by T. M. Clark
Her stomach ached. Her time to birth her first baby was coming nearer. She was happy that her child would be born almost in the same place she was. The human was here. He would keep them all safe.
She sniffed the air.
She could smell the boy, now a man. Ndhlovy wondered where his real legs were, and how he had got such an injury. She remembered other elephants in her migrations who had the ground beneath them erupt with a deafening noise, and how most of them had died. Men had put something under the ground to kill. There was one youngster of a herd they had met who had lost half his foot, who lived permanently damaged. His matriarch had not run from the noise; instead she had urged her herd to remain close to him. Protecting him. Not ranging far for a long time, until he had had time to heal. He relearnt to walk, but never put his foot on the ground except when he was resting, to counter balance his weight. Only when he could do that had she moved her herd away from that area, such was the determination of the matriarch not to lose yet another member of her family.
Trumpeting, Ndhlovy told her herd to continue following, but the hurt bull and the youngster remained near the human buildings, pacing nervously. The way to the miracle trees was clear. When her herd was sheltered, hidden within the trees, she left them there and returned to the human settlement, to stand guard over the injured elephants.
She felt the communication from the bull that a human was looking at them, that a man was close by. She hurried along, reassuring him not to be afraid. She told him that the man who had light skin and strange legs would help. He had saved her own life many years before.
She broke through the bush and saw the man. She slowed, and walked towards him.
He wasn’t alone. The old man behind him was also familiar. The man had aged, but she knew him. The humans were a family, despite being different colours. The men moved towards her.
She reached out her trunk, wanting them to understand. Her herd needed them. She breathed deeply. She touched her trunk into the light-skinned one’s hand, then smelt him again, reacquainting herself with his scent as he was today. Less smelly than their last encounter, and this time he was walking on the shiny legs that stuck out of his clothes. She was happy that he had found a way to still be mobile.
‘Hello, Ndhlovy,’ he said and his words were as familiar as the sun rising over the hills and spilling over the green trees. He stepped forward and put his forehead to the top of her trunk. Once they had touched foreheads together easily – she had been so much smaller; so had he. He had grown, and now that he stood at his full height, he was tall. But she was still much taller than him. She brought her head down and touched her forehead to his, before lifting it again and wrapping him in her trunk in a warm greeting.
She could feel the muscles of a man, yet she was not afraid. They were bonded. She knew that he would help her once again.
‘So, old girl, what have you brought us?’ the older dark man asked, as he too put his hand out and touched her trunk.
She raised her trunk and tasted the salty wetness on his cheeks. Then she turned to the bull and the youngster.
The dark man walked in front of the light-skinned one as if protecting him, as he had when he was still a youngster himself. Always the protector, just like she had become. She understood wanting to shelter those in your family.
The bull came forward slowly, urged on by her soft murmurings. He swayed, then touched his trunk to the dark man’s hand, just as he’d seen the matriarch do, and turned his flank to the men, to show them why he needed help.
* * *
‘For fuck’s sake,’ Joss cursed. He turned his attention back to Ndhlovy. ‘We’ll help them, but we need to get Peta. You remember her?’
The little calf came forward. Bongani tsked as he saw the wire snare on his trunk. ‘Not sure that one will keep its trunk; it looks like it has already cut too deep and he is breathing out of the top of it. It’s amazing she got them here at all.’
Ndhlovy trumpeted a warning to the men approaching behind the two humans that they needed to keep their distance.
Joss turned around. ‘Hey, Lwazi, Mitch. Walk slowly. Meet an old friend. Look what she brought us. Two elephants in her herd need our help.’
Joss knew that Ndhlovy could feel the tension radiating from Lwazi. His whole life he had been warned of the ferocity and the danger of elephants. He had reason to fear her, but she surprised him when she reached her trunk towards Lwazi first, as if curious who the newcomers were.
‘She won’t hurt you. Let her get used to your scent,’ Joss said.
Lwazi stayed still as she sniffed around him. He didn’t pull away. ‘She is beautiful.’
Ndhlovy touched her trunk to his chest. He giggled. ‘Hey, that tickles.’
She took a step back at the sound, but she came forward again. This time, she put her trunk into his hand. Not to be outdone, the baby elephant attempted to put his trunk into Lwazi’s hand too. He wasn’t as good with the control of it since the snare had damaged his muscles, and the trunk landed on Ndhlovy’s trunk, and then overshot Lwazi’s outstretched hand. The baby didn’t give up – he attempted again to put the tip of his trunk into Lwazi’s palm. He failed once more. This time he simply left his trunk dangling next to Lwazi’s arm area, close but not what he was obviously trying to achieve with his damaged trunk.
Lwazi laughed. ‘Can I touch him?’
‘You can try. Help him to trust us,’ Joss said as the youngster flipped his trunk over Joss, and this time it landed with a heavy thunk on Mitch’s shoulder.
Mitch was quiet before Ndhlovy gently pushed the youngster away from him so she could make her introductions, get to know Mitch’s smell.
Joss pulled his cell from his pocket and dialled Peta’s number.
‘Hello?’ she croaked.
‘Peta, sorry to get you up, but you’re not going to believe who has come for a visit. Ndhlovy’s home and two of her herd need help.’
‘Ndhlovy came home? She’s at your place?’
Joss could picture her sitting up in bed, wide awake now.
‘There’s an adult male here with what looks like a bullet or a spear wound in his side, and the most adorable baby with a snare already cutting into its trunk.’
‘She brought them there, for you to help?’
‘I’m certain of it. She’s standing here, keeping guard.’ He could hear her moving about already, and he smiled, knowing that she would have the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she attempted to put on some clothes.
‘Amazing. After all these years, you see her in the bush, and now she is ... where are you?’
‘At the old stable area.’
‘Oh my word, Joss. That’s incredible; this proves my theory that the elephants will come to humans for help if they know that they’ll get it. It proves so much of their intelligence, and their behaviours—’
‘How fast can you get here?’
* * *
Torn-Ear, the bull elephant, lay on his side, his ear over his eye, and a few wet towels over his body. Lwazi and Ephraim sat next to his head, petting his trunk, making sure that his airway remained open.
Joss, Bongani and Mitch stood with Ndhlovy, present but not in the way.
Peta took a pot by its handle and put her elbow into the water to check the temperature. She waited while Jeff squeezed antiseptic into the pot then she poured the water into the wound. It ran out clear, with a faint trace of pink, but no yellow pus.
She wiped away the residue.
‘Looks okay now. I think we got all that muck out,’ she said.
‘We have done what we can; it’s up to him now to fight the rest,’ Jeff said as he dabbed at the wound with a sterile pad, drying it as best he could.
Peta smiled. ‘I think Ndhlovy brought him far to get help, and I like to believe that he’ll continue to fight and heal.’ She patted the elephant’s stomach then packed antiseptic powder into the open wound and sprayed it with healing ointment.
‘Pass the syr
inge out of the pink box,’ she said to Amos, who was handling her drugs and equipment. ‘Time to wake you up, Torn-Ear. We’ll stay here, close by.’
‘You sure about this?’ Jeff asked. ‘He’s huge and he might not remember where he is when he comes around. He could be raging and ready to defend himself.’
‘We’ll be nearby, and Ndhlovy will calm him. She has remained here with them the whole time. Look how she helped the little one when he came around. Despite him losing the bottom half of his trunk, she will caution him. He won’t hurt us.’
Jeff lifted his eyebrows. ‘You think she’ll stay here if you continue to feed them so we can do this again in a week?’
‘We might need to dart them in the bush next time, but the likelihood of her keeping her herd close is high,’ Peta said. ‘She’s made her own rules since Joss and Bongani found her. Don’t underestimate her; she’s a force to be reckoned with.’
Jeff laughed. ‘As are you.’
‘Remove the towels. Remove his ear from his eye so he can see when he wakes and make sure his trunk is clear of anything, so when he moves it he can feel solid ground. Everyone get away.’
They watched as she administered the antidote then joined them in the stable area, behind the wooden fence posts.
The elephant began to come around. He heaved himself up, but as he did that, Ndhlovy was already communicating with him, her rumbles audible above the noise of the bush. He swayed, put his ears forward as if he was going to charge, but didn’t, just changed his footing and swayed a bit more. Then he trumpeted to let them know that they had hurt him and he wasn’t pleased. He shook his head as if attempting to clear his vision.
The humans remained behind the fencing of the stable – a flimsy barrier between them and the elephants, but Joss and Peta had firmly believed that Ndhlovy would keep him under control. They had been right.
Torn-Ear stumbled once more, then he walked away, out the back towards the moringa grove, as if food was now the most important thing on his mind. Ndhlovy followed him, flanked closely by Half-Trunk.
The humans emerged from the stable as they watched the departing elephants. Bongani, Amos and Mitch walked after them, and soon they too had disappeared.
‘Reminds me so much of Ndhlovy when you first found her,’ Peta asked. ‘Where did the years go, Joss?’
‘I don’t know, but come nightfall, I suspect those three will come back, just like she used to.’
Peta nodded.
For a moment they stood shoulder to shoulder and watched the silent bush.
‘Right,’ Joss said, ‘let’s get this area cleaned up, make it as nice as we can for them. Thank you, everyone, for your help. Lwazi, Ephraim, get those cadacs and the pots back to the kitchen, then come back here and help spread some sand over this area – the less it smells like a hospital, the better. We have a tough week ahead of us to ensure that those wounds don’t reinfect.’
‘Yes, Joss,’ Lwazi and Ephraim said.
‘Then we need to get you to Bishu Village; the honey harvest is waiting.’
‘Aw, but with the elephants, there is more for us to do here,’ Ephraim complained.
‘No. You keep your word,’ Joss said. ‘You said you would help Matilda today, and although you are a little late, you will. Your word is your honour, always remember that.’
Lwazi nodded. ‘What time do we need to be ready to go?’
‘Let’s say everyone who helped gets to eat breakfast in the restaurant, and then we leave?’
‘Deal,’ Lwazi said and high-fived him on his way to collect the cadacs.
‘Neat,’ Ephraim said as he did the same.
Joss smiled. ‘You know, with the two of you helping Matilda, if you work hard we might get word to collect you in a couple of days, and then you’ll be here to help again the next time Peta has to sedate Torn-Ear to check his progress.’
‘You bet,’ Lwazi said as he went by, loaded down with cadacs and pots, Ephraim close on his heels.
‘You spoil those boys,’ Jeff said.
‘They deserve it most of the time – they actually do work hard. Besides, if we don’t teach the next generation to love their wildlife, how are we ever going to expect them to protect it?’
CHAPTER
28
Threads of Terror
Francis Kanobvurunga waited in his house, everything packed. Ready to flee when his child was returned. At one-thirty, he still waited, watching the minutes tick by on his watch. They said they would bring him his son.
He was beginning to think that Tichawana Ndou had broken his word. After all, he was a crook, so why would he keep his promise?
He heard a quiet hum outside the door, but dared not open it to see who was driving the vehicle. The less he could tell about them the better. When his son was returned to him, they would flee to South Africa. He would rather face the crocodile-infested waters of the Limpopo than King Gogo wa de Patswa again. He would rather face the lions in the Transfrontier Park as he walked through Mozambique and into Kwa Zulu Natal, where he had family.
He heard a thud and then a car door slam. The vehicle drove off.
He opened the door and ran outside to see if his son was home.
There was a sack at the fence of his property.
He approached with caution. ‘Thomas? Is that you? Can you hear me?’
Only silence greeted him.
He reached the sack. It was still. The smell was putrid and even in the dim light of the street he could see that the bag was soaked with something. It was bound together at the top with wire.
‘Thomas, talk to me,’ Francis said as he felt through the bag, to see if his son was inside the dirty sack, or if they had tricked him and given him a sack with a snake inside.
It felt human, but it was cold, not how his son should feel at all.
He struggled to open the thick wire; it was hard to bend back, but he got it undone. He pulled the top open.
‘Thomas!’ he screamed into the night air. ‘My Thomas is dead!’ he yelled in sorrow and pain as his heart broke into two.
His son had been dead for a while. Someone had hacked him into pieces. There were arms and legs and a torso in the sack. Francis clutched the decapitated head to his chest.
His neighbours came out with torches to see what was going on. Soon blue lights flickered over him. He couldn’t let go of Thomas’s head.
He had done what they asked, yet King Gogo wa de Patswa had still killed his son.
* * *
Tichawana Ndou was out of the office, having left instructions for his secretary to hold his calls, when the phone rang.
‘This is Detective Sargent Kudzanai Mathobeni. I need to speak with Mr Ndou.’
‘Mr Ndou is out of the office right now,’ Hillary said. ‘Is there something I can help you with, Mr Mathobeni?’
‘No, it is imperative that I speak with him right now.’
‘He is not here. I am dealing with everything while he is out. What can I help you with?’ she said again, trying hard to make her voice sound as commanding as she could.
There was silence on the other end.
Hillary let out a quick breath, hard into the receiver, to make sure that she sounded fed up. ‘Fine. When Mr Ndou finds out that you kept something important from him, and you would not allow me to help you on a simple matter—’
‘Francis Kanobvurunga,’ Detective Sargent Kudzanai Mathobeni said, ‘he has created a complicated problem. He has landed up here in the police station, with the body of his son in a sack. I was lucky enough to be on duty, so I took his statement. It has been recommended that he gets admitted to the mental ward in the hospital as I have told everyone that he is penga upstairs. He is saying all sorts of things about your boss and what they did to his son.’
‘What do you expect me to do, Mr Mathobeni? You want me to come fetch him; is that what you are asking?’
‘Yes. I can get him out of the police station, but I need you to take him from here. Get him to
Mr Ndou so that he can silence him. He is going to blow everything if he continues to carry on like this; someone might begin to listen to his ravings.’
Hillary took a deep breath. Tichawana Ndou was visiting an old friend to borrow helicopters to raid Bishu Village for its children. This man at the police station was going to die if she did nothing. They had killed his son. More children could die.
She had to stop this madness. Surely with what she had now, she could get Chief Bongani and Joss Brennan to listen to her? If she took Francis with her they would surely listen? They knew him.
Trying to sound calm, she asked, ‘What time are you taking him outside for the transfer?’
She took notes on her pad and hung up the phone, sitting quite still in her chair.
She could not believe that she had just decided to take action to save a man’s life and potentially save the lives of not only the children who were about to be taken, but perhaps all those Tichawana Ndou kept in his camps.
Joss Brennan had better be a kickass commando or everything she had worked for would be in vain.
She would be found in the bottom of a mine shaft in Inyati.
* * *
Hillary could not stop her hands from shaking as she drove to the police station in the company bakkie that the foreman had signed out for her. She already had her bag packed and in the back, and her files were all there too, neatly stacked on the backseat of the double-cab ute. She was transporting her revenge.
Detective Sargent Kudzanai Mathobeni was waiting outside with Francis Kanobvurunga in handcuffs. She pulled up next to him, and he opened the front door and pushed Francis inside.
‘Buckle him in,’ she instructed.
He did and tossed her the key. ‘This problem is all yours now.’ Mathobeni turned and walked away.
Hillary looked at Francis. His skin had taken on a pallor. The man was broken. He shook as if he was withdrawing from ice or ecstasy like she had seen the drug addicts in Hillbrow do when she had been on holiday in South Africa.