Drugs to Forget

by Martin Granger

  ‘Check?’

  ‘Yeah, we use social media, safer that way.’ Temba pulled out his mobile phone. ‘Give me a minute to find the address.’

  The chief medical officer was looking with irritation at his watch. Joseph Karasa was meant to have arrived ten minutes ago. Nathalie used the hiatus in the proceedings to introduce her cameraman, Mike Jeffries, to Nurse Sue Jones. She had asked him to the meeting to assess what kit they might need for the locations. Now he was here she was really pleased that he had come from outside the district. No history there. Sue Jones seemed really impressed with the towering presence of Mike and they fell into conversation about landscapes and cinematography. Nathalie was glad to see they were getting along, she needed all the cooperation she could on this trip.

  Joseph Karasa entered the room nonchalantly and ignored the daggers being thrown at him from the chief officer’s eyes. He put his briefcase on the table and took the empty chair.

  ‘I must apologise for being a little late,’ he said softly. ‘An emergency in A&E. I’m afraid the child died.’

  There was an awkward silence around the table. Even the chief medical officer cast his eyes down for a while. Sue Jones broke the atmosphere.

  ‘So sorry,’ she said. ‘I hope you have left someone with the family.’

  ‘No family,’ said Joseph.

  ‘Oh,’ Nurse Jones appeared uncomfortable for a moment before regaining composure.

  ‘Work must go on I suppose. This programme for instance, will save the lives of many children.’

  Nathalie felt the atmosphere in the room and intervened to support Nurse Jones.

  ‘And that’s why we’re here. And again I must thank you for letting us intrude on your outreach programme. I must warn you that filming can be a little intrusive but I’m sure when you see the results you’ll know that it’s been worth it.’

  ‘Intrusive?’ The chief medical officer was back to his normal self.

  Nathalie groaned inwardly, she should have known better. ‘Oh there’s no need to be concerned, we won’t interfere with any of your procedures or anything. It’s just that we sometimes need some time to set up lighting and position our cameras. Occasionally Mike and I will ask people to repeat a few things but this won’t be when any serious care is going on.’

  ‘Good, as long as they are allowed to get on with their jobs. I’m afraid I won’t be coming on the, what do you call it, “shooting”? I’m going to leave you in the safe hands of Nurse Jones. Before you set up your things I would ask you to ask permission first.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Nathalie. ‘Very good shooting depends on full cooperation and agreement between both parties. As you’ve heard Sue, Mike is very experienced and we’ll do our best to keep you in the loop at all times.’

  Nurse Jones smiled at Mike.

  Nathalie was feeling good. She had breathed a sigh of relief when she’d heard the medical officer wasn’t going to be nosing around. Now it seemed as if Mike had Sue Jones eating out of his hand. Things were looking up.

  ‘Now, I understand that Joseph, it’s all right if I call you that isn’t it?’

  Joseph nodded.

  ‘I understand that Joseph will be leading the team and procuring the present vaccines. Is that right?’

  Joseph nodded again.

  ‘Well what would be most helpful for us is for you to outline step by step the procedures you take. Where you go first, what the locations look like, what transport you use. The reason for this is that we need to plan our days so we can get the most footage out of the trip and to be able to tell the full story of the programme. Also Mike here needs to know what lights and power to bring. For instance, I believe some of the places don’t have electricity and we may need a small generator.’

  Nathalie had to lean forward to catch Joseph’s hushed reply.

  ‘We begin at the District Medical Centre. It’s an L-shaped building with a veranda supported by metal poles. I believe the scene you will want to film there is how we take the vaccines from the fridge and place them in the cool box for the outreach jeep.’ Nathalie was just about to ask him about the room but he anticipated her. ‘The fridge is in a very small windowless room that’s lit by fluorescents, but we have electric points if you want to add some more light.’

  This was rare for Nathalie, someone appreciating what they really wanted.

  ‘Go on,’ she encouraged. ‘How long does it take to drive the vaccines to the outposts?’

  ‘About three hours, most of it on rough track. That’s why we need a four-wheel drive. It’s also useful to be a bit of a mechanic; it is known to break down.’

  Nathalie’s filming instincts jumped to the fore.

  ‘That would make a good scene for us. Showing someone repairing the jeep. It would demonstrate how difficult it is to get this stuff to the kids.’ Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the medical officer becoming aggravated. ‘I mean we wouldn’t hold you up much, we could fake the repair. If you are looking for donations this is just the thing we need. “Help buy a jeep for the programme”, that sort of thing.’

  Her natural enthusiasm carried the rest of the meeting. Mike said he had all the information he needed. Sue Jones and Joseph Karasa seemed happy and, best of all, the chief medical officer had given his blessing. The shoot was on and she had paved the way for her covert filming on the second day. As she packed her bag she couldn’t resist sending a quick text to Tom.

  Any progress?

  Tom’s reply came within seconds.

  Working on it. Out this evening, don’t wait up.

  Enigmatic to say the least. She hoped that she hadn’t put him in yet more danger.

  Twenty

  The club was not what Tom was expecting. From the exterior it appeared to be a coffee shop. Blinds down, a ‘Closed’ sign on the door. He texted Temba as instructed and waited outside. A few minutes later a young suited man opened the door and, checking the message on his mobile phone, let him in. It didn’t look like a nightclub. Scattered tables and chairs were pushed back against the wall and along one side was a bar that was obviously used in the daytime to serve coffee and cakes. Someone had attempted to place a few discreet lamps on its surface and lined up a few bottles of spirits, but it still looked forlorn. There were about a dozen men in the room. Holding glasses, talking to each other as if they were at the opening of an art exhibition. He saw Temba in the corner of the room engrossed in conversation with whom he assumed to be, what they call, a ‘white Rhodesian’. He thanked the man who had let him in and indicated that he would make his way to meet Temba.

  ‘Hi,’ greeted Temba. ‘George, this is Tom. Tom, George.’

  Tom shook George’s hand.

  ‘Hear you’ve come from the UK,’ said George. ‘Into the lion’s den.’

  ‘As bad as that,’ joked Tom.

  George shook his head. ‘You’ve no idea. Anyway you’re a brave guy to come to this place. Welcome, have a good time.’

  Tom looked around. It didn’t look like they were having much of a good time to him. More like an after-office drinks party.

  George noted his expression. ‘No worries Tom, it’s early. Things start heating up later on. I’ll leave you with Temba, he’ll fill you in with the form.’ With that he left them to join in another group.

  Temba laughed. ‘He’s right Tom, we start off cool. Have a few people on the street checking things are okay, and later, well what you want. Music, more drinks, a few of us get together. They’re all pretty safe, educated guys here so you needn’t worry on that score.’

  That was one thing Tom noticed as soon he had entered the room. They were all professional types. Solicitors or doctors perhaps. Temba was a pretty high up academic, no doubt these guys travelled in the same circles.

  ‘You look awkward standing there Tom, let me get you a drink.’

  They moved over to the makeshift bar and Tom asked for a vodka and tonic. The barman winked at him. ‘Double, double?’ he asked.

&
nbsp; ‘Why not,’ said Tom feeling he needed some Dutch courage to get through this evening.

  After about an hour it felt like someone had flicked a switch in the club. It had become more crowded and someone had dimmed the lights. Music suddenly burst from some unseen speakers. Abba, really corny. But it worked. A few of the guys, lubricated by the cheap alcohol, started to dance. Others instinctively seemed to break off into pairs, falling into intimate conversations around the edge of the room. Tom sought out Temba. He was feeling a bit heady with all the vodka but, even though he’d rather be having a good time, he had a job to do.

  ‘You’re right, it’s heating up,’ said Tom, trying to stay steady on his feet. ‘Have you thought more of the Moroccan trip? I’m sure you would find it really interesting.’ He gestured around the room. ‘I can’t see there’s any danger of anyone finding out about this stuff. In fact, the more you present yourself to the world as a serious scientist, the less suspicious your authorities might be.’

  Temba took a sip of his whiskey. ‘In what way?’

  ‘Well, I imagine these guys think we are all pretty stereotypical. You know, flowered shirts, bushy moustaches. Eloquent academics in lab coats or formal suits hardly fit their bill. They’ll be looking for guys who are hiding from the spotlight. Putting yourself out there talking soberly about pharmacology is bound to put them off the scent.’

  Temba put his arm around Tom’s shoulder, and put his face close to Tom’s. For a minute Tom thought he was going to kiss him.

  ‘Tom, you might be right,’ said Temba, slurring his words. ‘You’re really a bright guy, you know that don’t you. It’s a pity you’re not my type.’

  ‘And what type’s that Temba?’

  ‘Oh you know, bushy moustache, flowery shirt,’ Temba laughed. ‘No, not really. But, I’ll think about what you’ve said, sleep on it, tell you in the morning. Right?’

  ‘Right,’ said Tom.

  ‘Now why don’t you go and have a dance. I know George has being eyeing you up all evening.’

  ‘I might just do that,’ said Tom, heading towards George at the bar.

  Nathalie woke early without the use of her alarm. She had left the hotel blinds open and the sun came streaming through. She leaned over to reach the hotel’s internal telephone, punched in Tom’s room number and waited. No reply. Still, he had left her a message yesterday afternoon; there was no need to worry yet. The shower in her room was either scalding hot or freezing cold. She chose the cold setting to wake herself up and pulled on an old pair of jeans and a T-shirt before ringing room service for breakfast. She resisted texting Tom. He was a grown up and, by his stories of Indonesia, more than capable. She would wait until after she had had something to eat. Manny brought her a plateful of scrambled eggs, toast and some pastries. She felt it wise to stoke up before travelling to the first location; who knows when or where she would get any lunch. The last morsel of toast had just entered her mouth when her mobile rang.

  ‘Tom?’ she mumbled through the crumbs. ‘Where are you?’

  Tom ignored her question. ‘What time’s the truck arriving?’ asked Tom, referring to the crew’s flatbed vehicle that had been arranged to pick them up from the hotel.

  Nathalie, needlessly checked her watch. ‘In about half an hour, are you coming?’

  ‘If you want me to, I think I could just make it.’

  ‘How did the Temba thing go?’

  ‘Just got a text. He’s on board.’

  ‘A text? Isn’t he with you?’

  ‘No, he wanted some time to think it over. He’s done that now and it’s all go.’

  ‘Think it over? So where have you been?’

  ‘If I get in a cab now I’ll just make it, wait for me won’t you?’

  The phone went dead.

  Nathalie looked at the phone screen and shook her head, bemused.

  ‘Okay Tom, I’ll do that,’ she said to herself and took a last swig of coffee.

  The crew vehicle turned up five minutes early. Still no sign of Tom. Farai jumped out of the cab.

  ‘Mike and Chris will ride in the back. Okay for you to sit alongside me in the front?’

  ‘Fine,’ said Nathalie looking up and down the street. ‘Just waiting for my assistant if that’s all right.’

  ‘You’re in charge, but I hope he is here soon. According to the schedule Mike gave me, the jeep is leaving the medical centre in a few hours’ time. I’ve checked the map and we’re cutting it quite fine.’

  ‘We’ll give him ten minutes,’ said Nathalie, pulling out her phone and dialling Tom’s number. She needn’t have bothered. A taxi pulled up sharply behind the truck and Tom jumped out.

  ‘Hope I haven’t held you up,’ he cried, grabbing his holdall from the taxi’s backseat. ‘Great driving,’ he said to the driver thrusting some dollar bills into his hand.

  ‘Just in time,’ said Nathalie coolly, holding open the back door of the flatbed cab. ‘Squeeze in.’

  Traffic was light and the journey was fairly uneventful. It was difficult for Nathalie to question Tom about his meeting with Temba. She was in the front, Tom in the back and she didn’t really want the crew to become involved. Besides, after a few miles Tom dozed off making conversation impossible. She spent the time talking to Farai in the driving seat next to her. He assured her that all the kit that she and Mike required was on the flatbed. Mizars, redheads and a 5K as well as a small generator. Mike had handled the Canon C-300 and was more than happy with it. They’d not worked together before but Mike had come with a reputation so he didn’t see a problem there. Nathalie quite enjoyed this ‘industry talk’, and it took her mind off her anxiety about the WEXA filming.

  The Zimbabwean plains were now stretching before them, the red earth protruding through the burned grass. It was a glorious day, the cloudless sky giving a magnificent backdrop to the scrubland. If the weather held they were going to get some great shots. The truck wheels droned over the tarmac spitting the odd chip of stone onto the grass verge. Cars were becoming fewer but they did pass the odd bicycle and donkey cart, both laden with brushwood. The frenetic metropolitan city of Harare had given way to rural Africa.

  The District Medical Centre was just as Joseph Karasa had described it. An L-shaped building with a wide interlocked metal-strip roof. Staff in white and green uniforms were walking along the open veranda corridors. Farai drew up the truck at the entrance and Nathalie asked them to stay put whilst she announced their arrival. Joseph, dressed in a loose-fitting khaki uniform, was there to greet her.

  ‘A slight change of plan I’m afraid. We have to deliver some of the vaccines to the local hospital before we drive into the bush.’ He looked across at the flatbed truck. ‘I see there are five of you, I’ll have to ring the accommodation; I was told there would only be four.’

  ‘That’s no problem,’ said Nathalie. ‘I booked five rooms at the Midlands Hotel before we left.’

  ‘Sorry, I thought you understood, because of the visit to the provincial hospital we’ll not be staying in Gweru. The nurses and I will sleep in the jeep but I’ve booked your film crew in at a guesthouse in Shurugwi. We’ll be starting off from there at sunrise tomorrow morning.’

  Nathalie tried not to show her irritation. She’d been on enough film trips in developing countries to know how plans could change. As long as they were at that village kraal tomorrow afternoon she would even sleep on the flatbed.

  ‘Okay, Joseph, if the guesthouse can manage to squeeze one more in that would be great. Now, you mentioned yesterday that we could kick off by filming the outreach office; why don’t you lead the way.’

  Nathalie was not keen on the scene but the district medical officer had insisted. This was the hub of the administration. She would find district maps on the wall and their documentation on health statistics. Nathalie could not think of anything more boring than filming documents on health statistics but Geoff had said to keep them happy. He would even get one of the assistant editors to knock up a ten-minut
e video on the outreach programme so it could be sent to them later to stop them asking any awkward questions. But her reputation depended on getting an investigative documentary on television. Well-framed shots of the Zimbabwean countryside, hospitals and even perhaps children being given vaccines would be useful for her programme. A dusty old admin room didn’t fit that bill. However, she was a professional so, if she was going to shoot it, it was going to look bloody good.

  The sparks, Chris, was a quiet guy and got on with setting up the lamps without a fuss. Nathalie and Mike decided to use a panning shot that would be initiated by the movement of a desktop fan. The idea was to create the atmosphere of the stultifying heat in the office. Even though it was searingly bright outside the sunlight was on the wrong side of the building so Chris set up the 5K next to one of the windows. Tom watched on, taking on board all the activity with interest. He looked puzzled when Mike asked him to wet the window and stick some tracing paper to it.

  ‘It’ll defuse the light from the 5K, make it look like sunlight streaming across the desk,’ Mike explained.

  They rehearsed the shot. As the fan turned on its stand the camera followed it and then continued across the desk to find Joseph poring over some documents. On Nathalie’s cue, Joseph rose from his position to move over to the map on the wall and stuck a pin in it.

  ‘Great,’ said Nathalie. ‘We’ll shoot that and then reposition to take a close-up of Joseph’s hand sticking the pin in the map. In that way we can see the position of the actual village you are marking,’ she explained to Joseph.

  Mike may have spent most of his career filming Victoria Falls but somewhere along the line he must have gained experience with interiors. He was good; had an eye for composition, was skilful at lighting and, as a bonus, sensitive in handling the subjects he was filming. They checked the first take back on the playback to see if all the kit was working properly. Perfect. After that Nathalie didn’t bother. As she said ‘cut’ she put up both thumbs and smiled.