by Marie Moore
“How could they know what we said?” Connie retorted. “We only said it to you all. Not even David was there.”
“Eyes and ears are everywhere at this lodge,” Jay continued, “and they all report back to the boss. They want us to be happy so we’ll go back home and recommend a lot of bookings. I say that you, Peaches, and Chase are the main cause of the big move. I don’t mind, though. Now that I’ve thought it over, I’ve decided it might be fun.”
He looked over at George, who was slumped down in his seat, wearing sunglasses, his hat pulled down low over his face. He was pouting like a baby because he didn’t get his way. His objections had been ignored.
“Get over it, George,” Jay said. “This little trip is not optional. You have to go, so you might as well stop whining and get with the program.”
I had to agree. Plus, the change of scene would allow us an opportunity to see the extreme Northern part of Kruger, which had not been on our original itinerary. Jay had pestered Vincent as we loaded until he told him we were headed north, through Kruger, to a tented camp near the border of South Africa. I was excited about the unexpected bonus and I knew Jay was, too, whether he admitted it or not.
The Kruger National Park is the oldest game park in South Africa. Named for South Africa’s first president Paul Kruger, it is bordered on the north by the Limpopo River and Zimbabwe, on the east by Mozambique, and on the south by the Crocodile River. Long and narrow, it is the largest of the game reserves—220 miles from north to south and 38 miles wide.
Leopard Dance is in a private reserve on the western border of Kruger, about midway, so it took a drive of over a hundred miles that morning to reach the tented camp on the south banks of the Limpopo.
We drove north through Kruger and headed for the river, enjoying the abundant wildlife along the way. Kruger contains all of the Big Five: lion, leopard, elephant, rhino, and Cape buffalo. It is a big deal in African safaris to spot all of the Big Five in a single trip. In that one morning drive, we saw one pride of lions, several large herds of Cape buffalo, elephants, and lots of different species of antelope, such as eland, roan, sable and grysbok.
Vincent paused now and then in our journey to allow viewing and photographing of the wildlife. On one such stop he pointed out a large bird that David had identified for us in his slide presentation on the morning after our arrival in Cape Town.
Jay stood up in the Rover and cracked the whole group up by pointing dramatically at the bird and screaming out, “By Jove, George, it’s a Corey bustard!”
Jay was far more relaxed that day than he’d been ever since leaving Cape Town. He didn’t even flinch as we neared a small pride of blood-streaked lions, sleeping in the sun after devouring an antelope, the remains of which lay nearby.
“Are you feeling better about all this, Jay?” I asked quietly. “You seem to be actually enjoying the animals.”
“Yes. I am, Sidney. Somehow I no longer feel as if we are meals on wheels.”
The terrain changed as we moved north, becoming more arid as we wove our way through mahogany, ebony, fever, and wild fig trees. Leaving the main road through Kruger on its western edge, we passed through the boundary gate. The last part of our long drive was on a red sand road among a wilderness of mopane trees—a tall, shrub-like tree with butterfly shaped leaves.
Vincent braked the Rover, made a sharp left around an ancient baobab tree, then a right, and finally slowed as he turned into a lane marked with a carved wooden sign that said, “Pearl Moon Tented Camp.” At the end of the road we could see a group of large, white platform tents that had been erected along the south bank of the river in a grove of fever trees. The other vehicles pulled into the lane behind us. Vincent was driving slowly, the wheels barely turning, to reduce our dust near the camp.
“That’s where I’m sleeping? In a flimsy canvas tent next to a nest of crocodiles?” George said. “No way.”
“Yes,” said Vincent, “We’ll unload here. When we stop, please bring your bags and follow Anthony to the dining tent. Ingwe is there, waiting to greet us with refreshments.”
For once, Mabel was silent. She seemed preoccupied and had spoken only a word or two since leaving Leopard Dance. I wondered what she was thinking.
I was warming to Mabel. I still didn’t like her much but I thought my first impression of her might have been wrong. She could certainly be abrasive and harsh, but I did not join Jay and George in their intense dislike of her. I was getting used to her rough way of speaking and was beginning to realize that behind her annoying exterior, she might actually be a decent person.
She was odd. No doubt about that. But it seemed to me that Mabel might be good at heart after all, even if her manner of speaking was brash and annoying. Mabel did not have much use for humans, but her advocacy for animals was admirable.
I totally agreed with her about the rhinos. I shared her conviction that the dreadful slaughter of the innocent beasts must be stopped before they all disappeared forever from the Earth.
Mabel had been seated next to me for the drive, just behind Jay and George and in front of Connie and Chase. Rich had chosen to ride in one of the other vehicles, and Mabel had taken his spot. Rich and Chase weren’t speaking to each other. They were apparently having one of their frequent spats. Those happened often, but usually did not last long. I expected them to make up before lunch.
Our long impromptu journey took us from Leopard Dance all the way to the banks of Kipling’s “great, grey-green, greasy Limpopo River.”
“Why have we come all this way?” Mabel finally demanded of Vincent, breaking her silence. “There’s something fishy about all this. Why were we hustled away so suddenly from our lodge? What are we doing in this place?”
“I do not know, Madam. Something about the water pumps,” Vincent replied. “Mr. van der Brugge does not discuss his plans with us or give us his reasons. We are paid to follow his orders. We drive where he tells us, when he tells us, that’s all. You must ask him. He is there, waiting.”
“Does he own this place, too?” Chase asked.
Chase always wanted to know who owned what. We had learned early on that he was the type of guy who likes to try to cozy up to people he considers rich or important.
“Partially,” Vincent said. “This tented camp belongs to Spieël Provisioners, a company he owns in partnership with one of his friends and business associates, Mr. Hsu. Spieël actually owns Leopard Dance, too. Willem is also a partner, but a very small one. Mr. van der Brugge owns the majority.”
“Hsu?” Chase asked. “That doesn’t sound like a South African.”
“Mr. Hsu is not native,” said Vincent. “I believe he is Chinese. He lives in Hong Kong.”
Vincent parked underneath a huge baobab tree, its branches providing welcome shade. The day was heating up. Velvet monkeys screeched and scolded us from the branches above. Jay helped me down from the Rover, handing me my little bag.
“I hate to admit Mabel is right about anything, Sidney, but she has a point,” he murmured as we followed the others up the path toward the camp. “As she said, we really have come a long way on what seems to be our host’s whim. That’s what I thought originally and now I really believe it. This sudden little jaunt seems strange to me, too.”
“Yes,” I whispered back, “but as long as we’re here, Jay, we might as well enjoy it. I’m glad to get a chance to stay in a tented camp. I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen one. We’d never in a million years be bringing High Steppers here. It’s not on the negotiated itinerary and Silverstein is not about to spring for anything extra.”
Jay nodded. “True. So true. He’d pass out if he knew we were even here, wasting valuable time on a side trip that Itchy won’t be selling. There’s no way to call him from here, either, about the contract. That will just have to wait.”
Chapter 23
As we neared the largest of the tents, I spotted Henrik van der Brugge standing at the entrance, talking with Willem. It was the first time
I had seen him since my hasty retreat from our disaster of a dinner party. I wondered what he would say, or if he would pretend it had never happened.
As usual, he looked handsome in tan safari clothing and tall, polished boots. On his broad shoulders, the safari clothes looked absolutely right. On Jay and Chase, they looked like a costume.
The platform of the largest tent was elevated, encircled on all sides by a deck with a bamboo railing and reached by a set of wooden steps. Folding canvas lounge chairs and small tables had been placed at intervals around the deck, allowing for leisurely comfort within view of the river. A workman was stretching a white rope hammock between two poles in one corner. Another hammock, in the opposite corner, was already in place.
Two sides of the canvas walls had been rolled up and tied, allowing the breeze to pass through. The wind caused the branches of the great trees flanking the tent to sway gently.
As we started up the steps, Willem went back inside and van der Brugge began greeting the first of the group. Mabel pounced on him with her questions. He pulled her aside, down a partitioned hallway, away from the entrance, to answer them.
“She’s giving him hell,” Connie laughed. “Look at her pointing that bony finger in his face. She jumped on him like a duck on a June bug.”
Willem had walked away from van der Brugge and Mabel and resumed directing the arrangement of a buffet lunch. Men from the camp’s kitchen staff set out large serving platters filled with salads, meats, and vegetables on a long rectangular table. A round, skirted table nearby was loaded with desserts.
The main buffet table was covered with a broad white cloth and centered with a lavish arrangement of fruit and flowers. Just to the left of it, a side table held stacks of folded linen napkins, white china plates, and trays of silverware.
It looked elegant and glamorous. Even after our big breakfast, everyone was ready to eat, drink, and relax.
Rebecca was welcoming guests near the entrance where van der Brugge had been standing before Mabel jumped him. She offered tall drinks from a nearby tray stand. I took one, glad to have it after the long, hot ride.
“They really do this up right, don’t they?” said Chase.
I had to agree. It was perfect, reminding me of scene in a movie.
I knew Jay thought so, too. He was in his element. I could see his imagination at work, as he pictured himself starring in a classic scene from the movie Elephant Walk.
That old film was one of several we had rented before coming to Africa. Jay and I always do that before big trips—rent movies and read books about the country we plan to visit. If you can find the time in the rush of packing and last-minute chores, it really enhances a trip. It puts you in the mood for the trip you are about to take and whets your appetite for the places you are soon to see.
Elephant Walk, one of the films we watched, is one of Jay’s all-time favorites. It is actually set in old Ceylon, rather than Africa, but it is just the sort of sweeping epic that Jay loves. Even with that setting, Jay insisted that we could include it on our list along with Out of Africa because elephants are important in the film. The plot centers on a proud man who willfully builds a splendid mansion directly across the path of an ancient elephant trail, forcing the huge beasts to alter their customary path.
As Jay strolled around the handsome tented pavilion in his safari suit, I could see him getting into character in his mind. I could tell from the way he stood, drink in hand, overlooking the river. In his imagination, Jay was Montgomery Cliff, the leading actor from the old film.
In my imagination, the role of the proud, defiant master would be far better suited to Henrik van de Brugge. There was a sense of command about him, in the way he stood, in the way he walked. Not arrogance exactly, just the assurance of a man who knew exactly what he wanted from life. Whatever that was, watching him, I was sure he would achieve it, if he hadn’t already. He seemed fully in control of his surroundings.
I expect the reason I was attracted to him in the first place was that he reminded me a bit of another commanding man, one from whom I had recently parted. The thought of that man cast a shadow over my day. I still wasn’t sure that I had made the right decision in suspending our relationship. My friend Brooke’s words rang in my memory, “Think carefully, Sidney. Be sure you know what you are doing. He may not wait for you to come back to him.”
I remembered the grave look in her blue eyes, usually so merry, when she said it.
Ting-ting-ting-ting.
The sound of David tapping on a glass for attention roused me from my reverie.
“Attention, please. Attention, ladies and gentlemen. An absolute feast has been prepared for us. Please come.”
The lunch line was forming, with David and Tilda and Wendy in the lead, as always, followed by Mabel. Connie and Rose had gone to the ladies’ room.
Van der Brugge, having escaped Mabel’s tirade, had stepped to one side of the buffet table where he stood talking quietly with Willem.
Jay, George, Chase, and Rich were at the bar on their second round of drinks. They didn’t look as if they would be lining up for the buffet anytime soon. As predicted, Chase and Rich had made up.
“Come, cara mia,” Fernando said, interrupting my thoughts. “Let’s get our plates and take them out on the deck so we can see the river. It is a beautiful day. We may spot something interesting.”
It may have been childish of me, but I was glad to lunch with handsome Fernando while Henrik van der Brugge watched. I still had not spoken with him because Mabel pounced before I got a chance.
The line began to move, and Fernando and I joined it, filling our plates with fruit, baked chicken with a delicate lemon sauce, and rice pilaf. I also took a large serving of okra, onions, and tomato, stewed together with basil.
Fernando peered at my plate. “What is that vegetable, Sidney? I’ve never seen it before.”
“It’s okra, Fernando. Try some, I think you’ll enjoy it. It’s an African vegetable that grows on tall, stalky plants. We also grow it in my home state of Mississippi. Okra originated in Africa. Where I’m from, in the South, okra is a staple. As a child I didn’t like it, but I love it now. My mother serves it many ways—by itself, in a gumbo, and of course, fried. It really is delicious.”
He gave me a puzzled look. “Gumbo?”
“A sort of soup, made with a dark roux, served with rice. Gumbo almost always contains okra and usually shrimp and crabmeat.”
We took our plates and drinks to the far corner of the deck. Fernando pulled a small table and two chairs a bit away from the others and out of the sun, into the deep shade. He had chosen a good spot. Though we could see all that went on in the tent as well as a full view of the river, we were out of the way. Our chairs were set back from the others.
Lunching with Fernando on the open-air porch near the great river was delightful. Laughing at amusing tales of his life as an international airline rep caused the shadow of my earlier thoughts to fade into the background. Intent on his stories, I was barely aware that most of the others had finished lunch and moved back inside, out of the sun and heat.
The temperature had risen steadily along with the sun, which now blazed overhead. In the shelter of the great fever trees, with the breeze blowing, our table was cool and pleasant despite the temperature.
Everything seemed to have slowed in the heat. No animals were visible just then in that section of the river, only some wading birds. Birds were everywhere, standing in the shallows, flying overhead, calling from the branches of the trees.
“It’s hard to believe that a scene so tranquil can become violent so quickly,” Fernando said, as we finished our meal. He placed his napkin on the table and moved his chair closer to mine, out of a patch of sunlight.
“Violent, really? Here? It seems so serene.”
“I do not know about this exact spot, but yes, violence can erupt at any time anywhere along this border. The Limpopo is the boundary, the border, between South Africa and Zimbabwe. Zimbabw
e, which was formerly known as Southern Rhodesia, is there.” He pointed. “See?” he said. “That’s Zimbabwe, just across the river.”
As if to disprove his disturbing words of potential violence, two Oryx appeared on the opposite bank. The pair moved gracefully on delicate-looking legs toward the water’s edge. They bent their white-masked heads, crowned with long, straight horns, for a drink. It was hard to imagine a more peaceful scene.
Just as their lips touched the water, a crocodile, which had been lying concealed nearby in the reeds, lunged for them. One Oryx escaped in a flash, moving too quickly for the monster. He bolted away from what would have been certain death.
The other was not so lucky. Thrashing in the shallows, he struggled in vain to pull his leg from the croc’s powerful jaws. The ancient beast pulled his prize into deeper water and began his death roll. We watched in horrified fascination until the crocodile and his catch sank beneath the surface and the roiling water became still again.
“It is as I said. You see?” Fernando smiled, “Danger is everywhere here, tesoro. Death can come swiftly, without warning.”
I looked into his smiling eyes, wondering what he was really saying. “Are you just speaking of the animals, Fernando, or of men, too?”
“Well, they are all animals, aren’t they, the violent ones? This is a land of great poverty and great riches, Sidney. Gold, diamonds, the extremely profitable horns and tusks of animals ... it is all here for the taking. Only the law and the efforts of a few good men stand in the way. Greed is a powerful force. The veneer of civilization becomes very thin when so much treasure is at stake.”
A waiter approached with a tray, collecting plates, followed by another passing desserts, and yet another with cups of coffee. We refused dessert, but gladly accepted the coffee.
“Anything bad here is much worse across the river in Zimbabwe,” he continued. “Their economy is in shambles. In 2009, they even had to abandon their currency. They use the U.S. dollar now.”