Storms Over Africa

by Beverley Harper

  ‘Actually, along this section of river, the land over there is Zimbabwe. That’s the Shashi river. Across there is known as the Tuli Circle.’

  ‘I’d have thought the river would have made a natural border.’

  ‘So it does, mainly. But when the Pioneer Column came up from South Africa they expected trouble from the Matabele. The British Government which controlled Bechuanaland decided to grant Rhodes a small amount of land on the other side of the river for defence purposes. Fort Tuli was on the river. The land granted was to be a circle, the extremity of which was the distance a maxim gun could fire. Hence, the Tuli Circle.’

  ‘Is Fort Tuli still standing?’

  ‘Only a police camp and an airstrip. I understand that the Rotary Club at Gwanda wanted to turn the area into a children’s adventure camp but, before they could start, the war got in the way.’

  ‘Are you bitter about the war?’

  ‘Yes, although in retrospect, it was a war we couldn’t win and yes, I’m sorry the blacks are running the country. But it’s still a great country and a good life and I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.’

  ‘You really don’t like blacks, do you?’

  ‘Not true.’ He glanced at her briefly before going on. ‘I would lay my life on the line for men like Samson. I respect him and I like him.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t invite him into your house as a guest.’

  ‘He wouldn’t come if I did.’

  ‘That’s not the point.’

  ‘Okay, Steve, I’m a racist.’

  ‘Don’t get cross. I’m trying to understand.’

  ‘Sorry. It’s a bit hard to understand for someone new to Africa. You have to realise that, until comparatively recently, we were the masters. The blacks had no education, no skills and no ambitions. We employed them as servants and manual workers. Perhaps it was wrong of us not to see that they wanted what we had, but we were used to giving orders and we were used to thinking of ourselves as being superior. I know you’re referring to Penny and Joseph and it disturbs you that I disapprove simply because he’s black but I can’t help it. I’ve been in Africa too long to be able to think of Joseph Tshuma as an equal. To me, he should be working in the garden or living in his village. He should be in government or teaching in a school, I don’t care what. In other words minding his own business, not mine. His entire psyche is so different from Penny’s that, quite apart from my own personal objections, marriage between them would raise too many obstacles.’

  Steve looked sceptical. ‘Can’t you just judge him as a person? In Australia, colour is irrelevant.’

  ‘Nice and simple, hey?’ he agreed. ‘There’s more to it than that here. Joseph can have as many wives as he likes. He expects to make them pregnant as often as he can. He demands their complete obedience. His word is law. If he doesn’t like the way they brew his beer, if they don’t get on with his mother, if they can’t have children, if they backchat him, he can discard them. A woman is a chattel. She is not entitled to opinions or needs. Penny wouldn’t last five minutes.’

  ‘She seems to be in love with him.’

  ‘Penny’s not in love. She’s playing with fire. She’s thumbing her nose at society and she’s having the time of her life doing it. She’s always been like that and her relationship with Tshuma is the ultimate. Sure, she thinks she’s in love with him, but I know my daughter and I know that if her involvement with a black man weren’t so damned shocking to most of us she’d never have got involved.’

  ‘Couldn’t you be wrong?’ Steve asked. ‘Maybe Joseph is different, maybe he’s prepared to meet her halfway.’

  ‘I’m not wrong, darling. There’s more to Joseph Tshuma than meets the eye. For starters he’s political dynamite. He’s trying to undermine our government and destabilise the country. He’s a dangerous man and, for some reason, he’s playing his own game with my daughter. Black and white issues aside, I simply don’t like him.’ He hesitated, not sure how much to tell her. Then, ‘I interrogated him during the war. He was my enemy. He has no business in my life now.’

  ‘Can’t you forgive and forget?’

  ‘Do Australians really forgive the Japanese?’

  ‘We’re trying to.’

  ‘But do they?’

  She changed the subject. ‘How do you know all this stuff about him trying to undermine the government?’

  ‘Greg works for South African Intelligence. He’s not just on safari with us, he’s working.’

  ‘Why are you telling me this?’

  ‘Because I want to share my life with you,’ he said simply, pulling her close and kissing her. ‘I don’t want secrets between us. If Greg hadn’t seen this safari as a golden opportunity to observe the man, I can assure you that Joseph Tshuma would not have been with us.’

  ‘Are you involved in Greg’s work?’

  ‘Not directly, but if the need arises I will be.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘I love this country, Steve. No bastard is going to plunge it back into war if I can help it.’

  ‘I guess I can understand that,’ she said slowly. ‘What I’m having the problem with is the fact that it was their country for starters.’

  ‘Steve,’ he said, not unkindly, ‘Australia once belonged to the Aboriginals.’

  ‘I know. This just seems different.’

  ‘That’s convenient,’ he said dryly.

  She gave him a sudden grin. ‘Shut your face.’

  They had stopped to watch some fish eagles swooping down to the river. Others in trees were calling to each other in their high and eerie way. The heat was so intense the land across the river waved and danced in hazy slow motion. ‘Better head back before we cook,’ Richard said finally, starting the engine and turning the vehicle towards their camp, but he had only driven a few hundred metres before he stopped again, staring ahead.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Vultures,’ he said, pointing. ‘See them?’

  It would have been impossible not to. There were so many vultures sitting in a mopane tree it looked as though the tree would collapse under their weight. Others flew in circles above. Many more were on the ground, their grotesque bodies jumping awkwardly as they jostled for position around a large grey shape. Richard drove up to them. Those on the ground hopped or flew out of the way but they did not go far.

  ‘Oh, Richard.’ She was shocked. On the ground, nearly dead but not quite, lay a half-grown elephant. Around one leg, the wire cutting cruelly through to the bone, was a snare. As the elephant had thrashed around trying to free himself of the ghastly pain in his leg, his body had toppled over the river bank and he lay, stretched full out, hanging far enough over the bank so that he could not manoeuvre back. The vultures were waiting for him to die.

  The pain must have been indescribable. The elephant heard their approach and lifted his great head a fraction but the effort was too much. He lay there, trembling, one eye blinking rapidly.

  Angrily, Richard took his rifle from the Land Rover.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Her heart was pounding with sorrow and anger.

  ‘Put him out of his misery.’ With no further preamble, he took aim and fired a shot into the animal’s brain. Then he reloaded and fired a second shot.

  ‘Who would do such a terrible thing?’ Steve burst out, looking at the gaping, festering wound on the elephant’s leg. Judging by its appearance, the animal must have been caught by the snare some days ago.

  ‘Poachers,’ Richard said grimly. And then it hit him. He was allowing Samson to lay snares. He never thought about the suffering, the unspeakable agony they caused. He justified it because it had always been the African way. Steve had implored him to become aware of the problem, educate the people, and he had passed it off as impossible. But this! This was what he allowed. ‘God,’ he said aloud, ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘What?’ She had blown her nose and wiped her eyes and was trying to stop trembling.

  ‘Nothing.’ He knew she must never learn of his own inv
olvement with poaching if he wanted to keep her. He had shot animals in the past, that was true. But he was as guilty now as he was then. Guiltier. Nothing should be allowed to die like this. Especially the innocent.

  The vultures knew the animal was dead. Before Richard had driven two metres away from the awful scene they had literally covered its body, fighting for space between themselves.

  ‘Just a moment,’ Steve said. ‘I must get some pictures.’

  She jumped out of the car and walked back towards the gory scene. Tears ran freely down her face and dripped off her chin and she shot pictures from every angle. Watching her, Richard felt afraid. ‘I’ll find a way to stop it,’ he thought. ‘I will pay to send Samson’s sons to school if necessary.’

  Back at their camp, spared the sight of the senseless death of the young bull, Greg took a more pragmatic approach. ‘I know you did the right thing, old Didd, but you’ve blown your elephant licence.’

  ‘Too bad,’ he replied. ‘I had to help him.’

  Steve, still very much affected by the sight of the tormented elephant, sat in a camp chair and scribbled at a furious pace, in her notebook. Richard wandered over to where Philamon was cutting the buffalo meat into strips and David, who had kept his head in his novel while Steve described the plight of the elephant, looked up and said, ‘No animal should suffer like that.’

  She looked up surprised. ‘It was terrible,’ she agreed. ‘Whoever is responsible is a monster.’

  ‘Yes,’ David said softly, glancing across to where his father was speaking to Philamon. ‘You’d be surprised at who it might be. Someone right under our noses perhaps? Maybe even Dad.’ He smirked at her.

  She thought he was still trying to hurt her. ‘That’s absurd, David, and you know it.’

  ‘Do I?’ David put his book on the ground. ‘What makes you think you know everything about him? He’s been poaching for years.’

  She stared at him. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said finally.

  David nodded. ‘My father, Samson, Philamon, they’re all in it up to their necks. Oh, Dad doesn’t actually go out there and dirty his hands, but he’s very quick to pocket the profits.’

  ‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘No. He couldn’t.’ But she was remembering Richard’s words when they found the elephant. ‘God, I had no idea.’

  David was watching her face and saw her doubt. ‘Makes you think, doesn’t it?’ he said spitefully. ‘What else has he lied about, I wonder?’ He stood up. ‘You don’t know the half of it with my father,’ he went on. ‘He’s really not a very nice man. You’d do well to go back to Australia and forget you ever met him.’ Richard was returning and David walked quickly away, leaving Steve in turmoil.

  ‘Biltong’s coming along nicely.’ He sat down beside her.

  David must be lying.

  ‘Coming with us this afternoon? David wants an impala.’

  ‘N-no,’ she stammered, needing to get away and think things through. ‘I want to get some sunset shots along the river.’

  ‘Mind the flat dogs,’ he said absently, his thoughts busy with the best area to find impala.

  ‘Richard?’

  ‘Mmmmmm.’

  ‘Have you ever poached?’

  He saw she was suffering and, instead of lying and denying it outright, some insight made him say, ‘Not like that.’

  ‘Then you have poached?’ She was flabbergasted.

  ‘Steve,’ he said gently, leaning towards her, ‘this is Africa. Everyone has poached at one time or another. During the war we poached all the time, it was the only way we could stay alive.’

  ‘But you never laid a snare like that?’

  ‘No.’ He was glad he could answer honestly.

  ‘Thank God,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t bear it if I thought you’d caused such suffering.’

  But I have. I have. I never thought about it before. Dear God, what have I done? ‘Try to put the elephant out of your mind, darling. I know this sounds like a feeble explanation but Africa is a harsh environment. Death is always ugly here.’ He took her hand.

  ‘I know that. I accept it.’ She sat holding his hand tightly. ‘I have watched lions hunting in Hwange and it was thrilling and sad and I didn’t know whose side I was on because I wanted the lions to eat but I didn’t want the zebra to die. And the buffalo this morning. I know I’ll enjoy the steaks tonight. But this kind of death, Richard, it’s so unnecessary. Man should know better. After all, we’re the ones with brains, we’re supposed to be reasonable. Nothing in this world should die like that.’

  ‘Steve, elephants have been dying like that for centuries, ever since man discovered what a fine material ivory was. Poaching is decreasing and it will continue to decrease but the very last person to stop will be the rural African who depends on the ivory for his livelihood. You have to understand, darling, that in Africa death is something these people live with on a grand scale. Their children die in their thousands of measles alone. These people have to contend with hunger and disease all the time so they’re indifferent to the suffering of animals. If ivory buys them food and medicines it doesn’t matter how the animal dies, only that it does die so they can get the means to support themselves and buy the medicine to heal themselves.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘You have so much to learn about this continent. You can’t possibly judge it by Australian standards.’ As he spoke his resolve strengthened. He would do his bit. He could educate people like Samson. It would not be easy, but it could be done.

  ‘Why do you have ivory tusks next to your fireplace?’ she demanded, listening to him but still hearing David’s words.

  ‘I shot the elephant. I went into his domain, just me and a gun and a gun bearer, and I crept to within 30 metres of him. He saw me coming and he charged. I killed him with my first shot from a distance of 15 metres. I put my life on the line and he put his on the line when he charged. I killed him honestly and I am not ashamed of that.’

  ‘Why did you have to kill him in the first place?’

  ‘Someone had to. There were too many elephants in the area and if hunters like me hadn’t killed a few the government would have undertaken a culling program. It was all legal, I had a licence.’

  She sighed. ‘Everyone keeps telling me it will take time to understand. I’m not sure I’ll ever understand. Watching you I see you love the bush and you love the animals and I can’t equate that with your desire to kill them. It just doesn’t make sense to me.’

  ‘I can’t help you, Steve. You’ll just have to learn for yourself.’

  She smiled slightly. ‘I guess so.’ She caught a glimpse of David who was standing at the river watching them.

  ‘C’mon, let’s have a beer before lunch.’ He pulled her out of his chair and hugged her before letting her go.

  When she looked over to the river, David had turned his back on them.

  FIFTEEN

  In the late afternoon Richard, Greg and David went out to get David’s impala. The lowveld region had an abundance of game of which the southern impala was the most prolific. Getting one of these lovely antelopes was not at all difficult since they were extremely territorial animals and their commitment to their habitat meant they did not move on to better pastures. Their beautiful, smooth, russet red coats and soft white underbellies adorned the floors of many a home in Zimbabwe.

  Steve said she wanted to take pictures along the river. David’s comments haunted her. She did not know whether to believe him or not. She desperately wanted to trust Richard but his anguished cry when they had found the elephant kept coming back. ‘I had no idea.’ Wanting to be on her own, and not thinking about the dangers, she took her camera and walked some two kilometres from camp, along the river, until the turmoil in her mind was put aside in favour of the beauty of her surroundings and she immersed herself in capturing it on film.

  Joseph said he would stay with Penny who was still strangely quiet and bleary-eyed. Richard had tried to get her to join them for lunch but she declined. Her ap
parent loss of appetite was a source of constant worry to him. Naturally slim, she was beginning to look gaunt.

  Samson went with the hunters. Philamon stayed in camp making preparations for the evening meal. Having found signs of a big herd and a good place for David to stalk the animals, Richard and Greg sat in the Land Rover while he went off with Samson. As soon as they were out of earshot, Greg said, ‘You’re a hard man to get alone.’

  ‘Sorry. I’ve wanted to hear what you had to say but I didn’t want to make it obvious.’

  ‘Listen up,’ Greg lit a cigarette. ‘David won’t be long.’

  ‘I hope you’ve got some hard evidence,’ Richard was grim. ‘I’m very worried about Penny. I’ve never seen her like this before. I’m desperate to get her away from that man.’

  ‘You’ve good reason to be worried,’ Greg told him. ‘You’re not going to like what I’ve got to say.’

  Richard, in the act of lighting his own cigarette, looked sharply up at Greg. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I have a good network of contacts in this country as you well know.’ He didn’t wait for Richard to speak. ‘In my business, it pays to know all sorts of people. Some of them—well, let’s just say they’re not exactly our type, dear. Two days before we left to come here I made contact with someone on a completely different matter. As it happens, he knows Penny and Joseph. When he heard I was going on safari with you he opened up. Seems he remembers you from the old days—you did something really silly like save his life once. He apparently feels he owes you.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  Greg tapped his long nose. ‘That doesn’t matter. You know better than to ask.’

  ‘What did he tell you then.’

  ‘I might as well give it to you straight. My contact sells drugs. Joseph Tshuma is a customer. He’s got Penny hooked on cocaine. That’s why she’s behaving strangely.’

  Drugs! God, no! Outrage, pain and shock hit Richard simultaneously. That bastard! ‘I’ll kill him.’ He said it quietly, thinly and with deadly intent.

  Greg knew he meant it. ‘She could have said no.’ He looked across at Richard. His eyes were like flint, a nerve ticking near his left one. Greg tried to soften his words. ‘From what I hear, she’s entirely under the man’s spell. I don’t know how, but Tshuma controls Penny completely. She might have started out trying to get your goat but it’s backfired on her. Tshuma dominates her.’