In the distance the outline of Benchere’s sculpture is visible in the dark. The shape beneath the moon gives the desert definition. Benchere stands just inside the lantern light, in front of the chairs. Stern sips again from his water, puts the bottle down on the sand and replies to Benchere, “Not that it matters.”
“What’s done is done.”
“The die is cast.”
“And you’re wrong if you think we’re telling you to quit.”
“Why would we want you to do that?” Stern remains in his chair.
Rose tips himself sideways and closer to Stern as he says, “Of course, people did die in Kadugli.”
“Yes, yes. May as well shut down after that.”
“People have never died before.”
“When trying to get out from under.”
“Or find a voice.”
“Better to turtle.”
“And keep away completely.”
“Yes that.”
“Artists can’t be expected to get involved.”
“God dammit now,” Benchere finds himself fully into the argument, can’t help but snap, “I came here to build a sculpture, that’s all.”
“And yet?”
Rose says, “Didn’t you bring your art along to Kadugli?”
“Isn’t that why you went?”
“To build a sculpture?”
“I built a sculpture,” Benchere barks, “as a piece of art.”
“Which carried a certain meaning.”
“Art is all,” Benchere once more. “That’s the meaning.”
“You weren’t trying to get anyone worked up?”
“I was hoping for the opposite.”
“The opposite now?”
“Were you?”
“Did you say hope?”
“I believe he did.”
“So it was hope you were looking to offer?”
Rose smoothes the wrinkles from the blanket wrapped around him, while Stern comes and stands beside Benchere, turns to Rose and says, “Nothing wrong with hope.”
“Used to be a little hope could go a long way.”
“Remember back in the day?”
“The day, yes.”
“Mandela and the UDM.”
“Alpha Conde.”
“The UDK, MDM and ADM.”
“Ghana.”
“And Kenya.”
“Zambia.”
“The SSAA and Lam Tungwar.”
“Rashid Diab.
“It can be done.”
“It can, it’s true.”
“Tell me that wasn’t a good time.”
“The best.”
“The best for sure.”
“It takes a certain artistry, wouldn’t you say?”
“I would say so.”
“Unfortunately,” Rose goes back into the tent, comes out with a fresh explosive device and a hardhat on his head and says to Benchere, “as far as your sculpture is concerned.”
“Regardless of your intention.”
“Your intention, yes.”
“Others find your sculptures are a bit much.”
“You’re riling the masses and all.”
“Whether you meant to or not.”
“Not that we agree,” Stern says.
“But our handlers do.”
“Our handlers, yes.”
“They want to get rid of all this.”
“Uproot your influence and cool the pots you’ve set to boil.”
“Wait now,” Benchere makes a move toward Rose, who turns his shoulder.
“Not that we’re persuaded,” Stern confides. “We told our handlers we object.”
“Put in a good word.”
“Let everyone know what would happen if we made a martyr out of your sculpture.”
“We did our best to convince them all,” Rose says.
“Yes we did.”
“Say what you will, your work is spectacular.”
“No one can deny.”
Rose takes the wires off the charge, tosses his hardhat back toward the tent. “Pity you’re giving it all up.”
“I never said,” Benchere in protest.
“What’s that?” Stern cuts him off. “But didn’t you just say we should save our breath?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Benchere in a huff. “I wasn’t talking about sculpting.”
“Oh no?”
“Didn’t you?”
“Our mistake.”
“What then?” Stern asks.
“Yes what?”
“What now?”
“What next?”
Stern waves toward the sculpture again and says, “We thought you meant.”
“Enough,” Rose nods in the direction of the Sudan.
“Maybe we misconstrued.”
“After all these weeks.”
“It’s been a long haul.”
“It has been that.”
“So then.”
“So, yes,” Rose looks at Benchere.
Stern winks, gives hint once more of all things rehearsed. He puts an elbow into Benchere’s side and says, “So what then? All our blabber and tell us now what’s come from this and what are you really thinking, Benchere?”
20.
IN THE MORNING BENCHERE WAKES BESIDE DEYNA. THEY have moved from the cot, slept on the air mattress, not bothered with netting, have spent the rest of the night exposed this way.
A new group of tourists arrives early and is permitted to walk the grounds. They explore all sides of the sculpture, take photographs, snap pictures of Benchere with Jazz, Benchere near the baobab trees and standing beside and beneath his work. Everyone still on hand is in the process of packing up. The sheds and shelters are torn down, the pits and trenches filled in, the desert put back the way she was before.
Transportation from the desert has been arranged. After some debate, the BAA students have agreed to go; the idea of establishing a lasting community put on hold, idealized into entropy, collapsing inward following the incident between the Africana and the Munds. Still, there is confidence the effect of the sculpture will continue on its own, its individual magnificence as Benchere originally explained. There is talk of returning next spring, of letting the area settle first before starting again. Mindy and Heidi hope, appeal to Benchere about the prospect.
Daimon films the events of the morning. Zooie and Linda help Harper pack and prep the Maule. The media expands its coverage, the incident in Kadugli presented in folkloric hues. Support for South Sudan increases as additional news reaches the States. A successful gambit. Kiir is invited for a goodwill tour. Websites appear offering to raise funds. Students at universities hold rallies and sit-ins, continue to do so until the rift between Kiir and vice-president Machar ends in a permanent fission, divides the newly independent South into its own internal conflict.
Benchere packs his own belongings. Following his talk with Rose and Stern last night, he lay back down beside Deyna, who was awake and waiting. He told her about his conversation, about his thoughts before and after and all points between. He sat up again and made a motion with his hands, spread everything out then brought them back together.
Deyna took note of the way Benchere moved his hands, how they expanded and offered themselves in full, opening up as inclusive as an invitation.
CLOIE AND KYLE follow the news. Shaken by the first reports of Kadugli, Kyle turns to Skype, relieved only as Benchere appears on screen, offering assurances and an explanation for what has happened.
Two nights later, Kyle calls the initial meeting for the Broad Street Cooperative to order. A common area has been constructed in the courtyard, with plans for a kitchen and yoga studio. Chairs have been set in a circle. Both Cloie and Kyle are confident about the cooperative’s future, are pleased with their selection process for its members. Everything is meant to affirm what nearly came to pass in the desert. Kyle is open-minded and not alarmed at first when a member stands and introduces himself to the group. Holding up the B
road Street Cooperative Handbook, which he has read several times and marked with notes and filled with yellow stickers, the man says, “I am Owen Robins-Greene and I have a few suggestions. Just a few ideas if you don’t mind.”
NAVEED HELPS THE others load the bus which has arrived in camp. Dawid drives the truck. Harper flies out with Linda, with Daimon and Zooie who have plans of their own now. Deyna packs her clothes and personal items in the two duffles she has brought. Her tent is folded and kept separately from the others. When everyone is ready and the bus begins pulling away, Benchere and Deyna stand to the side and wave farewell.
THE REST OF the morning is spent packing the second truck with supplies. Gas and water, the rifle and tent, dry food, fruits and seeds, metals and tools are tied down beneath a large tarp. Together Benchere and Deyna plan to drive south, past Kang and Khakea, below Werda and Lobatse, on into South Africa and Swaziland. Here I am, Benchere thinks. Life in layers. Jazz rides in back. Deyna checks their map for markers. When the sun sets they stop and make camp for the night. Benchere gathers wood, helps Deyna build a fire.
STERN AND ROSE have packed the rest of their supplies into the back of their jeep. In hardhats they walk from the sculpture, leave the charge against the center. “Too bad,” Stern gives Rose the detonator and turns away.
The half crests at the top of the sculpture stare down. Rose stands at a distance, asks Stern, “How far do you think we should go?”
“I think we’ve gone far enough.”
“I mean to be safe.”
“I know what you mean.”
Rose shrugs his heavy shoulders, “Ours is not to reason why.”
Stern disagrees.
Rose changes the subject, says about Benchere, “How far now would you guess?”
“Past Tshane, I’d bet.”
“Maybe further.”
“Could be.”
“At least there’s that.”
Stern looks back at the sculpture and says, “I still don’t think.”
“You don’t think or you don’t think?”
“Goddamn it.”
Rose adjusts his hat and says, “I know.”
“Such a waste.”
“It is what it is.”
“And it is something.”
“Let’s make the best of it.” Rose says, “Let’s have a blast.”
THE NEXT MORNING Benchere and Deyna drive across the border into South Africa. Benchere has his window down. The air is hot. The dust is a gold silt set aglow in the sun. They stop in an open area outside of Perth. Benchere has gathered bits of material along the way; wood and stone mostly. He has brought additional metals from camp, as well as solder and tools for welding. Later they will have to purchase actual supplies, will need to enter cities and improve their scavenging if they’re to continue on this way.
A spot is cleared twenty feet from the road. Benchere selects materials from the truck, begins to visualize what he will make. Deyna helps with the construction, gives assistance with the weld. They talk as they work, an easy back-and-forth. They do not try and explain things, allow the moment to provide its own sound reason.
The road as they drive comes and goes, appears and disappears then reappears once more on their map. Occasionally still they talk of what happened with the Munds, the Africana and the others. Benchere talks about Zooie and Kyle and Marti. He discusses art, the soldiers in Kadugli, the woman on the drum and the children dancing. About each he offers a quiet impression. More reflective now, he looks at Deyna and says, “Here is what I can tell you.”
IN KURUMAN THEY stop for gas. When the radiator is cool enough they add water to keep the engine going.
JUST PAST KIMBERLEY, Benchere builds another sculpture. The piece is six feet tall, constructed of sticks and wood supported by a center frame of metal left over from the Kalahari. In the middle is a stone. The stone is flat on one side and rounded on the other. Benchere creates a shelf in the center of the metal on which he rests the stone. The stone is then encased by a thin shield of twigs and vines Deyna has gathered. Depending on the angle of the sun, the stone appears as a different shape and texture.
Benchere steps back when the work is complete. The foundation has been buried a foot beneath the soil, with angled stakes submerged on either side as Marti taught him. Deyna tamps down the ground around the sculpture, makes sure everything is secure.
ON THEIR FIFTH day out, Benchere wakes to the sound of Jazz barking. He comes from the tent, finds the sun just high enough to sting the eyes as he stares east. Squinting, he lifts his hands to his brow in order to make out a figure standing between the acacia trees.
Thirty yards from the tent, a boy is in the covering. Alone, he watches Benchere. Where he came from Benchere can’t be sure. Deyna leaves the tent and calls to Jazz. Benchere waves the boy over but he does not respond. As Benchere starts walking to the trees, the child moves away. Benchere stops and walks back toward the tent.
Deyna makes a small fire, cooks the potatoes they have left, reheats their coffee in a blue pot. Benchere again invites the boy to join them, but as before he refuses.
They have decided to make their way to Queenstown, to continue south and then afterward work back north toward Sowe-to and Johannesburg, then east to Zimbabwe and Mozambique and into additional cities. The course of their travels is subject to change, dependent on the news. Deyna keeps a notebook, explores the landscape for variations and potential finds. The open-endedness of their plans suits Benchere. After breakfast, he and Deyna break down the tent, load the truck again. In back are the remaining metals Benchere has brought from the Kalahari, as well as a stack of branches, twigs and stones recently gathered.
Benchere removes a few of the pieces from the back, stares down at them separately before bringing them together. He uses Deyna’s shovel to dig a hole, sets the foundation and works his way upward. The boy watches from the trees, edges slowly forward as Benchere uses the portable torch to melt the solder, fastens the sticks against the metal, the sheets and stone held hard. The boy by now has moved all the way in, stands close enough to take a piece of piping Benchere offers him.
When the piece is finished, Benchere pats the boy’s shoulder. He goes back to the truck, empties all the remaining metals and materials he has gathered, is confident they’ll be able to get more in Johannesburg. He hands the boy the torch, his ECM portable and one of his propane tanks, some solder and nickel. He shows him again how to use the torch. The boy proves a quick study. Deyna leaves two oranges and a small bag of oats. They get back in the truck then and drive off.
LATER THAT EVENING they stop in an area covered with wild grass and acacia. A flight of birds passes over as they take their water and food, tent and blankets from the truck. They talk quietly. In their tent, after they eat, they lay side by side. Jazz spreads out in a corner. Benchere relaxes, clears his head, tries to solve nothing. In Kadugli a new sculpture has been built from the scraps gathered after the blast. In the Kalahari, too, the shards of metal are reused. In Zambia, Angola and Zaire, in Syria and Sierra Leone, the Nuba Mountains, Mali and Darfur, in Mali and Senegal, Gaborone, Makhado and Francistown, in Spain and England, France and America, Russia and China, North Korea and Cyprus, the effort gains momentum.
Benchere sleeps deeply. Deyna has her hand on his chest, her leg across his thigh.
Acknowledgements
TO THOSE WHO ENDURED ME DURING THE FOUR-PLUS years of writing this book. To friends and foes, the many authors who shared my experience and as I hope I was of service still to them during this time as through Dzanc. To my Dzanc family, Guy and Pat, Dan and Parker and Michelle, and now Gina, thanks for indulging the madness of my schedule. To the great folks at Hawthorne, in particular the inimitable Rhonda Hughes, publisher and editor and as crazy mad about what she does as I am. Thank you. And of course, to my family. Nuclear in every way. Mary, Anna and Zach, all my love and thanks. Without you there is no me. Onward!
p; Gillis, Steven;, Benchere in Wonderland
Benchere in Wonderland Page 21