Scarred Lions

by Fanie Viljoen

  A further fifteen minute drive brought us to a magnificent wooden gate, winged by a stone wall stretching out to the sides. A sign read: Isigubhu. And below it in smaller letters: Drum.

  A uniformed security guard opened the gate. He obviously knew Lwazi, André and Simoshile. He waved us through, smiling.

  ‘Ngiyabonga!’ shouted Lwazi through his opened window. It probably meant ‘thank you’. But I wasn’t too sure. The guard nodded and lifted his hand.

  We drove on a bit further. There was an incessant buzz in the air. I didn’t know what it was but it seemed to come from the trees or the grass or somewhere. André and Simoshile didn’t seem to notice it at all.

  We eventually reached a cluster of stone buildings with high thatched roofs set off against the backdrop of the Waterberg Mountains. The main building was simple but quite impressive. It had large windows and huge wooden doors covered with intricately carved animals. Flanking the spacious, tiled veranda were over-sized clay pots with water spilling over the edges. Two other buildings flanked the larger one. A sign at the door of one of them read Curio Shop. The other one was a spa and beauty salon. The buildings were all interlinked by a magnificent garden filled with flowers. The cool green of the trees looked inviting. I was suddenly reminded of the parks in London. But this garden was somehow different, more natural and earthly.

  ‘Welcome to your new home!’ said Lwazi as he parked in the shade near the main building.

  ‘What is this place?’ I asked.

  ‘Don’t you know?’ he smiled. ‘It’s a game reserve.’

  ‘Is this where I’m going to live?’

  ‘Well, not in here exactly. You might get in the way of all the tourists passing through. You’ll stay at your dad’s chalet in the employee part of the resort. It is a bit further down the road. More private.’

  My mind started racing again. I’m going to live in a game reserve. Was that a good or a bad thing? I didn’t really know. I looked around to see if there were any animals around. Should I be afraid? I hadn’t had much contact with animals. A cat or a dog here and there. Perhaps a bird. But I’d never had one of my own.

  Animals. Wild animals.

  Yeah, that was something to be scared of, of course! And I’m going to live here … Mum never said anything about animals. Did she want to keep it as a surprise?

  André and Simoshile jumped out of the vehicle. They seemed quite at ease. Not afraid at all.

  ‘Do you like it?’ asked André.

  ‘Of course he does!’ said Simoshile.

  I nodded, trying to look brave, but I was scared as hell. I’d seen the Discovery Channel. I knew what wild animals could do. I’d probably need a cricket bat or some kind of weapon to protect me, should some wild thing come charging from the bushes.

  Bushes!

  There were lots of bushes around. And trees. Animals could be hiding anywhere.

  ‘This place is the best!’ said André.

  Simoshile must have sensed my apprehension. ‘Hey, it will be all right. You’ll see.’ Her voice was soft and calm. ‘You don’t have to be afraid.’

  As soon as she said that, I felt calmness slowly washing over me. I guess she was right. Perhaps I was just being silly.

  ‘Oh! Is he here?’ I heard somebody cry. A large woman with a colourful animal-print dress and matching headscarf came storming out of the building and down the steps. Her arms were outstretched, fingers spread wide and palms open. ‘My boy! My boy!’ she cried. Her whole body seemed to shiver with excitement. Her eyes wide and lively, a smile as big as a sickle moon.

  Before I knew it, she grabbed me, first by the shoulders saying, ‘Let me look at you!’ Then she pulled me closer to her more than generous bosom, enveloping me totally. She had a sweet smell, as if the scent of the flowers in the garden had rubbed off on her.

  ‘Unjani? Unjani?’ she hummed. ‘How are you?’

  I was totally taken aback. I stood there in her embrace, not knowing what to do. Who was this woman? Am I supposed to know her? What should I do? Hug her back?

  ‘Welcome home, Buyisiwe,’ she said. ‘You have returned at last.’

  ‘Um, hallo,’ was all I could manage to say when she let go of me.

  ‘My name is Unahti, but everyone calls me Mama,’ she said proudly.

  ‘Mama Unahti runs the kitchen,’ said Simoshile, giving her a hug.

  ‘And everything else as well if you give her half a chance!’ teased André.

  ‘Hey suka!’ she cried, pretending to be cross but seemingly loving it. ‘Don’t pay any attention to this naughty boy, Buyi. He’ll just get you into trouble.’

  ‘But Mama would get me out of trouble again. She always does,’ said André.

  She smiled as she rolled her eyes, then her gaze once again fixed on me. ‘Oh you’re so sweet, Buyi! I could just eat you!’ she cried again, pinching my cheek.

  I was glad none of the bullies at my old school were here to witness all this. I could just imagine myself becoming the butt of every joke. There’s Buyi. He’s so sweet, you could just eat him!

  That was sure to get your ass kicked a few times.

  ‘Let’s get you something to eat, Buyi. Are you hungry?’

  ‘Yeah, starving.’

  ‘I thought so. I made some lovely –’

  But Mama Unahti didn’t get to finish her sentence. Just as we were about to head up the steps to the main building, we heard a car approaching.

  Or rather, it was another off-road vehicle. Green, with dusty tyres. At the open back there were a number of seats, all filled with exhausted looking people. Tourists, it seemed. Two blackmen were sitting at the front.

  ‘Oh, look,’ said Mama Unahti. ‘Your dad is here.’

  CHAPTER 8

  It was the strangest feeling, meeting my dad for the second time. Okay, the first time it wasn’t really him, it was Lwazi. But now there was no mistaking it anymore. My stomach churned. I felt jittery. From the look on the driver’s face I knew it was him: Themba.

  He looked smart in his khaki uniform. The long-sleeved shirt rolled up over his muscled forearms. Leather shoes and wide brimmed hat. His face was strong, square jaw, dark eyes. We looked very much alike.

  He must have noticed me standing there. He nodded from afar in my direction as he helped the tourists off the vehicle. His eyes continuously darted back to me.

  Should I run up to him, and hug him like Mama had hugged me? Or should I wait for him to approach me?

  When the tourists started chattering amongst themselves, looking at each other’s digital photos on their cameras, Themba excused himself. As he approached, my heart beat faster and faster. This was the first time I would ever see him up-close in real life. He was part of me, but I didn’t know him at all. He was as much of a stranger as all the people I had met that day: Lwazi, André, Simoshile, and Mama Unahti.

  But this stranger’s life was connected to mine. He was my father.

  With his hat in his hand he stood before me. Looking at me. He blinked once, twice. His face taut.

  I felt my mouth go dry. I didn’t know what to expect from him. I made myself ready for an embrace like the one Mama gave me. But it didn’t come. He just held out his hand and in a strong voice said, ‘Hallo, Buyisiwe.’ That was all. No hugs. No smile. Just a distant hallo. I shook his hand like Lwazi did with me earlier. Shake, thumb, shake.

  ‘Hi.’ Should I call him Dad? Or Themba? ‘Themba …’

  He didn’t correct me, so I guess it was okay with him.

  Mama Unahti must have sensed the uneasy tension between us. With a loud voice she called, ‘I was just about to get the boy something to eat. Why don’t you join him, Themba? You two must have loads to talk about.’

  ‘I can’t right now, Unahti. I have to see to the guests.’ His eyes darted back to mine, void of emotion.

  Was he at all glad to see me?

  ‘You’ll be okay won’t you, Buyisiwe? I’ll see you later.’ He dug in his pocket and removed a key. ‘
This will let you into the chalet. Lwazi will take you. It’s not far. You can actually walk there, but you probably have some baggage?’ I nodded. ‘Good … well then …’

  With that he turned around and made his way back to the guests. Their excitement had still not died down. I could hear their laughter ringing, even as we stepped into the building.

  Mama Unahti gently placed her hand around my shoulder. ‘I’ve got some mouth-watering dessert, too,’ she said.

  I tried not to think about the hurt surging inside me.

  Mama Unahti, I soon found out, believed that all sorrows can be drowned out by food. I was so stuffed when Lwazi finally dropped me off at my dad’s chalet.

  I stood at the front door for a moment, looking around. It was a neat, brick building with a thatched roof. To the side there was a brick wall encircling what looked like an entertainment area with some tables, chairs and a fireplace. There was no garden. If it wasn’t for the narrow cement slab and a small clearing running around the building, the bush would have almost reached right up to the chalet. Only some trees were left standing in the clearing, their cool shade falling across the brown earth.

  Lwazi helped me with the baggage. I unlocked the front door. As I stepped inside the mellow scent of the thatched roof stopped me in my tracks for a moment. I looked around. This was my new home. Two bedrooms, a kitchen, bathroom and a sitting area right in the centre of it all. The place was immaculately clean. Nothing like the place where Mum and I lived. Against one of the walls the head of a dead animal glared down at me. Its black eyes sent a shiver down my back. It was some sort of antelope. Towering horns curling up to the ceiling.

  ‘I think this might be your room,’ said Lwazi. He carried my suitcases inside.

  I followed him. The room was spacious enough. I opened the closet. It was bare, with ample place for my clothes and stuff. A small desk and chair stood against the wall. I tested the single bed standing near the window. It felt comfortable, as did the two pillows.

  ‘You seem right at home!’ smiled Lwazi. ‘I have to get going. I’m joining André’s dad, Johan, on a night safari. He’s a game ranger just like your dad.’

  ‘And you?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m a tracker.’

  I frowned. ‘Tracker?’

  ‘I track animals. I go along looking for tracks, and other signs. It helps the ranger find the animals far more easily. The tourists find it exciting too. It is easy to get caught up in the tension of tracking an animal.’

  I smiled half-heartedly. I couldn’t imagine tracking animals being fun.

  ‘Keep the windows closed, Buyi,’ said Lwazi as he left. ‘Baboons sometimes get nosy. They might rearrange the whole house for you if you’re not careful. They’ll eat anything they can lay their hands on. Even go rummaging through your fridge!’

  What!

  ‘And … and other animals? Will I be safe here on my own?’

  ‘There’s no need to worry. Animals are usually more afraid of you than you are of them. You might see some around. Perhaps an impala or two. Maybe even some warthogs. It is getting dark. That’s the time some animals like to go out hunting or grazing. Especially if there’s a full moon in the sky.’

  With that he left, shouting, ‘Sala khale!’ over his shoulder. ‘Keep well!’

  I was suddenly all alone. Darkness was starting to creep into the house. I switched on all the lights, thankful that there was at least electricity here. I needed some noise. Noise! Or else I would go mad.

  Switch on the TV. That always helps. Having the drone of voices and music around. Flickering images to keep you company.

  I walked through the house a couple of times. I looked everywhere, even opening up some closets.

  There was no TV!

  This is insane, I thought. How could it be? Surely they must have heard of television before? Yes of course, there was one in the lounge at the main building. I’d noticed it in passing earlier, as I followed Mama Unahti. But none in the chalet. I’m going to die here, I thought. If not in the jaws of some wild animal, then from boredom.

  No TV!

  A sudden shrill sound shattered the silence around me. A telephone! I was so glad to hear that irritating ring that I ran right over and answered it.

  ‘Hi there, Buyi!’

  ‘Mum!’ I was so relieved to hear a familiar voice.

  ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m fine, I guess. And you?’

  ‘Missing you, of course. The place feels so empty without you. How was the flight?’

  We talked and talked. I told Mum about the trip here, everything I’d seen, the people I’d met.

  ‘And how’s your father? Are you getting along?’

  ‘He’s great,’ I lied. I didn’t want Mum to worry about me.

  ‘Well then,’ she said eventually, ‘I probably have to say goodbye now. Love you, my boy.’

  ‘Love you too, Mum,’ I said, biting back the tears.

  CHAPTER 9

  I unpacked my bags. The clothes I stashed away in the cupboard, the few books I’d brought along I stacked on the desk, alongside a pack of CDs and DVDs. On the bare brick wall I stuck a poster of Amir Khan, the famous boxer. I stared up at him for a while, sighed softly and then continued getting the room comfortable.

  The silence still lingered. All I heard was my own footsteps on the tile floor, the gentle rustle of my clothes as I moved about the room. I had never heard my clothes move. It felt strange.

  Deep, deep silence.

  I sat down on my bed, cross-legged. I tilted my head to the side. No, there were other sounds. They were coming from outside. Muffled. I glanced at the window on my left.

  Should I open it for a short while? But what if something came leaping through it all of a sudden? Or swinging through it – the baboon Lwazi was talking about.

  Oh, don’t be so damn scared, I reprimanded myself.

  I placed my hand on the window latch, turned it ever so carefully.

  Click!

  Slowly I opened the window. The sounds of the night came flooding into my room. There were crickets chirping. Birds calling. At least, I thought it was birds. I listened. Three or four different kinds of birds. I didn’t know their names. Their shrill calls echoed through the night. On and on.

  Ke-koik, ke koik!

  Fu-eek, fu-eek, fu-eek!

  Ke-teh-teh-teh-teh-teh!

  A bug suddenly whirred through the window. I fell backwards on the bed, startled for a moment. The black-winged beetle flew up to the light. I had to smile. It had almost given me the fright of my life but it seemed innocent enough.

  I sat upright at the window again, listening to the birds. Trying to recognize the strange smells wafting through the air. It had to be leaves, dry grass, dust.

  It was pitch-dark outside. So dark that it seemed as if a black velvet curtain had been hung right on the other side of the window. Drowning out all light, but not the sounds or the smells.

  Something scratched out there in the bush. I could hear the rustle of grass, the crackling of dry leaves and twigs.

  It sounded like something heavy.

  An animal?

  My mind raced, trying to find an explanation. Should I close the window now? Perhaps it wasn’t even near the chalet. I couldn’t really judge its distance, my mind not being accustomed to something like this.

  I listened again. It seemed quite near.

  There were no animal sounds, just the continuous scratching and rustling. I probably would have swallowed my tongue if that animal were to suddenly call out. Or worse, jump up at the window!

  Enough bravery for one night.

  I closed the window, making doubly sure the latch was properly secured. I fell back on my bed, staring out into the dark. Wondering what Mum was up to now.

  Themba still hadn’t come home.

  I must have fallen asleep there on the bed, still wearing the clothes I’d had on when I arrived. The bang of a door woke me up. Hasty footsteps. I lay there frozen, bre
athless. Something moved outside my door.

  ‘Dammit!’ It was a man’s voice.

  I heard him ruffling through a cupboard. The sound of metal. A safe opening? A clinking sound. The safe closing.

  Again hurried footsteps moving away, stopping near the front door, returning. Approaching my room. A shadow fell across the doorway.

  ‘Buyi, are you awake?’ It was Themba.

  ‘Yes …’

  ‘I have to go out again. Ensure all the doors and windows are shut properly.’ His voice was anguished. He looked tired, but he was obviously in a hurry.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Only now did I see the rifle in his hand. Shining ammunition in the other.

  ‘There has been an accident. The night safari …’

  ‘The one Lwazi went on?’

  He nodded, his brow furrowing even more. ‘They met with a lion.’

  ‘Is he all right?’

  ‘We don’t know. The radio signal was too weak. I’m off to find them. Stay here.’

  I nodded. The blood drained from my body, leaving me weak. As soon as I heard the front door slam, I ran through the chalet making sure every door that could be locked was locked. Every window latched.

  Fear had set in. And I didn’t like it at all.

  I couldn’t sleep anymore. I waited and waited for Themba to come home. Dreading every minute of it.

  Hours later, I heard the scratching at the front door.

  A lion, my mind cried.

  No, I heard a key turning in the lock. The door swung open. Themba entered. His clothes were all covered in blood.

  CHAPTER 10

  ‘What happened?’ I asked fearfully.

  Themba sighed, shook his head wearily and went to his room to lock the rifle away in the safe.

  ‘I’m going to take a shower,’ he said. ‘Why aren’t you in bed?’

  ‘I couldn’t –’

  ‘Get to your room!’

  ‘You’re all covered in blood! Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes, now go!’

  I wanted to scream with frustration. Who’s blood was that? Did he kill the lion? Or had the lion … No, I didn’t even want to think about that.