by Gill Lewis
“Come on,” called Imara. She grunted like Bobo had taught her, and Kitwana held up his arms to be picked up. She carried him away from camp to a high ridge overlooking the mine. The Black Mamba had built a wooden platform so that he could watch the workers. The platform was empty today, so Imara walked out onto the ledge and sat down with her legs swinging over the edge. As Kitwana took his milk, Imara looked down into the mine. It was busier than ever. There were even more men, digging farther into the red soil, picking at the scab of the earth, not allowing the wound to heal.
The mine had spread wider and deeper. Some trenches had been worked so far into the ground that miners disappeared down dark holes, with head flashlights to guide their way. From up on the platform they looked like ants; working, working, working. But then Imara saw Saka and Frog, standing close together. Frog was pretending not to notice Saka, but he had stopped digging, his shovel held in midair and his head bent low toward Saka, whose mouth moved quickly, forming urgent words. And as Frog listened, his eyes grew wider and wider and wider.
You see . . . he is telling Frog about escaping. They are not careful. They cannot hide their friendship. Rat will see and destroy them. He will destroy you, too.
* * *
Imara lay in her hut that night listening to the laughs and shouts of men drunk on banana beer. Kitwana was asleep beside her, warm against her body, his fingers curled into her hand. She became aware of footsteps around the hut, padding softly toward the door.
Imara held her breath.
A sliver of moonlight cut through, as the door opened and a figure slipped into the room.
Imara reached for her panga. “Who’s there?”
“Shh! It’s me, Frog.”
Imara could just make out his shape silhouetted against the night sky. “What are you doing here?”
Frog crawled into the hut.
Imara sat up and pressed herself against the back of the hut. “Get out.”
“I want to thank you,” he whispered, “for giving us the chance to go home.”
“Who says you are going home?” snapped Imara.
“Saka said we are escaping with you and Bobo. We are going home.”
“Shh!” hissed Imara. “Keep your voice down. No one must know. Do you understand?” She glanced through the open door. The men were sitting around the fire, drinking. She thought of the dawn raid on Frog’s village. “What makes you think there’s a home to go back to?”
Frog moved closer. “I saw my auntie hiding in the grasses with my brothers. The soldiers didn’t see them. Maybe Mama was with her too. Maybe they are waiting for me.”
See, sneered the demon, even Frog has people who love him.
Frog folded his arms around his knees. “Imara . . . ,” he said.
Imara held her breath at the sound of her name.
“I wanted to say that you could come home with us.”
Imara felt the devil inside her become still, listening.
“With you?” she said.
Frog nodded. “Mama takes in orphans from the wars. She took in Saka after rebels killed his parents. She cares for all children. She would care for you, too.”
No one could love you, Imara. You stood by and watched Frog’s family die. You have me inside. No one could love you.
“Get out,” said Imara.
“I have this for you,” said Frog. He leaned forward, pressed something into her hand.
Imara looked down at a tiny white flower in her palm. It seemed to glow bright in the moonlight; its fragile petals were pointed like a star. She looked up but Frog had already slipped out into the night.
Could she really find a home with Frog and Saka?
The demon paced circles deep inside. Circles . . . circles . . . circles. You have nothing.
You are nothing.
No one could want you.
Imara crushed the flower into the dirt.
She held Kitwana close, feeling his little body curled in sleep, safe against her. Kitwana still had a family. He belonged here in the forests. Bobo said he could give Kitwana his freedom.
Maybe she could somehow find freedom, too.
The demon gnawed inside her. You can’t escape, Imara. There is nothing for you outside this camp. There is no one for you. If you let Bobo take Kitwana, you will lose him forever, and then you will have nothing left at all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
bobo
The next day, Bobo slipped out into the forest to meet Saka. He sank down onto the ground, hidden from view behind the buttress roots of a tree and waited.
Saka appeared with a small bundle in his arms.
“Have you been followed?” asked Bobo.
Saka shook his head. “We are safe here,” he said, handing the package to Bobo. “I have checked.”
Bobo took the bundle and unwrapped the camera. He turned it over and over in his hands. “Are you sure Rat won’t know it’s gone?”
Saka picked at a forest vine and twirled it in his fingers. “I don’t think so. He never looks, he just adds more things to the tree.”
“What things?”
“Bracelets, hunting knives, a pair of glasses, someone’s shoe. He collects pieces of people’s lives, things he takes from people on a raid, like trophies of war.” He cast his eyes down. “I have seen a bracelet belonging to Frog’s mama.” Saka twisted the piece of vine so hard it snapped. “But I have not told this to him yet.”
Bobo looked at the camera, Rat’s trophy of his father. It held pieces of his father’s life. With one flick of the switch he could see those moments. Saka crouched down next to him and watched.
Bobo turned on the camera. The display showed low battery. He would have to save the power, but Bobo couldn’t resist a look. He played through the recent images Papa had taken of the Tumaini group. He saw Hodari, the silverback, resting in the leaves, being groomed by Hisani. Sunlight filtered through the leaves and captured Hodari’s expression, as if he was deep in thought. One photo showed Heri in her day nest, lying back with her face in the sun, her belly big from the baby growing inside. Several photos were action shots of Kitwana and Enzi, the blackback, chasing each other through the trees and mock-charging each other. Another showed Kitwana trying to run off with Papa’s notebook and another of Hodari with his hand outstretched catching raindrops on his palm.
Bobo flicked through the images, trying to find the one he was looking for. Then he found it.
“Is that your father?” said Saka.
Bobo nodded. He stared into the photo he had taken of his father at home, his father with his beret at an angle on his head and his big wide smile.
Bobo stared into his father’s eyes, so real on the image on the display. It seemed impossible to think that he no longer walked the earth or breathed the air. Impossible to believe he was gone. Bobo switched off the camera and held it to his chest, as if it held Papa inside, somehow keeping him alive.
“How are you going to take photos of the police chief without being seen?” said Saka. “The Black Mamba will expect you to be guarding him that day.”
“I know,” said Bobo, frowning. He turned the camera over and over in his hands. “But no one will notice if you aren’t there.” He paused. “Saka . . . ,” he said. “Have you ever used a camera?”
* * *
Bobo showed Saka how to use the camera. Saka’s eyes lit up at all the buttons and dials. Bobo showed him how to turn the zoom to make the image bigger on the screen. He showed him the battery pack and the memory card inside. “This piece of plastic stores all the photos,” said Bobo.
Saka’s eyes opened wide. “All of them?”
Bobo nodded.
“It’s magic.” Saka grinned. “You can keep a whole forest inside here. You can keep the world in here.”
And proof of my father’s innocence, thought Bobo.
He let Saka take some trial pictures and watched his face light up at the photos he had taken.
“That’s enough,” said Bobo. “We
must save the battery.”
Saka reluctantly switched off the camera.
“Make sure you get a photo of the police chief and the Black Mamba together,” said Bobo. “Remember, make sure that you aren’t seen.”
“And I can still come with you when you escape? Frog too?”
Bobo nodded. “Can you get us across to the east of the mountains?”
Saka put his hand on his chest. “I am a Batwa. I know the forests. The forests are my home.”
“Good,” said Bobo. “Because once we leave, there is no going back. They mustn’t find us. If they do, they will shoot us dead.”
* * *
Bobo walked back to camp, collecting wild celery and nettles on the way for Kitwana. The image of his father stayed with him in his mind. Bobo could almost imagine him walking next to him, his long easy stride, and his air of calm silence. Bobo felt it now. He felt his father beside him.
Rat was waiting for him outside the Black Mamba’s hut. “Where have you been? The Black Mamba is looking for you.”
Bobo dropped the leaves on the ground. “I was collecting food for Kitwana,” he said. “He needs to eat.”
Rat narrowed his eyes. “Where’s Saka? He went into the forest too.”
Bobo looked around. “How do I know where he is? I am not his keeper.”
Rat followed him into the hut, keeping close behind. “I see you talking with the Spirit Girl,” he said. “You are getting too close to her.”
Bobo ignored him and joined the other Mambas standing in a circle around the Black Mamba.
“I’m watching you,” Rat said to Bobo, loud enough for the Black Mamba to hear. “I’m watching you.”
“You’re late,” snapped the Black Mamba.
Bobo stood to attention. “Sorry, sir.” He could see Rat smirking in the shadows.
The Black Mamba nodded. “The Spirit Child doesn’t need your help with the gorilla. Don’t go near her again.”
“No, sir,” said Bobo. He swallowed hard, feeling the Black Mamba’s glare linger on him.
“We have a problem,” said Black Mamba, looking around the Mambas gathered in his hut. “Rat has discovered some of the miners hiding coltan and taking it out of the forest.”
Rat puffed out his chest, his shoulders back, looking ahead intently.
The Black Mamba leaned forward. “I cannot have miners stealing my coltan,” he said. “How has this been happening?”
The Mambas kept their heads down, not looking at him.
The Black Mamba banged his fist down. “You have been letting this happen under your noses. You are lazy, all of you,” he yelled, “and drunk on beer. You are not worthy to call yourselves Mambas.” He swiped cups and pots from the table with his hand and looked around them all. “Don’t let anyone steal my coltan again. Understood? You know what to do if you find them.”
Rat smiled, a grin showing his row of broken teeth.
“We need more patrols in the mines,” said the Black Mamba. “We need more checkpoints on the forest paths. Search everyone. Show no mercy. Coltan is valuable. Life is cheap.” He paced in front of his men. “Where is the Spirit Child?”
“Playing with her monkey,” said Rat.
“Bring her here.”
Rat nodded and slunk out of the hut.
The Black Mamba wiped at sweat beading on his forehead. “There are people who want to kill me. I feel it,” he said. “But you have all become lazy and drunk.” He spun around looking at each one. “I have looked after you and this is how you repay me!”
The men were silent, staring at their feet.
The Black Mamba paced round and round, pointing at each of them with his finger. “Who feeds you? Who gives you guns? Who gives you power? You all need me. Without me you have nothing. Nothing! And yet you choose to sit and drink beer in the middle of the day. You are not worthy of being my men.”
Bobo stared hard at the floor. He could hear a fly batting at the steel mesh on the door.
The Black Mamba kicked an empty beer can out of the hut. “There will be no more beer. If I see any of you doing nothing, you will be working in the mines. Is that clear?”
The Black Mamba’s head jerked around as Imara slipped in through the door. He glared at her, his nostrils flaring with each breath. “Where have you been?”
“Feeding Kitwana,” said Imara, keeping her eyes on the floor.
“Last night I saw an owl,” he said. He paced around Imara. “An owl. It is a bad sign. A bad omen.” He pressed his face close to Imara. “Why did you not warn me?”
Bobo could see Imara’s fingers dig into Kitwana’s fur.
“What is happening, Imara? The men are lazy, there is sickness in the camp, we have thieves among us, and there are some who want to kill me. You protect this gorilla, but you do not protect me.”
Imara avoided the Black Mamba’s eyes, but her hands were shaking. She couldn’t hide her fear.
The Black Mamba took a step away from her. “Rat says you are losing your powers.”
Bobo glanced across at Rat to see his lips curled upward in a sneer.
“Rat is wrong,” said Imara. She stood up straight and looked at the Black Mamba, but her voice trembled with a harsh whisper. “I am your Spirit Child.”
The Black Mamba touched his snake-bone amulet. “I hope so, Imara. Soon your gorilla will be gone. I wonder, will the spirits protect you then?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
imara
Rat followed Imara, never letting her out of his sight. He became her shadow. He listened to everything she said. He stood beside her when she served out food to the Mambas so that she couldn’t even talk to Bobo.
The mine was busier than ever before. The Black Mamba had docked three weeks’ wages from each miner as a punishment for stolen coltan, and it seemed the miners worked harder, digging deeper and faster into the red earth. Soon the White Lioness would come to take away the coltan and she would come for Kitwana too. Imara walked around the mine’s edge, aware Rat was tailing her, his gun slung around his shoulder, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. She watched the sacks of coltan being weighed and bagged, ready for the helicopter. Frog worked with new energy, digging into the ground, his face alight with the promise of home. She watched him shovel earth into the collecting pans, for washing and separating the coltan from the mud. Imara could sense Saka and Frog’s shared excitement of the secret that sustained them, connecting them like an invisible rope.
It was only when Imara walked through the forest to search for food for Kitwana that she managed to give Rat the slip. She crouched behind a buttress of tree root and watched Rat glancing this way and that as he passed. Kitwana stayed close, gripping her clothes, sensing the danger. Imara made her way to the river where she knew the wild celery grew, and sat down in a patch of sunlight, letting Kitwana play in the trees. She watched him climb and hang upside down. She could feel her mouth break into a smile as he chased a butterfly across the ground, spinning in circles as it spiraled out of reach. She lay back and breathed in the moment of quiet, the sunlight filtering through the leaves. Maybe she and Kitwana could slip away together into the forest. Maybe she could find his family. Maybe they would accept her as one of their own.
“Psst, Imara!”
Imara turned. She could not see anyone but recognized Saka’s voice. He had come so close without being heard. Not even the demon inside her stirred.
Saka slipped from behind a tree and sank down beside her. “Rat is not far away,” he whispered.
“What is it?” said Imara.
“Bobo said to ask if you are coming with us when we leave tomorrow.”
Imara picked at the river grasses. She shrugged her shoulders. “Where would I go?”
“Frog says you can come with us.”
Imara shook her head.
Saka put his hand on hers. “Come with us, Imara. This war is not your fault. You are lost, like us. You can escape with us too.”
Imara sna
tched her hand away. “I can’t escape, ever,” she hissed, feeling the demon stirring deep inside. “Wherever I go, I can’t escape the devil. I am his child.”
“But you can’t stay in the camp either,” said Saka.
“I know,” said Imara. She flicked the grasses into the river and watched them being swept away. “I have decided to go far away from here. I will go with the White Lioness if she’ll still take me.”
Saka looked across at Kitwana. “What about Kitwana? Will you take him too?”
Imara closed her eyes, squeezing back hot tears. She whispered softly so the demon inside would not hear her words. “Saka, I want Bobo to take Kitwana for me. Bobo said the rangers would look after him, maybe even release him with his family. If I have one wish, it is for Kitwana to be free.”
Saka frowned and nodded. “We’ll take him with us, if you won’t come yourself. But there won’t be much time. We must get him away from here soon after Bobo has proof of his father’s innocence. If we don’t, the White Lioness will take him with her when she leaves.”
Imara nodded.
“Meet us here,” said Bobo, pointing to the rock. “Meet us here with Kitwana, after Bobo has the photographs he needs.”
Saka and Imara sat in silence watching Kitwana play. His attention focused on something deeper in the forest, his head bobbing side to side to get a better view. He stood up and patted his fists against his chest, giving short sharp warning barks. Imara scrambled to her feet to see Rat coming through the trees.
“He’s here,” whispered Imara. But when she turned, Saka had already slipped into the shadows and was gone.
* * *
“Who were you talking to?” demanded Rat.
Imara reached up into the branches and pulled Kitwana into her arms. “To the devil, to ask him what he should do with you.”
Rat stared back. “I’m not afraid of you,” he said. “Your powers are weakening.”
“What do you want, Rat?”
“The Black Mamba wants to see you,” he said. “He is coming down with the sickness. He needs you to cure him.”
Imara turned away from him and marched back through the forest.