by Tony Park
‘Unlikely,’ Julianne said. She frowned, as if she, too, was now out of ideas.
‘Look,’ Mia spread her hands, ‘I’ve seen counter-tracking measures used by poachers in the past and I’ve learned about the practice from expert trackers, one of whom was a poacher, and this guy is good. He must know every trick in the book, but the thing with counter-tracking is you can only employ it for so long, whether it’s walking backwards in your own tracks, sticking to rocky ground, wading through streams or using a leafy branch like a broom to cover your tracks – everyone makes a mistake eventually. We’ve just had a combination of factors working against us, from rain to dodgy salmon, and poor Sara getting shot. Those have stopped us catching this guy out. We’ll get him.’
‘You and Bongani?’ Julianne looked slightly dubious.
‘Yes.’
‘But you’re not my anti-poaching team.’
‘I know, but they haven’t caught him either. That’s why you and I are having this conversation.’
‘Yes,’ Julianne admitted. ‘I’ve been on enough game drives and walks with you, and others throughout Africa, to know that combined, you and Bongani are probably one of the best tracking teams on the continent.’
‘Thank you.’
Julianne pursed her lips. ‘I’m not complimenting you, Mia, I am telling you to go out there and do what you do best.’
Mia nodded. ‘I understand. I think. What do you want me to do about our new guests?’
‘They’re important to me as well. Keep taking them on drives, but I also want you on standby, ready to follow up any electronic or physical reports of poachers on this reserve. Bongani as well. Understood?’
‘Yes.’
Julianne sighed. ‘I like you, Mia. You’re not afraid. I remember the time we were on a walk and you stared down a charging lion, held your ground. I nearly wet myself, but you didn’t flinch. I need you, now.’
In truth, Mia remembered, she’d nearly had the same reaction, but she knew the number one rule when it came to predators was not to run away from them. That applied to bosses as well as poachers, but at the moment she felt like going to her room, crawling under the duvet and hiding. ‘I understand.’
‘Good. Find this clever bastard for me, Mia. If I have to I’ll recruit extra anti-poaching rangers or more canine teams – whatever it takes – but right now you and Bongani are probably my best bet. The chopper’s yours if you want it, ditto the Vulture system. We can turn it on, day and night.’
‘All right,’ Mia said. The Vulture system was normally only manned at night-time, but she was not going to thank Julianne again. As for her helicopter, from what Mia had heard – and experienced this morning – the damn thing seemed to be on the ground or off for maintenance every time they’d needed it during the recent contacts with poachers.
‘Are you fit to go out on a drive this afternoon?’
Mia swallowed. She was desperate to brush her teeth. ‘I am.’
‘Good. I’ll come with you. These two tourists are important to me and not just because they’re our first post-lockdown guests. The woman’s husband is a potential future investment partner. We need to make sure his wife and daughter enjoy themselves while they’re here.’
‘I’ll give them a safari they won’t forget.’
‘For all the right reasons, please. And we’ve got two more women for the game drive, Samantha Karandis and Elizabeth Oosthuizen.’
Mia vaguely recognised the names. ‘Samantha’s head of the local tourism association, right?’
‘Yes,’ Julianne said. ‘It’ll be a long time before hordes of foreign tourists start coming back to South Africa so we’re going to need all the help we can get attracting domestic visitors. Samantha will help with that – and Lord knows she needs to, as I hear the bank’s about to repossess that empty hotel she and her late husband built near Killarney.’
‘Shame,’ Mia said. ‘I heard about the husband. Who’s the other woman?’
‘Elizabeth. Her husband’s big in construction; did a bit of infrastructure work here in the reserve, waterholes and roads and such. Basically, she’ll be another pretty face for today’s Instagram posts, and in the right post-COVID demographic – wealthy local South Africans. Take plenty of pictures for the social media people.’
‘Got it.’ Sensing the pep talk was over and she was dismissed, Mia excused herself to go to her room.
Kaya Nghala was built into and around a granite koppie, a boulder-studded hill that overlooked a grassy area of open savannah, punctuated in the middle by a waterhole fed from an underground bore. In the distance the grassland gave way to thicker bushveld.
Mia detoured up the stairs from reception to the dining area. As well as a more formal indoor setting, with a big square table around which most guests and their rangers sat each night, there was a timbered deck overlooking the place where animals came to drink.
Sue and Laura Barker were finishing lunch, watching a lone bull elephant slurping up trunkfuls of water and alternately drinking and showering himself.
Mia greeted them, but young Laura seemed more interested in the elephant. ‘Look, he’s showering. Is he washing himself?’
‘No, not really,’ Mia said. ‘He’s squirting that water on his back to wet down his skin. Next, he’ll suck up some dust and spray that over his skin so that it sticks to him. The layer of dried mud on his back helps cool him and protect him from parasites, such as ticks.’
As if on cue, the elephant moved a few paces away from the water, kicked the ground with one big front foot to loosen some soil, and inhaled the dirt. He reached back and coated himself with dust.
‘Wow,’ Laura said, looking back at Mia, ‘you’re amazing.’
Mia smiled. ‘Not really. It’s just that part of this job involves learning a lot about animal behaviour, so I know what they’re going to do next.’
‘Still, very impressive,’ Sue said. ‘What’s the plan for the rest of the day?’
‘When you finish your lunch you’re free to head to your room, perhaps for a siesta, or you can hang out here or by the main pool. Your room has a private plunge pool as well.’
‘Brilliant,’ Laura said. ‘I’m going to sunbathe.’
‘Well, if you don’t put on sunscreen,’ her mother said, ‘I’ll smother you in mud, like an elephant.’
‘We’ll meet back here at 3.30 pm for afternoon tea,’ Mia said, ‘and then we’ll go out on a game drive. Julianne Clyde-Smith is coming with, and two other guests.’
‘That’s fine,’ Sue said, as though she had final approval over who was coming on the game drive. The sense of entitlement of some guests, especially the very wealthy, never ceased to amaze Mia.
‘OK, great. Bye for now.’ Mia retraced her steps, then took a side path to the staff quarters. Bongani was sitting on the small stoep of his room, cleaning his boots.
‘Did the boss lady give you a dressing down?’ he asked.
‘You heard?’
‘I hear all, like an elephant.’
‘Nice of you to stick around and back me up, partner.’ He gave a small laugh. ‘We’re under pressure, friend,’ she added.
‘Aren’t we always?’ He inspected the toe of his boot, gave it a buff and looked up at her. ‘“Find me a leopard, find me a lion, find me a rhino, find me a poacher.” It’s all the same.’
She looked at him, wondering, for just a moment. ‘Are you all right?’
He shrugged. ‘I miss my wife and my children.’
‘But this is nothing unusual for you. You’re normally away from them this long, or longer.’
‘Yes, but it is the uncertainty, in these times. We take things, people, for granted when we know they are always going to be there, even if we don’t fully appreciate them. I think, now, what if one of my kids, or Thandeka, gets the virus, and has to go to hospital? We have no
money, and only I have medical aid.’
This was a man whom Mia had seen stare down big cats and elephants. Bongani had even survived being charged and tossed on the horns of an angry buffalo bull. She had always thought of him as fearless, indestructible, and now she was reminded he was simply human.
‘I am sure they will be fine. And at least you’ve been able to keep your job thanks to the Stayhome Safaris.’
‘Yes . . .’
‘Yes, but what? Is something wrong?’
Bongani looked away from her, clearly uncomfortable. It wasn’t like him, she thought, to be evasive. They had long since shed the racial, cultural, age and gender barriers that would have stopped them being close friends – at least, she thought they had. ‘Is it money? We’re all doing it tough – we certainly all relied on our tips before the virus, of that there’s no doubt.’
He drew a breath and exhaled. ‘It’s . . . it’s not just my family who I have to provide for with my wages.’
Why hadn’t she thought of that? Mia cursed her insensitivity. ‘Of course, you’ve probably been supporting your extended family and half of Killarney.’
He gave a small shrug. ‘Not quite half . . .’
Mia shook her head. She should have known – did know already – that a person of importance and comparative wealth, as Bongani was now in these tough times, would be expected to share his fortune with those less well-off.
‘I’m so sorry, my friend. Can I help?’
‘We both know how much you make – minus tips,’ he said.
She sighed. ‘You’re right. But let me know if there is anything I can do.’
‘Of course.’ He slapped a hand down on his thigh. ‘In the meantime, we must find this poacher.’
‘You do hear everything; I’m sure you were eavesdropping on me and Julianne.’
He smiled up at her. ‘Yes, so you don’t need to brief me on our extra pax. But apparently you and I do not see so well any more. We cannot let this man get the better of us, Mia.’
‘He already has.’
‘Yes, but not for long. I think we need help.’
‘What kind of help? Julianne said she’ll bring in more anti-poaching rangers and dogs, but that will take time.’
Bongani shook his head. ‘As good as they are, we cannot use the dogs for what I have in mind. How do you track an animal, Mia?’
She put her hands on her hips. ‘Is this a trick question? I’m too tired for jokes, Bongani.’
He shook his head. ‘No. Answer my question, please.’
She sighed. He could be like this sometimes; she called it his Yoda mode. ‘Find us some spoor, we do.’
‘Very funny. Go on,’ he said.
‘Physical evidence, like flattened grass, scat, broken branches, blood.’
‘And . . .’
‘And our knowledge of the animal’s behaviour.’
Bongani spat on the toe of his other boot and rubbed it with his cloth. ‘You’re getting warmer.’
‘Get into the mind of the animal we’re tracking. But that’s anthropomorphism, pretending we know what an animal’s thinking, or giving it human-like emotions.’
‘True.’ Bongani set down the boot he was working on. ‘And we want to avoid that, when it’s an animal, but this is a human we are tracking so we do and we can and we should get into his mind.’
Mia sat on the concrete stoep, literally at Bongani’s feet. He was the teacher once more, as he had been when she had first come to the reserve, fresh from university. It was almost comforting, being the student again, not having to call the shots or make the decisions, as she so often did these days when on a game drive. ‘Tell me.’
‘No, you think. You’re doing well. What is in his mind?’
‘Greed.’
‘You’re thinking like a white person now, or some politician, thinking, how can I better myself, how can I make more money, get more possessions? That may be part of this man’s motivation – in fact it most definitely is – but there is more to him.’
Mia nodded slowly, taking in Bongani’s words. ‘He is not a young man, so he is not foolish – well, not too foolish.’
Bongani smiled. ‘Go on.’
‘This is not a game he is playing, but he knows he is besting us.’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘Because his life depends on him outwitting us.’
‘Now we are getting there,’ Bongani said. ‘He is using his brain, and he is using every tool and skill at his disposal.’
Mia thought of the skull in the tree. ‘Like umuthi, you mean?’
‘Yes, perhaps. But why? Does he believe in umuthi?’
Mia chewed the inside of her lip. The temptation was to say ‘yes’, that this man they were tracking was putting his faith in medicine, potions or spells, in the belief that they would make him invisible. That, of course, was not possible. If the man believed some powder or a tea made from a root or being anointed with something would make him vanish then he would be careless when being followed, putting his faith in the magic rather than his skills. Plenty of younger, less experienced poachers had been shot dead carrying umuthi.
She closed her eyes for a few seconds, then opened them. She looked at Bongani. ‘He believes that we – or some of our anti-poaching operators – believe in umuthi.’
‘He knows,’ Bongani went on, ‘that if things like that skull, or other evidence of his traditional medicine are left behind, then our men will know he has been using umuthi. Some may believe in it, just as the young poachers do, but, importantly, if our guys cannot track him, cannot find him, they may think that his magic is strong – stronger than whatever they believe.’
‘It’s a cop-out, you mean? Like, some of our guys won’t try so hard, but rather blame umuthi?’
Bongani shrugged. ‘Something like that.’
Mia thought a little more. ‘It’s like psychological operations that some armies use, preying on their enemy’s perceived weaknesses.’
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘It gives him an edge.’
Bongani nodded. ‘My cousin Alfred was a good soldier, when he was in the army. He is no coward. He is not as good a tracker as me – or you – but when he lost his poacher, it was easier for him to say that the man had used umuthi to make himself disappear than to admit defeat, or his own lack of skill.’
The same thought had crossed Mia’s mind, though she had not wanted to offend Bongani by suggesting such a thing about his relative. It was OK, though, if it came from him.
‘So what else is motivating our man?’ Bongani pressed.
‘Like I said, his life depends on how good he is. That’s what is motivating him.’
Bongani raised his eyebrows. ‘Saving his own life? If he was worried about that he would stay home and farm or drink beer and listen to the radio.’
She shook her head. ‘No, he wants to be the best, better than you and me.’
Bongani nodded slowly. ‘Now we are getting closer. This is important to him, eluding us, perhaps even more than killing rhinos and making money, to be known as the best tracker – or, in this case, counter-tracker – in the land.’
Mia thought about that. ‘So what was he, a hunter?’
‘No doubt,’ Bongani said, ‘when he was younger, but in this day and age it is hard to practise such skills on a daily basis. For one, until this current surge in demand for rhino horn, there was no need – people had access to food by other means; at least most people are not starving in this country. This man has spent a life perfecting his craft.’
‘Like us,’ Mia said.
‘He is not just like us,’ Bongani said.
Mia nodded again, understanding now. ‘He is one of us.’
Chapter 11
Mia parked the Land Rover under the portico out the front of Kaya Nghala Lodge. Bong
ani stayed with the vehicle and Mia went through to the dining area where afternoon tea was being served.
‘How are we all doing?’ she asked Sue and Laura.
‘Fine thanks.’ Sue set down her cup of tea. ‘We have high hopes for this afternoon’s drive.’
‘We want to see a leopard,’ Laura said.
‘Do you now?’ Mia had mixed feelings when guests demanded what animals they wanted or expected to see. Mostly it was good-natured, but some guests would complain, behind her back, if she did not serve up every animal they had imagined they would see. It was fine if she knew that a particular guest or group had their heart set on something, and she would do her best to deliver, but she much preferred those clients who were happy to be out in the bush and accepted that, in the spirit of the animals being wild, it was never a hundred per cent guaranteed they would see lions, leopards, buffalos, elephants or rhinos. Also, if the reserve was operating as it had pre-COVID, there would have been half a dozen or more other guides, trackers and vehicles full of guests out roaming the bush from Lion Plains’ three lodges, and they would be sharing their sightings with each other, thus making finding a particular animal much easier. Today, even with a Land Rover full of the first guests in months, they would be on their own.
One of the waiters came to Mia. ‘Can I get you something, Mia?’
‘I’ll just help myself to water, thanks.’ Mia saw two other women standing to one side, sipping coffee. She recognised Samantha Karandis from photos she had seen in the Hazyview Herald. ‘Mrs Karandis?’
‘Samantha, please.’ The woman raised an elbow theatrically in the COVID-era version of a handshake, and nodded to the other woman. ‘And this is Elizabeth.’
‘Howzit,’ said the blonde woman, who was well-groomed, beautiful.
‘I’m Mia. I’ll be your ranger, and our tracker is Bongani. He’s –’
At the table behind them, Sue held up her wristwatch. ‘I hate to interrupt, but, well, time is getting on.’
Mia groaned inwardly. Sue was clearly a woman used to setting the agenda and getting what she wanted.
Elizabeth looked to Mia. ‘Sjoe, but I just need to finish my iced coffee.’
