, and followed one of the soldiers who beckoned them forwards.

  Amie had no idea what to expect, but nothing had prepared her for what she saw when they walked into the clearing.

  It had been a village until quite recently, but now most of the huts had been destroyed or set on fire. There was a strange smell in the air, not only the odour of burning but also a sweet, sickly taint. The empty dwellings had an abandoned feeling, but Amie could see that not long ago, it had been a hive of activity. A pot of maize lay on its side, a discarded clay doll, a pair of cast-off sandals. Here the roof of a hut had been torn away, a calabash of local beer had been smashed, and the contents poured onto the ground. Clothes put out to dry on the bushes had been abandoned, and several pages of old magazines fluttered in the light breeze. There was no sign of anyone.

  The driver walked in front of them, and began to point at the surroundings, indicating they take shots of everything they could see. Amie nodded to Ben who handed her the camera, and she began to record the desolate scene. The tape rolled on the empty huts, the abandoned preparation for the evening meal which had plainly been interrupted, forlorn pieces of cloth which had until recently been prized clothes. Amie could just read ‘Columbia University’ on a t-shirt which had once been white and was now a dark rust colour. In fact, there were many patches of rust stained soil in the area and Amie wondered what could have caused them.

  While Amie and Ben walked slowly round the abandoned homes, faithfully recording what little was left of a once thriving village, the other soldiers went systematically through each of the huts, and grabbed anything that looked useful or valuable. They laughed and thumped each other, as they bartered over what little there was left to take.

  “I think that’s as much as we can capture,” said Amie at last. “Can you tell the boss man we’ve finished?”

  But the boss man shook his head and gestured for one of the soldiers to take them to the other side of the village and round the back of the furthest hut. As soon as she walked round the side wall, Amie realised where the sweet, sickly smell was coming from, and her legs almost gave way. She didn’t have the strength to move, as she gazed in shock at the tangled heap of dead bodies.

  They’d been covered with a thick tarpaulin weighted down with boulders which the lowest ranking soldiers were removing. There must have been at least fifty of them, men, women and children all thrown haphazardly one on top of another. The amount of blood suggested they had not only been shot, but hacked to death as well. There were several stray limbs lying beside the pile and Amie stared in horror at the sight of a foot lying next to an arm, beside a head no longer attached to its body. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and back away, but she couldn’t use the camera with her eyes shut.

  Ben on the other hand seemed to take it all in his stride. Calmly, he unwrapped another tape and handed it to her to put in the camera. Amie swallowed the bile which had risen in her throat, and told herself to pretend this was just a film set and the bodies were not real. She focused the camera while trying not to look, and pressed the record switch.

  There were maggots crawling out of the eye sockets of a child’s face, and a myriad of small insects were disturbed as they scut
tled away from the daylight.

  At the bottom of the pile Amie could see a small arm belonging to a young child who couldn’t have been older than six or seven. Its little hand still clutched one of the homemade balls of rolled up tights, probably a most treasured possession. For a terrible moment Amie wondered if it was Angelina. She knew she should move forward for the close-up shots, but her legs refused to move. She zoomed in on the scene, but all she saw through the lens was a blur, as her eyes filled with tears. Without being sure of the quality of the shots, she let the camera roll and tried to pretend she was far away and this was just an awful dream.

  As soon as she’d finished, she practically flung the camera at Ben, stumbled behind the nearest hut and threw up, retching again and again until she had nothing left in her stomach. She bent over double gasping for air, as she tried to forget what she’d just seen. A couple of the soldiers saw her and made what sounded like ribald comments. Probably about how pathetic white women are, thought Amie angrily. Not one of the soldiers had shown any remorse, horror or sadness at the horrific scene in front of their eyes.

  Ben asked one of the soldiers a question and he replied briefly.

  “What did you ask?” whispered Amie.

  “I was surprised the bodies had not been dragged away by the animals last night, but they say a few soldiers were left here to guard them and they covered them up, of course.”

  “But why not bury them? Why leave them like that? Have their families been told?” Amie had so many questions to ask she didn’t know where to begin, although most of all she couldn’t wait to get out of this place.

  “They kept them here for us to film,” replied Ben.

  “Who are they?” Amie wanted to know.

  “Some villagers or other.” Ben seemed disinclined to talk. He simply shrugged his shoulders and walked away around the corner and out of sight.

  When she sank down onto her haunches as far away from the brutal carnage as she could get, Amie became aware of two things. One was the number of vultures that had appeared overhead, attracted by the smell of blood and the second was the look she caught on Themba’s face. For a brief moment she could have sworn he looked pleased, but when he saw her looking in his direction he quickly turned away.

  “You finished, we go!” shrieked the main driver and everyone made for the trucks. Most of the soldiers were loaded down with whatever they’d been able to loot from the village, and the sweet, sickly smell now invaded the vehicles as well. Amie was sure she was going to throw up again. Her legs still felt rubbery and her stomach was flopping over and over. She noticed she was shaking slightly and wondered how these men could feel nothing, nothing at all. Did a more austere upbringing deaden your senses? Amie had seen inserts on the news showing dead bodies, and documentary war films, but nothing, nothing had prepared her for this. In real life, it was a totally different thing. This was the savagery of Africa right in front of her, and it scared her witless.

  On the way back to the city, Amie could only stare down at the floor. She saw nothing of the scenery, nothing of the other vehicles they passed once they were back on the gravel road. What she had seen would haunt her forever. Every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was the pile of abandoned bodies, left unburied on the open veld for the animals to fight over. In a few days, all that would be left would be a few bones.

  The brutality went further. Amie knew that not only had the villagers been brutalized, but they had been denied a proper burial as decreed by the ancestors. Their very passage into the next world had been jeopardized, and for an African, this was a fate far worse than death itself.

  Once they reached the outskirts of the capital, the other two vehicles fell behind, but Amie’s driver went straight to the government buildings that housed Colonel Mbanzi’s offices. Outside they screeched to a halt and the driver turned and said something to Ben, who silently handed over the full tapes and told Amie they needed the tape that was still in the camera as well. She ejected it and handed it to Ben who passed it over.

  It had not occurred to Amie to try and keep a tape for herself as she had on the other shoots. She wanted no reminders of what she’d seen today, and she never wanted to see anything like it again as long as she lived.

  The driver jumped out and disappeared through the gates, reappearing a few minutes later without the tapes. Taking no care to even try and avoid the pedestrians in his path, he drove out to the suburbs and skidded to a halt in front of Amie’s house. She looked at Ben as she struggled to climb out without falling over. Her legs felt like large chunks of jelly, and she was still shaky.

  Ben jumped out and helped offload the equipment, but as soon as he had finished, the Land Rover skidded away, leaving them both standing by the gate.

  “Ben, what was that all about? Who were those people? What had they done? Who killed them?”

  For a moment it looked as if Ben was not about to answer any of her questions, then he shrugged his shoulders and said slowly. “Just villagers. They believe they were killed by one of the tribes from the north.”

  “And were they?”

  Ben shrugged his shoulders again. “Who can say?”

  “And they want the footage to prove it happened, to help find the people who did this?” That was the only reason that made sense to Amie.

  “To prove it, yes. But to punish ...?”

  “You don’t think they were murdered to put the blame on the northern tribes, do you?” Amie was shocked.

  “We will never know. They wanted the tapes and they have them.” Ben seemed to take this very much in his stride.

  “Have you seen anything like that before?” Amie asked suddenly.

  “Maybe,” Ben was evasive. “But I must go now, my house is far from here.”

  Amie was sure this was just his polite way of asking for a lift home, but when she offered, Ben was quite emphatic he could walk, or catch one of the local taxis that ran along the main road on the edge of Spring Glen.

  Once all the camera gear was safely inside, Amie sank down on the sofa and buried her head in her hands. Pretty appeared in the doorway looking distressed.

  “Madam, you are ill?” she asked.

  “No, not ill Pretty, just shocked,” replied Amie. “Just bring me a cup of tea, a strong one.” Pretty disappeared from view.

  Amie got up and unlocked the liquor cabinet and poured herself a large brandy. She seldom drank before dinner, but it seemed like a good idea right now.

  What should she do? Should she tell anyone? Report what she’d seen at the British Embassy? Should she tell her friends, or, what about Jonathon? She reasoned if he knew where she’d been, he’d put her on the next plane back to England. Did she want to go back home? No, her place was by Jonathon’s side and if she was living safely back in Castle Bridge, she would never have a moment’s peace worrying about him.

  What if they both went to the British Embassy with the story? What repercussions would there be? Would they put all the British expatriates on a plane and ship them out? How many lives would be disrupted? How many projects put on hold?

  It suddenly dawned on Amie she had no proof of what she’d seen. She had no idea where Ben lived, so could not prevail upon him to back up her story. The colonel was even more likely to deny all knowledge of it, and the only concrete thing she could possibly prove, was that maybe Pretty had seen three trucks drive up outside the house early this morning and collect the Madam. Then one of the trucks had returned at the end of the day and deposited Madam safe and sound outside the gate again.

  What Amie had experienced that day was horrific, but how could you weigh it against the chaos that might be caused by bringing it out into the open? The rules she was used to, didn’t apply to Africa, they danced to their own tune, not live and let live, but eat or be eaten.

  In the end, Amie decided to say nothing to anyone until she had had a chance to calm down and have a long think. She wasn’t going to feel as safe now, knowing a massacre had taken place a me
re two or three hours away by car, but there was plenty of security around the house and there was always the armed response to call should she feel threatened.

  For once she was not going to delay over dinner, but have a scalding hot shower and go to bed before Jonathon came home. That way at least she could avoid telling him anything.

  Her dreams that night were full of bloodthirsty images, and she tossed and turned trying to replace what she’d seen with memories of past birthday parties, her wedding, her first pony ride, anything to block out the nightmare. Jonathon, exhausted by another gruelling day, slept right through and never stirred once.

  Amie finally fell into a deep sleep just as the sun was coming up, but she had only been asleep for a short while, before she was woken by Pretty, who was knocking loudly and repeatedly on the bedroom door.

  “Madam,” she shrilled, “come quick! There is someone here for you!”

  Amie groaned and rolled over. Please don’t let it be the colonel, she thought as she reluctantly threw back the bedclothes and swung her feet onto the floor. Jonathon had obviously left early for work his side of the bed was empty and the clothes he’d left on the bedroom chair were gone.

  “They’ll have to wait,” she called back to Pretty. “I’ll be a while. Tell them to wait in the lounge.” Amie stepped into the shower, but even a second dose of steaming hot water didn’t make her feel clean. She took her time getting dressed, and brushed her hair, before eventually making her way to the kitchen to grab the cup of coffee Pretty always had waiting for her first thing.

  She walked into the lounge but there was no one there.

  “Pretty, where’s the visitor?” Amie asked as she went to look out of the front window.

  “But Madam, I said to wait in the lounge, just like you said,” Pretty whined. “Maybe she has run away again!”

  “Run away? She?” Amie wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly.

  “Yes, the little girl, she has been round here many times, but this morning I caught her, and made her tell me what she was doing.” Pretty seemed quite pleased with herself over her decisive actions.