by Gill Lewis
Hisani’s son settled in a crook between the branches and tore out another white leaf and chewed it, turning it to sticky pulp inside his mouth. Small birds hopped along beside him, picking out insects from the moss with their tiny beaks.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves and warmed his back. Hisani’s son could feel his eyes begin to close. He could go back down to join his family, but he was comfortable up in the tree. He was becoming big and brave, like Enzi. He no longer needed to be clutching to his mother all the time. He was drifting into sleep when the small birds left in a flurry of wings, disappearing into thicker foliage. Hisani’s son sat up and looked around to see what had startled them, but there were no snakes or monkeys in the branches. Below him, the other gorillas hadn’t stirred. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe there was no danger. But then Hisani’s son caught a glimpse of a shadow sliding in the undergrowth. He leaned out and looked down. A figure was downwind from Hodari. A small Tall Ape, a young one, was creeping through the leaves. It came so close to the Watcher that it could almost touch it. It rose up and looked at the other gorillas too. Hodari stirred, batting an insect with his hand.
Hisani’s son watched as the small Tall Ape slipped away as silently as he had come. But the small birds didn’t return. The forest was still and silent. Watching.
Waiting.
Hisani’s son gripped the tree. His fur prickled along his back. He didn’t want to be on his own anymore. He wanted his mother. He wanted her arms around him.
He dropped the wad of flat leaves and watched them fall, batting against the branches, spiraling downward toward the ground.
Hodari woke. He sat up, his eyes wide and fixed beyond the falling flat white leaves. He barked a warning bark. The other gorillas stirred, getting to their feet. The pungent smell of fear was in the air. Hodari and Enzi were facing a threat that Hisani’s son couldn’t see. The silverback was standing upright, his teeth bared. The other gorillas were moving away. Hisani’s son could hear his mother’s sharp call, a cry for him to find her. He started to slide down the tree. He wanted to be with her, to be held by her and feel her warm fur against his skin. He wanted to clamber onto her back and be carried by her, but his mother was moving away with the others. Hisani’s son gave a shriek, a cry for her, but it was drowned by the sound of a fire-stick, its thunder ripping apart the air.
Hisani’s son lost his grip and felt himself falling, falling, falling, head over foot, round and round and round, thumping from branch to branch. In his spinning world he saw the great silverback lying on his back, eyes blank and unseeing, and the Watcher standing, arms widespread in front of three new Tall Apes, as if he was trying to protect the gorillas too. But the Watcher’s eyes were wide with fear.
The forest was filled with the screams of gorillas and new Tall Apes. The sharp stench of smoke hung in the air.
Another shot splintered the forest.
Hisani’s son screamed for his mother as he landed on the soft ground. He scrambled up, but felt small thin hands grab him and wrap him up in darkness. They clamped around him, holding him tighter and tighter.
He tried to call for his mother but he couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t move.
Bright stars swirled around him and he felt as if he was falling through an endless empty sky, far away from his mother, into the deepest, darkest night.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
bobo
Tsk, Bobo, do your homework. You are getting under my feet.”
Bobo paced up and down the room. “What time will Kambale get here?”
Mama looked up at him. “I don’t know. It could be this evening, it could be tomorrow.”
“I’ll wait.”
“Bobo, you have homework, and I have Mr. Shabani’s accounts to finish.”
“Papa has been away nearly a week now,” said Bobo. “Seven days! It is too long.”
Mama put down her pen. “Kambale will come back when he has some information. He and the other rangers have gone to find him. Papa is probably still moving the Tumaini group to this side of the mountain.”
Bobo shook his head. “Kambale said he lost contact with Papa two days ago.”
“Kambale also said that the batteries in the radio had probably stopped working.”
“But, Mama,” said Bobo, “what if—”
“Bobo,” she snapped. “What if . . . what if . . . ? What if . . . ? What if you do not go to school, eh? What if I do not get these accounts done by the end of the day? We still have things to do while we wait for news.”
Bobo turned and paced the room. Up and down. Up and down. He listened to the scratching of his mother’s pen on the paper and the sound of his sister singing in the next room.
Mama slammed her pen down. “Would you stop pacing? You are wearing a hole in the floor.”
Bobo stopped and stared out the window.
“Go to your room, Bobo. You are making me restless.”
“I can see Kambale,” said Bobo, pressing his face against the shutters. “He is coming down the road.”
Mama took a sharp breath. “Are you sure it’s him?”
Bobo nodded.
Mama stood up, knocking back her chair. Her pen clattered to the floor. She joined Bobo at the window, her hands gripped tight together in prayer.
Bobo tried to read Kambale’s face, but Kambale kept his head bowed as he walked toward the house.
“Let him in,” said Mama, her voice a hoarse whisper.
Kambale walked through the door and took his beret off, holding it in his hands.
“Please,” said Mama, “take a seat.”
Kambale sat down at the table, but would not look Bobo or his mother in the eye. Bobo moved closer.
“Bobo, leave us please,” said Mama.
Bobo pulled up a seat. “I will stay. I have to find out what Kambale has to say soon enough.”
Kambale nodded and let Bobo join them at the table. “I’m afraid I have bad news.”
Mama gripped the table. “Is . . . is he dead?”
Kambale shook his head. “We don’t know. We don’t know where he is.”
“But he is with the gorillas,” blurted Bobo. “You know that.”
Kambale frowned. “The Tumaini group was attacked. Hodari, the great silverback, has been shot.”
Bobo felt bile rise into his throat. “Hodari is dead?”
Kambale nodded. “We found a bullet wound in his chest.”
“So where is Papa?” said Bobo. “He would have protected the gorillas.”
“We don’t know where he is,” said Kambale. “All we have found is his field notes scattered on the ground.”
“Maybe he is with the rest of the gorillas?” said Bobo.
Kambale sighed. “We found them farther up the mountain huddled together, not knowing what to do. We couldn’t see Hisani’s son, either. We think the rebels have him. They often target the silverback to get to the babies.”
“But what about Papa?” insisted Bobo. “Didn’t you find anything else?”
Kambale shook his head. “Nothing.”
Mama leaned forward and gripped Kambale’s arm. “But who is looking for him now?”
Kambale couldn’t meet her eyes. “The rebels are in the forest. We heard shots from the valley. It was not safe for us to stay.”
Mama shook her head from side to side. “So what do we do now?”
Kambale took her hand. “We wait. Maybe he is hiding in the mountains. Maybe he is finding another way back to us.”
Bobo banged his fist in the table. “No. Papa would have defended the gorillas. He would have stayed with them after Hodari was killed.”
Kambale opened his mouth as if he had an answer, but then shook his head. “I know,” he said. “That is my thought too. Bobo, I wish I had the answers to your questions, but I do not.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
bobo
The next day at school, Bobo couldn’t concentrate. The other pupils left him alon
e with his thoughts. He overheard some talk of the Black Mamba and the Spirit Child. But what had happened to his father? Bobo tried to run through every scenario in his head; his father tracking the gorillas and the rebels closing in. What would Papa have done? Had he defended the gorillas? Had he tried to radio for help? Had he been injured? Was he trying to find his way home? And why didn’t the rebels take the silverback? They were known to take gorillas for meat. Maybe Papa had scared them off. So where was he now? Nothing made sense. His mind whirred with thoughts all day until Lamu joined him on his way back home.
Lamu was silent at first, bouncing his ball along the road, only stopping to wait while Bobo picked his sister up from school on the way.
“My father says your papa is a brave man,” said Lamu.
Bobo nodded. He felt tears burn in his eyes.
“He says if anyone deserves a medal for defending the gorillas, your papa does.”
Bobo smiled. He knew Lamu was trying to cheer him up, but it was a nice thing to say anyway.
“Look,” said Lamu, pointing to Bobo’s house. “See, the police are at your house now. That looks like the police chief’s car. Maybe he has come with your father’s medal.”
Bobo looked up and stopped. A sleek black car with blacked out windows and two police motorbikes were parked outside Bobo’s house. Bobo felt sick inside. “What’s he doing here?”
“Maybe Papa has come home,” burst out his sister. She ran ahead, her feet flying up behind her.
“Wait,” called Bobo. He was running too. Maybe his sister was right. It seemed impossible to believe but maybe Papa had come home. Maybe he had seen off the rebels and was a hero. Maybe the police chief was here to give Papa his medal.
Bobo burst through the door with his sister.
The chief of police and two officials were in the house. Mama was sitting at the table, her head in her hands. Kambale was standing next to her, his beret clutched against his chest.
There was no sign of Papa.
Bobo looked around. “Is there any news?”
Kambale stepped forward. “Bobo, this is Charles Mutombo, the chief of police.”
Bobo looked at the man and nodded. Charles Mutombo was a big man. Solid. Medals decorated the lapel of his blue uniform. He stood in the middle of the room with his arms folded, feet slightly apart. The police chief was an important man. What was he doing here? Bobo couldn’t see behind the dark glasses but he could feel the eyes of the police chief looking right at him.
“We have news of your father,” said Mutombo.
Bobo glanced at Kambale, but Kambale couldn’t look him in the eye.
Bobo felt his chest tighten, as if he’d forgotten how to breathe. “Is Papa dead?”
Mama covered her face with her hands.
Bobo looked at Kambale. “What is it? What has happened?”
Kambale just shook his head slowly from side to side.
Mutombo removed his glasses and pushed them in his top pocket. He reached out and put a hand on Bobo’s shoulder. “It is much worse, Bobo. Much worse.”
Bobo swallowed hard. “What has happened?”
Mutombo shook his head. “Your father has joined the rebels.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
bobo
Bobo felt the world fall away beneath him. “No!”
Mama began to sob and held Bobo’s sister close to her.
“No,” said Bobo again. “Papa wouldn’t do that. Tell him, Kambale. Tell the police chief that Papa is a good man.”
Kambale stared hard at the ground. “I find it hard to believe myself,” he said.
Bobo spun around to face the police chief. “No!” he shouted. “My father would not do that.”
Mutombo unfolded his arms and hooked his fingers in his belt. “We have good evidence that your father is one of the rebels now.”
Bobo slammed his hands down on the table. “What evidence?” he shouted.
The police chief glared at him.
Silence filled the room.
Mama stood up and pulled Bobo’s sleeve. “Tsk, Bobo, sit down. Do not talk to the police chief like that.”
Mutombo’s eyes lingered on Bobo. “You would do well to listen to your mother. Maybe you have the same lack of respect for authority as your father.”
Bobo stared at the ground, clenching his fists, his body burning with anger.
“But as you asked,” Mutombo continued, “we intercepted a call made on his radio. He made a call to the rebels to tell them the location of the gorillas.”
Bobo glanced at Kambale, but Kambale wouldn’t meet his eyes.
The police chief walked to the door, but turned before he left. “Your father has destroyed the reputation of the rangers and the reputation of the park. He has put the gorillas at risk. He knows the mountains better than anyone. Now that he has joined the rebels, it has become too dangerous to patrol the park. I will have to stop all ranger patrols there until we know it is safe.”
* * *
Bobo waited until he heard the police chief’s car roar away. He kicked the door and spun around to face Kambale and his mother. “Papa would not do such a thing. He wouldn’t.”
Kambale nodded. “There has been a mistake. Maybe the rebels took his radio from him and made that call.”
Bobo gripped Kambale’s arm. “Yes. That must be it. Papa did not make that call. We must tell the police chief. We must make him understand.”
Kambale sighed. “But it is hard to prove and people want someone to blame. We have not found your father. All we have found is his field notes scattered on the ground.”
Bobo snatched at thoughts. “What about his rucksack, with his stuff? What about his camera? Maybe he has photos of the rebels?”
Kambale shook his head. “We didn’t find anything else. That is the problem.”
“So what can we do?” said Bobo.
Kambale shrugged his shoulders. “We wait,” he said, “and hope. Maybe we will hear more news. It is all we can do.”
Bobo clung to Kambale. “But you must help us. Go and see the police chief. Tell him Papa is innocent.”
Kambale put his hand on Bobo’s shoulder. “Bobo, my priority is to protect the park. It will be hard enough, now that we are not even allowed inside.” He put on his beret and guided Lamu outside. Lamu clutched his ball and didn’t look at Bobo. He kept close to his father as if he couldn’t wait to get out of the house.
Bobo closed his eyes. His head felt light and dizzy. He knelt down and touched his palms to the floor to stop the world from reeling around him. Last week his father had filled the room. It had breathed with his presence. But now the room, like Bobo, felt wide and empty.
Bobo opened his eyes and glanced at Mama. She had wiped her tears and had started working through Mr. Shabani’s accounts, her pen making notes and marks in the margins. “Mama! What are you doing? We need to prove Papa is innocent.”
Mama looked up at him. “I need to earn money to put food on the table.”
Bobo narrowed his eyes. “You think Papa is guilty too!” Mama twisted the pen round and round in her fingers. “Of course I don’t. But I need to keep us together until Papa returns. What can I do? You heard Kambale. All we can do now is wait. Wait and hope.”
* * *
At school the next day, Bobo knew the other children and teachers were avoiding him. There were no more sympathetic stares or quiet words of support, just hushed whispers when he left a room. When he collected his sister from her school, the parents didn’t look at him or ask after Mama. Only Lamu walked with him home from school.
Bobo pushed his hands deep in his pockets. “Everyone thinks my father has joined the rebels.”
Lamu kicked his soccer ball ahead of him. “My father doesn’t.”
“But the police chief thinks he has. The police chief doesn’t know my father. If he did, he would know that my father would give his life for the gorillas. I need to prove to him that my father is innocent.”
“How will you
do that?”
Bobo shrugged his shoulders. He gazed into the distance to the mountains rising up into the sky. “Someone, somewhere must know where my father is. People don’t just disappear.”
Lamu stopped outside Bobo’s house. “Let me know if I can help.”
Bobo nodded, took his sister’s hand, and stepped through the door.
* * *
Inside the house, Bobo’s sister gripped his hand and stopped. Pots and pans lay piled by the door. Rolled blankets and bags filled with clothes were stacked together. The baby was lying on a blanket crying, his face creased in frustration.
“Mama?” called Bobo.
Bobo’s mother appeared from the small yard outside. “Mama, what is happening?”
Mama wiped sweat from her forehead. She picked up the baby, rocking him gently, stroking his head. “I’m sorry, Bobo.”
Bobo stared around him. “Why are all our things packed? Are we leaving?”
Mama nodded. “We must go to my mother’s village for a while.”
“For good?”
Mama held the baby close. Bobo’s sister wrapped her arms around Mama’s waist. “I don’t know.”
“No,” said Bobo.
“Word has spread quickly about Papa. Mr. Shabani says he does not need my work. We don’t have your father’s pay. People are angry. They say Papa is a shame to the community. We cannot stay here in town. We will get the bus first thing in the morning.”
Bobo shook his head. “But this is home. And what about school? Papa said I must go to school.” Bobo knew this would hurt his mother, but in that moment he didn’t care.
Mama frowned. “We will see. Maybe there is a school in my mother’s village. But we will have to help in the fields as there will be more mouths to feed.”