Someone Wishes to Speak to You

by Jeremy Mallinson

  However, after two days of heavy rainfall when he was unable to carry out any worthwhile observations and was confined to his camp, he decided that a brief change of venue would do him good and accepted the Kinloch’s invitation. He also arranged with Charles Seymour-Smith to take a room at the hotel for three or four days in order to carry out some comparative studies between the monkeys at Castle Beacon and those that came down through the thickly vegetated slopes of Leopard’s Rock itself.

  The decision to meet the Kinlochs at this early stage of his time in Rhodesia had not been made easy for him; since his arrival, he had already received letters from both Lucienne and Antonia which had done little to help him resolve his mixed feelings for them. Lucienne’s letter touched on how her literary research work for Osman Hill was progressing and how she was getting on with her degree course, but the greater part of it highlighted how much she enjoyed being with Daniel Olingo. Lucienne had written that after Mathew had left, Daniel, who was currently working in the African Section of the US State Department in Washington, had visited her in Atlanta on several occasions.

  Mathew had to reproach himself for the absurdity of still harbouring such strong emotions, but he couldn’t help feeling a degree of selfish possessiveness, even jealousy, in the knowledge that another man was having the benefit of her company. Antonia had expressed her fond sentiments in her letter and he was very aware of how susceptible he was to the attractions of female company, especially to women who had taken a particular interest in him. He knew how careful he would have to be in the future if he was to avoid any further social and emotional complications for the time being.

  When Mathew met the Group Captain and Addie, they were sitting at a table by the window in the bar of the hotel, overlooking the small lake and the valley below with the distant dramatic backdrop of the Chimanimani Mountains. When Mathew approached their table, Addie leapt up and much to his surprise, greeted him like a long-lost friend by planting a kiss on both of his cheeks. ‘Mathew!’ she exclaimed. ‘How lovely to see you again! Meet my father, Miles Kinloch.’ Addie’s father took Mathew’s hand in a warm, firm handshake. He almost personified the image of an aging RAF wartime pilot officer: he had a thick-set stature; a handsome physique; a generous crop of snow white hair, which was neatly parted down the middle; a bushy, well-manicured white moustache, curled upwards at either end and a rather flushed complexion that hinted at his many years of good living and exposure to the elements. His bonhomie was emphasised by the enthusiastic interest he showed in Mathew’s field work. ‘Addie’s told me a little of what you’re doing out here, I’m certainly looking forward to hearing all about it, sounds fascinating.’

  ‘Delighted to meet you, Group Captain. It was very decent of you to invite me along – I hope you won’t regret saying that you’re looking forward to hearing about my work!’ As the three sipped a couple of ‘sundowners’ in the bar and the conversation flowed, Miles Kinloch showed his curiosity by asking many pertinent questions about the methodology that Mathew was using and the main objectives of his research.

  As the evening went on, while enjoying some of the culinary delights produced by the hotel’s maître de cuisine, the topic of conversation changed from the study of primates to the escalation of Rhodesia’s Bush War. In particular, the increased activities of Samora Machel’s Mozambique Liberation Front (FRELIMO) activists, who had recently welcomed ZANLA’s change of tactics by moving their forces from the Zambezi Valley east into PEA in order to provide them with easier access to Rhodesia from across the border. ‘Mathew, with all the terrorism going on in this part of Manicaland, don’t you feel at all concerned for your own safety?’ asked Addie. ‘The fighting is on the increase, it’s only going to get more intense.’

  ‘To tell you the truth – I’m afraid this makes me sound terribly naïve – but as I’ve been so preoccupied with the planning of my field research and the establishment of the camp, I’ve really had my head in the sand. I’ve done little to keep abreast with how the Bush War has been developing or whether Rhodesia’s security forces have been winning their battle against ZANLA’s insurgents.’ However, Mathew had been delighted to learn from Chidzikwee and Dombo that Ian Smith had recently agreed with the President of South Africa, Johannes Vorster, to an immediate ceasefire, which had as its main objective to bring to an end the armed incursions from across Rhodesia’s borders with both PEA and Zambia. Smith had also agreed with Vorster to the release of political detainees which had included, after ten years of imprisonment, the release of both Robert Mugabe, leader of the Zimbabwe African National Union’s Patriotic Front (ZANU/PF) party, and Joshua Nkomo, the leader of the Zimbabwe African People’s Union (ZAPU).

  On the strength of this latter development, he continued, ‘I do see the ceasefire and the release of Mugabe and Nkomo to represent a promising way forward towards ending the great sadness of the country’s racial upheavals. I can only be optimistic and pray that a satisfactory political solution can soon be found so that the country can overcome its present regrettable impasse between its European and African communities.’ Mathew was referring to the racial disharmony that had resulted, in some quarters, from Ian Smith’s Rhodesian Front (RF) political party’s UDI, some nine years previously.

  ‘Well, from now on it could be in your interests to keep your ear to the ground, my boy,’ said the Group Captain. ‘I haven’t heard of anything happening on your doorstep as yet, but as Addie says the fighting is intensifying not far from here, so stay on your toes.’

  ‘I certainly will. I have some good contacts in the area so I’m confident I’ll hear if the situation changes.’ The conversation moved on to more light-hearted topics, although the reference to impending danger left Mathew with a slight feeling of anxiety.

  After dinner they retired to the hotel lounge, and were joined by two couples who it transpired had tobacco and maize farms in the Arcturus district to the north-east of Salisbury. Mainly due to Mathew having consumed more alcohol during the course of the evening than he had done for several months, he was expressing his views freely and at length. He spoke enthusiastically about having recently got to know two of David Montgomery’s botanical park assistants, Edgar Chidzikwee and Joshua Dombo, who had started to teach him the rudiments of the Manyika language and how Chidzikwee was the son of one of the local tribal chieftains, who had expressed an interest in having a meeting with him.

  Continuing to dominate the conversation, he moved on to his time in Zaire. ‘While I was carrying out my field studies, I helped an African university graduate, Lucienne Luzembo, an assistant to the director of the Kahuzi-Biega National Park, to gain a place at Emory University in Atlanta. In my opinion, there should be education for all sections of society, no matter whether black or white – we should all be given the same educational opportunities to progress.’

  After Mathew had accepted a second balloon-glass of VSOP brandy, he went on to tell the party how one of his ancestors, Robert Milligan, had been a member of the British Parliament soon after the abolition of slavery in the early part of the nineteenth century, and how he had taken an active interest in the emancipation of West Indian slaves. It had been only then that Mathew had sensed the cordiality of those around the table had started to wane, as well as noticing how the expressions on the faces of the Arcturus farmers had become a picture of despondency. In all probability, the very last thing that they had wanted to have learnt more about was the degree of liberalism of his views. It was fortunate Mathew noticed how his audience was reacting before he launched into the story of his support for the Civil Rights movement, and his participation in one of their marches while studying at Scaife University in Tupelo.

  Addie managed to interrupt Mathew’s flow of information and to come to his rescue. ‘By complete coincidence,’ she said to the now rather sullen-looking farmers, ‘one of my bosses in Salisbury, Michael Lamb, met Mathew a while ago at Bielefeld University when he presented a key-note address about his studies of gorillas
in Zaire. Lamb was studying German at the university at the time.’ The Arcturus farmers began to thaw slightly and the conversation resumed. Mathew had detected from some of the things that Addie had mentioned during the course of the evening that she must have already carried out a good deal of research about his background. In particular, that she was aware that he was the younger son of a baronet who had served in the Second World War with Sir Roger Willock and, amongst other things, that he had been educated at Wellington College in Berkshire prior to going to a university in the USA.

  At the end of the evening, when the three of them were drinking their final nightcaps with the Arcturus farmers in the lounge, Addie made a reference to Mathew having been educated at Wellington College. Her father immediately picked up the gauntlet in an attempt to further lighten the still rather strained atmosphere and asked Mathew whether he was a cricketer. When Mathew had replied in the negative, he said, ‘Before I joined the RAF in 1939, I was in Marlborough College’s first eleven when, in 1937, Marlborough thrashed Wellington, winning the match by a wicket and ninety-three runs. Ha! Jolly good day that was.’

  ‘If the Wellington side played anything like I do, I’m sure it wasn’t a hard-won victory.’

  ‘Nonsense dear boy, I’m sure that’s not true. But you know,’ he added reflectively, ‘there’s nothing better in the world than a bit of healthy conversation and competition and, from my perspective at least, what a shame it is that all such unfortunate conflicts between races and nations can’t be played out and resolved on a cricket pitch.’ After the resulting ripple of laughter had died away, the Arcturus farmers were quick to take their leave – doubtless due to their fear that the young British academic, whom they had only just met, may suddenly unleash another detailed discourse on his political views.

  Mathew had already mentioned to the Group Captain and Addie that he had decided to remain at the hotel for a few days in order to carry out some further comparative observations between the Castle Beacon family of Stairs’ monkeys and those of the Leopard’s Rock group. As he wanted to start his observations immediately, he told the Kinlochs that he planned to be up before dawn the following morning. He turned down the offer of a further nightcap just prior to midnight but before he returned to his room, Addie asked whether he would mind if she could accompany him; he had talked so enthusiastically about his monkeys, she would love to see them for herself. Mathew was happy to take her along and they agreed to rendezvous in the hotel hallway at 6 a.m.

  So just after dawn on the Sunday morning, Mathew and Addie, with the aid of the night watchman who let them out of the hotel’s back door, ventured out into the damp forest mist and set off on their climb through the thick, moist, vegetation of the mountainside. They were both suitably clad with groundsheet capes covering the majority of their bodies, wearing waterproof trousers, canvas climbing boots and wide-rimmed khaki jungle hats. Some pied crows squawked their astonishment at seeing two humans appear, like miniature tents, in their midst at such an early hour; one of the birds followed them from branch to branch, as if curious to see where they were heading for. As they had climbed further up the trail, a number of small red squirrels (which Mathew was to later identify as the Swynnerton’s red squirrel), could be seen dashing nervously above them, flicking their long luxuriant tails as if in apprehension, having been disturbed from their early morning foraging of ripe fruits, berries and pods.

  After some twenty minutes of climbing over a number of tree-roots along the moist, peat-like surface of the path, they reached a gap in the forest that was caused by the sizeable glistening face of Leopard’s Rock, a section of which had a small mountain stream tumbling over the top of it to a mirror-like pool below. Mathew knew that from this vantage point, Addie would have a good opportunity to observe a family of Stairs’ monkeys as they always foraged in this area after they returned from their speedy visit to the hotel’s bounteous bins. As the first warm rays of the sun managed to filter through the forest canopy, drying the soaked leaves of the vegetation, and song birds started their dawn chorus, it was not long before they heard some of the characteristic abrupt single coughs and the low-pitched booming calls of two or three male Stairs’ monkeys.

  ‘I can’t believe they’re coming so close!’ whispered Addie as she caught her first sight of one of the monkeys, crashing down through the foliage from one tree to another before leaping onto a branch just to the left of her. She watched the large male intently as it used its long, thick tail as a balancing agent, scampering along a swaying branch above the pool, before descending to the ground to satisfy its thirst. The group leader was soon joined by other members of his family, with some of the females carrying infants clasped tightly to their chests and taking seemingly suicidal leaps as they came down from the forest canopy. Once on the ground, the rays of the sun illuminated the colours of their fur. ‘Do you see that, Addie? That colouring? That’s the main characteristic of the Stairs’ monkey, in comparison to the much lighter fur of the vervet monkey, which is far more common in Rhodesia. Here, have a look through these.’ He passed Addie his powerful binoculars and through them she could see the yellow tinges of the thick grizzled blackish body hair of their heads and shoulders, the long hair of their cheeks that formed side-whiskers which were slightly paler than the face and the white hairs of their throats and upper lips that attractively contrasted with the slightly more yellow and ruddy-brown-tinged fur near the base of their tails.

  ‘It’s amazing,’ she said, looking intently through the binoculars. ‘I can see all the colours so clearly with these. Aren’t they beautiful?’ Addie was spellbound as she watched the interactions of the family group as some of the monkeys leapt from rock to rock by the edge of the pool. ‘I wish we knew what they were saying to each other, all those little coughs and high-pitched calls, they must mean something.’ After some of them had quenched their thirsts with the cool waters of the pool and regained the security of the overhanging branches, the troop had started to move away from them, to leap further up through the dense foliage of the mountainside, all keeping in close contact with each other through their variety of vocalisations.

  While Mathew was absorbed in taking copious notes about what they had just witnessed, Addie found his enthusiasm to be highly contagious. ‘Thank you so much for showing me this, today,’ said Addie. ‘I knew absolutely nothing about these animals – and to have the chance to come to see them with such an expert is . . . well, it’s very special.’ While Mathew told her as much as possible about the significance of the monkey’s facial images and the underlying geometry of these signals and accompanying eye flashes, Addie was tempted to take his hand and to give him a kiss of gratitude for allowing her to accompany him. At the last moment she decided not to, for she was uncertain how this outwardly reserved Englishman would react to such spontaneous familiarity.

  By the time they had retraced their slippery way down the track to the rear of the hotel, some Stairs’ had returned to forage among some recently discarded items of fruit and vegetable matter from the hotel’s kitchens. After watching them until they had eaten their fill, Mathew and Addie joined the Group Captain for breakfast. ‘Daddy, you wouldn’t believe how close they were to us,’ Addie said, highly excited after her early morning foray. ‘Mathew has taught me so much about these monkeys – they really are the most amazing creatures. It was well worth getting up early, you really should have come with us.’ She gave her father a blow-by-blow account of what they had seen, obviously entranced by her encounter with the troop.

  As Addie and her father were due to leave the hotel after a late lunch, the Group Captain back to his orchard farm in Inyanga, and Addie to her flat in Salisbury, Mathew had made an arrangement with David Montgomery for them all to visit the Vumba Botanical Gardens.

  ‘Do you know,’ said the Group Captain on their way down to the gardens, ‘I first visited here in 1952 when they were known as Manchester Park, developed by the Taylor family during and after the Second World War. I r
emember it clearly; they were quite beautiful. After that, they were bequeathed to the nation by Fred Taylor.’

  ‘I’ve heard very positive reports. They cover a huge area, around 160 hectares I believe – their upkeep must be quite a formidable task.’ As they arrived at the entrance to the gardens, David Montgomery was waiting for them under the shade of a tree.

  ‘Group Captain Kinloch, Miss Kinloch,’ he said shaking their hands. ‘I’m so glad you had time to pay us a visit while you’re in the area. Now, as we walk, let me tell you something about the incredibly prolific birdlife you may see as we walk around and the troop of Stairs’ monkeys that frequently visits – they come to forage for all the fruit and berries that grow here. Would you like to come this way?’

  After Montgomery had given them some background information on the park’s wildlife, Mathew and Addie walked ahead, seating themselves on a shady rock next to a small lake. Addie took Mathew’s hand and said, ‘You know, Mathew, I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed this morning. Really, I haven’t enjoyed anything nearly this much since before my mother died.’

  Although Mathew failed to release his hand from Addie’s clasp, he stopped himself from saying how much he too had enjoyed their time together. Instead he decided to reply rather reservedly, ‘I always enjoy explaining to people the ways the monkeys interact with one another, especially to someone like you, who shows so much interest in them.’ Addie took Mathew’s reserve to be that of a typical well-brought-up Englishman, and in response to what he had just said she gently squeezed his fingers, leant over and kissed him on the cheek, before letting go of his hand, standing up and quickly suggesting that they should make the most of the morning’s opportunity to see as much of the botanical reserve as possible.

  They walked along a network of footpaths between the ancient indigenous fern trees leading to borders of hydrangeas, fuschias, proteas, azaleas, lilies, begonias, and to many other introduced and indigenous species. Mathew decided to tell Addie something about the emotional entanglements that he had experienced over the last year.