Ingrid responded first, and for her, the most impressive accomplishments of mankind had to be its artistic endeavours: its works of art, its works of literature – and its enormous catalogue of music. Nothing, she contended, came near these fruits of its combined genius, and nothing ever would. Well, of course, this wasn’t a unanimous opinion – as her husband soon made clear. Tim owned a Volkswagen dealership back in South Africa, which, just for a moment, made Brian believe that he was going to put forward the Volkswagen Golf as man’s greatest achievement. But no, it wasn’t this, or even the way that mankind has devised a way of making more money out of the financing of a vehicle purchase than out of its sale. It was something on a larger scale and a little less controversial. It was man’s achievements in the arena of science. How, he argued, could you look at the advances in genetics, quantum mechanics (not workshop mechanics) and astrophysics, without concluding that where man really excelled was in his ability to “do science” – and to do it bloody well?
Uhmm… two good contributions, and maybe difficult to top. But nevertheless, Helen had a go, and her suggestion was “human society”. OK, she conceded, the arts and the sciences were all very impressive, and both had enriched the wellbeing of humans beyond imagination. But, to be blunt, they were largely the product not of mankind per se but of a tiny minority of its exceptional members. Most people, she argued, weren’t Rembrandts, Bernsteins or Einsteins. Indeed, most people would probably find it difficult even to spell Rembrandt, Bernstein or Einstein. They were carved out of rather baser rock and, as a consequence, their abilities were limited in every sphere of human endeavour. However, despite their paucity of talents, they had contributed in full measure to the creation and maintenance of human societies, and it was only through the existence of these stable communities of man that their more gifted members had been able to produce their great works of art and their advances in science. So there you had it. In Helen’s view, the greatest achievement of mankind – and not just of its elite – was the conception, development and preservation of societies. Oh, and some human societies were possible greater achievements than others.
Well, it was Sandra’s turn now, and she had a novel contribution and one that could well have come from Brian – in that it was just a tiny bit jaundiced. Because she proposed that mankind’s greatest accomplishment to date was its survival. Her argument was that the human species was so dysfunctional – and so prone to waging wars, destroying its environment and generally buggering things up – that it was amazing that it still existed and, for the moment, that it was thriving so well. Forget the arts and science and society, and consider instead the staying power of humans, their unsurpassed ability to “hold it all together” and not to disappear into a vortex of their own destructive and foolish behaviour. Although she did admit to the fact that this paramount achievement of the human species might not be sustainable indefinitely, and could well fail if it didn’t soon change its ways.
Ouch! And it was she who had instructed Brian to be uplifting. So… in an attempt to comply with this instruction – and to redeem the situation at the dining table – Brian presented his own suggestion for the greatest achievement of man, and this was his facility to make cheese…
Just consider, he declared, the variety of cheeses that man has created – out of such an ordinary substance as milk – and how different they all are and how absolutely splendid they all are. Whether it’s a Stilton or a Brie or an understated Manchego – or any one of a thousand other types – cheese is the ultimate testament to man’s ingenuity. For not only is it a function of science, practised as a vernacular occupation in settled societies, but it is also an art form. And yes, if Brian had to choose between a Damien Hurst original and half a pound of mature Cheddar, it would be the Cheddar every time. Oh, and cheese has probably played a significant part in mankind’s survival, not least because it’s really quite difficult to wage war when you’re making or eating this wonderful food.
Brian wasn’t quite sure whether Helen or Ingrid looked the more bewildered by his proposal. (Tim and Sandra simply looked amused.) But what he was sure of was that he had met his wife’s requirement to be uplifting – whilst not necessarily remaining rational or convincing. In fact, he was probably the only person at the table who agreed with his cheese argument or thought it in any way a valid contender for the “greatest achievement” title. But what did it matter? After all, he knew he was right, and the others might well come around to his way of thinking as soon as the cheese board arrived. It was a very good one here at Vumbura Plains, and it would be very persuasive.
Although, there again, Brian thought, maybe he should have argued instead for wine. Now there was a real achievement and a half; all those different grape varieties, all those luscious tastes and subtle colours – and very often wine was a great deal more uplifting than a tasting of cheese…
24.
Wine, however, leaves a deeper mark than cheese usually does, and this may have been the reason for the fuzziness that accompanied Brian’s wakening on this new delta day. Nevertheless, such was the anticipation of yet another bite of paradise that soon the fuzziness had burnt away like an early morning mist and Brian was ready for anything. He was definitely ready for a boating trip. So too was Sandra and, directly after breakfast, so too were Pro and ST.
These two chaps were the guides who had been assigned to take Brian and his wife on their aqueous adventure, ST to drive them to the boat station, and Pro to drive the boat when they got there. This was a long way away, and much closer to Little Vumbura than it was to Vumbura Plains. Indeed, when they arrived there, both Brian and Sandra recognised it immediately as the place they’d used to get to Little Vumbura when they’d stayed at that lodge in the past. Little Vumbura stands on an island and is surrounded by an extensive area of watery delta, and it was on this spread of both open and reed-filled water that they were now about to embark in a small just open and not reed-filled boat.
Not that it wouldn’t have been very easy to fill it with reeds, or with papyrus for that matter. Because very often their course through the water-world around them took them through narrow channels where the reeds and papyrus pressed in and made forward navigation very difficult. So much so that much reversing and revving of the outboard was required to free it of weed in readiness for another push forward. And in these situations, in particular, the vegetation was there for the picking, and for the boat-filling if required. However, Pro ignored this available bounty, but for a couple of stems of papyrus, one of which he stripped of its outer covering – to enable him to eat its tasteless centre – and the other one of which he robbed of its extravagant top to wear as a hat. Both demonstrations of the many uses of papyrus were probably, thought Brian, meant to act as a distraction and as a compensation for there being very little of anything around.
It was true. There were a few water-birds about, but not that many. And this trip was little more than a slow water-borne meander through what was one of the permanent wetlands of the delta, just as Brian and Sandra had known it would be. Yes, it was no more and no less than they had expected: a relaxing excursion through another facet of delta beauty (and over unimaginably clear water) and a welcome reminder of their earlier sojourns at “Little Vum”.
Pro finally “got” this, but he still felt the need to provide further distractions, which eventually took the form of a discussion about Premier League football back in England, at which point Brian was obliged to search for a distraction for Pro. And having failed in this task and having noticed that the sun’s intensity was increasing at an exponential rate (and he didn’t have a papyrus hat on his head), he readily agreed with Pro’s suggestion that they call it a day – or at least a morning – and return to the lodge.
So soon, all four boaters were bouncing back to Vumbura Plains in ST’s Land Rover, and Pro was still attempting to distract his guests. He pointed out every animal he saw and, where possible, passed a comment on them as well. Such as on the three
newly-born wildebeest he spotted, which he claimed were made out of all the parts that were not used in making other animals, and that this unconventional assembly process would become even more apparent as these young ’uns grew up into adults. Brian understood what he meant, but for him, wildebeest were amongst the most handsome animals there were, even if something of an acquired taste (albeit not as bush meat, of course).
Anyway, an arrival back at the lodge was followed rapidly by a brunch with lager, and the information that whilst two activities were offered every day here in Vumbura Plains, the lodge was so attractive as a place to reside that many of its guests made do with just one a day (normally a morning drive) and that they then chilled out around the lodge or, more usually, back at their chalets until it was time for dinner. So Brian and Sandra felt far less guilty than they might otherwise have done – in choosing (again) just such a plan for their day. Yes, for both of them, it was finish brunch, hike back to their chalet, settle down with another lager, and then, as soon as possible, act like a sponge, which is to say, act like a creature that can soak up anything around it, and, in this instance, the luxury of its accommodation and the splendour of the surroundings. Albeit, unlike a real sponge, other (non-lodge-provided) activities might also intervene…
And so it came to pass, and eventually it came to an end and it was feeding time again. Or, more accurately, time again for a pre-feeding drink at the bar.
Raymond and Gertrude had left earlier in the day. So Brian and Sandra found themselves with Helen, Tim and Ingrid again – and with Wayne, the lodge chef. Helen kicked off the conversation with an account of her afternoon drive – with Ban (as she had not capitulated to the attractions of her chalet). Her account was of a confrontation between a wildebeest and a pack of wild dogs, who were apparently intent on some of those leftover parts of other animals. It appeared that they very nearly got some. But then the wildebeest retreated into a lagoon, which was just deep enough to keep the dogs at bay. And whilst they spent a great deal of time “snapping at its heels”, the wildebeest didn’t panic and just stayed there ’til dark, at which point the dogs remembered that their ASBOs involved a curfew and withdrew. The wildebeest had survived and the dogs went away hungry, and Brian was more pleased than ever that he had remained in his chalet. Because had he and Sandra gone out for an afternoon drive they would have been with Helen and, no matter how exciting the wildebeest assault might have been, he was not at all sure that he could have coped with a gang of one of his favourite animals trying to tear apart one of his other favourite animals, even if they’d failed. Wildlife was one thing; wild-death – in close-up Technicolor – was quite something else. (A fact that was reinforced in spades when Wayne mentioned the ability of a single wild dog to bring down a full-grown kudu – by biting its balls off so that it bled to death… )
The chef then had the sense to move on from genital eradication to Land Rovers, which proved a less appetite-suppressing topic as well as a very interesting one. Because it appeared that Wilderness Safaris, in all its lodges, used Land Rovers in preference to Toyota Land Cruisers, for the simple reason that the Land Cruisers were not up to the job! They were OK, apparently – as Brian could readily confirm – but they just couldn’t cope with really deep sand, especially when this sand was flooded – as it was here and at other Wilderness lodges during the wet season. They had tried them, Wayne explained, but they had all failed.
This was very heart-warming news, as it would be for any Brit who has seen the pre-eminence of British manufacturing shrivel in the face of foreign competition over his long lifetime. And for this pre-eminence to have been retained by such an old stalwart as the Land Rover Defender, when matched against the might of Toyota, was especially sweet. Although, inevitably, there was a sting in Wayne’s tale. And this was that the Land Rover company, to the annoyance of all its safarioperator customers like Wilderness, had not been able to resist the temptation to introduce sophisticated technology into its products. It hadn’t been content to continue with plain old tried and tested technology – and technology that works. So, for example, they had supplied Wilderness with a batch of safari Land Rovers with their new “computer-driven” improvements, and had housed the computer under the driving seat. This meant that, although these vehicles were also fitted with snorkels to allow them to drive through deep water, the computer (which did not have the facility to shift itself from under the seat to, say, the top of the windscreen when deep water was encountered) was comprehensively drowned and thereby disabled. And so too were the Land Rovers themselves – as their computers were critical to their functioning as machines that could move.
The guys back in Solihull had eventually accepted the error of their ways and had then made the necessary vital modifications. But apparently they were still keen to upgrade the technology of the Defenders – when it didn’t need upgrading. Indeed, when it was far more important to retain the simplicity of their product and a simplicity that has seen it outpace even a Land Cruiser in performance and made it the first choice for really challenging environments. Wilderness had even had to join the chorus of Land Rover customers (including overseas military forces) who have petitioned that company to retain its Defender model at all! Incredible really. Only in Britain would you find a concerted effort going on to exterminate a world-beating product that enjoys such an established reputation around the globe. For it really wasn’t just Wilderness who held its Land Rovers in such high esteem. Back at Nunda Lodge on the Kavango River, there had been that sign, hadn’t there? The sign that advised all its readers that they were in Land Rover country, and that at night they could lie and listen to the Toyotas rusting. And then there was Richard at Muchenje; as a Land Rover technician (amongst other things) he wouldn’t have a Land Cruiser near him (and he was certainly less than impressed at the sight of Brian and Sandra turning up in theirs). Oh… and Brian had driven a Land Rover in England once – over an off-road trail – and its ability on all sorts of surfaces and all sorts of gradients had scared the shit out of him. So, he thought, why isn’t all this good news about a good British product being shouted from the rooftops? As long, of course, as it wasn’t within earshot of that Land Cruiser waiting for them back in Maun. (Or, for that matter, a particular Touareg waiting for them back at Heathrow.)
Tim, the Volkswagen dealer, didn’t, to his credit, attempt to assert the supremacy of this aforementioned machine in the 4x4 debate, either at the bar, or when he was safely out of earshot of Wayne at the dining table. Instead he commented on the shifting population of safari lodges, and how the population of this one was now reduced to just five. He was right. The discussion group at the bar was now the full complement of guests, and these five were now seated around the sole dining table for this evening – with Ban and with one of the lodge’s managers, a petite and finely featured woman by the name of Lorato. And with everybody in earshot of everyone else, Brian’s challenge this evening was not only to sustain an uplifting tone to the conversation, but also (although he was unaware of it) not to plant in the minds of the two locals, or reinforce in the minds of his fellow guests, the suspicion that he might not be rational. Which meant Sandra suggesting to him that he steered clear of any subjects involving cheese. And whilst he didn’t quite understand the reasoning behind her request, he abided by it and instead talked about the points of a compass…
He’d had this thought, he explained, about the unwieldy nature of all those compass points that weren’t just plain north, south, east and west, all those points like south-east, north-west, and even worse, north by north-west and east by south-east and so on and so on. And wouldn’t it be better, he proposed, if there was a bit of obvious abbreviation introduced into this cumbersome terminology?
At this stage of the proceedings, Sandra made a valiant but doomed attempt to turn the conversation towards lodge life for staff and how much they loved it or loathed it. But Brian was not to be dissuaded from his course, no matter along which newly defined compass point it w
as heading. And so it was time to present his new terminology.
‘OK,’ he began. ‘Well, I reckon it’s pretty straightforward. And you start by dealing with the principal intermediate points, the north-wests and the south-easts – which become, going clockwise around the compass, neast, seast, sest and nest… ’
Here, he stopped and looked around the table for reactions. Strangely, there didn’t seem to be any outside incomprehension and blank stares. But he wasn’t to be deterred. He would carry on – to the bitter end.
‘So,’ he continued, ‘with those in place, you can then sort out the… well, the intermediate, intermediate points as it were, which come out as neaster, easter… no, eneaster… errh, seaster… no, eseaster and then errh… s… ss… ’
‘So, Lorato,’ interjected Sandra, ‘How long have you been here? And, more importantly, how are you enjoying it?’
Brian felt a little deflated, although he could understand his wife’s intervention – which ran its full course and precluded any further discussion of compass points or cheese. But in a way, he thought, it was all her fault anyway, because it was her instruction to stick to the uplifting that was at the root of the problem. If she’d given him free rein and allowed him to be as depressing, disheartening and discouraging as normal – by talking to his normal portfolio of subjects such as over-population, failing political systems and failing everything – he wouldn’t now be concerned about how his fellow diners thought of him, and whether they thought he was sane. For yes, it had now registered that relabeling the compass – ineptly – was hardly an outward sign of complete normality within. And what, for that matter, had they thought about his cheese proposition of the previous evening?
Strip Pan Wrinkle Page 21