Sitting with N!ou and the others, Alex’s future suddenly crystallised. One moment he felt aimless and uncertain, the next moment he knew exactly what he wanted. Perhaps it was the clan’s own sense of who they were and where they belonged. Alex had no idea. He was suddenly filled with a purpose. He would take control of his life, aim for his goal, and this time nothing would stop him.
‘You know the stone I had when you found me as a baby?’
N!ou nodded.
‘We have talked many times around the fire about such stones. You have heard me say why I want them.’
N!ou nodded again.
‘Where can I find these stones?’
N!ou, like !Ka, could not understand Alex’s preoccupation with the glittering stones he sought. Wealth had no meaning to him. Nor could he comprehend the importance of such wealth to Botswana. He barely perceived that Botswana was a country in which he lived. To N!ou, whose world was the vast Kalahari Desert, who only ventured into towns when the curio scheme required it, who had never seen a television set or even heard a radio and who believed the slim silver birds which flew overhead were his gods sending messages to each other, these stones could not be eaten, used as tools or worn. Therefore, they were of no use.
‘!Ka has told you before,’ N!ou hedged.
‘My father indeed led me to some. He did not expect me to find them, did he?’ For some time now, Alex believed that !Ka had deliberately misled him as to the true whereabouts of the diamonds.
N!ou thought for a long time and Alex waited patiently. Finally, ‘!Ka was like your father. When he saved your life you and he were bound. That is our way. It was his task to see no harm came to you, that is what the Great God wanted when he brought you together with !Ka.’
‘Yes,’ Alex said soberly. ‘I know that. !Ka never understood why I searched for the stones. Even when I tried to explain, he worried they would bring bad things to me. He hid from me where I would find them.’
‘He had his reasons. I think you understand these reasons, !ebili. Always remember, he had love in his heart for you.’ N!ou thought again and then seemed to reach a decision. ‘Go to the place where we camped during the first bara when you lived with us. Look for the three tall trees where we bury our ostrich eggs in the sand. Turn your face to where the sun rises in the morning and walk until the sun is above you and your shadow flows around you. You will find these stones in this place.’
Alex returned to Gaborone with determination in his heart. ‘Six months,’ he told himself. ‘The diamonds are there, I can feel it.’
De Beers Botswana had been searching for diamonds in Bechuanaland since 1955. Operating under the harshest of climatic conditions, with field staff constantly suffering food shortages as a result of terrain more suited to horses and donkeys than supply vehicles, De Beers firmly believed, as indeed Cecil Rhodes had believed, that the central districts of the Kalahari were rich in minerals, especially copper and diamonds.
Twelve years later De Beers announced the discovery of Orapa, a diamond pipe considered rich enough to merit further development. Other pipes had been found before but none with the same immediate potential, although they were impressive enough to keep De Beers looking.
In that Orapa was announced one year after independence, speculation regarding the true discovery date was rife. Certainly, if Orapa had been found before independence, Britain may well have stalled the independence process. Had De Beers struck a deal with the proposed government? Having spent an estimated five million rand on prospecting, it was whispered that De Beers believed they stood a better chance of recovering their money quickly from the fledgling Botswana government, rather than the more experienced British.
Alex knew all this. He also knew that production at Orapa had already commenced, that Orapa was now the second largest known pipe in the world, that De Beers were also prospecting in other parts of the country, including the Jwaneng area, and that this might be his last chance to find diamonds in the Kalahari.
He mentioned it to Paul that night.
‘I can arrange an interview if you like. I know one of their chaps. I play tennis with him. Pretentious little sod until you get to know him but he knows his business.’
‘I suppose I have to get permission from somebody,’ Alex said glumly. ‘Bloody bureaucracy.’
Paul laughed at him. ‘What do you expect? Botswana’s changing. The old days of camping where you like and helping yourself are over. The maverick era is finished. The Department of Geological Survey has to approve all prospecting applications. You’ll need a licence too. De Beers might help you there, they sometimes issue sub-licences.’
‘Okay,’ Alex grumbled. ‘Set up a meeting will you?’
‘An interview, chum. A meeting is between two equal players. You’ll have your cap in your hand.’
They were sitting, as they did most evenings, by the pool, feet dangling in the water. Alex enjoyed his brother’s company, they had a lot in common. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you,’ Alex said. ‘Who took on the curio scheme? I understand it’s doing well.’
‘It was,’ Paul stated flatly. ‘Until three months ago. I’m not sure you want to know who’s running it now.’
There was something in Paul’s voice which alerted Alex. ‘You’re joking!’
‘I’m not. Your old pal, Kel. Timon Setgoma was handling it himself but he carries an enormous workload and he just couldn’t keep doing it. Kel pulled strings with his relatives and the job went to him. I didn’t mention it to you because there’s nothing you can do about it. Timon and Kel are as thick as thieves.’
‘Why would Kel take it on? He has no interest in the San. What makes him . . .’
‘I think you know,’ Paul said quietly. ‘He wants to ruin it.’
‘Jesus!’ Alex said, disgusted. ‘When is he ever going to let go of that grudge?’
‘He blames you for his face.’
‘I know he does.’ Alex slid off the side of the pool and into the water. ‘I’m not responsible for his face.’ He ducked under the water, resurfaced and pulled himself onto the side of the pool again, dripping. ‘Kel only has himself to blame for that.’
‘Yeah!’ Paul copied Alex and then sat next to him, equally wet. ‘You’d think he’d learn but I’ve heard he’s been in a couple more fights. He’s not popular, hardly anyone likes him, he’s a vindictive little bastard, and he blames all his misfortune on his face. He even blames you for the fact that he sent his family nearly broke trying to find diamonds. He thinks you deliberately misled him as to their whereabouts.’
Alex suddenly realised just how determined Kel was. ‘The guy won’t rest until he ruins me.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Well he’s not going to ruin that project. Somehow I have to get him off it before he does serious harm.’ He turned to Paul. ‘I’ve got to find diamonds. I’ve got to get some money together. Then maybe I can find a way to buy him off the project. Timon is a reasonable enough man. Surely he’ll soon see through Kel.’
‘One would think so, but Kel is pissing in his pocket something fierce at the moment. He’s one of the few friends Kel has and I suspect that’s only because Kel is buying the friendship. It’s the only kind he can get.’
‘Poor bastard,’ Alex said, sympathy stirring. ‘What a way to live.’
‘Save your sympathy for someone more deserving,’ Paul advised. ‘He could look like Robert Redford and no-one would like him any better than they do now. Girls give him a big miss. There was a rumour going around last year that he raped a girl. I heard his family bought off hers but the rumour persisted and the girl’s family left Botswana. There’s a screw loose somewhere.’
‘There always has been,’ Alex thought to himself. ‘Whatever’s wrong with Kel has nothing to do with his face.’ Kel worried him. Not for himself, he believed Kel was too cowardly for a confrontation. But the man was obsessed with hurting Alex and, it seemed, not above doing it through Alex’s friends. To ruin the Bushman project was the act of a person who could
think of nothing else but revenge. Alex had to find a way to get him off the project.
The next day, with nothing much to do, he went down to The Village. It looked pretty much as it always had except the old District Commissioner’s house had been pulled down to make way for an ugly block of flats. The house he shared with Chrissy hadn’t changed. But in the garden, two jacaranda trees she’d planted near the gate were now so huge their branches met to form an arch. ‘Chrissy would have liked to see that,’ he mused without rancour.
He went to the Notwane Club for lunch. And there she was. Madison.
‘When did you get home?’ He felt absurdly pleased to see her.
She had been playing tennis. The little white dress did its best, but failed to hide her superb figure. ‘Couple of months after you. I missed Africa too much to stay away any longer.’
He bought her a beer. ‘What have you been up to?’
‘I’ve been helping Mummy. She had to run the farm on her own.’
‘Are you going back to Ghanzi?’
She shook her head and he watched the silky black hair swing. ‘The farm’s been sold. My mother is moving to Gabs. I start back with Game Department next month. How about you?’
He told her about his plan. ‘I want my own farm. This is the only way I can think of getting enough money.’
‘Diamonds,’ she mused. ‘Are you sure you’ll find them?’
He nodded. ‘I am this time. Marv and I found a few but we were looking in the wrong place. They’re there, Madison. This time I can feel it.’
She grinned. ‘I’ve heard of gold fever. Diamonds must have the same effect.’
He sipped his beer. ‘The San have told me where to look before but I don’t think !Ka actually wanted me to find them. He worried that I would become restless.’ He could see she didn’t understand. ‘Restless men destroy themselves,’ he explained. ‘At least, that is what !Ka believed.’
‘What changed his mind?’
‘He’s dead,’ Alex said, stating the fact simply the way !Ka might have done. ‘Another man has given me new directions. He probably believes the same as !Ka but he doesn’t love me the way !Ka did.’
She touched his arm sympathetically. ‘I’m sorry.’
He smiled at her. ‘I’m sorry too,’ he admitted. ‘But !Ka would not want me to grieve. He taught me so many things and I came to love and respect him.’ He smiled again. ‘I’m trying to accept his death the San way.’
‘What way is that?’
‘The inevitability of death is no surprise. What is the point of sorrow over a departed one when that person has lived a full life? Instead of grief, isn’t it better to wish them a happy passage into the spirit world?’
She looked into his eyes. She saw only calm peace. ‘Looks like you’re succeeding,’ she commented.
‘I have to work at it.’
‘When do you leave for the desert?’
‘Couple of days. I’ve got to see De Beers. I need a prospecting licence.’
‘Alex?’
He saw the request written on her face. ‘No.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean, “no”?’
‘No, you can’t come with me.’
‘Why not?’
Stubborn. Alex knew stubborn when he saw it. ‘I’ve got hardly any money. I’ll be living rough. It’s summer. The desert is no place for a woman.’ Shit! I should never have said that.
‘The kitchen sink syndrome!’ she said sarcastically. ‘Somehow I expected better than that from you.’
He held up his hands. ‘Sorry, Madison. It’s just that it’s hell in the desert in summer and it’s bloody hard work. Besides . . .’ he grinned at her, ‘I can’t see you eating snakes.’
‘I love snake. Spit roasted with a little red wine marinade they’re delicious.’
He laughed with her. Then, ‘There is absolutely no way you can come with me. That’s final.’
The next morning Alex went to see Paul’s contact at De Beers. ‘Be humble,’ Paul advised. ‘Tim’s okay but he likes to be on top.’
‘Fuck him,’ Alex growled, irritated at the need to grovel, and suffering slightly from last night’s reunion with Madison. She was the first woman he ever met who could drink him under the table. But he was sufficiently humble for the man to make an offer.
‘We would be prepared to finance an expedition,’ Tim Boland told him. ‘But not south of Jwaneng. If you insist on looking there you’re on your own.’
Alex didn’t like him. From his meticulously combed hair, to his immaculate shirt with broad blue and white stripes and exaggeratedly large white collar, to the sharp creases in his grey trousers, he represented bureaucracy, authority and expatriate self importance, all things he didn’t like about the new Botswana.
‘Your guys are looking in the wrong place. Diamonds are there but further south.’
‘What makes you so sure?’ Brown eyes raked over Alex’s faded khaki shirt and trousers. A professionally detached smile slid from the side of Boland’s mouth and drained away in his cheek.
Alex knew he was about to sound gauche. ‘The San told me.’
The man shrugged, dismissing the Bushmen’s store of knowledge. ‘Our geologists tell us differently.’
‘They’re wrong.’ The arrogance annoyed him. !Ka’s experience was worth a zillion geologists. Then he smiled inwardly at his own arrogance. ‘Well, I believe they’re wrong anyway,’ he amended. Be humble.
‘Please yourself.’ Papers were shuffled. ‘If you insist on looking south of Jwaneng I can probably arrange for some equipment and a licence, that’s all.’
Alex tried to thank him but he shook his head. ‘Forget it. I’m not giving you much.’
‘Why are you helping me at all?’ Compared to the qualified men Tim Boland had at his disposal, Alex must have appeared to be nothing more than a rank amateur.
‘Why?’ Manicured fingernails tapped the glass-topped desk and suddenly a real smile escaped, giving him a boyish look. ‘I’ll tell you why. You know nothing about diamonds, you know nothing about kimberlite pipes, you know nothing about prospecting. You’ve probably never heard of ultrabasic rocks, I’ll lay odds you don’t know the chemical composition of diamonds and you probably think adamantine lustre is what Eve got after sex.’ He took a breath and carried on. ‘In short, you’re enthusiastically ignorant, blissfully untrained, confidently inexperienced and persistently stubborn. Frankly, you’re just the kind of lucky bastard who will find diamonds.’ Tim Boland laughed suddenly. ‘Don’t mind me. I’ve been in this business a long time. I’ve seen brilliant men work all their lives and find nothing. Then along comes a happy-go-lucky sod like you and stumbles over another Kohinoor. You’ll get as much equipment as I can spare. If you’re determined to kill yourself out there you might as well have some comfort.’
He rose. The interview was over. ‘Just one thing,’ he went on as they walked towards his office door, ‘if, by any stroke of luck you find anything, don’t even think of not letting us know. We’ll find out. Then we’ll find you. Then we’ll shit on you from such a dizzy height we’ll flatten you. Anything you find will belong jointly to De Beers and the Botswana government. You’d do well to bear that in mind. You find it, we’ll pay you well. That’s the deal.’
‘I don’t want to steal anything, I never did. I just want to make enough to kick start a farm. Then I’m out of your hair.’
‘I hope you find something, son, I really do. I’ve heard about you. You certainly don’t give up.’ Boland favoured him with another real smile. ‘I guess you’d also like to prove yourself right and the professionals wrong?’
Alex laughed. ‘Probably. I believe the Bushmen. I think they’re smarter than you.’
‘So do I, son,’ Tim Boland said quietly. ‘But for Christ’s sake, don’t tell the boffins I said so.’
Suddenly Alex liked him. He liked him even more when, two days later, he picked up the licence and equipment. Tim Boland had been as good as his wor
d. The items provided by De Beers consisted of basic tools and a fully equipped tented camp kit. He had three big tents, two canvas washstands, tables, chairs, a kerosene refrigerator, canvas camp stretchers, gas lights, cooking utensils, mugs and plastic plates. ‘!Ka would disown me,’ Alex thought. It was luxury.
In addition to camping equipment, Boland had thrown in axes, shovels, sieves, mosquito coils, gas cylinders and water containers. He also supplied over 200 professional sample bags, tagged and ready to use, plus a couple of strange metal pots called soil splitters onto which the bags fitted. Soil samples taken were tipped into the pot and a special zigzag-shaped bar directed fifty per cent of the sample into the bag and the rest back onto the ground. Each bag held no more than twelve pounds of soil. Compared to the hessian sacks he and Marv used to heft around, this made the task of sample handling so much easier.
By the time he had packed the Land Rover with camping equipment there was barely enough room for Alex to squeeze in behind the steering wheel. Paul, who helped him, stood back. ‘There’s one glaring omission,’ he said wryly, looking at the overloaded vehicle.
‘What?’ Alex literally punched the last tent into the back and slammed the door shut.
‘Food.’
‘Don’t need food.’ Alex looked at his watch. It would take about six hours to reach the place N!ou told him to look.
‘That makes you reasonably unique,’ Paul said mildly.
A vehicle pulled up outside the front gate. They heard a door slam and then light footsteps. ‘Looks like you could use some extra space,’ she grinned, leaning over the gate.
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