Sweet Roots and Honey

by Gwen Westwood

  'You're very pensive.'

  She had forgotten about Mark, sitting quietly beside her near the glowing fire.

  'I'm sorry, Mark. You must think me rude. Tell me about yourself. You seem to have made a success of the career you chose.'

  'Yes, Perry, I don't know what one would mean by success. I certainly haven't achieved fame. I'll never be as calculated in this field as Fabian, for instance. But it's been a good life, an interesting one. I wouldn't have had it any other way.'

  'Wouldn't you?' she said.

  He did not seem to realize that he had said something that could be hurtful. Had he forgotten how they had felt about each other all those years ago? Men got on with their lives, Perry thought. They did not brood over the past as much as women did.

  'I suppose you must be married with a family?' she asked.

  'No, no, Perry, I've never married. I became absorbed in my career and whenever I met a woman who attracted me I found myself thinking "Would she like to live in these wild far-away places that I have to live in?" and the answer always seemed to be no.'

  As it was eight years ago, she reflected. Fabian's influence had lasted a long time.

  'And you, Perry? You too have never married?'

  'No. When you get older and have an interesting life of your own, somehow you seem to get choosey about men.'

  He laughed. His eyes flashed blue in the firelight. He was a good-looking man and had grown better-looking with the years. She had not been wrong about that, but now he was like a handsome stranger.

  'So we were right when we parted, Perry, isn't that so? If you'd married me, you wouldn't have had this exciting photographic career or your glamorous life in Johannesburg.'

  'No, that's true, Mark.'

  He turned towards her and held her arms lightly, turning her so that he could look full into her face.

  'You've grown even lovelier than I remember,' he said softly. 'I'm glad we've had this chance to meet again. It will be good to know you once more, Perry, whatever comes of it.'

  He leaned forward and kissed her softly, a kiss of friendship rather than passion. She wished, oh, how she wished that she could feel again the emotions that had touched her as a girl, but now she felt nothing but a warm affection of this pleasant man who was sitting by her side in the firelight.

  'Sorry to interrupt,' came the voice of Fabian from the shadows. 'I've come for more film, Perry, the other is all used up.'

  She sprang to her feet and went to find what he needed.

  'You soon got over your tiredness,' he said rather sharply, when he had followed her to the truck that she used as a dark room. How could she explain that Mark had persuaded her to sit there for a while even though she was dropping with weariness? Fabian would think she was trying to shirk the photography.

  'Would you like me to come back?' she asked. 'Are you going to take a lot more shots?'

  'It depends very much on what happens. Natamu fell into a trance. He suddenly fell to the ground and seemed unconscious. Then he rose and touched us all, apparently to draw the evil from us. But certainly you mustn't come. I don't want to interfere again. You seem to be getting on very well with Mark, and, believe it or not, I would like to see him settled and married to someone who could make him happy. He's not really a loner like me. He would be happier with a wife and family.'

  Almost as much as she had hated him once long ago for interfering with her life and parting her from Mark, she hated him now for pushing her the other way, and for encouraging her to make her life with Mark again. A loner - yes, that was what he was. However much women attracted him, he would never let them be anything else but an amusing pastime in his life. She was glad the bewildered feelings she had experienced since yesterday had changed now to this black dislike. Oh, how she wished she could get away from everyone!

  CHAPTER TEN

  In spite of her fears to the contrary she slept soundly in her small green tent and still felt very sleepy when she was awakened at first light by a scratching noise against the canvas. Could it be Topaz? She peered out. No, he was still sound asleep in his box. What was it, then? She was startled by a sibilant soft whistle, and then in the half-light a small figure appeared before her.

  'Nusi, what are you doing here?'

  The girl put her hand to her lips and glanced quickly around, but nothing stirred. She indicated to Perry that she wanted a pad and pencil. In the days that had passed since she had made friends with Nusi, they had evolved a simple method of communication by drawing pictures that aided the gestures they made to each other. But now Perry thought that she must be mistaken in spite of the fact that she had always before managed to follow Nusi's meaning quite quickly, for it seemed to her that Nusi meant that she, Toma and small Kigi should go on a hunt today. Nusi had drawn a picture of little match-stick people following an antelope with bows and arrows, but one was obviously Perry, in a sun-helmet and slacks and shirt. She pointed to herself and said, 'You mean me?'... and when Nusi nodded, 'But what about the others?' gesturing to the other tents. Nusi shook her head. She wanted Perry, her friend, to come alone. She indicated that they would not walk far.

  Toma had felt that some kind of game was somewhere not far away. Fabian had told Perry of this peculiar instinct that the Bushmen had to feel the presence of an animal almost in their bones. So this could be so. But what was she to do? Her whole desire was to consent. She had failed to get satisfactory pictures of the previous hunt and this would be a very good opportunity, because if she were on her own just with the three, Toma, Nusi and Kigi, she would have some hours away from the others, some time to herself beneath the dome of the blue desert sky, when she could be rid of all her bewildering thoughts during a day in this world beyond the camp, this place of immense restfulness and peace. She nodded to Nusi. 'Very well, I will come.'

  She decided she would leave a message with Joshua, the cook, who was already stirring in the kitchen tent, and she armed herself with a few rye biscuits and a flask of lemon barley, for she hated to think what would be Toma and Nusi's fare that day. What a determined creature Nusi was! She had made up her mind that she was going to marry Toma and therefore he must kill an animal to prove his manhood. She had not accepted the fact that things had gone wrong with the first hunt, but here she was all ready to try again. Perry felt sure that it was against custom for an unmarried man and woman to go off on their own like this, and that was evidently why they were taking herself and little Kigi, for it was because of her friendliness that she was being taken, she thought. They had no real interest in her photography.

  The little Bushmen were lithe and swift in spite of Toma's slight handicap. She realized she would have some difficulty in keeping up with them. It was scarcely yet light and the sun had not risen but was present as a stroke of apricot-coloured paint upon the great grey palette of the desert sky. They went quickly away from the encampment where as yet only Joshua was awake. In their tiny scherms, the Bushmen were all sleeping in the hollows of sand that were lined with grass like the nests of small birds. The grey light made the country look vast and lonely, but a warm wind was blowing and presently Perry heard the noise of bush doves singing. It was a soothing sound and again she was glad She had come on this expedition far away from the atmosphere of the camp that seemed to be for ever tense with the different play of personalities. She resolved that she would try to put all her thoughts about Fabian behind, to concentrate on the steady progress of the hunt, and presently she would try to take photographs that would make up for her previous failure.

  Some small duiker scattered in alarm from amongst the bushes and Kigi chased after them, but soon gave up, for Toma and Nusi were after bigger game. The sun was rising now, splashing the heavens with streaks of flame. It was going to be hot, but then of course, it always was. Perry had, she thought, learned to ignore the intense heat of the desert and her sun-helmet would be adequate protection. It reached to the edge of her shirt collar and unlike the Bushmen no part of her was exposed.
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  Presently Toma motioned to them to pause. Amongst the small shrubs and grass in the patches of earth he had evidently found traces of the game he sought. There were marks of several hoofs, small footprints of antelope, clear cut in the hard ground. The grass around the tracks seemed newly trampled, their bruised moisture fresh and not dried out at all. Toma began to prepare his bow that had been carried slung over his shoulder together with his leather bag. He observed every sign of the trail with great concentration and Perry was glad of the pause, for it enabled her to get her camera ready and take some shots of Toma and of the marks on the ground. Then they went quietly ahead, coming out into more open country but still following the trail of the group of animals.

  Suddenly over a ridge of sand they came upon a deep dry pan, an almost circular basin, golden yellow in the morning light, and upon the smooth floor of the pan was a little group of springbok. The animals paused for a moment, startled and curious, taking tentative steps towards the intruders, and then at a sudden movement of panic from one of them they were off, running up the further slopes making fantastic leaps, hoofs bunched together, bodies arched, flaunting the silky gossamer hair that spread like small fans upon their backs. They bounced up and down as if, thought Perry, they were on a trampoline. They were so beautiful that she experienced a bitter regret that Toma was about to attempt to shoot one of them. Their chocolate and white pelts gleamed splendidly in the ray of the sun, and with their fantastic leaps they seemed magical as if they were half animal, half bird.

  She had been very busy using her cine and turned now away from the sight of the springboks to see what Toma was doing. To her surprise he had replaced his arrow and, making a hissing noise between his teeth as if to draw her attention, he pointed to a group of bushes on the outer side of the pan between themselves and the springbok. He said one word and it was a Bushman word she had learned from the children's visits to little Topaz. In the heat of the day a cold chill ran down her spine, for she knew the word meant 'Lion'. Three tawny shapes were slinking from the shadows of the bushes towards the fleeing springbok. The male, a big black-maned beast, paused, huge and terrifying, and watched while a lioness skilfully cut between one of the last springboks and drove it panic-stricken towards the other female. One leap from the lioness and the startled springbok was on the ground, its struggles hardly begun before a bite at the throat from the powerful jaws finished its life. The other springboks had Vanished as if they had never existed and the lioness started to drag the carcase towards the bushes where her lord and master lay in the shade watching approvingly the results of her efforts.

  'I must go back,' thought Perry, as panic-stricken as the poor springbok had seemed a few moments ago. 'Surely Toma and Nusi won't want to continue?'

  But it seemed that they did. Evidently they considered that as the lions had made their kill they were no longer a danger to them. Toma motioned them to come around and work their way through the bush in the direction that the springboks had taken on the other side of the pan away from where the lions were tearing at their prey with bloodcurdling growls. Over the ridge of sand, Toma's pace quickened, for by the trail of the springboks he could tell that they were still running in panic. If he was to keep up with them, they would all have to go more quickly. It was getting hotter now. The sun had risen higher in the sky and seemed like a living presence, shouting, 'Look at me! Here I am. Nothing is more important than the heat I give.' The only reality to Perry was the catch of her heaving breath and the heat of the sun on her shoulders and the regular pounding sound of their footsteps upon the sunbaked ground.

  On and on they went, following the trail of the springbok. The animals were slowing down now. Ahead of them Perry saw an outcrop of rocks to which the animals seemed to be heading for shelter. Toma smiled as if he thought he could succeed if they retreated to a place like this. There was a narrow defile through the rocks that must be a path used by game and Toma plunged into this closely followed by the others. How welcome the shade of the rocks was to Perry! Up on a ledge a hyrax gave its warning call followed by the harsh bark of a baboon. And suddenly on the ridge, quite close to them, there were the springbok. Nusi crept forward; acting like the lioness, she swarmed up the other side, cutting off the straggler from the main group and driving it towards Toma. He was there ready with his bow and let fly, catching the animal on the flank.

  The springbok hesitated, then plunged after its companions. Perry gave an exclamation. Had he failed again? But Toma did not think so. He replaced his quiver before making ready to follow the little group of fleeing animals. He was sure now of his success, smiling at Nusi and laughing as Kigi turned head over heels, somersaulting to express his excitement. Perry was just as excited, for she had got some good shots of the hunt and her sorrow at the killing of the springbok was overcome by her joy that now Toma and Nusi should get their desire. They all felt a renewal of energy as Toma pursued the animal that was swiftly dying from the effect of the poisoned arrow. There was not long to wait. Soon it sank to its knees and Toma went towards it to give it a merciful release from any suffering. There was a kind of reverence in the way he did this. Perry had noticed before how much at one the Bushman seemed to be with the animal that he had put to death.

  She had taken all the shots she intended to do for the time being and now she left the scene of the killing, glad to get away for a while, and climbed a little way to where she could see a rock overhang which would provide shade. It formed a natural cave but open to the light and on the smooth surface of the rocks she was startled to see there were pictures. Why, these must be Bushman paintings, the kind Fabian had gone to see when the fire occurred. As she peered at them, they became more clear, small drawings of stick-like people but with an amazing sense of real motion, tawny paintings of antelopes and other animals. She remembered now that Fabian had said they were done by Bushmen some hundreds of years ago, but the art seemed to have become lost to succeeding generations. Fabian would be thrilled if he could come here, and she looked forward eagerly to being able to tell him about them. As she tilted her head to look at the paintings higher on the rocks, her sun-helmet was dislodged from her head and rolled down on to the rocks below. No matter. She could easily get it later, for she knew Kigi would climb down on to the rocks like a little goat and could easily retrieve it. She was in the shade now, so she would not miss it.

  It was good to be without the hat anyway. She felt a coolish breeze blowing between the rocks and lifting the damp tendrils of red-gold hair upon her forehead. This was the first opportunity she had had to rest, and now thoughts came rushing back to her about the events of the past few days. She wished with all her heart that she had not told Fabian about her previous connection with Mark and the part he himself had played in separating them. For now, strange as it might seem, he appeared to want to bring them together again. And it was too late. Mark no longer attracted her. She found herself wishing ruefully that he did, for she did not want to examine the other feelings that seemed to come so close to the surface of her mind, however hard she tried to conceal them. She did not like Fabian. He was impatient, often harsh and seemed to have no comprehension of any tender feelings. But I love him, she thought, horrified by her own admission. I don't care what he's like. It doesn't matter at all. He's Fabian. I love the way he laughs when he's amused. I love the way his grey eyes can look like the flash of steel when he's annoyed. I know I should try to get over this, and I will, for he has no feeling for me. When I get back to Johannesburg, I'll get over it, she promised herself. I'll go back to my own life. But when she thought of this life, it seemed to her that nothing was as important as the time she had spent here in this land of endless yellow plains where one lived so close to nature and where the Bushmen in spite of their harsh lives seemed to have found the gift of happiness.

  She was so deep in thought that she had not been conscious of her surroundings, and now she was startled by the harsh 'bom-bom' of a baboon quite close to her. He was perched upon some rock
s a few yards away and he had not noticed her because he was watching some younger baboons playing down below. To her dismay she realized that one of them had seized her sun-helmet and was examining it with great curiosity. Another bigger one approached him and tried to tear the interesting object away, but the first one held on to it, uttering indignant grunts. She saw that under their combined assault the hat was taking a severe battering. She wanted to shout, but was scared of the reaction of the big guard baboon who was near her. With sinking heart she saw them seize the remnants of her hat and toss it amongst the rocks.

  Just then Nusi and Kigi appeared below, but they were too late. The baboons seized the remains of the hat and ran up the rocks clambering swiftly with their queer loping gait. Kigi was in fits of laughter, giving a good imitation of the animals, and Toma and Nusi were laughing too. Perry wondered what she should do. She thought with dread about the long stretch of desert country that she would have to traverse hatless before getting back to the camp. The Bushmen, of course, hardly seemed to feel that heat and did not need any head covering, so they could scarcely be expected to realize the seriousness of her position. She hoped they would wait a while until the great heat of the day had passed, but they were evidently eager to get back with their prize. She had a scarf at her throat and now she knotted it to place on her head. It was thin, but better than nothing.

  Toma had, slung the dead springbok around his neck and the weight he had to carry made the journey back much more slow. They were all tired, but Perry roused herself to take more shots of the little Bushman carrying his prize. She was sure now that she had got a very good record of that hunt and her pleasure at this triumph helped a bit on the first stage of the long way back to the camp. But it was hard going. Afterwards she could hardly remember the rest of the journey. She felt confused by the shimmering waves of heat that swept over the desert. Dunes of sand seemed to stand on end in the sky. Trees had lost their roots and appeared to float above the earth. Pools of water appeared and disappeared upon the far horizon. She closed her eyes against the shafts of cruel terrifying sun as she plodded on trying to keep up with her three fellow travellers.