Child of Africa

by T. M. Clark

  ‘What white crosses?’ Joss asked.

  ‘There are crosses scattered across both the Matusadona and Chizarira. Some have names on them, others are too old and I can’t read them. Most are white, or were once white, but some are too old to tell. I always thought that they were pioneer graves, so I started making a list of them, plotting them out to see where they all were and if they were connected.’

  Joss lifted his eyebrows. ‘That’s a tad weird.’

  ‘It’s our heritage. If I had the names and information down, then if one got damaged at least there would be a record of what it said.’ ‘What is so significant about them?’ Joss asked.

  She pointed to the map. ‘This grave on this koppie is old and I have no name recorded against it in my office. Only now, it has a new cross on it, with a name and date to match that on the map. I think that Kenneth replaced the old cross with a new one.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘I don’t know. But it doesn’t excuse that he was spotting in our park. I know that some of the spreadsheets were counting our game and tracking them through the area. But this map doesn’t fit into that category at all; it’s all about graves, not game distribution. If Kenneth could find this old grave on a map like this, he probably knew the bush well.’

  She passed him a second map, more detailed than the first, with latitudes and longitudes marked on it clearly. ‘This was also on his computer, and this map highlights a more serious problem for me and the parks. With the use of a GPS system, anyone could follow a map like this, enter our parks and find any place on his spreadsheets. They don’t even need to know the bush well. Nothing will be safe inside our fences.’

  ‘And both these maps were on his computer?’

  Peta nodded. ‘I worry about who will come to take his place in the bush now Kenneth Hunt is dead. I put everyone on high alert because, from this, I think that we can probably expect a poaching attack soon in the area he was surveying.’

  ‘Have you asked around about him?’

  ‘No. I didn’t want to draw attention to the park or to me.’

  ‘That’s probably a good decision. You said you had his computer still?’

  ‘I do. I could access a lot of spotter files, which I printed off to study, but there are a few folders on it that appear to be password protected, which is strange, because there was no password to get onto his computer when I started it up.’

  Joss downed the last of his drink. ‘You think he’s hiding something?’

  ‘I don’t know. I hope not, because it’s not like we can ask him. There are twenty-five crosses marked on this map. Not all of them are in the park; they’re all over the country.’

  Joss smiled. ‘You know, I have friends who could spend some time on getting into those protected files. We could give it a try before you have to give it over to the police. Do some digging in his computer, see if there is anything else to explain those crosses. Have you had time to do an internet search on this Kenneth Hunt?’

  ‘I tried. I couldn’t find anything.’

  ‘We aren’t known for being front runners in technology here in Zimbabwe, are we? I forget that sometimes,’ Joss said.

  ‘So you don’t think I’m nuts, following this through? Finding out more about this dead spotter and why he was upgrading the crosses?’

  ‘No. This man was trespassing in your park. Your home. You have every right to ensure that you, your staff and your animals are safe.’

  CHAPTER

  15

  Friends

  Chaos reigned supreme at Victoria Falls airport as people exited the plane. Joss had to laugh, because despite Zimbabwe Airlines being late, the ground staff were on a go-slow over Chinese migrant workers being brought in to construct the new international terminal.

  Joss watched as Marine Mitchell ‘Mitch’ Laski bounced down the steps, always the clown, despite being a bit older than the others in their unit when they had been thrown together in commando training at Lympstone in the UK. Joss knew that Mitch would take a little time to get his luggage and have his visa issued. He also knew that they would take more time clearing his sports rifles.

  Now that Joss was living at Yingwe River Lodge full time again, and Sophia needed to be watched over, at least for a while, the chances of him going back to England had gone from maybe to zero. He hadn’t been surprised when Mitch had said he was coming for a visit and followed through this time. His marine friends had said they wanted to visit Africa so many times before, but somehow they had never got around to doing it as a group during their time off. Joss wondered why.

  He grunted. He knew the reason.

  He was an idiot before. Being young, he’d thought that there was always time enough to visit Zimbabwe another day; they had visited cities like Bangkok, Beijing and Utsjoki in Lapland instead. They were going to get around to visiting Africa – one day. To him, there was time enough to do so many things later, but things were different now that he knew he was not indestructible. And it seemed to be the same for Mitch, as he had got on a plane and was now on Zimbabwean soil.

  Finally, people began to spill from customs and immigration into the main area of the airport.

  ‘Mate!’ Mitch said, pulling him into a bear hug.

  ‘Welcome to Zimbabwe.’

  Mitch stepped back. ‘You’re looking good.’

  ‘I am,’ Joss said as he grabbed one of the bags Mitch had put on the floor. ‘Hold your luggage; it’ll grow legs if you don’t.’

  Mitch laughed and took hold of the handle. Despite pushing a trolley, he still had luggage that spilled over.

  ‘You must have paid a mint for extra weight.’

  ‘Gifts from everyone, for you and your kid, and shit for your lodge. Damo sent you a new fucking laptop because he said you need a better one with more power to stay connected out in the sticks. Cricket insisted I bring some cooking thing that does everything, so yeah, I have lots of shit.’

  ‘Tell me the laptop is in your hand luggage or we can kiss it goodbye,’ Joss said.

  ‘That it is. One of your customs officers wanted to know why I had two computers, and I told him I was a researcher. He looked at my other equipment and shrugged, asked if it was all on the import list, and I said yes, so he stamped the paper and I was allowed to leave. He was more interested in the computers than in my weapons.’

  ‘Lucky,’ Joss said as they walked through the doors.

  The heat hit Mitch like a freight train. ‘It’s as hot as the outback.’

  Joss smirked, knowing Mitch’s upbringing was in Sydney, filled with sea, surf and beaches. ‘And you spent so much time in the outback?’

  ‘I didn’t say I’d spent time there. I’ve watched the weather report, mate, it’s hot there. Like this.’

  Joss laughed and guided Mitch to his bakkie. They loaded his bags, putting the electronic stuff in the front, and drove north towards Binga.

  ‘I saw the falls when we were coming in; they look spectacular.’

  ‘You sure you don’t want to spend a few days in the area before you come north?’

  ‘You crazy? I’ll have plenty of time to do that. I want to get back to your lodge, crawl into bed and sleep for two days. Too many parties before I left—’

  ‘It’s about a four-and-a-half-hour drive, so you’re welcome to put your head back and sleep,’ Joss said.

  ‘And miss the sights?’

  ‘Bush and more bush,’ Joss said. To make a liar of him, they travelled for about fifteen minutes before Joss had to slow down for animals on the road.

  ‘What’s that?’ Mitch asked.

  ‘Impala. They’re everywhere. You’ll get used to them real fast.’

  ‘They’re kind of like our kangaroos, all over the place?’ Mitch said as he put his phone out the window and took a photograph.

  A car blasted its horn behind them, and the impala all scattered.

  ‘Idiots,’ Joss said as he began driving slowly through where the impala had been as
a minibus taxi flew past him, the heavy beat of music blasting through the open windows polluting the tranquil scene.

  ‘This is what driving here is like?’ Mitch asked.

  ‘You mean the impala or the fool? We have animals on the road all the time, so you can’t speed. Donkeys, mostly, as you get into the more rural areas, but you need to watch out for the wild game.’

  Mitch nodded.

  ‘You got anything you want to do while you’re here?’ Joss asked.

  ‘I’d like to go see some of the game parks. I’ve heard about this rhino sanctuary in Matu-something-or-other that I want to visit so I can check out their volunteer program.’

  Joss laughed. ‘Matusadona. It’s a game park north of us. My friend Peta is one of the researchers and vets. Ask her if you want to go spend some time there.’

  ‘Cool.’

  ‘When are you due back at headquarters?’

  ‘I’ve taken a year’s leave of absence. After this last tour in Afghanistan, I don’t know if I want to go back. We always said, “third time’s a charm,” then you got taken out, and Cricket and I still went back for another round. I think going again might be like holding an armed grenade. I don’t know what else to do, though. I love being a soldier, but I don’t want to get killed. A bit of a dilemma there.’

  ‘Teach at the academy?’

  ‘About as exciting as watching paint dry. Death by boredom.’

  ‘You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. I have a big house, so you won’t be in the way, but I do live in the middle of nowhere. It’s not a decision you want to make in a hurry. Sometimes having a bit of space, quietness and nothing to do is what you need to unwind and see the future clearly.’

  ‘Space and quietness. I’m looking forward to the downtime,’ Mitch said. ‘Maybe I should get a vehicle while I’m here?’

  ‘Use one from the lodge. They’re just sitting there now that most of the game has gone from the area. We use them to collect guests from Binga and Vic Falls if they need it, but that’s about it.’

  ‘Beaut.’

  Joss stopped again.

  ‘Shit!’ Mitch exclaimed. ‘Look at those elephants. They’re huge.’

  Two large bulls crossed the road. One turned his head towards the bakkie, shook it and flapped his ears.

  ‘Is he going to charge us?’ Mitch said.

  ‘He’s just curious.’

  They sat watching the elephants as they decided to walk down the opposite side of the road rather than cross.

  ‘They certainly are a sight to behold,’ Mitch said.

  Joss put his elbows on the steering wheel. ‘Those’re actually some decent-size tusks on the front one. I hope he gets lost in the bush quickly.’

  ‘Is that about the size they hunt them for trophies, then?’

  ‘Unfortunately there’s no size limit. They can hunt them with small or large tusks. Larger’s obviously better. This old guy would be a prize ...’

  ‘Who would want to kill something so majestic?’ Mitch said.

  ‘Hunters pay big money for the privilege. A single elephant will feed a small rural village through a drought season if they dry the meat and keep it well enough. Poachers wouldn’t blink twice before taking him down to sell the ivory on the black market. To many of the people here, the wild animals are just another commodity.’

  CHAPTER

  16

  Precious Time

  Bongani stood next to his father, holding the cup to his lips. ‘Father, you need to drink.’

  ‘I am not thirsty. Just because I am old and weak does not mean I do not know what I need. And that nurse you have watching me, she gave me tea not even ten minutes ago.’

  ‘She told me that you hardly touched it,’ Bongani said, putting the glass on the locker and sitting himself next to his father on the bed.

  ‘That is because she gave me a cup not even half an hour before.’

  ‘It is hot; you need fluids.’

  ‘I have drunk enough. If I drink any more I will spend all night going to the toilet. I love the night sky but I prefer watching the sunshine dance on the bush to the night creatures.’

  ‘At least eat your dinner. I brought you some warthog pie. Yedwa made it especially for you when I told him I was visiting today.’

  ‘You visit every day,’ Chief Tigere said.

  ‘He cooks something special each time – he misses seeing you walking around. Joss asked if he could come over and visit, bring little Sophia to see you. He seems to be a natural with that child.’

  ‘I am very tired tonight. Joss can bring her tomorrow. You need to write a letter of support to the Welfare Department so that I can sign it before I cross over. If he decides to keep Sophia, they will think he bribed you into it. A letter from me, they will accept.’

  ‘I will do that later tonight and you can sign it in the morning and Joss can visit another time.’

  Bongani smiled as he opened the cooler. The plates were covered with silver dishes and wrapped in large dishtowels, keeping the heat in. Putting the plates on the table across his father’s sick bed, he lifted the lids and inhaled the aroma.

  ‘That smells like your mother’s cooking,’ Chief Tigere said.

  ‘I remember when she and Leslie Brennan made this recipe together, both of them in the kitchen, trying to blend the colonial and the native worlds into one dish.’

  ‘They were both special ladies.’

  Bongani cut the pie on his father’s plate into little pieces.

  ‘I think I will try to feed myself.’

  ‘You sure? It is no bother to help you.’

  ‘I am old, not dead yet. Crank up this bed further so I can eat my own dinner.’

  Bongani smiled again. Sometimes his father’s determination to live shone through and reminded him why this man was such a beloved chief. He placed a white linen napkin across his father’s chest and lap and put a spoon into his hand. He took the cover from his own food, lifted his knife and fork and began to eat. He ignored the tremble in his father’s hand. He ignored it when the food fell from the spoon, keeping his eyes downcast so as not to cause unnecessary embarrassment for the older man when he lifted it in his fingers and put it in his mouth.

  ‘And?’ Bongani asked.

  The old chief smiled as he ate the next mouthful. ‘Patience, my son, remember – slowly, slowly, catch a monkey.’

  Bongani laughed.

  Soon his plate was empty, but not his father’s.

  ‘Do you remember when you caught that monkey with your grandfather, Bongani?’

  ‘Like it was yesterday.’

  ‘I remember it too. Your brother, Tichawana, he was there. Even then he was already cruel. Your grandfather saw it before I did; he warned me not to let him near you and that I was not to treat you equally. You were the next chief and he was not. But I did not listen. I was too proud to listen.’

  ‘It is not something to think about now,’ Bongani said, looking at the branding on his arm, one of the many scars that his younger brother had given him before he was banished.

  ‘Your grandfather was a great tracker and he knew the Zambezi Valley as if it all belonged to him, not only this little part the government told him he could have. He once tracked elephants for Cecil Rhodes himself. When you asked him to show you how to catch a monkey, I thought he would say no, that it was beneath him, but that day, happiness radiated from his face, as his grandson sought his knowledge.’

  ‘I remember.’

  ‘You were so impatient. And when he began your training, you were like the resurrection plant in the Matopos – you blossomed with a little bit of knowledge, but instead of dying again, going back to a brown and dead state, you carried on blooming like a strong protea.’

  Bongani’s eyebrows raised. ‘Are you calling me a flower?’

  The chief laughed, then coughed and took a while to settle again. ‘Of course I am calling you a flower. You were tiny at first, timid like a bud. Then you stretched your face to
wards the sun, and you grew. The more you knew, the more knowledge you soaked up, the brighter you became. Your mind moulded into that of a chief, even at that young age. Everyone could see that you were already the right choice to take my place. It was never in your brother’s nature.’ The chief reached for another small piece of pie.

  The quietness inside the thatched ikhaya washed over them, and the night critters began their evening serenade.

  Bongani glanced at his father’s plate. Only a little had been eaten, but it was more than in the last few days. The nurse ensured he drank protein shakes during the day and took vitamin tablets, but even those were getting harder and harder for his father to swallow. He seemed constantly tired. He was frail now, as one would expect of such an old man. But inside, his soul still danced with life and vitality and it was this part of him that Bongani was not ready to let go of.

  ‘Are you finished?’

  ‘I am still eating, and you are still like you were with that monkey. Impatient.’

  Bongani rolled his eyes.

  ‘Slowly, slowly, catch a monkey,’ Chief Tigere said again as if he could turn back the clock and witness the boy and the monkey. ‘Remember when you caught one, how you tracked it, and set the trap to capture it? How that stupid monkey would not let go of that gourd?’

  ‘I remember. You were so sure I was too short, too young, and that a hyena would get me if I ventured outside the village.’

  ‘I was right. Only I had the wrong kind of savage.’

  ‘It is in the past, it does not matter. Do you remember when I eventually caught that stupid thing? I let it go, back into the wild?’

  ‘Yes, and it probably raided the mielie crop and the sorghum plenty after that, but always looked twice to see if you were there. Bongani, promise me something. When you catch your brother, make sure that you deal with him. The biggest mistake in my life was that I let go a juvenile snake and did not kill it. Now a full-grown mamba will come to try to kill you once I am gone. He will be back soon, making no good in our land.’