Monkey Madness

by Anna Wilson

  No wonder Uncle Zed loved Africa so much.

  ‘I am going to have to come and live here as soon as I am old enough to leave home,’ Felix told himself.

  He took in the circle of tiny mud huts and the dusty yellow dogs running around; he gazed at the children who sat in shady doorways and the old women who crouched over pots on little stoves. He stared at the goats nibbling idly at the scrubby grass and bushes. He drank it all in and sighed happily.

  Then, just as Felix thought things could not possibly get any better, Bibi put two fingers to his mouth and let out the loudest whistle Felix had ever heard. Immediately a face appeared from the furthest hut, and then the body followed, careering towards Bibi at full pelt.

  ‘DADDY!’ cried the figure.

  Bibi held out his arms to the child and swooped her up in the air, as she giggled and wriggled, crying, ‘Put me down! Put me down NOW!’

  Bibi set the girl down and then said proudly, ‘Everyone, this is my daughter, Harmony. Harmony, say hello to our guests.’

  ‘Hello to our guests!’ said Harmony. Then she let out the most extraordinarily loud, hyena-style laugh.

  The girl was about the same height as Felix. She had a mischievous look in her eye; her hair was a dark, fluffy cloud that framed her pretty face like a brown halo and was every bit as curly and amazing as Flo’s hair.

  Felix had always loved Flo’s hair: it was so wild. He had often thought what it would be like to touch it. Would it be bouncy? Could you hide things in it? He found himself having the exact same thoughts about this girl’s hair, too.

  ‘Harmony,’ said Bibi in a warning tone. ‘Introduce yourself properly, please.’

  The girl rolled her eyes, then she went up to Felix and pumped his hand up and down and expertly twisted it around to hook his thumb with hers in the traditional handshake Bibi had given Zed.

  ‘Hello. What is your name?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m Felix,’ said Felix, pulling his hand back. It felt as though it had been through a tumble-dryer on fast spin.

  ‘Well, that’s good,’ said the girl. ‘And don’t call me Harmony – only my daddy calls me this. You can call me Mo.’

  Mum gasped when she heard this and started to say something, but Mo took her by surprise by grasping her hand and giving it the same treatment she had given Felix’s. ‘Dumela, Mma,’ she said. Then she added, ‘Hello, madam,’ and batted her eyelashes.

  Felix watched Mum nervously. He did not think it had been a good idea for Mo to call Mum ‘madam’. Mum called Flo ‘madam’ when she was cross. Like the time Flo had put Hammer the hamster in the fridge in the lettuce compartment ‘because he needed a change of scene’.

  However, Mum simply stammered, ‘Oh, I’m – call me Marge.’

  Soon Zed and Mum were busy chattering away to Bibi about plans for their trip, so Mo slipped aside to talk to Felix.

  ‘Grown-ups are so borrring,’ she said. ‘Who cares about all that polite chit-chat that they do. Will you be my friend?’

  Felix nodded enthusiastically.

  ‘Oh good. Because I have always wanted an English boyfriend.’

  ‘Ah!’ Felix was taken aback. ‘I – I don’t really want to be a boy-friend,’ he muttered.

  Mo frowned and crossed her arms tightly across her chest. ‘What are you talking about? Hmmm? You want to be my friend, and you are a boy and you are English. So therefore you can be my English Boy Friend.’

  ‘Oh.’ Felix blushed. ‘OK,’ he said.

  He looked at Mo’s fierce dark brown eyes and her incredible hair and her shiny dark skin and found himself thinking how cool she was. This made him feel even more timid. He did not know what to say next.

  ‘How come you can speak such good English?’ he tried.

  Mo roared her hyena-laugh. ‘What a silly question! I speak English because I go to school! Don’t you go to school to learn things?’

  ‘Well, yes,’ Felix admitted. ‘Only we don’t learn useful things.’

  Mo shook her head and puffed at her hair. ‘But you can speak English too, so you must have learned something right.’ Then she put her hands on her hips in a pose that Felix recognized with a shiver of dread. ‘Anyway, listen to me, Feeeliiiix,’ she said, trying out his name, drawing out each last syllable. ‘I can speak three different languages, so you had better be nice to me, or I will go and talk about you behind your back in Setswana or Kalanga and then you will not know what I am talking about!’

  Felix sighed. He was used to this kind of thing. Flo was always talking in secret languages to the Pink Brigade when she was fed up with him.

  ‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘I will be nice to you.’

  ‘Good,’ said Mo, with a decisive nod. ‘So let’s leave the boring grown-ups to it, and I will show you how to stalk a lion and catch it.’

  A strong hand appeared on Mo’s shoulder, restraining her.

  ‘Oh no you won’t, young lady,’ said Bibi firmly. ‘We are here to look after our guests, not to lead them into danger. Anyway, it is time to eat.’

  Zed and Mum were right behind him.

  ‘Y’know, Mo, you like, kind of remind me of someone,’ said Zed. ‘Do you know what I mean, guys?’

  ‘Don’t we just,’ muttered Mum. ‘Don’t we just . . .’

  The meal was delicious, even though it was mostly made of vegetables, which Felix was not keen on Under Normal Circumstances. But sitting cross-legged on the floor and eating at a funny, low table (and being told you had to use your fingers because there were no knives and forks) seemed to make everything taste a million times better than English food.

  Even the thick porridge, which came with the stew, was yummy. Bibi said it was called ‘pap’ or ‘bogobe’.

  ‘It is made from sorghum wheat, which is our main crop,’ he told them. ‘We have it with everything.’

  He showed them how to eat it by using his fingers to take a chunk of the thick porridge and scoop the vegetable stew on to the top, before popping the whole lot into his mouth.

  After the meal, Mo took Felix by the elbow and led him slowly and quietly away from the table.

  ‘Come with me,’ she hissed. ‘I have something to show you.’

  Felix happily let himself be led away. The grown-ups were poring over maps and talking seriously about the journey to the game reserve. As excited as Felix was about going camping, the details of which roads to take and where they would stop to get food and water were not exactly thrilling.

  When Mo said the words ‘I have got a pet. Would you like to meet him?’, there was really only one response to that.

  ‘Yes please!’ said Felix. ‘I have pets too . . .’ he began, feeling at last that there was something they had in common.

  ‘I do not think you will have a pet as good as my pet,’ Mo said.

  ‘Oh,’ said Felix. Then he thought about his pets, whom he loved, but who were admittedly quite normal and boring sorts of pets. People in Africa probably did not have normal and boring sorts of pets, he realized.

  Then Felix had an exciting thought.

  Maybe Mo has a baby monkey as a pet! Maybe I could ask her where she got it and then find out how I could get one for Flo?

  He followed Mo to the back of the hut where it was cool and dark. She crouched down and started to make a kissing noise – the sort of noise people make when they are trying to get a cat to come out and say hello.

  ‘Kabelo! Come on, Kabelo!’ she sang. ‘Where are you now?’

  Felix sat back on his haunches. ‘Is it a monkey?’ he asked hopefully.

  ‘No,’ said Mo. ‘Guess again!’ and she made the kissing noise once more.

  ‘A cat?’ Felix suggested.

  ‘Tsk!’ Mo looked over her shoulder at him and sucked her teeth. ‘A cat!’ she repeated the word as if it was something very nasty indeed. ‘What is the use of a cat for a pet? Cats are bad pets. They only look after themselves. Who would want a cat as a pet?’

  Felix opened his mouth to protest that,
actually, he had a cat called Colin. Then he checked himself. Mo was right: Colin was a useless pet. He was vicious and mean to Dyson the dog, he tried to eat Hammer the hamster all the time, and he only came near Felix when he needed to be fed. When you wanted him you couldn’t find him, and when you did come across him he was usually up to no good. So Felix just sighed and waited to see who this ‘Kabelo’ was.

  Suddenly there was a rustling, and a small furry face peered out at the children from the shadows. It had tiny, dark eyes, a pointy little nose and rounded ears. It looked like a cross between a squirrel and a teddy bear, Felix thought. Then he saw the stripy body.

  ‘Oh! It’s a banded mongoose!’ he cried. ‘I’ve seen them on the telly.’

  The little creature started at the sound of Felix’s voice and scuttled back into the shadows.

  Mo seemed surprised and a bit irritated that Felix recognized what kind of animal Kabelo was.

  ‘Now look,’ she snapped. ‘You have frightened him. You must be quiet. He is not used to strangers. Especially not funny-looking ones, like you.’

  She went back to coaxing the animal out, and at last managed to lay her hands on him.

  ‘Here you are,’ she said, holding the mongoose out to Felix. ‘Felix meet Kabelo, Kabelo meet Felix. I call him “Kabelo” because he was a present to me from my daddy,’ she explained, ‘and “Kabelo” means “gift” or “given” in Setswana.’

  Felix was open-mouthed with amazement. A banded mongoose as a present! Surely this proved that Bibi would be just the right person to ask about getting a monkey for Flo. What a dad Bibi must be, Felix thought. His own dad’s idea of a good present was a puncture repair kit for his bike which was ‘both practical and unusual as a gift’, according to Dad. According to Felix, it was Boring and Disappointing. (There had been a lot of tears and shouting, that particular birthday . . .)

  ‘Can I hold him?’ Felix whispered.

  ‘No,’ said Mo, clutching the mongoose to her. ‘He can bite you and if he does, my daddy will be very cross.’

  I think I would be very cross too, Felix thought, but something about the look on Mo’s face prevented him from saying anything.

  ‘I will bring him in to sit on my lap while we talk,’ said Mo. ‘You can stroke him while I hold on to him.’

  The children went back to the table to sit with the adults.

  Bibi was talking about the campsite. ‘It will be very comfortable for you,’ he was assuring Mum, who had her worried face back on again.

  ‘What happens if, say, a lion comes into the camp?’ she asked. She was trying to keep her voice as careless as she could.

  ‘Less stress, sis,’ said Zed. ‘Bibi knows how to be safe, don’t you, man?’

  ‘I have never had a lion come into my camp,’ Bibi assured them.

  ‘Daddy! That is not true!’ Mo protested. ‘What about the time that silly man got up in the night to go to the toilet and a lion jumped out from the bushes and snatched his pants from him and—’

  ‘Harmony!’ said Bibi sharply.

  ‘It is important to tell our guests how to be safe around the wildlife,’ Mo insisted. ‘What about the time you camped by the lake and a hippo left a HUGE pile of poo right outside the—’

  ‘Harmony!’ Bibi said, even more sharply. ‘That is enough. You will upset our guests.’

  Felix was hanging on Mo’s every word. ‘That’s amazing,’ he breathed. ‘How close was the poo to the tent?’

  ‘RIGHT outside the opening,’ said Mo. ‘Imagine if the hippo had taken another step backwards.’ She got up and started acting out the hippo’s movements, lumbering around and pretending that she was about to bump into a tent with her bottom. ‘It would have sat right on top of the people in the tent! And probably covered them in poo as well!’

  Mo and Felix dissolved into fits of giggles and hyena-laughter.

  ‘I am sorry, Mma,’ Bibi said to Mum. ‘Harmony is rather excited.’

  Mum’s face had gone green. She clutched at the low table as though to steady herself. ‘It’s – it’s OK . . .’ she said.

  Suddenly one corner of the table lurched downward, as though someone had chopped one of its legs off. The cups of redbush tea that Bibi had given to Mum and Zed slid towards Felix. He jumped out of the way just in time to avoid being soaked with the scalding liquid.

  Mo giggled.

  ‘Oh! I’m so sorry!’ Mum cried, thinking it was her fault.

  ‘Whoa!’ cried Zed, tipping back on his heels.

  ‘It is my daughter who should be sorry,’ Bibi began. He was frowning at Harmony, but she was not near enough to the table to have been responsible. Then it dropped sharply down to the other side and this time Bibi grabbed at it. ‘Harmony!’ he admonished. ‘Have you brought Kabelo in here again? I have told you not to bring him when we have guests.’

  ‘What’s happening, man?’ asked Zed, scrabbling to get up. He reached forward to stop the maps falling on to the floor.

  The table was shaking and juddering now. Mum was looking greener than ever.

  ‘It’s not a . . . an earthquake, is it?’ she whispered, clutching on to Zed, who put his arm around her.

  Mo laughed. ‘An earthquake!’ she scoffed.

  Bibi frowned. ‘Catch him and take him away,’ he demanded. Then he turned apologetically to Mum and Zed. ‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘Harmony has a pet mongoose and I am afraid that he likes to dig for bugs in the sand. I have told her so many times not to let him into the hut. He ruins the floor! Mongoose like to dig at the base of tree trunks,’ he went on, ‘so this is why Kabelo likes to do this around the table. He thinks it is a tree. He really is a stupid and annoying creature.’

  ‘Daddy!’ Mo protested. ‘Do not be unkind to my Kabelo!’

  ‘Well, if you listened to your daddy and did not let him into my house, then I would not be unkind,’ Bibi said. ‘When I gave him to you, I said he had to live outside, but do you listen to me?’

  Zed was chuckling. Even Mum was smiling now.

  ‘At least your pets don’t dig holes in the carpet!’ Mum said to Felix. ‘I will have to think twice before complaining about Colin again.’

  Felix was not really listening.

  Bibi had got Mo a pet mongoose. Surely he could be persuaded to get Felix a pet monkey? He decided to ask Mo about this at the next available opportunity – as soon as he was out of Mum’s earshot.

  The whole of the next day was spent travelling across very rough country to the Moremi Game Reserve, where the campsite was. Luckily, for once, Felix slept for most of the journey.

  He awoke to the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

  ‘Elephants!’ he cried, sitting bolt upright.

  Elephants under the trees, elephants lumbering between the three large tents that were dotted about the clearing, elephants reaching up with their trunks to pluck fruit and lazily crunch on them in the golden light. Elephants: beautiful, majestic, glorious elephants, roaming wild and free.

  Felix reached for the video camera which he had asked Mum to get out of the suitcase for him that morning. He felt his throat tighten and thought he might actually cry with happiness.

  ‘We must be very still and very quiet,’ said Bibi in hushed tones, as he unloaded the minibus.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mo. ‘The elephant does not have good eyesight. She has very good hearing, though.’

  ‘What happens if she hears us?’ Felix asked.

  ‘If she hears you and cannot see you clearly,’ said Bibi, ‘she may get frightened and that is when she may charge.’

  ‘How much, man?’ Zed joked. ‘I hope she’s not too expensive.’ He winked at Mo and Felix.

  ‘Oh shut up, Clive,’ Mum muttered. ‘I refuse to share a tent with you if you insist on telling jokes like that all holiday.’

  Mo giggled. ‘Your uncle is a funny man,’ she said.

  Felix was not listening to his mum and uncle bickering. He was drinking in the sight before him. He stopped filming for a secon
d, turned to Bibi and whispered, ‘What is the fruit called that they are eating?’

  ‘It is their favourite food,’ Bibi explained. ‘They will do anything to get hold of it – even walk right into a human encampment, as you can see. It is called “marula”. For elephant, the fruit of the marula tree is like a sweet to them. It is a treat, something they cannot get enough of. But it can have a bad effect on them.’

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Felix.

  ‘They go a bit crazy, like this,’ said Mo. She began staggering around and rolling her eyes, letting her tongue loll out of her mouth, and waving an arm in front of her like a lazy elephant’s trunk. ‘It makes them alllll sleeeepy!’ she slurred.

  Mum watched Mo’s behaviour with one eyebrow raised. ‘I think my dear brother might be partial to a bit of the old marula. Have you got a secret stash on your boat, Clive?’

  Zed grinned. ‘I wish!’

  ‘Alll sleepy, like thiiiisss,’ said Mo, enjoying her audience.

  ‘Not so much noise,’ said Bibi.

  ‘Ooooo-oo-oooo! Aaaah-ah-ah!’

  ‘Harmony!’

  Mo stopped fooling around and looked hurt. ‘That was not me, Daddy,’ she said. She looked up into the marula trees.

  Everyone followed her gaze. There was nothing to be seen, however, beyond the dark green leaves and the round yellow fruit, hanging in small clusters. Suddenly one of the fruit came hurtling out of the tree and landed close to Mo’s feet, making her jump. She squealed, as did Mum.

  Zed and Bibi laughed, while Felix watched the whole scene in wonder.

  ‘Monkeys!’ said Bibi.

  Mo rolled her eyes. ‘Silly things,’ she said, and grabbed Felix by the hand. ‘Come with me. I will show you around the camp.’

  ‘Will the children be all right?’ Mum asked.

  ‘They will be fine,’ said Bibi. ‘Harmony knows the rules.’

  ‘But does she know to keep them?’ Mum muttered.