by PJ Skinner
She cheered herself up by giving the horrible pink bear that Pedro had gifted her to the little boys begging for food outside the canteen. They were so excited that it almost made it worth the ordeal she went through to obtain it. The smaller boy hugged it close, his eyes bright with tears. Sam felt her own eyes welling up and had to look away.
Jim left the next day, looking forward to his holiday and taking another large haul of diamonds from the pothole, which had produced epic numbers of high value stones, to the bank in Mondongo. Sam felt bereft. Jim had been good to her and generous with his experience. No one else had thawed yet.
She rang her father using the satellite phone in the Kardo office but got cut off five times in the space of three minutes. Most of the precious thirty-minute allocation was spent repeating what had already been said but not deciphered.
In the canteen at lunchtime, she complained about the crap satellite telephone.
To her surprise Bob muttered, ‘There’s a landline in the office.'
‘A landline? Can I make international calls on it?’
The other senior managers glared at him but he ploughed on.
‘The landline can only make national calls but it can receive international calls. There's a roster in the evenings. You can book half an hour of phone time by writing in the roster book.’
‘But how do your family know what time slot you've booked?’
‘That’s where the satellite phone comes in. You phone your family on the sat phone, tell them when they should call you and hope they remember.’
‘Thank you, Bob.’
He looked sheepish and stared down at his plate.
Sam wondered if he was still trying to mend some bridges with her.
After lunch, Sam dug out the landline roster and used the satellite telephone to book a slot with her mother, which she wrote in the book. Why had no one told her about it before? Murphy and his spy story had a lot to answer for.
Several days later, the handover was turning out far better than she had imagined. Ewen had changed tack as soon as Jim had left and now involved Sam in his decision making. It occurred to Sam that maybe Ewen had been waiting for Jim to leave before letting her take on some of the work. He did not seem to realise that Sam was a pariah, who was not in the loop on any of this information, or maybe he did not care. He just wanted to share the responsibilities of running the mine with someone who was competent and he had read her résumé.
He discussed production with her in great detail and asked her opinion on how to spread the bounty over the next couple of months to increase people’s bonus payments. It was great to be treated as one of the team.
There were glares from the others but no one wanted to include Ewen in their clique. She did not know why but he also seemed to be excluded.
To her relief, Jorge was the same as ever and even gave her a big hug. He never mentioned the bet or the consequences. Sam was glad she did not have to discuss the near debacle at the party. No one had asked her about her weekend, so she did not have to invent any lies.
She asked Jorge why Ewen was not accepted by the group.
‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘It’s quite strange really. Did you know that he was one of the hostages taken by MARFO during the civil war in 1992? They were force-marched a thousand miles before being handed over to the Red Cross. They weren't fed on the trip and suffered unbelievable hardships. I heard rumours that Ewen had killed a snake on the trip and hidden it up his sleeve for three days before he could eat it in secret, by which time it was putrid.’
‘That’s incredible. I can’t believe that after that ordeal they still give him the cold shoulder.’
‘I’m not sure what it’s about. Ewen’s a bit odd. He doesn’t care if people don’t like him.’
Later Sam asked Ewen why he came back to Tamazia.
He squirmed in his seat before answering. ‘I know it sounds weird but Tamazia is addictive. I love working here.’
‘Aren’t you afraid that the MARFO rebels might attack?’
‘Oh, I doubt it. We have very good security here. There are easier places to attack.’
She went out with Ewen and Jorge all morning checking out the river diversions and showing Ewen all the works that were going on. She sat in the back of the car, while Jorge prattled on in the front, telling stories and trying to make Ewen laugh. That was quite a challenge. Sometimes she thought she could sense hidden depths, but they stayed concealed
After lunch, she went to Jim’s house, where Ewen was staying, to get Jim’s radio, which Ewen had decided that he did not need after all. Ewen came to the door in his socks with the radio and the charger and handed her the car key.
‘Off ye go then wi’ Ramos,’ he said.
She must have beamed as she got a wee smile back. She went with Jorge in Jim’s death-trap Nissan, which still did not drive in a straight line but danced down the gravel roads with its bum swinging wildly from side to side, like a dancer in the Rio Carnival. It was fun and liberating to be given the chance. She decided that she could get to like Ewen. He was as hands-off as Jim was hands-on. Chalk and cheese. She realised that she had prejudged Ewen, influenced by Jim’s jaundiced view, just as many people appeared to have prejudged her when she arrived.
She tried to get Fred, the geologist, to come with them to see the river diversions. He refused on the grounds that he was ‘busy.’ Fred’s geology room was often locked while Jim was away. He had taken up with one of the local village girls who offered herself for sale. Sam was sure she was only about fourteen, but like most of the men who thought that they were ‘helping’ by paying underage girls for sex, Fred could not see anything wrong with it.
Fred did not get to bed until dawn most nights, so Sam guessed that he often sneaked off for a sleep at lunchtime. He would always pitch up late in the afternoon, sighing and flopping about like a beached catfish and talking about being down at the terrace which was being mined at the time.
Sam was sure he was lying. She would have spotted him at some stage if he had been there. He was very large and not easy to miss. It was becoming ever more obvious that he was economical with the truth at the best of times. Sam could see that he was not pleased that Ewen had put her in charge of production. Maybe he had expected a temporary promotion? She could not help that.
She really tried to get him to work with her. She showed a lot of interest in his work and made an effort to get involved. Despite what Black had said in Johannesburg, it was the expatriate males who did not want to work with her, not the locals. It had always been her problem. She was not surprised, but she was disappointed that things had changed so little.
At lunchtime, Sam heard the news that MARFO had shot down a military transport plane to the north of Kardo, killing twenty-four people. She hoped they could tell the difference between a military plane and a TransTamazia flight, as she was due to fly a lot in the coming weeks. Perhaps she should have bought a parachute before she left the UK.
While Jim was away, Sam had to learn the radio codes so that she could contact all sections of the mine. She was ‘Office Two’ or production manager, until Jim got back. All day, she heard people talking on the radio with the ubiquitous ‘over’ at the end of every sentence. She did a lot of coordinating and went with Ewen to the diamond recovery plant to check on the progress of the Tunde material.
‘How do they decide which materials to process?’ she asked Ewen.
‘Well, all three mines, Kardo, Gali and Tunde, share the processing facilities, so there is intense competition for picking time at the end of the month. All the mines are trying to fill their quotas of diamonds and win bonuses for good production.’
‘Doesn’t that cause disputes?’
‘Oh, yes. There is a tendency to process any old material in the vain hope of reaching the bonus figures before cut-off day. This causes resentment between the mines who have good material to process and those that are scrambling around in the dirt and tying up the recovery plant wi
th low grade material.’
Black was due to arrive from Mondongo and there was a charged atmosphere in camp.
‘You know that Black is due now’ asked Jorge.
‘Yes, I’m a bit nervous,’ she confessed.
‘He likes to drink,’ said Jorge. ‘And he likes his management to drink with him. ‘We don’t get to lie in the next morning like he does, more’s the pity. His visits can be a bit of an ordeal.’
At midnight, the doorbell rang. Drugged by sleep, Sam threw on some clothes and went to the door. Jim’s car was parked up close to the outside door. In the moonlight, she could see Marybelle, Black’s girlfriend, on the steps to her house, swaying like a reed in the wind. Out on the road, Sam saw the figures of Black and Ewen talking to the occupants of another jeep. Black looked like a giant bumblebee with a yellow and black striped rugby shirt on his rotund body, balanced on tottering legs clad in shorts. No one spoke to Sam at all. She stood silently at the door in her pyjamas.
Finally, she said, ‘Hello everyone Did you come in on the flight this evening?
‘Yes, we did, Last minute,’ said Black.
‘Is this important? Can I do anything for you?'
‘No, we’re all just drunk. We thought you might like a drink too.’
‘No thanks. Night night.’
Sam went back to bed before they could protest. She fought for sleep for far too long before drifting off.
She had to get up before dawn to go to the diamond sorting plant, so she was not pleased about her midnight visitors. Since Jim was on leave and the chief metallurgist was away due to illness, she had her first go at taking the diamonds out of their envelopes in the recovery cabinet using the leatherette gloves. It was like picking up a needle with an excavator. She knew how astronauts felt about working in space with their huge gloves.
The diamond recovery area was dark and dank and full of mosquitoes. It was difficult to work in those conditions and she could sense people enjoying her discomfort. She was sweating like the proverbial pig when she finished. Sweat dripped off her nose onto the cabinet and her shirt stuck to her back. After what seemed like hours, the torture was over and the diamonds were put in acid to clean. She cadged a lift to the office where the production meeting had just started.
***
Black was on his way out of Mike’s house when he was waylaid by Brian Lynch. Brian did not notice his employer’s foul humour and forced him into conversation.
‘Boss, it’s good to see you. Did you have a good flight?’
‘Is that a joke? Of course I didn’t. What do you want Brian? I’m in a hurry.’
‘Boss, I’m worried about that new woman you hired. Did you know that she is running production while Jim is away? I think that it’s a really bad idea.’
‘Who asked you? You should mind your own business. I don’t tell you how to run security.’
‘Now Boss, don’t take it the wrong way. I’m just trying to give you some good advice. I know that woman is trouble. I don’t know what she’s doing in a mining camp.’
‘For your information, I’m the one who hired Sam and I’m the one who makes decisions about what she does or doesn’t do. You can stuff your advice where the sun never shines and I’ll thank you to keep your opinion to yourself from now on.’
***
After the customary glare from her cohorts, she sat down at the table. She could see that Fred was in a bad way. He had an exaggerated tic in his right eye when he had had no sleep, and he still looked drunk. Another five a.m. finish with Dina, his local squeeze. Fred weighed about three times as much as Dina and Sam could not help lurid pictures of their congress from intruding into her thoughts.
Sam stayed with Ewen in the office until Black appeared. His filthy mood was demonstrated by the way he launched himself at her without preamble.
‘Who told you that you could get involved in production? I told Jim that you weren't to touch it. Didn’t he fucking tell you? Whose fault is this?'
Sam winced but did not reply.
There was a nasty edge in his voice. ‘I wasn’t expecting insubordination from the new bitch on the block. It’s a fucking liberty.’
Sam hung her head and looked apologetic enough to take the sting out of Black’s attack. She was not stupid. Black was throwing his weight around like she had been warned in London. It was like watching the alpha male ape thumping his chest. She knew it was all show.
Once the harangue was over, they piled into the car with Black smoking cigarette after cigarette. The ash blew back in her eyes and combined with the red dust to make her contact lenses feel like sandpaper.
They went from site to site as Black asked Ewen questions about the work. Ewen was driving, and it became obvious that he was not familiar with the terrain. And why should he be, he’s only here when Jim goes on leave.
Black started firing questions at her. To her relief, she had adequate answers. Also, she was called a lot on the radio to coordinate various things. It was obvious that people thought that she was in charge of some aspects of the production.
Whilst Ewen was wandered about on some gravel, Black turned to Sam. ‘I didn’t want you to do production. You’ve no training as a production manager. You haven’t got the experience. What if something goes wrong?’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that I think that the best way for me to get a feel for the way projects work is by trying to run production so that I can use the knowledge when I’m looking for new projects. After all, I’m working with an experienced staff and I have two project managers within half an hour’s drive if anything goes wrong.’
‘You aren't supposed to think, Sam. I do the thinking around here and I don’t want you to run production. End of story.’
She had been well-warned about Black’s autocratic management style and she did not want to start off on his wrong side.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry I jumped the gun.’
On that one trip, Black changed his mind about the mine plan five times. He was a true ideas man’, leaping from theme to theme like a bee in a bunch of fuchsias. He left out stages in his plans, assuming people followed his logic, when often they just looked miserable and kept saying yes all the time.
Sam was determined not to get confused, so asked him to give her a list of the changes he wanted carried out with a priority rating.
Black smiled at her innocence.
‘That would be a complete a waste of my time, as the plans will change again often before I leave.’
He was a man with a lot of self-knowledge.
***
They got back to the office in the early afternoon. Sam was starving. Jean brought in a few small, dry bread rolls with some unidentifiable cold, dry, salty meat in them. Sam ate two but could not drum up enough saliva for a third.
Black asked Jean for a cup of tea. Jean looked as if she was having a panic attack but composed herself and replied. ‘But there’s no tea left. It ran out last week. Can I make you a nice cup of coffee?’ Black’s face indicated that he would rather drink cyanide. Sam knew that the dreaded Mondongo customs were to blame. They had been holding out for a bribe to let the Gemsite food container from South Africa out of the shipping port. None of the projects had any tea left, and the food was running out fast.
The meat soup at lunch was full of fat maggots, which the other management staff members did not seem to notice. Sam knew grains of rice did not have one black end. She had not got thin by mistake. She got a real thrill from watching them all gobble the soup. When they finished she asked innocently, ‘nice soup lads?’
‘Not that it’s any of your business but as it so happens it was very nice,’ replied Brian.
‘Oh, so you like maggots in your soup, do you? I'm not very keen on them myself.’
Brian’s face was a picture.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You should look closer at the grains of rice in the soup. Some of them are alive.’
; She smiled smugly and left them inspecting the soup with expressions of disgust.
Revenge could take many different forms.
Most of the senior staff survived on alcohol and coffee and had not really noticed the lack of tea at the site. This was a massive failing where Black was concerned. When he was not drinking alcohol, he survived on a diet of tea and cigarettes and was quite indifferent to food, eating anything that he found in front of him. He had to have tea. It was not an option to tell him that there would be no tea until next week.
Black was working himself into a tantrum. He went bright red in the face and the veins on his neck stuck out like cables under his mottled skin. ‘What do you mean ‘there’s no tea’? How can there be no fucking tea? I don’t fucking believe it. What the fuck is Pedro up to? Where is the fucking tea?’
Jean stammered, ‘I don’t know. I’m sorry. It’s not my fault there’s no tea. We’ve been waiting for weeks.’
‘Weeks? Weeks? How can you survive without tea for weeks? I’ll fire that fucking Pedro! I need tea now.’
Jean cowered and looked defeated. Black fumed.
Then Sam innocently mentioned that she had some tea in her room.
‘So, go and get it,’ muttered Black, clutching the edge of the table with both hands.
‘That tea has to last me for my whole contract,’ said Sam, allowing a note of doubt to creep into her voice.
‘I must have some.’
‘I don’t know if I have enough. Maybe you could have some coffee.’
‘Don’t fuck with me, Sam. Give me tea now. Now!’
‘We could negotiate if you like.’
‘You little bitch. Who the fuck do you think you are?’
Sam took a gamble. ‘I’m the little bitch with the tea,’ she said and winked.
Black looked astonished at this display of cheek. Then he guffawed.
‘Well, I wasn’t expecting push back from you,’ he laughed. ‘Get me some damn tea, or I’ll fire you right now.'
Jean had been standing in the office with her mouth open for so long that it had gone dry. She rushed off to boil a kettle. As she later told Bob in the bar, ‘I’ve never seen the like. Talking back to Black! She’s like a tea bag herself: you have to put her in hot water to find out how strong she is.’