Kitafe

by Michael Ray

  He walked on, focusing on the tree and ignoring everything else around him then he noticed a movement and ran. Paul was trying to lift his head. He’d been tied to the tree facing the river, able to watch the water flowing past but not being given any. A bit of sadism on David’s part, but it had saved his life. Three feet of hardwood between him and the RAF’s best efforts to destroy the camp.

  Graham fiddled with the bindings and had little trouble undoing them. They’d been trashed by the shrapnel heading in Paul’s direction.

  ‘Time we left this hellhole.’

  Paul fell away and hit the ground, groaning.

  ‘Bollocks, sorry mate,’ Graham helped him sit up, leaning him against the trunk and gave him a perfunctory checkover. There didn’t appear to be any blood or broken bones, just emaciation.

  ‘We’ve got to get out of here mate, Ngai and the remains of his army will be back soon enough.’

  Paul tried to get up then slumped back again. ‘Sorry … no can do old chap,’ he whispered in a gravelly voice. ‘Legs not working. Got any water?’

  ‘Sorry, didn’t think you were still alive …’ He ran off, returning with a British Army issue canteen, filled from the river.

  ‘Hey, not too quickly.’

  Paul paused, ‘why not?’

  ‘No idea, it’s what they always say in the movies.’

  Paul tried to laugh, and then had a coughing fit and threw up.

  He tried again …. just a mouthful, and slowly poured the rest over his head. It seemed to revive him a bit and his voice strengthened.

  ‘Bloody RAF, bloody racket, must have blacked out. Did I miss anything?’

  ‘They hit an ammunition truck, most of it’s imbedded in the other side of your tree.’

  ‘You’re probably best off following the river.’

  ‘You’re not coming with me?’

  ‘Sorry old chap, not sure I could walk more than a couple of yards. Any more water?’

  Graham went off for a refill. Flies were already buzzing around the corpse of his guard, no doubt vultures would turn up in a while, followed by hyenas and other scroungers looking for an easy meal.

  ’You really think rivers are the safest way to go? As far as I remember they’re full of crocodiles.’ He said on on his return.

  ‘I shouldn’t worry about a few overgrown lizards, just shout at them. Possibly unwise to go swimming though. If you don’t follow the river, you’ll just go round in circles before dropping down dead from exhaustion. Couldn’t rustle up some supplies for me? Might as well see how long I can survive, nothing better to do.’

  ‘I’ll see if I can find you a tent in one piece.’

  ‘And something to keep the carnivores at bay. Wish I was coming with you and all that.’

  Graham headed off for a tour of the destruction. He’d seen death before, not something he’d enjoyed, but the wounded? A few were hanging onto life, mostly children. It looked as if the bulk of the army had escaped; maybe they’d return from the forest and help them.

  He found a couple of Kalashnikovs and eased them out of the grip of their dead owners, gleaned some extra magazines and returned.

  ‘How are he you doing, mate?’

  ‘A bit more of this world.’

  ‘These do? I found you a bit of bread as well. Sorry it’s covered in dust, must have been dropped by someone in a hurry.’

  Paul pushed himself up into a more vertical position and Graham tore off a chunk for him. He munched on it slowly and deliberately then washed it down with a bit of river water, closing his eyes as he swallowed. ‘Bloody throat feels as if it’s been roughed up with sandpaper.’ He took one of the guns from Graham. ‘You know how they work? You’ll need to take one with you.’

  ‘My training didn’t include Warsaw Pact weapons.’

  ‘Bit of an oversight, most popular assault rifle in the world. It’s not difficult. There’s a safety catch on the side, up for off, middle for automatic, down for single shot. Don’t use automatic, it will jerk upwards and you’ll waste ammunition firing at the sky.’

  ‘So, bottom position for single shot, point the gun in the right direction and press the trigger. When I’ve finished the slaughter, switch it back to the top. The labels seem to be in Chinese not Russian.’

  ‘They make them all over the place, I wouldn’t be surprised to see one stamped with Swahili.’

  ‘Didn’t know you were ever in the army?’

  ‘Only the school corp.’

  ‘You had AK’s in the school corp?’

  ‘Got to know them a bit later on. That bread was good, got anymore?’

  Graham handed the rest over. ’There are a couple of dozen of them out there dying, almost all children.’

  ‘What do you propose to do about it?’ Paul asked through a mouthful.

  ‘We can’t just leave them there.’

  ‘You wish to put them out of their misery?’

  Graham stared at him. ‘You must be kidding mate, I’m not executing anyone.’

  ‘Well you can’t take them with you.’

  ‘Maybe Ngai will return and look after them.’

  ‘And in a couple of months have them knocking on people’s doors and killing them?’

  ‘So you do want me to execute them?’

  ‘I don’t want you to execute anyone old chap, I’m just giving you the facts and letting you make up your own mind. I hope Ngai has the decency to bring a crate of beer with him.’

  ‘Sorry to spoil the reunion mate, but you’re coming with me.’

  ‘No, I’m not. I’d hate to appear ungrateful, but I’ll slow you down and to be quite frank, I stand a better chance with Ngai than on safari with you.’

  ‘What the hell were you doing here anyway?’

  ‘Interviewing Ngai; unfortunately, he took exception to my tour of the holding pens.’

  ‘I don’t remember much, but I thought I saw you.’

  ‘I dropped by to say hello.’

  ‘So you upset him?’

  ‘He got it into his head that I was spying and wanted me shot, but David realised who I was and thought I might be worth holding hostage. He’s had me on stagnant water and month old bread; haven’t had a decent shit for two months. Must return the favour some day.’

  ‘How did he know you?’

  ‘Recognised me from our time together at primary school.’

  ‘That must have been twenty odd years ago.’

  ‘He was a bully then as well. So who’s this, a friend of yours?’

  Graham turned round, Rachel was standing a few yards away, staring at them.

  ‘Good God, she survived!’

  ‘So who is she?’

  ‘Rachel, Ngai married us last night.’

  ‘Congratulations, she looks about twelve.’

  ‘And as surprised as I was, not that you can see much behind the mask.’

  Rachel came closer, ‘Embrace the prophet.’

  ‘Ngai is … I … I don’t … Bollocks.’

  ‘Are you alright.’ Paul asked, ‘you’ve gone a strange colour.’

  ‘Nothing, just felt as if someone had scooped half my brain and replaced it with a lump of concrete.’

  Paul spoke with Rachel … ‘Tribal language, not mine but close enough; I can understand what she says.’

  ‘Can she help us?’

  Rachel didn’t reply, but turned and ran.

  ‘That would be a no then,’ Graham said.

  He slumped down beside Paul. ‘We’re fucked aren’t we? You’re doomed to be eaten by a passing hyena and I’m all set to become a tasty snack for a thirsty lion.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say all is lost, sitting on the ground is considerably more comfortable than being hitched up to a tree. You appear a little more coherent than the last time we met.’

  ‘Part of me is, the other part still doesn’t know up from down.’

  ‘Well, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll lie down for a few moments and give my eyes a rest.’
>
  Graham sat by him, and then seeing he was asleep went off into the camp.

  He headed for Ngai’s tent, staring straight ahead and mentally blinkering his eyes and ears. He blocked out the stench of high explosives, of burning trucks and flesh and ignored the few still hanging on to life, concentrating on other things: food, beer, anything else. He passed a goat, browsing on the leaves of a shattered tree. It seemed unaware that the rest of the flock were lying dead nearby. If he caught it, Paul would have a supply of fresh milk, assuming he knew how goats worked; maybe later.

  The tent was empty; bullet holes had ripped through the canvas. Ngai’s chair was leaning over on a broken leg, and the carpet needed a bit of needlework, but no corpses. Maybe Ngai and his bodyguard of fifteen-year old girls had been somewhere else when the planes turned up. Around the back he found a food store and made an impromptu haversack from a couple of yards of camouflage material, filling it from cardboard boxes. Tins of beef, fish, dried meat, fruit … He returned with as much as he could carry, dumped it next to Paul then went off to catch the goat and to look for an undamaged tent and further supplies.

  *****

  It was well past midday before he needed a rest. The pile of food and armaments by Paul had grown and he’d attached the goat to the tree with a guy-rope. Paul was still asleep, so he sat down, took the bayonet off an AK and sliced open a papaya.

  ‘Have I been out for long?’ Paul asked, opening one eye.

  ‘Four hours max, want some lunch?’ Graham asked, handing the remains over.

  ‘Actually I could do with more water.’

  ‘That I have, several canteens worth, or perhaps you’d prefer a beer?’

  ‘Probably not a good idea. What the hell, that sleep’s made me feel almost human.’ He pulled himself up against the tree.

  Graham pinged the crown cap off with the bayonet and passed the bottle over. ‘You’re looking a little more together, how’s your throat?’

  ‘Improved, though my tongue still feels a couple of sizes too big. Probably best not overdo it with the beer.’

  ‘No chance of that, I only found one crate. The bastards must have loaded up the rest before they were chased away.’

  ‘Considered thinking in the circumstances.’

  ‘Not really, they were planning on pulling out today, they’d been loading up since first light.’

  ‘Your wife’s back, and appears to have brought a chum with her.’

  ‘Non-consummated, doesn’t count.’

  Rachel came over with a boy. He looked about ten years old, but had an AK hanging from his shoulder with the casual familiarity a boy in England might carry a school satchel.

  ‘They’ve just walked past the carnage without batting an eyelid.’ Paul said.

  ‘Brainwashed, I’ve been there; you don’t notice.’

  ‘Then welcome back.’

  ‘Thanks mate. Do you think they’re friendly?’

  ‘It would appear so, but you need to keep them on side. Perhaps you could flirt with your wife a bit, maybe pat her on the bottom?’

  ‘Is he from her village?’ Graham asked, ignoring him.

  … ‘Congratulations you have a brother-in-law, his name is Benjamin.’

  Rachel came up to Graham and tugged on his arm.

  ‘I think she would like to show you something,’ Paul said. ‘Don’t be long.’

  Graham followed her along the river. Having not talked to him at all for the last couple of months; Rachel chatted away almost continuously. He couldn’t understand a word she said, but felt relieved that she seemed to be coming out of her dream state. All he needed now was an on/off switch.

  Then he realised where she was taking him; pulled up on the river bank were half a dozen dugouts.

  ‘You clever girl.’

  He did a brief assessment, pushed two into the river and, grabbing a rope each, they walked them back.

  Paul, seeing them returning, stumbled over to the riverbank, and sat down with his feet in the water.

  ‘Rachel’s found us transport, you’re coming with us!’ Graham enthused.

  ‘Hate dugouts, bloody unstable things; couldn’t you have found a punt?’

  ‘Sorry mate, there aren’t any cushions either. What have you done with the boy Benjamin?’

  ‘Sent him off to pick up more supplies. Having been through your pile, I thought a few grenades might come in handy, though I think he’d rather have had the order from you.’

  ‘I’m not in charge.’

  ‘You’re the White Man old chap and you’re family. What’s more, they’ve seen you with Ngai, and that makes you very special. You’re even wearing one of those absurd nighties.’

  ‘It’s all I’ve got, and I’m not running round in the buff. Benjamin’s back with more food … bloody millet bread. I thought you’d sent him off for grenades?’

  ‘Perhaps the meaning got lost in translation. Come on, help me in.’

  ‘Not until we’ve loaded everything.’

  *****

  ‘You’re not bringing the goat,’ Paul said as they loaded the last of the food.

  ‘Fresh milk, followed by barbecued ribs. We have to bring the goat,’ Graham replied.

  ‘Have you never been in a canoe? It will have us in the water.’

  ‘Rubbish, they cart them around like regular passengers.’

  ‘You know how to milk one?’

  ‘No, but Rachel will.’

  ‘Why, because she’s a girl and she’s African?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re probably right, but no goat. We have enough food, we don’t need it. Besides, they stink.’

  ‘Have you smelt yourself recently?’

  ‘Given half a chance it will eat all the supplies … probably the canoe as well.’

  Graham looked at the goat with a degree of affection, it was a survivor and he felt a sense of camaraderie, though not enough to get in the way of a decent barbecue. He took the rope from around it’s neck and shooed it away. It didn’t appear to share his new found attachment and bounded off towards the acacias.

  ‘Poor bugger, probably end up inside a leopard.’

  ’A better fate than being exposed to your culinary skills; now help me in.’ Paul said.

  Graham took one side of Paul, and with help from Rachel waded into the river. They tipped him into the middle of a canoe and pushed it away from the bank, with Benjamin sitting with a paddle at the back, expertly holding position in the mainstream while waiting for the other canoe.

  ‘Nearest I ever came to a boat trip up the river was a birthday treat on Heaton Park lake,’ Graham said as they pulled alongside. ‘Spent the afternoon going round in circles.’

  ‘A good job you’re not paddling then … They want to know what your orders are.’ Paul said.

  ‘You’ll have to give orders; you might have noticed a language problem.’

  ‘Sorry old chap, you’re in command, you tell me and I tell them.’

  ‘Then I command you to give the orders.’

  Ten

  Ten minutes downstream and the carnage in the camp had disappeared. The calls of wild birds had replaced cries of the wounded, and the wet green smell of the gently snaking river, the stench of death and destruction .

  Cross-legged at the front of the dugout, the AK held upright in front of him, Graham felt like Livingstone exploring new lands or maybe a character from Rider Haggard. He looked around nervously, waiting to be showered with arrows from wild savages on the riverbank or torn to bits by mythical monsters. He didn’t even need to imagine the monsters. Ahead of them, crocodiles occasionally slipped into the river, looking like extras from a Tarzan movie, but escaping the strange creatures heading towards them, not planning an attack.

  ‘Rachel wishes to know what your orders are,’ Paul said.

  ‘Does she know where we’re going?’

  ‘… Downstream … she thinks the river goes near her village … but we must keep away from it … it has been
taken over by bad men … demons.’

  ‘I was hoping to bump into someone friendly.’

  ‘If the hippos don’t get us first.’

  ‘Hippos?’

  ‘Large grey semi-aquatic mammals with ten-inch teeth and ears that go round in circles.’

  ‘I know what hippos are.’

  ‘In that case old chap, you’d better keep a lookout for them, and now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have a nap.’

  Under normal circumstances it would be a pleasant enough way to spend a sunny afternoon, Graham concluded an hour later. He’d relaxed; neither mythical monsters nor wild savages had made an appearance and the camp was somewhere else, in the past. There’d be a time to rummage through the last view months, but for now they were not something to dwell on. They made good progress, moving at a fast walking pace, maybe four or five miles an hour. Three hours or so left of daylight, fifteen miles or so before pulling up for the night then forty miles a day. Enough supplies to keep them going for at least four days, and then they’d have to forage. No problems with fresh water, stick to the river, and in the worst case they’d get to the sea, probably. He began to wish he’d paid more attention to geography at school, or at least glanced at a map sometime in the last five years. Always food next to rivers, food in rivers, food in small villages alongside rivers. Bananas, papayas, goats, maybe the’d come across the odd settler or missionary; if they were still alive. No cash to buy anything, they’d have to take it. They had assault rifles, he could return and pay once everything was sorted.

  In the other canoe travelling alongside, Paul was lying on his back, his knees in the air and seemingly asleep. He’d get more energy after a few days, plenty of time to relax for now. Selfishly, he was glad that Paul was there, someone to talk to, someone who understood Africa.

  A large white bird flew up out of the reeds.

  ‘Great white egret,’ Paul announced as it flew overhead, ‘beautiful isn’t it?’

  ’You’re awake … you know your birds then?’