Her smile did not reach her eyes.
“Do you help with David’s medical practice?” I probed.
“Of course—”
David interrupted with a loud, “Hark!”
Mary and Mebalwe froze in their tracks and Mary’s hand instantly grasped my elbow to keep me stationary. I needed no incentive to remain still—not only because David’s voice was as loud as a boat whistle, but because I could see the reason for the stop.
Lions.
An entire pride of them lay under the shade of several trees some distance ahead of us. They had not been visible to the eye until we were too close for comfort. Luckily the children were inside the wagon at the time.
“Get into the wagon,” David spoke to Mary and me. “Move slowly.” Mebalwe stayed with his hand on the head of the ox at the forefront.
I realized, with a knot in my stomach, that oxen must look like a fine meal to a pack of lions. If they were hungry, we may encounter them. In a frantic moment, I realized if I had to fight a lion, or any other beast or enemy, I now was weak and slightly injured. I would be no help whatsoever.
Mary and I cautiously moved to the back of the wagon and climbed inside. To our relief, Robert and Agnes were asleep with angel faces. We moved closer to the front next to David so that we could keep an eye on the situation.
David was absolutely, immovably focused. His eyes would not be taken from the pride any more than his heart from his chest. I looked at him for a moment and then continued my stare as well. David had moved the cart to veer hard right in an effort to not appear hostile.
“If they attack it will be that female there,” he spoke, his eyes never leaving a particular lioness that strode back and forth in front of her family.
Slowly and painfully we moved away from the animals and back into the open, delicious air of the late afternoon. After some time, David and Mary’s forms seemed to relax and she went to perch next to him on the front of the wagon. About the same time, the children awoke and began to move about.
Robert approached the adults.
“May we go searching for frogs?” he asked eagerly. They had remained blissfully unaware of all that had passed. Despite my lingering fear, I had to smile at his sweet ignorance.
“Stay in the wagon for only an hour longer,” David responded casually, not a hint of stress in his voice. “We will stop for the night soon.”
Once we stopped, I quickly realized the fire building had become my full responsibility. As Mary handed the spindle and board to me, I thought not only of the pain beating from my hand, but the already present ache in my arms, legs, and back from last night’s fire and today’s walking and excitement. Not to mention, the hurt that would come if I attempted this task again.
“Please don’t make me do this, Mary,” I begged. “My hand and arms hurt so badly, can’t you help me?”
Mary put her hand on my good one.
“It is necessary that you work against the pain of the body to make it stronger so that you may be a strong African woman,” she explained. “It will hurt, Miss Anna. But does that make it bad?”
I had started to cry, but nevertheless I turned away and began the job.
Mary and I were right. There was pain. I felt sure that if it weren’t for my crushed hand, I would have been faster tonight. I used the side of my hand that the ox had missed, and used its strength to rub against the spindle as quickly as I could manage. I stopped several times to rub my screaming arms and cradle my throbbing hand to my chest. The tears did not come from sadness, but from pain. They cascaded down my face and halted my progress by making my board slightly damp.
I knew now that no help would come. All three of my companions seemed determined to limit their pity. I knew their neglect was actually out of concern. They were determined I should be strong to face whatever was coming next in our journey.
After an hour of struggling, I finally came to the conclusion that I had to either ignore the pain and make the fire or give up and admit defeat. What a pathetic sight I would be if I gave up the fight so soon into the journey! No. Defeat was not acceptable. And so, as I spun my wood between my battered hands, the pain came, and it came strong, harder than before. But in my mind, I dismissed the need to feel and pushed through.
That tiny spark was the most gratifying sight seen in the history of women. All three of my adult companions suddenly rushed to my side and secured the small flame to the wood they’d prepared. Although the new, deeper pain in my hand would have to be addressed, in that moment I could not help but laugh at the sweet nature of my team. They had succeeded in their own task of not helping me with the spark, but they could not possibly contain their feelings any longer when the job had been accomplished. I cried fresh tears for such caring friends.
David and Robert, who had left partway through the fire making, came into camp with two large birds they had caught together. I was allotted a few moments to rest and inspect my bandages before dinner preparations began, but then Mary beckoned me to her, and I obeyed.
Without ceremony or hesitation, Mary used her butcher cleaver to take the heads off the animals. She then brought the bodies to me and started to show me how to pull the feathers out. However, the sight of their headless bodies overcame me in an instant and I bolted for some low, nearby bushes where I relieved myself of my lunch. When I was finished, I came back to Mary, who looked truly annoyed.
“Are you done?” she asked me impatiently.
I was bewildered. I had had no control over it. Yet I had disappointed Mary, so I answered simply.
“Yes.”
She continued where she left off and I held back my remaining nausea. Soon the body was in my hands and I was pulling viciously at the feathers, apologizing to it repeatedly in my mind.
Mary put the birds in a pot on my fire and I excused myself from dinner. I was no longer hungry.
Dinner cooked, roots gathered, and all tools cleaned and put away, I emerged from my hiding place. No one commented on either my disappearance or reappearance.
Now that the fear of today’s situation had passed, David sat calmly by the fire, drinking his tea. I wanted to talk some more with him, and I was as interested in the Boers as he was disinterested in talking about them. He relinquished some facts, however.
“The majority of them that are in my acquaintance were under the direction of a certain man, Piet Retief. He once took charge of a group of about thirty wagons a couple months into their trek. He was a gambler at heart, and had recently lost his fortune in a business risk, but was certainly charismatic enough for the position.”
“Was?” I asked, picking up on the past tense.
David paused and sighed heavily. I sensed that this was the story he hadn’t wanted to tell me.
“Piet struck a deal with a barbarian Zulu chief by the name of Dingane, whose village lies on the eastern coast, near where you landed not two days ago. Chief Dingane told Piet if he would retrieve some of his stolen cattle, he would allow him and his group to settle on his land. He even signed a treaty of sorts, allowing the settlers to have a portion of his land once the cattle were retrieved. Piet and his boys delivered the cattle to Dingane, after which the chief invited them to a great feast. Then Chief Dingane politely asked the men to leave their modern weapons at home, claiming his home to be a sacred place.”
I gasped audibly.
“I am glad to see you understand the danger in such a scheme, Miss Anna. Piet took one hundred men with him to the feast, including his son, thinking that more than enough protection and expecting to be welcomed and praised. And the feast went well enough, until Dingane’s men killed every last one of them.”
David was angry now.
“So that is why they are so acutely miserable,” I guessed. “Because a hundred of their men were killed by this Dingane?”
“Dingane did not stop there.” David shook his head. “The women and children of the hundred men were left unprotected not six miles from the place. Only a handful
survived, including two young girls, who had been stabbed more than thirty times between them.”
My heart was in my stomach.
“One of the men who survived the attack ran ahead to another group of Boers who were then able to fight off the Zulu warriors. Abraham was one of those men, and his courage in the ensuing fight is what has made him the new leader. But the fighting left him very bitter and violent.
“Obviously, I do not condone Dingane’s actions,” David said quickly. “He is the vilest and evilest of creatures. However, I also don’t condone acting a fool—which Piet certainly did. He thought he could simply wander into the terrains of Africa with absolutely no knowledge of the centuries of organization and management by these chiefs! Any man could be in Dingane’s presence for a moment and discern the evil that plays host in his mind. The Boers have a never-ending pride that will be the death of them if they do not change.”
“Still,” I declared, growing emotional, “he must be stopped.”
“That is what the Boers are working on,” he stated. “But I fear they see all natives as the enemy now instead of just Dingane. They hate Sechele, nearly as much as they hate the Zulu, simply because his skin is the same shade. There is great danger in a people who think that way.” He eyed me in a peculiar way, perhaps asking whether I, too, shared those feelings.
“Chief Sechele is not a heathen chief?” I asked confidently.
“You may ask him yourself. We will be arriving in only a few short days.”
“And what is he like?” I inquired.
“My friend Sechele,” David began quietly. “Sechele is wound tightly around the traditions of his people. His enthusiasm for the Bible is outstanding, but he has yet to be baptized. I have known him and preached to him for three years this October. The conflict is in Sechele’s soul, drawn forward by new ideals but pulled back by the entanglements forged by a hundred generations. His higher self delights in the Law of God, but a different law wars within, leaving him captive to his lower self.”
I pretended to understand what he meant.
“He is an excellent leader, but he had a tragic childhood. His father was killed by his uncles when he was just a boy. Sechele was saved but was forced to wander the deserts of Africa until his adulthood. If there is anyone that could teach you about surviving here on your own, Miss Anna, it would be Sechele.”
“And do you know what he will have me do?” I wondered. “What will occupy my time?”
“I imagine you will work as a help to my Mary,” he stated confidently. “But the rest of the time, you will be learning how to be a useful part of the human race here.”
I nodded solemnly. I had come to realize that I was not truly useful yet. Not here.
David looked around himself, unsteady.
“Leave the fire blazing tonight, Miss Anna,” he requested. “Hopefully it will help us in keeping the beasts away.” With that, he stood up and took up his bed with Mary. I was left out in the open, with my eyes blinded by a bright fire and a sure knowledge of vicious carnivores in the area. I stepped slowly from the fire and fell asleep quickly as safe as I could be inside a small fabric tent.
Mary shook me awake. The pain that accompanied consciousness was overwhelming. Every muscle in my body begged me to crawl back into the cramped space. I sighed and snuck out of the small space to face the day. It wasn’t going to start well.
“Three oxen have wandered off in the night despite being tied,” was the first thing I heard from David. I envied Agnes her warm bed as I shivered in the cold morning haze. “Mebalwe remembers a small body of water two miles to the east. We’ll begin that way.”
“And I’m going, am I?” I asked, still befuddled from sleep.
“You are of no use to me here,” Mary explained, somewhat more frankly than seemed necessary.
I nodded. Exhaustion had made me passive.
I laced my quickly withering shoes and we started east. The men chattered away in Sechuana while I trudged along trying not to look too pathetic as the rising sun woke me. With my slow gait to hinder us, it took us half an hour to reach the body of water spoken of. Mebalwe looked back at me several times, clearly wishing to simply throw me over his shoulders and sprint to the water. Nevertheless, he resisted and we arrived.
From a distance, it appeared to me a miniature oasis. The greenery that sprung from the water was dark green and spread out around the body of water for several hundred yards. A circle of trees stood together as guards protecting the precious water on every side, and had to be pushed quite hard to be passed by. My hand screamed at me when I forgot its condition in my delirium.
As soon as we could see the water we could see the oxen. Two of the three were directly across from us on the other side of the pond. The third was nowhere to be seen. Mebalwe and David, without speaking, separated from each other and went round opposite sides of the pond to capture the animals from both angles. I followed behind Mebalwe, but some distance further into the brush so as to stay out of the way of his techniques. There was thick foliage around the pond, which David and Mebalwe navigated easily. However, I stumbled my way noisily through the mess of brush and vines. Suddenly, I tripped and landed crudely on my already injured hand, gasping in pain. When I looked up, I stared right into the face of the third, deceased, ox.
I jerked away quickly and jumped to my feet to call to Mebalwe, but he and David were almost to the other oxen and likely would not be deterred. I stood guard over the dead beast while I waited for the men to take notice of me. I tried not to look at the giant corpse, but my morbid curiosity got the best of me. I regretted it instantly. The ox was not only dead, but had obviously been killed by a local carnivore and half eaten, its lower half mostly gone except for bone, cartilage, and a great deal of blood.
Stuttering, I tried to step back but was halted by a tree. I leaned on it until I could breathe without gagging and gasping. Pulling feathers out of birds for Mary now seemed like a much better option. It occurred to me that the animal responsible for the mess may still be present. I clung to the bark and stayed silent.
Soon, Mebalwe was with me and put a comforting hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him, and his face was concerned, but confused. He did not know why I was hiding. I merely pointed at the dead ox. He saw the carnage, then called to David, who had the two oxen in tow. After securing the oxen, the first thing David and Mebalwe did was take out the large knife they each carried with them.
Now it was my turn to be confused. What could we possibly do for the animal now? My observations were quickly replaced by horror as I watched the two men I trusted most in the world begin cutting and slicing the ox’s flesh. Only after a moment of watching this horrid spectacle did I realize they were looking for any desirable meat that was left. Although I saw the logic behind it, my nerves could not endure it.
“What?” I cried, flustered. “What are you doing?”
These two men whom I had already grown to admire so greatly looked up at me in surprise, their hands covered in blood, large knives in their hands. They looked to each other. David halted his work, wiped some blood on his trousers and came toward me. I stepped back instinctively. He saw it and slowed.
“Miss Anna,” he began slowly, “do you remember me telling you we don’t waste water for anything? The same applies with meat. We cannot afford to be wasteful.”
“But you did not pause!” I cried desperately. “You are no better than the animals that devoured it!”
“Meat is something of great value here, Anna. Desired above almost anything else. We cannot wait to conduct a funeral for the creature, because of your sensibilities, while the meat spoils. Hundreds of families across this continent, my own included, would suffer much if we were to lose precious meat. Do you value animals more than you value people?”
“Of course not,” I defended myself.
“Then you will release your idea that to kill animals is barbaric,” he said harshly. “It is an English schoolgirl notion that I have no ti
me or patience for.” His expression gave me no room to form an argument. I slowly nodded my submission and he resumed his labor, although Mebalwe had made quick work of it while we argued, not understanding a word.
They had several arm loads of meat to transport back to camp. Mebalwe carried his in his bare arms, blood trickling down to his elbows and down to the ground. They could have carried all the meat back to Mary without my help, but there were the other oxen to consider. They would have to be led back to camp, and my small frame and injured hand would not be enough to hold them if they acted out, so I had to carry meat.
David came over to me slowly and, without a word, placed several cuts of meat one by one into my outstretched arms. I did not look at the meat, only at his face, which was unreadable. I knew that although I had aroused his temper, he was not truly angry with me, only with my customs.
I carried the meat the two miles west, my heart pounding in anguish with every step and my arms burning in agony. I kept my eyes strictly forward, although it was difficult in the face of so many flies. They came from miles around, I was sure, at the smell of the open flesh. Although I succeeded in not looking at what I held, there was no escaping the smell, which I have no need, or desire, to describe or remember.
Mary could see me coming from several hundred yards away, and she could see what I carried. At the edge of the camp she met me and instructed me where to place the meat, a place she had prepared. I set the meat down where she asked. She gave me no time to pity myself.
“Change your dress and then awake the children, Miss Anna,” she instructed, “then you may make the coffee while I begin the porridge.”
I simply nodded, tears dropping off the tip of my nose.
With my bloodstained clothes off and replaced with clean linens, I woke Robert and Agnes and helped them in their morning routines. Robert did not need much assistance. As of late, he had decided he was a man like his father and Mebalwe. He conceded to my helping him with his shirt buttons, but only with the face of a true martyr. Next I awoke Agnes, and the smile and fierce hug she gave me almost made up for the entire morning. With her dressed and ready, we stepped out of our tent to face another day together.
In Spite of Lions Page 10
