by Colin Dann
For a long time he stayed near Kifaru’s body. He had never felt so dreadfully alone. As far as he knew no other rhinos inhabited this savannah country. He had no relatives and no friends. Then he remembered Moja. The lion cub had been a friend of sorts and Pembe had enjoyed having him around. But where was he now? Pembe hadn’t seen him for a while. The cub was back with his own kind and that was how it should be. Before that, however, Moja had been on his own for a long time. Pembe was struck by the similarity of the situation that had so suddenly been thrust upon him. Moja knew what loneliness felt like. How comforting it would be to be with him now.
Pembe lay down by Kifaru’s side. His grief was too strong at that moment to allow him to do anything but mourn her. But it was in his mind to find Moja when he should feel able to leave his mother.
Simon Obagwe the game warden, his family and his staff knew all about the fly infestation. Not only the heat but the insects too had prevented Annie from taking her trip to see Moja and the pride. Humans weren’t immune from the nuisance, but at least they had the means to repel the worst attacks. It was difficult to do much about the suffering of the animals. Vegetation could be sprayed from the air but it was an expensive operation. In any case, the whole of the game park seemed to be affected and that was too large an area to deal with properly. It would take weeks. Moreover, the animals themselves, of course, couldn’t be sprayed. Simon was hard pressed to know what to do for the best.
He and his staff made frequent journeys into the game park, each time to a different area, in an effort to keep tabs on the problem and to see whether there were any signs of its diminishing. On one of these trips they found the dead rhino. Simon was very concerned for Pembe, who by that time had moved on. It was particularly important that he should thrive because a young female rhinoceros was being cared for in the refuge centre as she was prepared for eventual release into the wild. She had been transported from another game park specifically as a potential mate for Pembe. Over time Simon wanted to build up a viable breeding stock of black rhino in his area, but the programme would have to be shelved until the insect scourge had been overcome.
Pembe knew nothing of all this. He was trying to manage on his own. He was not at risk from predators; he was approaching full size and there were currently no hunters with the strength needed to tackle a rhinoceros. But he wasn’t used to solitude and each day he hoped to catch a glimpse of Moja. His wanderings after the best browse, a pattern taught him by his mother, eventually took Pembe to a bush area not far from fig tree rock. Then it was Moja who spotted him, rather than the other way round.
Moja had been true to his word. He had remained with his father for several days. During that time they had eaten a spring hare and a small snake between them. Moja tried constantly to get Battlescars to move from his shelter but his father refused to budge.
‘You mustn’t stay with me,’ he told Moja. ‘There’s no need. Go back to the pride. Tell them I’ll come when my wounds have healed properly.’
‘You’ll starve,’ Moja warned him. ‘I can’t hunt proper game and you won’t. How long can you last?’
Battlescars only emerged to drink from the marshy area nearby and always at night. He expected to find prey there, but there never seemed to be any. The honey badgers were becoming increasingly nervous. They begged Moja to persuade Battlescars to go.
‘I’m trying, I’m trying,’ he told them. ‘He’s deaf to all appeals. I think hunger will drive him out in the long run.’
‘Unless he eats us first,’ Clicker wailed. ‘We can’t rest, hearing those horrible rumblings from his great belly day after day.’
Moja hid his amusement, though he understood their worries. He decided at least to try to catch a worthwhile meal and it was when he was heading for a wooded area that he spotted Pembe. He was astonished to see the young rhino on his own and ran up to him at once. Pembe was overjoyed to see him.
‘This is so good, you being here,’ the rhino said with delight. ‘I’ve wanted to see you for ages.’
‘But where’s your mother? Where’s Kifaru?’ Moja asked.
‘Gone,’ Pembe murmured, and he told the cub all about the tragedy.
Moja was shocked. He could scarcely grasp what he was hearing. That such a big, powerful animal could be driven to her death by insects was almost incredible. ‘What an awful story,’ he muttered. Then, unnecessarily, ‘So you’re on your own?’
‘Not any more,’ Pembe answered brightly. ‘Oh, I’m so glad to have a friend to talk to.’
Moja felt a little awkward. Pembe was his friend and he was pleased to see him, but his own place was with lions. He couldn’t provide the rhino with company permanently. He had already made a commitment to his father and now another animal wanted to rely on him as well. At that moment Moja wished fervently he was back with his pride, just one cub among many.
As though he had read Moja’s thoughts, Pembe said, ‘Why are you alone, anyway?’
Moja explained. Then Pembe said, ‘It’s all right. You don’t have to stay with me all the time. We’re all facing the same tiny enemy. It’s like a kind of tyranny. I suppose flies have enemies too that will come some time to release us.’
They were prophetic words. There was an enemy waiting in the wings, but it would prove to be an enemy not only to the flies.
—13—
‘The Start of Something’
Extreme heat, dust, flies. The animals were at the end of their tether. The migratory herds had departed, leaving the residents of the plains to bear the brunt of the gruelling conditions. By now Huru and Kimya were enjoying their old relationship again: sisters united by struggle and suffering. With Battlescars absent, so was rivalry. Somehow they kept the cubs fed, and they continued to groom them as best they could. Huru hardly had time to spare a thought for Moja.
Early one morning the lionesses woke and smelt a strange scent. They got to their feet, sniffing the air as they did so.
‘What is it?’ Kimya asked. The smell was sharp and sour.
Huru was puzzled too, yet she was reminded of something in her past. The memory was faint. Gradually the smell became more reminiscent. It was similar to one she had occasionally traced at the zoo in England when the wind had carried cooking smells to the lionesses’ enclosure from the small restaurant there. She didn’t know what it meant now.
‘Nothing we need to bother about,’ she said.
The cubs were curious as well. Although they weren’t aware of it, the smell made them salivate. The lionesses noticed.
‘It’s meat,’ said Kimya. ‘That’s what it is.’
‘What kind of meat?’ Huru queried. It didn’t resemble anything they had been used to.
‘Good meat,’ said Mbili. ‘It smells good.’
The cubs’ hunger was a constant worry to the sisters in their weakened state. Huru thought the smell was worth investigating. Perhaps there was carrion to be had if the hateful hyenas hadn’t beaten them to it. Anyway, they couldn’t afford to pass up this kind of chance. She looked at her sister. Kimya was drooling. Huru realised that her own mouth was running with water. Without another word she led the cubs away, Kimya in the rear this time.
It was a simple matter to follow their noses. The cubs tumbled over each other in their eagerness, the irksome flies forgotten for once. The pride began to see patches of grass that had been burnt by the fierce heat of the sun. In some places the ground smoked slightly. Tatu found a small snake, half in and half out of its burrow, which had been blackened by fire. It had been overtaken by flames before it could escape. There had been other deaths too. Slow-moving or otherwise vulnerable animals such as the lame or the very old had failed to survive the sporadic conflagrations. The lions saw a group of hyenas making a meal off one victim.
The smell of burnt meat was strong, but the fires seemed to have been selective in their choice of area. The burnt patches were confined to the places where shorter grasses had grown, and by no means all of these were affected. Some w
ere small areas, some extensive. In a few spots flames still flickered, but the strong wind that had at first driven them had died away and all the small fires were burning themselves out. But there was a warning here for every inhabitant of the game park. Fire could strike again at any time. The conditions were perfect. Abnormally high temperatures, dried-out vegetation; each day succeeding the one before without the slightest hint of any change to cooler or damper weather.
‘Be careful where you tread,’ Huru cautioned the cubs. ‘Follow me exactly.’ She threaded her way between the affected parts, feeling the ground anxiously with her paws and avoiding black or ashy tracts. The heat from the latter was severe. Eventually she found some meat. A full-grown gnu that had been unable to keep up with its departing herd had got caught in some thick thorn scrub which had been surrounded by various small fires. Huru found a way in to the prey and the trapped animal’s misery was soon ended. With Kimya’s help the lioness dragged the carcass clear and the pride settled down to eat.
When appetites were satisfied the sisters had time to reflect on what they had seen around them. The cubs were sleepy and lay down near their mothers to be licked clean. Huru and Kimya looked at the scorched landscape.
‘This is the start of something, isn’t it?’ Kimya suggested.
‘I think so,’ Huru replied. ‘All the signs are that we’re in for a very dangerous time. We should keep the cubs around us always.’
‘Yes. They mustn’t wander.’
Huru was thinking of Moja and Battlescars. The sisters had no idea what had happened since the confrontation with the other lions. Now the threat of fire was an additional worry. Her thoughts were interrupted.
‘Did you notice, sister,’ Kimya was saying, ‘there were no flies around this animal?’ She meant the gnu.
‘No, it didn’t occur to me. But, now you mention it, I can see there are fewer flies round here altogether. They must be affected by fire the same as the rest of us.’
‘Perhaps fire does bring some benefits, then.’
‘I wish it would bring Moja and old Battlescars back to us,’ said Huru.
There had been outbreaks of fire near fig tree rock too. Moja and his father had watched them from their makeshift den. Pembe had moved closer to the rock as the fires became more prevalent. And the honey badgers wondered yet again whether to move their quarters in the face of another potential danger.
‘Difficult to see where else we could go that would be any better,’ said Ratel.
‘Somewhere without lions, at least,’ Clicker suggested. ‘That big male was sniffing around our entrance hole again last night. If he could get in here, he would. The goshawk was bad enough but we did know it couldn’t eat us.’
‘I know, I know,’ Ratel agreed. ‘The lion cub told me he was urging his father to move. Now there’s the threat of burning, I think he may be successful. Why would he want to stay?’
Moja found some fire victims in the bush and told Battlescars about them. ‘I ate what I needed,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you fill your own stomach while there’s a chance?’
‘You know I don’t leave this place except when it’s dark,’ Moja was reminded.
‘But you’re all but healed now,’ the cub pointed out. ‘And there were scarcely any flies where I went.’
‘Is that so?’ Battlescars pricked up his ears. ‘I yearn for a proper feed, I must say.’
‘Well, don’t delay. There must be many hungry mouths like yours. The meat won’t lie about for long, that’s for sure.’
Battlescars got to his feet. His stomach rumbled in anticipation. ‘I’ll go with you,’ he decided. ‘Take me to it.’
Moja regretted the need to make another journey. He was tired. But he wanted his father to move away from the rocky shelter permanently, and he thought the reduction in insect numbers would be a good incentive. When they reached the place where Moja had fed there was little left of the remains. Battlescars grumbled but realised it was inevitable.
‘The woodland pride,’ he surmised in a mutter to himself, ‘if they’ve still got the strength to eat.’ He took what scraps there were and then wandered about in a search for more. Thinking about rivals led him to thoughts of his own pride. For a long time the lionesses and the other cubs had hardly been in his mind. He had been preoccupied with his own discomfort. Now at last the veil of self-absorption was lifting.
‘Moja!’ he called to his faithful son. ‘You were right! I can live with this. We should bring the others back here; give them some relief too. We can make it our base. The woodland pride won’t interfere with us.’ He found some meat that had been overlooked and munched it contentedly.
Moja said, ‘What about the fires? There may be more.’
Battlescars glanced around at the blackened areas. ‘No fires now,’ he grunted. ‘Besides, it may be worse elsewhere.’ He finished his meal. ‘Let’s drink,’ he said. ‘And then we’ll find our pride.’
Moja sighed with relief. He longed to get away from this place and he was confident that Huru and Kimya would have no desire to return to fig tree rock.
In the dregs of the marsh area Moja and Battlescars came across Pembe, trying to cool himself. There was little water here but there was enough to drink. Battlescars paid little attention to the young rhino but Moja wanted to tell him his news.
‘My father wants to collect the rest of the pride and bring them back here,’ he explained. Battlescars was far enough from them for Moja to add, ‘But I don’t think he’s strong enough. So we may not see each other for a while.’
Pembe snorted as he finished his drink. ‘I wish you well wherever you are,’ he said. ‘I’ll probably remain hereabouts. At least I know I can satisfy my thirst.’
‘Yes. That’s good,’ Moja said. ‘I don’t think we’ve seen the last of the fires. It’s as dry as dust everywhere. You can almost sense there’s more to come.’
‘Well, whether there is or not,’ said Pembe, ‘there’s nothing we can do about it.’ He bent his horned head to Moja’s level. ‘Whatever happens, take care,’ he added feelingly.
‘I will,’ Moja answered. ‘You must too.’
Battlescars was ready to move. The two young animals parted and the lions continued their journey. After a while Moja looked back. Pembe was watching him wistfully. He seemed so alone. Moja tried to shake the idea away. He had to think of his family first.
As they trudged over the sun-baked ground with its sparse, brittle vegetation Battlescars and Moja found evidence of fire everywhere. Smoke, ash and embers could be seen all around in scorched pockets of landscape. Far from there being a prospect of a respite from the merciless sun, it seemed to the lions to be hotter than ever. Battlescars’s head sank lower and lower as they plodded into the endless glare. There was no breeze of any kind. The stillness all around was uncanny. There was hardly a sound from beast or bird. It was as though the entire game park, together with its occupants, was holding its breath while it waited helplessly for Nature to decide its fate. Moja kept behind his father, glad of the morsel of protection provided by Battlescars’s body. The old male’s pace became slower and slower. Just as he had decided to slump down in the first patch of shade they came to he saw Huru padding towards him. She had seen him and their cub from a distance.
Battlescars stood still as Huru greeted him, butting him and rubbing her head against his, her body brushing against his flanks. He responded gladly and then it was Moja’s turn. The cub was delighted to see his mother and closed his eyes in sheer pleasure as she licked him lovingly.
‘We hoped you would come,’ she purred. ‘We should be together at a time like this.’
‘Yes,’ Battlescars replied. ‘That’s why we’re here.’
Minutes later the pride was complete again. They examined one another, sad to see the signs of their recent ordeal on each other. They told their stories and together they found a piece of shade where they lay down in a cluster. Moja was surrounded by his brother and sister and cousins. They made mor
e of him than the big male.
‘Later, when it’s cooled off, I’ll take you back,’ Battlescars told them. ‘Darkness is kinder to us all.’
‘Back? Back to what?’ the cubs asked their mothers.
It was Moja who answered them. ‘He means back to the rocks.’
‘I’m not moving anywhere,’ Kimya said distinctly. ‘And neither are my cubs.’
‘No,’ Huru agreed, but with some reluctance. ‘There’s no need, Battlescars.’
‘There is need,’ he insisted. ‘I prefer it and it’s much more comfortable. There are far fewer flies and—’
‘There are fewer here too,’ Kimya interrupted. She was angry. ‘You didn’t worry about us when you were skulking in the rocks and we managed without you. We can do so again.’
There was silence for a long moment. The cubs wondered how the old male would react. But Battlescars no longer enjoyed the supreme dominance over other lions, male and female, he once had done. He knew he couldn’t enforce his ideas. Before he could answer Huru tried to smooth his way.
‘We really didn’t gain anything by making the trek there before, did we?’ she suggested. ‘We’re all too tired to make it again, especially since we’d gain nothing by it. We should keep together now. That means staying here on the plains.’