Bumi

by Linda Ihle

  Once Angela reached her, and placed their precious water can on top of the rock, Devin pointed across the valley below them indicating the range to the south and west. “Somewhere over there,” she said, “beyond those hills, I think, the farmlands will begin. And if it’s not the farmlands, it’s going to be the Tribal Trust Lands. This is where we have to be even more careful because some chiefs support the Security Forces and some don’t and I don’t know which ones are which.” She grinned at Angela. “They all look the same to me,” she quipped, and awaited the typical reaction. It did not come. Angela had not been listening; her eyes were fixed on something Devin had taken to be the shadow of a msasa tree.

  “What’s that?” she asked. “Is that where the smell is coming from?”

  “Hell, I don’t know,” Devin responded. She shaded her eyes with her right hand and focused on the puddle of darkness at the base of the tree. It was then she realized that the actual shadow was on the other side of the tree, lengthy now and distorted by the quickly fading light; what lay at the base on the east side of the msasa was huge and unmoving and, now that she focused on it, most definitely the source of the stench. “Dead jumbo?” she said aloud. “Why haven’t the hyenas and jackals and vultures been at it?” she asked no-one in particular. She strained to see if the carcass had been covered in some way to deter identification from the air, but it was too far away to really make out anything in that respect and she was not about to go down there and verify her suspicions. “Angela, stay really still and really quiet,” she whispered. “We’re not going to be able to go on that way – it’s too late – and I think that that thing under the tree is a couple of poached elephant.” She thought about that for a moment, and giggled softly. “I mean someone has illegally killed those elephant…”

  “I understood what you meant,” Angela hissed. “What’s so funny about that?”

  “Just the way I phrased it,” Devin retorted picturing a giant egg-poaching spoon, an elephant balancing in it. “Never mind,” she continued seeing the puzzled look on Angela’s face. “We can’t go near there because of scavengers; there are no trees down there suitable for us to hide in, and even if the carcass has been covered in some way, the smell will attract predators and scavengers alike and we don’t want to be the only fresh meat around.” She pursed her lips and exhaled lengthily. “Goddamnit anyway! We’ll have to stay up here, but there’s a place just down the slope over there. Hope you’re not claustrophobic?”

  “No,” Angela shook her head. “Why?”

  “It looks like a very narrow gap between two rocks and may open up into a cave, I dunno. Problem is that it might already be occupied.” She sighed. “I’ll check it, and then we can move our kutundra[17] in there.” Devin slithered backwards off the rock, looking down between her filthy legs for the makeshift steps she had used to get there, found purchase with her aching, stinging toes, and began to climb back down and across to where she had seen the crevice. The ground was already cooling on this side of the kopje as the sinking sun’s rays lifted toward the deep blue of the firmament. She made her way as quickly as she could. As she approached the rock niche she realized that they had nothing to eat that night, that they had not really eaten for a good many hours now and had shared only a piece of the terrorist’s biltong earlier in the afternoon, and, oh, so much water had passed under the bridge since then.

  She slowed as she drew closer to the cave and wished she had a torch to shine in there. She crouched down to the side of the gateway and gingerly craned her neck forward to peer around the edge. The niche was only about a foot wide at the top, but widened gradually toward the bottom where it would comfortably accommodate ingress and egress by a person of slight build. Thank goodness I am not traditionally built, she thought, remembering one of her nannies upon whose enormous shelf of a backside she had taken many a sojourn to the township and back; of course, without her mother’s knowledge. There would have been hell to pay if she had ever found out that her daughter was spending time in the black quarter. She edged forward on hands and knees and stuck her head in the opening, giving her eyes a chance to get used to the darkness there. Seeing nothing other than the dim blackness of the interior, Devin rose slowly, stooped and entered, feeling her way with her hands, shuffling bare feet on the rock lintel. Once through the opening, she carefully rose to her full height and, stretching her arms out to either side, found that this was, indeed, a cave.

  Squatting close to the exit, Devin flicked the lighter, filling the immediate area with a wan yellowish light, and looked carefully for any sign of eye-shine in the blackness toward the rear of the cavern. It indicated nothing, but that didn’t mean there was nothing lying on the ground, like a big fat old puff adder or some other nyoka. Do their eyes shine in the light? Man, we’re taking a chance in here, she told herself, but we have no option now. She walked forward very slowly, placing each foot down very gently and gingerly, until she had reached the rear of the cave. No animals occupied the floor or the walls, so she turned her attention to the ceiling and found that it was so far above her head; the glow of the lighter seemed to disappear in upward spirals. Hmm, there’s no bat guano on the floor, so we should be OK in that regard – no bats up there, and can only hope no buttons either. She walked back to the oval of fading light at the lintel, noting that, within to the side of the doorway was a low table of rock and roots, jutting out of the wall. She eased her way back out onto the narrow parapet, and looked up to see Angela waiting at the top of the kopje.

  “I think it’ll be alright in here tonight,” she called up and beckoned to her to come down. “Carry what you can, and I’ll come back up and get the rest. We’ll need to make a fire at the entrance to this cave to keep the leopards out. Shit, I’m hungry hey. Wish we had killed something on the way here.” She shrugged and made her way back up the kopje to help with the water can and gather some wood.

  “Did you check for snakes?” Angela asked.

  Devin nodded. “Ja, there’s nothing in there.”

  The two women built a small fire on the parapet before the entrance to their shelter before settling in for the night. They drew twigs to see who would take the first watch and that fell to Devin. Angela curled up on the sandy ground close to the entrance (she had shown some hesitation about approaching the rear of the cave), and was soon asleep. Nightfall brought with it the calls and cackling of hyena and jackal, the roar of lion, and, far-off, the muted trumpeting of elephant. Above the crackle of the fire, Devin could hear the occasional hoot of an owl, and, then, the cough of a leopard. It was close. She brought the rifle into her lap and quietly raised it to her shoulder, sunburned eyes wide, tearing with the strain and the smoke. The fire will keep it away, she told herself, and it seemed to. The cat’s prey was bountiful down along the slope of the kopje and over the other side where that gargantuan miasmic shadow had lurked.

  If that is a couple of jumbo, why haven’t the vultures and hyenas been at them? Must be covered with something; we’ll have a look in the morning.

  She piled more sticks and twigs onto the flames, building them higher, and watched as a large black scorpion scuttled out from under the dessicated bark of a knobthorn branch. Its hasty attempt at escape was halted by a licking orange flame and it disappeared into the maw of the fire. Devin could hear it popping and crackling as it was consumed. She imagined she could hear it scream and felt nothing but relief, relief that it had not escaped and made a dash up her leg. I wonder what they’re doing at home, she mused. Probably eating supper. She kicked at a small branch that threatened to fall out of the blaze and a shower of sparks briefly illuminated the shadows of night that seemed to soak into the rock upon which she sat. Her stomach growled and she rubbed it.

  “Damn, I’m hungry,” she said aloud. She lit a cigarette, one of the Rothman’s the toilet-rock terrorist had been carrying and inhaled deeply before pouring herself a cup of water. That and the nicotine would take the edge off.

  —————————
———

  A light tapping at the door to his room roused Mick from a restless sleep. He rose drowsily, glancing at the travel alarm on the bedside table, noting that he would have to go down and get supper soon. “Just a minute,” he called. He took an ashtray off the bedside table and put it into the drawer, concealing the roughly rolled roach there, and padded to the door. “Ja, who is it?” he asked.

  “It’s me, Rod.”

  Mick opened the door and the guitarist leaned in. “Bad news, Mick. It’s all cancelled.”

  “Ah, shit, anyway!” He motioned for Rod to come in and shut the door behind him. He sat back down on the bed. “When you guys leaving?”

  “First thing in the morning. Jane’s already packing up. After supper you should break down your kit and we’ll get it loaded in the Kombi, OK?”

  Mick nodded. “Ja, I will. This is just so damn… I dunno….just SHIT!” He stared at the wall behind Rod’s head. A faded, typed list of room rules, mealtimes, and the like had been pinned there. “Listen, I will follow you back to Salisbury, and then I am going to take the gap. I’ll sell my kit and then I’m gone.”

  “What about your probation?”

  “Fuck it. I will travel light, hitchhike and get in on one of the convoys to Beit Bridge”

  “They didn’t take your passport?”

  “No, the fuzz who busted me was an old friend of Devin’s, and she helped me with the lawyer. The cop halved the amount of grass I actually had, so….” he shrugged, “and you guys had asked me to join the band. I caught a break. They won’t miss me. There is nothing here for me now.”

  “You’re giving up, Mick?”

  “There hasn’t been a bloody word about who was on the damn plane, who survived, who didn’t. Typical bloody police-state government. Jesus! If she wasn’t on the flight, she would have called me. If she survived the shootdown, she would have called me. She’s gone.” Tears sprung in his eyes and one escaped to roll down his cheek.

  Rod gripped him by both shoulders. “Shit, man,I am so sorry. Shame, man, Mick. I just don’t know what to say. But if you have to get down South, get down South, just don’t get caught.”

  “I won’t. I’ll use my boet’s passport. I’ll be OK. I’m sure I can find a gig in Joburg.”

  “Come on, Mick, come and eat supper with us.”

  “Not really hungry right now.”

  “Come on, man! You’ll feel better with a bit of kos in your guts….maybe a vodka, lime and lemonade?” Rod smiled at him and reached out a hand. Mick took it and Rod pulled him up off the bed. He wrapped a casual arm around the man’s shoulders and they walked out thus to the dining room, together. An elderly woman scurrying behind them tut-tutted at this display of un-manliness. Mick turned around and winked at her. He pulled Rod aside to let the woman pass. She harumphed her displeasure and they both laughed.

  “Uptight and now outta sight!” Mick joked. “Let me just go down to the pool for a seccie, here, Rod. I will come up and join you in a minute, OK?”

  “Don’t be long.”

  “I won’t.”

  He walked down to the swimming pool, lighting a cigarette on the way, and crossed the lawn to the fence and gazed out upon the lake. A fading scarlet smudge on the blurring horizon hinted of the recent sunset. Mick leaned against the fence, drawing deeply on the cigarette. Tears rolled down his cheeks and he brushed them away angrily. “Ciao, Devi,” he whispered. About to gomp the cigarette and carry the stompie back with him to the rubbish bin, he heard his name being called. He turned to see one of the hotel receptionists waving to him from the stoep.

  “Phone call, Mr. James!”

  His heart flipped. He ran as quickly as his high-heeled, wood clogs would allow back up to the hotel front desk and then, hesitantly, took the heavy black receiver from the woman.

  “Hello?”

  A man’s voice: “Mick?”

  “Ja, who is this?”

  “Um, I don’t think you know me. My name is Andy Harrison. I am a teacher here in Ukunkwe. Devin is a friend of mine.”

  “Yes, she mentioned you now and again.” Mick found his knees were shaking, his hands trembling,and he leaned back against the front desk for support.

  “Do you know where she is, Mick?”

  “No. She was supposed to be coming from Vic Falls, but the plane was fucking shot down! I don’t know if she was or wasn’t on the plane.” His voice broke with a sob on the last words. “No-one will tell me a bloody thing!”

  “Agh, Jesus! Her little brother is in my class and he has been very upset. I’m sorry, Mick, hey. Shit man! He told me something had happened to Devi and then he started crying, but was not allowed to say another word! I don’t know now. This bloody government hides so much shit from us. They haven’t even released the full passenger list yet and the ones who got away are not talking. Well, that’s what I hear anyway. Hell, I don’t even know if they’ve been allowed to go home to their families yet.”

  Mick tried to compose himself, gulping back the sobs. “Yes, I know all about that,” he retorted. “I went to the airport to meet her, and there was no fucking plane, just someone from RA who didn’t know anything either or just would not say!”

  “Shit, man! I don’t know what to say! She’s my friend!” Andy struggled to maintain his composure, but the fear and sorrow combined to choke him.

  There was a long silence as the two men battled their emotions.

  “Listen, Andy, I am packing up my kit tonight and we’re all leaving in the morning, back to Salisbury. After that, I’m going down South.”

  “Sorry to hear that, Mick. My phone number here in Ukunkwe is 2961. Please phone me if you get any news at all. Best of luck getting down South”

  “Ja, I will. Thanks, Andy. Cheers.”

  He replaced the receiver in the cradle and scrubbed the tears off his cheeks before heading into the dining room for the last time.

  29.

  The minutes seemed to edge by as Devin maintained her vigil. She had no real way of actually measuring the time other than observing the slow crawl of a yellowish waxing moon up and across the night sky. Its illumination was feeble at first, strengthening as it rose toward the canopy of clustered stars, revealing brief flashes of eye-shine in the grass down along the side of the kopje and the path the two women had made to reach the top of the hill. Hyenas cackled at one another very nearby. Devin turned her attention in the direction of the sound and stared into the darkness, trying to find the beasts, but saw only shadows of shadows, so vague they might not have been there, just nebulous vapour in the grass. Nothing approached the fire-lit cave.

  Devin was nodding into that twilight prelude to sleep, Angela was whimpering and muttering as she dreamed again of the horrors at the fallen Viscount, when a distant thrumming, throbbing rumble cast all else into silent vigilance and jolted Devin into full alert. “What the hell?” she whispered. “It’s a bloody chopper again. What the hell! Shit!” She crawled over Angela and gathered handfuls of sand to douse the fire which had dwindled to a bed of red coals, the occasional small flame licking up amid the intermittent sparks of incinerated insects.

  She grabbed Angela’s shoulder and shook her fully awake. Angela could barely make her out in the gloom of the cavern so could not see that Devin was holding her finger to her lips. “What, what, what?” she exclaimed. “Gee, you could get me up…..”

  “Shut up,” Devin placed her hand over the woman’s mouth, “and listen.”

  Angela cocked her head and, hearing nothing but the ocean-sound of blood flowing through her veins, crawled out onto the rock parapet. Devin followed her. The noise of the aircraft beat against the walls of air surrounding them, very close now, but still they could not see it. Then Angela grabbed Devin’s arm and pointed back the way they had traveled to the kopje cave. There, lights off, skimming, pounding low across the swirling grass of the veldt sped a huge black shadow. In the moonlight, it was a giant, sinister fly, myriad eyes glinting. Its fly-lights became vi
sible, then the searchlights came on, sweeping, probing the corners of the night.

  “Get back in here!” Devin yelled as she crawled backward into the cave, pulling Angela by the back of her shorts. Whimpering, Angela made it back into the cave as a brilliant white shaft of light from the helicopter swept across the hillside. The din of the blades chopping at the moisture-laden air seemed to beat right into their bones and both ducked instinctively each covering the back of their neck with shaking hands. At that instant, a small figure appeared at the mouth of the aperture and Devin felt a rush of air as it sped past her into the back of the cave, followed by another and another and yet another. She sat up, pushed back against the rock wall and pulled the AK-47 around to firing position. The strobe of the searchlight reflected off three sets of close-set amber eyes near the floor of the cave, and one reddish set above those.