Child of Africa

by T. M. Clark

  ‘I will organise it.’

  ‘Now, what of my spotter team? Any news?’

  ‘We have lost Kenneth Hunt; a lion ate him in Chizarira. ZimParks took a few days to warn everyone about the man-eater, but my contact in the game reserve says that when they found him, the lady vet, Peta de Longe from Matusadona, recognised what was on his computer, and she was very interested. She spoke with the old tracker and her sidekick, Amos, about the files. They are never far apart. Our man, he was not on site when they found Hunt, he had been left behind, but they were all talking about it in front of him when they got back to camp. Apparently they are tracking the lion now. He killed a black man who was cycling through the reserve too.’

  ‘How can that be? Hunt was expensive, but he was a man of the bush. How did the lion get the jump on him?’

  ‘It seems like he was not paying enough attention. He got too comfortable in the bush and forgot to sleep with one eye open.’

  ‘This is unfortunate news,’ Tichawana said. ‘So where is his computer, and my reports?’

  ‘I thought it would be in his personal possessions at the police station at Binga, but when I organised for it to “get lost” in transit to Bulawayo, it was already missing. Someone else got to it first.’

  ‘You think one of the policemen we are not controlling has sticky fingers?’

  ‘I think someone else wanted that computer, and took it,’ Mlilo said.

  ‘We need that computer back. It has our information on it.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Come, it is lunchtime. Join me at the club for a beer. I am sure it has been many months since you last found a waitress there to cater to your exotic taste.’

  ‘They have a new Korean waitress?’

  ‘Petite and with these perky little tits, perfect for a handful, and long nipples.’

  Mlilo smiled. ‘You already sampled her?’

  ‘Would I offer you anything I have not tasted before? What happens if it is poisoned?’

  Both men laughed.

  ‘She will fuck anything – she could do us both with energy to go around. Come,’ Tichawana said as he pushed his chair back and got his jacket from the rack in the corner of his office. ‘I will be out the rest of the day, Miss Hillary,’ he said to Hillary as they passed her desk. ‘I will see you in the morning. If there are any urgent calls, please put them through to my cell, but only if you cannot convince them that tomorrow will be another bright new day in our beautiful Zimbabwe.’

  ‘Have a good lunch,’ Hillary said and nodded.

  As they walked out, Mlilo asked, ‘So, have you sampled your secretary yet?’

  ‘That one is not for anyone to touch. I need her for my businesses, and anyone who even tries to date her and causes her to lose focus will have to answer to me. No fucking my secretary; she is off limits to everyone. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Mlilo said.

  CHAPTER

  20

  The Journey Home

  The grey morning yielded larger drips of moisture from the acacia trees as they filtered the light raindrops that floated downwards but it wasn’t sufficient for the herd. The matriarch ignored the trees that they sheltered under, and instead dug the heel of her foot into the base of the small rise. If her memory served her, the rise was a lifeline in the scrublands – there was sweet water running beneath the surface. Scrapes in the ground where other elephants had done exactly as she was doing showed on the side of the knoll. Tree roots and layers of sediment were testament to the forest hiding its jewel from those who would not know of the water site.

  She reached with her trunk and pulled on a deeper root that blocked her access. It came up long, almost vine like, and white as the outer layer of protection was stripped off. A small baby appeared next to her and got gently onto her knees to stick her head into the hole, exploring. The matriarch left her to find the outer part of the root, wrap her trunk around it, then pull with all her might, breaking it and stumbling backwards with the force of the break. She watched as the baby played with the prize, then came back to the hole, still inquisitive to see what she dug so diligently for. The matriarch remembered a time she had done the same thing, first with her grandmother, then with her mother.

  Once again, she widened the area with her foot, carefully moving the sand away with her trunk. The baby mimicked her, and although her small trunk could hardly clear away any dirt, she had the general idea. Together they carefully dug the hole.

  Water began to seep upwards. The sand turned darker and became mud and easier to move away. The baby squealed as the tip of her trunk felt the first kiss of cool water.

  She waited while the baby drank her fill, knowing that this young cow was imprinting the day onto her memory, in order that she could return again when she needed to, and to pass the knowledge on to the next generations.

  The mud moved slowly as the water bubbled up from the spring released by the hole she had dug. She drank deeply, quenching her thirst with the sweet taste. Then she moved aside to let others in the herd drink.

  The herd took turns in an orderly fashion, as if sensing it was not going to be a mud-bath time to clean off insects and parasites, or to keep the sun off their bodies; this was just a drinking stop. Another time, later today, they would bathe in the sand.

  The matriarch browsed the trees nearby, picking delicate leaves away from white thorns. It was almost time to press on. There were bones on the small path that led south from this place that she wanted to pay her respects to.

  Slowly, she moved away.

  The herd, finished in the waterhole, began to follow as a noisy troop of baboons noticed the new watering place. Chattering loudly among themselves, they moved forward. The matriarch stopped, looking back as the baboons stretched their bodies down the hole and drank deeply. The biggest male bared his teeth at a younger troop member who came to drink. She turned her back on the squabble that ensued. The water would stay bubbling to the surface for a while, but she knew that the mud would refill the area and as the surface water dried, the earth would crack once again in the harsh sunshine. This was only a temporary relief for the baboons who wouldn’t have the sense to dig the hole as nature covered up its secret again, and they would once more be forced to travel longer distances to the river or another hidden spring for their water.

  Plodding down the path, the matriarch turned off near a huge baobab tree and stopped. In front of the tree was an area once cleared of vegetation, but now green grass reached up to her knees. Above that she could still see the bleached white bones of her grandmother. They had long been picked clean by the vultures and hyenas. Her skull still stood as testament that once a gentle giant had walked here. Fallen here. Down onto the hard earth when a human had killed her to strip away only her tusks and her tail.

  To the hunter, her grandmother had been a commodity. To the matriarch and her herd, she’d been the leader of their family, in the finest sense; right to the end, when she challenged the hunter and gave her life for the herd so that they could run away. Her grandmother was the one who had returned to find the younger elephant, despite the threat of the hunters, when she was a baby. She’d overcome her fear and retrieved her granddaughter from the small humans who had fed her and kept her alive during that dark time.

  With her trunk, the matriarch caressed the skeleton that was beginning to deteriorate and return to the earth, where the ants and worms burrowed into the thick bone. She was content knowing that her grandmother would once more contribute to life, even in her endless sleep. A quiet moment spent with her now after many moons had parted them. The seasons passed so fast.

  The other elephants paid their respects too. Some who travelled in her small herd remembered the great matriarch, but many had never known her and now met her, sombre in the knowledge that this fallen ancestor was held in high regard by their matriarch. Even the baby who had so recently learnt to dig for water touched her trunk to the bones, committing the place to her memory.


  In her mind, she still saw this older matriarch, whose tusks and trunk had rescued her from fast-flowing rivers, who had defended her from a hungry lion, boldly chasing the lionesses away so that she was safe. She remembered other times, how her grandmother had led the herd north, away from this place, to a quieter grazing ground, until danger had encroached there too.

  She was too young to take on her grandmother’s position in the herd; she hadn’t even had her own offspring yet. Soon that would change – her time was approaching. She’d been training to lead her family all her life. When her mother was taken too, she had stepped into her place.

  Moments like this, comparing the size of her grandmother’s skull with her own, were a reality check. She still had so much growing to do, so much life to experience, and this wonderful elephant now resting under the African sky would never see her do it.

  She said goodbye to her matriarch, and hoped that one day she would be as much of a leader as this old elephant had been. That she would keep her herd safe, and ensure that the younger ones learnt her knowledge, the migration paths and the areas to avoid. She turned south again, following the deep calling within her. Something that had been missing for many years called to her in the bottom of her heart.

  She followed that instinct.

  The land was much changed. Many of the trees that had once stood proudly over the land were gone. Instead, open grasslands and human settlements dotted the landscape. Men were always changing the land, putting up large metal fences and wires that the herd had to walk over, the silver barbs menacing and dangerous to the whole herd. She had to constantly make sure that the babies were not separated from their mothers by these fences.

  She would keep her herd inside the thicker forest for as long as she could before walking through the newly landscaped world. Her destination was a place near the water’s edge where sweet green trees grew.

  A land she hadn’t seen in many years, yet it called her home.

  CHAPTER

  21

  Unlocking Secrets

  Peta hit another bump. Hard. She knew she was travelling too fast for the road. Joss would still be there when she got to him. If she didn’t break her Hilux before then with stupidity.

  ‘Sorry, Amos,’ she said as she noticed him rearrange himself on the seat. ‘Right. That’s the last causeway.’

  ‘Good. I swear my kidneys are never going to be the same. That road needs fixing.’

  ‘Think of it this way: if the poachers can’t get away fast on the road, then they’ll go somewhere where it’s easier to poach, and leave our animals alone,’ Peta said.

  ‘I wish that were true.’

  As they drove up the river bank on the other side, Amos looked out his window. ‘There are some fresh tracks here, but not our lion. The team said he was still in the Sijinete area. But plenty others.’

  The road flattened out for a while, but the bush on the sides closed in tightly. She heard the scratches it left in the bakkie’s paint.

  ‘I am glad I am inside,’ Amos said.

  ‘Me too. Can you imagine how many thorns we would be picking out of our skin if we were walking in this?’

  ‘You sure this still counts as a road?’

  ‘I think so.’

  Suddenly the bushes gave way to a T-junction. On one side was a pile of stones, but no direction markers.

  ‘Told you. To the right, Binga, to the left and forward, more of the same,’ she said, turning right.

  ‘How long since you were last here?’

  ‘A few years. My father and Joss’s dad were best friends, and they walked every inch of both parks. Dad reminded me about it when I explained where we were going to drop off supplies for the guards tracking that darn lion.’

  ‘What are you going to do when he gets worse, when his mind is gone? So much knowledge will be trapped, and you will not get to it.’

  ‘I don’t know. At the moment it looks like the medicine the doctor gave him is working. It’s keeping things in check, at least. The disease definitely isn’t progressing as fast as it was.’

  ‘But one day soon.’

  ‘I know. But it’s not Dad I worry about, it’s Tsessebe. They have been together for longer than most marriages. Tsessebe will be lost without Dad.’

  Amos shook his head. ‘I think that Tsessebe will not be lost. I think that he will be sad, but then he will join us on our adventures, and he will keep working, keep protecting his park. Tsessebe is family to you.’

  Peta nodded. He had proven it over and over too. It was Tsessebe who had driven her to university in January when she was in her third year before she bought a little car. At year end, she had called her father and told him that she wasn’t going home that Christmas, and Tsessebe had borrowed her father’s bakkie and come to fetch her. When he had found her battered and blue, he had asked her what had happened. She hadn’t known how to tell her father that she had been beaten by her boyfriend. Tsessebe had left her in her dorm and, armed with a photograph of the man, his name and his parents’ address, he had disappeared for three days.

  Tsessebe hadn’t cared about the charges he could have faced, even in the new South Africa. He had done what he did best: he’d tracked her windgat boyfriend to a place that was good for an ambush, and delivered his retribution. He had beaten the man to within an inch of his life, and told him that if he ever laid a hand on Peta again, next time it would be three black men who would beat him up, and they would take his testicles for muti.

  When Tsessebe returned, he had helped Peta to pack her things and driven behind her all the way home. He had been in her father’s bakkie when they drove back for her fourth year of university, and he had stayed in the shadows for two months, watching out for her, without her even knowing he was there. When he found out that the ex-boyfriend had dropped out of university, he had come out of those shadows to tell her he was going home, now that he knew she was safe.

  She let out a breath.

  ‘What?’ Amos asked.

  ‘I’m thinking of Tsessebe. My dad gets to make a new friend every day, but Tsessebe has to watch his best friend drift away.’

  ‘They are lucky. Tsessebe has been with your dad so long that if your dad regresses into the past, Tsessebe can also talk about those times.’

  ‘I know, but it’s so sad.’

  A kudu jumped across the road in front of them and disappeared into the bushes. Peta stopped in case there was another one with it, and sure enough, three big bulls jumped out of the bush and across the road. She eased forward slowly.

  Amos looked out his window again. ‘Stop.’

  As she brought the vehicle to a halt, Amos got out and examined the tracks in the road.

  ‘Look, someone has laid down an arrow on the bank.’ He pointed to the sand that had been graded off the road and was now compacted next to it. ‘See these sticks? They make a marker.’

  ‘Pointing to the road we were on.’

  ‘Yes, but no car tracks there since the last rains, only ours. I looked all the time when we were crawling through that area.’

  ‘So maybe whoever put them here does not know our park well enough to trust their tracker.’

  He nodded. ‘Hang on, I want to look at the sand on the other road.’ He crossed in front of her and walked a little way down the road. Soon he bent down. ‘A double arrow here,’ he called. ‘Sticks arranged carefully on the sand.’

  She got out of the bakkie and joined him. ‘This road leads from Chizarira and eventually into Sijarira forest. The road in front leads through the park, towards the hunting camp in the Gokwe North hunting concession. The road to the left takes you up towards Tashinga, but gives you access to a few more tracks. Hunting tracks mostly, not easy to pass. How old do you think those sticks are?’

  ‘The sticks and the logs used are old, and they have been here for a while – look at the colony of army ants that has built a nest here in this dead log.’ He pushed the log and the ants boiled out.

  ‘The stones
we passed are the marker that says there is a road here. The rangers before Stephen and Dad already had the system in place. Binga markers are always on the right if you see them. Tashinga never has a marker. We must speak to the guards about these, have a look for more.’

  ‘Yes, but right now, we need to keep moving. Joss will be waiting for us at his lodge.’

  Peta shook her head. ‘He’ll understand if we’re a little late. I’ll radio him while we drive.’

  They returned to the bakkie and she climbed in. Amos got into his tracking seat on the bonnet. She started the powerful engine and swung around, heading towards Gokwe North.

  * * *

  Forty-five minutes later, Amos tapped the bonnet. She stopped and got out. He hopped off and she followed him to where he stood looking at another marker. This one still pointed east, like the one they had passed. On their left was a break in the gravel, as if it had been cleared away and there should be a road there.

  Amos pulled at the bottom of the dead bush, having found a cut branch, and a huge area of the covering came away. ‘You know this road heading north here?’

  Peta shook her head.

  ‘I think we need to get the office on the radio,’ Amos said.

  ‘You’re right. Who hides a road except a poacher? Or someone looking for something they shouldn’t be,’ she said, turning to her bakkie. ‘Tashinga Headquarters, come in,’ she said into her radio.

  No one answered.

  ‘Tashinga Headquarters, come in,’ she called again. ‘Dead spot,’ she said, checking her cell phone too.

  ‘I think we should go have a look. There are no recent tracks. Perhaps it is old and no longer used.’

  Amos cleared more of the trees from the road, dragging them to the side. Once the dead bushes were moved it was clear that they had found a two-track road heading north. The middle mannetjie was grass and not too high, so the road hadn’t been used for a while. He took his weapon out of the carriage in the front of the bakkie and loaded it, putting a bullet in the chamber. Peta took her 0.9mm from the cubbyhole where she kept it and checked it too. Only when she nodded to Amos did he walk to his seat on the front and climb in, his rifle on his knee, the strap wrapped around his large hand.