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Child of Africa

Page 12

by T. M. Clark


  ‘He’s amazing. Thank you for suggesting him,’ Joss said as he looked at the well-used map and the binder that had seen better days. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised; after all, Bongani had proven over and over what an organised person he was. He obviously had systems in place for managing both the Yingwe River Lodge and his father’s people in times of trouble. ‘You use it often?’

  ‘More than I would like. Although we normally get the call during office hours from ZimParks, so getting it from Peta is a good thing – it will give us more time.’ Bongani went through his folder with Joss, familiarising him with the procedure he already had in place. ‘This is not the first man-eater we have had in the area. Rogue elephant crop raiders, lions, violent people moving through the reserve – we have seen them all before. Sometimes the rangers or police will catch them and kill them before they get to my people. I will call all the leaders of the villages in the morning and let them know that help is coming. They all have working cell phones now. After those calls, I will tell my village. It is customary that Madala White, Timberman, Julian Seziba and I get everything ready around the village, and we will get the emergency kits for the other villages prepared. You keep to your plan of starting to fix the road. On Thursday, I will take Julian Seziba and Mary’s grandson Ephraim with me and we will go to the northern border near the Sijarira Forest Area and start helping prepare the people in the Amaluandi and the Sigara villages. It has been a while since we last had a threat like this, so having me or one of my villagers representing me will help them to be more vigilant, and ensure that everyone is ready.

  ‘Lwazi can accompany his grandfather and Timberman towards Bishu Village, then to the Teti village in the south and do the same, helping anyone who needs to get their ikhayas sturdy enough. Some of the elders don’t have anyone to help them. Lwazi is good with old folks and he is a very able young man. Do you want to go with them?’

  ‘Of course,’ Joss said. ‘The priority is to protect the people and their livestock.’

  Bongani nodded. He rolled up the map. ‘You know, I have to admit that tonight it has been very convenient for me to be living near you again. I have missed you, my friend. I like the man you have become; you are no longer the boy who went to war.’

  ‘You going somewhere I should know about?’

  ‘No, but when my father passes, I will be expected to spend most of my time in my village. And I must marry soon.’ Bongani frowned. ‘I will need to make a son. I am an old man and I have no heirs, so if I die, that disgusting brother of mine will inherit the chieftainship, and I cannot have that happen. Even now, I have probably left it too late. I am fifty-four years old. And I am not sure I want a wife pestering me, and babies pooping and screaming all day. I avoided it this long with good reason.’

  ‘Then don’t, not yet. We can consult with a lawyer and see if the law can be changed. Maybe you can nominate your successor. But this is a conversation for another time; it’s already after midnight and we have an early start tomorrow.’

  Bongani smiled. ‘A lawyer and changing the rules ... such a white man’s solution. I’m not sure the N’Gomas will see it your way at all, to go away from tradition. But I like your thinking. Anything to keep Tichawana out of my area and away from my people.’

  ‘So what are you going to do about him? The people here know who he is, why don’t others?’

  ‘That question is with me every second I am awake. I do not know what to do about it. My priority has to be my father. Once he goes, and we have completed the ceremony with the N’Gomas, then I can look at the rest of the problems on the horizon, including dealing with my corrupt half-brother.’

  Joss pushed his chair away from the table. ‘Let’s not borrow problems from the future. Sleep well, my friend.’

  ‘You too. I will see myself out.’

  Joss listened to Bongani’s steps as they walked away from his house and into the night.

  He rolled to his room and looked at the clock as he closed the door behind him. Damn, he’d missed his web session with his psychologist. Again.

  This was the second appointment in two weeks he’d missed. He was going to be in deep shit. He shook his head. He didn’t think that the British Royal Commandos would care that he was too busy getting ready for a man-eating lion to realise that the time of his appointment had passed.

  They had their work cut out for them in the next few days and now Joss had the added task of calming down an irate psychologist sitting in snowy England.

  CHAPTER

  10

  Small Steps

  Joss bent and tossed a few big rocks into the hole in the road closest to the gates. Using a spade, he added river sand to fill in the spaces before compacting it with the cymbe, a crude tool his father had welded together: a T-bar attached to the end of a steel rod. The lodge’s grader was broken and he had undertaken to fix the road manually until they could get someone to come out and repair the grader.

  He pummelled the rocks and repeated the process. This time the rocks were slightly higher than the ground around them, so it would be rough to take his wheelchair over, but a few car trips would make the repair level. He moved on to the next hole.

  Lwazi approached, hanging back to watch him fill the second hole and then the third, a larger one that took up most of the supplies on the bakkie.

  ‘What happened to school today?’ Joss asked eventually.

  ‘It got cancelled because of the lion. Are you going to fix the whole road?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why? The holes will just come back when it rains,’ Lwazi said.

  ‘Then I’ll do it again and again, until we have a decent road for me to train on. I need to be able to practise for the triathlon, without the risk of falling in a hole, so that I can run in it with the guys in my unit next year. The only way to get road fit is to run.’

  ‘What is a triathlon?’

  Joss threw in another rock. ‘It’s a race. Like a super sport for ultra-fit men and women. They do two or three sports together. Injured marines are encouraged to compete in it, to give us a way to test our strength, make us remember we can do anything despite being disabled, that we are still the best of the best.’

  ‘But you don’t have legs any more—’

  ‘That hasn’t stopped a marine yet.’

  ‘Can I help?’

  ‘Sure. I’m about to fetch a new load of rocks from the river.’

  ‘Okay,’ Lwazi said and went to climb in the back of the bakkie.

  ‘Get in the front,’ Joss said. ‘Besides, you shouldn’t be out walking alone.’

  ‘Lions have never come this far before; we don’t have to worry about that lion,’ Lwazi said as he climbed into the front seat and shut the door.

  ‘This lion already killed two men.’

  ‘One time they warned us of a man-eater and it killed eight people before it was shot. But ZimParks rangers, they always get the lion.’

  ‘You have lots of trust in them,’ Joss said.

  ‘No, I trust Julian Seziba, and he says they’ll get it before it gets here, but for now we just need to be cautious.’

  ‘And by cautious did he mean walk alone in the bush?’

  ‘Oh no, he told us groups, like always,’ Lwazi said. ‘Because he used to be a game guard, he doesn’t like lions. But he is old now, so perhaps the fear begins when you get older. Besides, I could see that you had a gun and could shoot the lion if it came near us.’

  Joss laughed. The teenager was so much like he had been at that age – he thought that he was indestructible. That was before reality had made him realise the truth.

  He didn’t have the heart to force Lwazi to face reality. Instead he showed the boy the size of the rocks he wanted from the river and left him to it, while he began shovelling river sand.

  ‘Much quicker with two of us,’ Joss said when the bakkie was full. ‘Thanks for helping out.’ He grabbed his shotgun from where he’d placed it nearby.

  Lwazi smiled
and climbed in the bakkie again.

  They drove with the windows down and listened to the silence in the bush.

  ‘There used to be so many birds here; they would call wherever you went when you were hunting or walking around,’ Joss said.

  ‘They are here. Sometimes when you are very quiet you can see them. But they are fewer now. I never even find a rabbit in the snares any more,’ Lwazi said.

  ‘There’s too much hunting going on, too much reliance on bush meat. At the river there used to be monkey troops that played, dug holes to the water that was underneath the sand, and then other animals would make the holes bigger, and for a while the river would be filled with game.’

  ‘The monkeys and the baboons, they still visit,’ Lwazi said. ‘But they go back into the forest area, away from the people. There are fish in the Kariba, but you can only eat so much fish.’

  ‘Once the road is done we need to do something about that. Have a communal meeting and talk about this problem.’

  ‘The elders have talked and talked, but people need meat to eat, or we starve. They will not kill the cattle or the goats because they cost too much money, but bush meat, it is free and good to eat.’

  Joss nodded as he parked the bakkie.

  They climbed out and Lwazi reached into the back and grabbed a rock. ‘How many do you want in this hole?’

  ‘Put a few big ones, and some smaller, then beat it down, fill it with sand and put more in. This hole is going to take most of our load.’

  Lwazi lifted the rocks and threw them into the pothole, then he looked up to the road that led to their houses. ‘Hey, Ephraim, woza, help fix the road,’ he called to another youth sitting on his haunches nearby.

  Ephraim got up and walked towards them. ‘Why are you fixing the road?’

  ‘Because Joss needs a nice smooth road for his wheelchair, just in case,’ Lwazi said.

  Ephraim pulled his lip to the side, nibbling on it. ‘Are you paying Lwazi?’

  ‘No. He chose to help fix our road – yours, mine, all of ours. We could all do with a smooth road,’ Joss said.

  Ephraim shook his head. ‘Why? People use it as it is.’

  ‘The water pump, it’s near the bottom of the safari lodge fence, yes?’ Joss said.

  Ephraim nodded, then he grinned. He understood, because he had fetched enough water to know that a good road was easier to push a wheelbarrow on. He reached in and took a rock, then threw it into the hole.

  ‘Make sure no one gets hurt when you toss those rocks around,’ Joss said.

  Lwazi smiled and said, ‘Perhaps you should be the one to stand near the hole, because you don’t have toes to hurt.’

  ‘Good point.’ He swapped his spade for the compactor Lwazi held and began crushing the rocks. The boys threw more rocks and added river sand and soon the hole was filled in, a little higher than the road’s surface like the others, ready to have vehicles driven over it.

  ‘Three more down and six million to go,’ Joss said. ‘We can do a smaller one with what’s left in the bakkie.’

  ‘Eish, at this rate we will never finish the road,’ Ephraim said.

  ‘We had a saying that we liked to use in the commandos that was really poetic and beautifully written by some guy, but I could never remember it all. But it was about not giving up until you had succeeded, and that you would never give up, but continue to try. Putting one foot in front of the other one, because eventually, that little bit you gain will get bigger and bigger. And you will win.’

  ‘What does that mean to us? We are not commandos,’ Ephraim said.

  Joss shook his head. ‘It doesn’t only apply to commandos. It means, do one step, and then the next. Only once you take the first step and then another, can you complete your journey. Like this road. We’ll finish repairing it. Definitely not today or tomorrow, but maybe the week after, or the week after that one. But if we don’t start, we’ll never get it done.’

  ‘I bet you we’ll never finish this road,’ Ephraim said.

  ‘In what timeframe?’ Joss asked. ‘Never bet with an open ending or you land up with a tattoo you don’t want.’

  Ephraim frowned. ‘You didn’t want that knife tattoo on your arm?’

  Joss looked at his arm, where the British Marine Commando insignia and knife were in black ink. ‘I wanted that one, it’s the spoon and fork on my butt I didn’t want.’

  ‘You have a tattoo of a spoon and a fork on your bottom?’ Ephraim said, an amused expression on his face.

  ‘Yeah, and you are not about to see it today or any other day. Now, Ephraim, when won’t we finish this road by? And what are you betting?’

  ‘I do not have any money—’

  ‘No, but you have time; you can always trade time.’

  ‘Fine, I bet that we will not finish this road before Christmas, and that the rains wash it all away again anyhow.’

  ‘Christmas?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ll take your bet and add to it. If we finish this road, without you or any of the other settlers sabotaging it in any way, then the time you wager will be used to help me clear the bush from the old moringa grove, and the old vegetable patch near the lodge.’

  Ephraim shook his head. ‘We can never clear that. It is a mess. Have you seen how overgrown it is down there?’

  ‘Let’s see if we do this road first then, shall we?’ Joss said.

  ‘If I win? If you do not finish the road in time?’ Ephraim asked.

  ‘I guess I clear that grove on my own.’

  ‘And me, can I bet too?’ Lwazi asked.

  Joss nodded. ‘Of course. What’s your bet?’

  ‘I bet we do finish this road before Christmas. And you said you would run again on your new legs on this road – I bet you that when you start running, I will run with you every day, and perhaps one day I too can do this triathlon you speak of.’

  ‘Lwazi, that’s two different bets. The road, it’s a good bet, but the triathlon is held in England; that’s a twenty-five-hour flight away. It’s expensive to fly there and to take part.’

  Lwazi shrugged. ‘But you make things happen, you can find a way to make the money—’

  ‘Money like that would be better put into this safari lodge, and used to send you to a proper school—’

  ‘You told us one step and then another. First we have to fix this road anyway, and there are a lot of potholes. Lots of hot work, and many-many hours of hard work,’ Lwazi said.

  ‘You know what? I’ll take that bet with you too. It’s always nice to have someone to train with. Can you swim?’

  ‘No. You have to swim? You never said that, just a long run—’

  ‘Swim, cycle and run, all of it.’

  ‘Can you teach me to swim?’

  Joss nodded. ‘Let’s finish up. I need some food and to rest for a while. We can carry on later when it’s cooler.’

  Lwazi nodded, and put the cymbe into the bakkie, while Ephraim swept the sand away from the tailgate.

  ‘I’ll drop you at your home, Ephraim, and collect you when it’s cooler, say three o’clock? If you want to join me again?’ Joss asked, hating to leave the road, but his stomach growled and he knew he needed to get off his stumps for a while, give them at least two hours, rest or they would blister rather than callus.

  ‘I will come again with you,’ Lwazi said.

  ‘I will look for you at three o’clock,’ Ephraim said.

  * * *

  Joss sat down on the top step to eat, unhitching his legs and putting them carefully next to him. He massaged his stumps as he ate.

  ‘Do they still hurt you?’ Bongani asked as he sat down next to him.

  Joss smiled. ‘Yes, sometimes, depends what I’m making them do.’

  Bongani nodded. ‘I saw you had company filling the holes in the road.’

  ‘Yeah. Lwazi’s willing to try anything new, but Ephraim’s sceptical beyond his years, expecting nothing to work. I’m sure he’s been sent by the villagers to k
eep an eye on me.’

  ‘Ah, that is because Ephraim is Mary’s grandson. Did I tell you that Madala White used to work on the farm for Baas Tarr near Hwange, before the war vets burnt that farm? Many men and women died that day, not only Baas Tarr and his wife, but they killed some of the workers who tried to stand up to them and tell them not to take their livelihood. Madala White, he was badly burnt, and it was only because Lwazi took his grandfather and pulled him in a travois all the way to this place, looking for your mother, that the old man survived. Of course, I am not your mother, and do not have half her skills or talent for healing, but I did what I could for him. He refused to die and leave Lwazi an orphan.’

  ‘He’s a tough old man and Lwazi is an amazing kid.’

  ‘Have you noticed that Madala White walks with a limp? It is from where they broke his leg and I could not get it straight because of the burnt skin. But he keeps his house neat, and he somehow comes up with enough money to support himself and his grandson.’

  ‘No hospital?’

  ‘He could not travel, and no ambulance will come into an area so far away from everything. Besides, there is only one hospital in this area, and the doctors there never have any drugs for anaesthetic unless a visiting tourist brings them in. We did the best we could at the time, and when he could travel, he was better and no longer wanted anyone to break his healed bones.’

  ‘I’m not sure everyone here’s happy I’m back.’

  ‘Give them time.’

  ‘I wish more people here thought like you, but I fear that I’m living on borrowed time.’

  ‘The war vets might come here when they hear of you returning to the safari lodge, but you will have found your place in the community. The people, they will fight to keep you. The war vets are losing the grip they once had on the people, and slowly the land is healing. The dictator is getting old, and one day he will die. Everyone dies eventually. Then the people will elect a new leader, and things will change again. This time for the better.’

  ‘I know, but it’s the waiting that’s going to kill me,’ Joss said and then laughed. He finished his food and put his plate aside. ‘Did you have lunch?’

 

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