She tried to broach the subject at dinner that night. It was seldom a family meal any longer; she was often so hungry by nine, she ate long before Jonathon finally got home.
“Do you think they’ll send you overseas to another place when this job is over?” she asked.
Jonathon looked at her in astonishment. “How the hell should I know?” he snapped. “I haven’t even thought that far into the future. I’m having enough problems here right now to worry about that.” He got up from the table and walked off to the bedroom slamming the door behind him.
Amie bit her lip hard and dug her fingernails into her palms to stop herself bursting into tears. Jonathon was getting more and more irritable lately. Was it all because of the job? Could he cope? She had no answers to these questions, but she did know they seemed to be growing apart and communication between them had all but broken down.
5 VISITORS AND A SAFARI
The rainy season arrived and driving became even more hazardous. Few of the cars had windscreen wipers that worked, and as well as careering down the roads like bats out of hell, they also weaved from side to side to avoid the enormous puddles which rapidly filled up and splashed muddy water over the bonnets. Amie felt particularly sorry for the poor unfortunate donkeys pulling the carts; a frequent sight around town. She had noticed some of them didn’t have proper bits, but pieces of wire in their mouths which cut into the skin. Enterprising owners had manufactured harnesses from cut off pieces of old tyres, bungee cords, baling twine and anything else that would make do.
Amie drove slowly and carefully, trying to leave as much space between her little Fiat and the other cars and carts on the road. She giggled to herself when she remembered how irritated she’d become at her father’s slow and steady pace. He drove like a Formula 1 champion in comparison to the speed she was driving these days!
Since she now had transport of her own, she took to visiting the school two or three times a week. She told everyone she liked playing with the children and hoped she might, even in a small way, be making a difference. But if she was honest, the reason for the more frequent trips was Angelina. Each time she arrived at the school gates, Angelina was waiting for her, hiding in the bushes by the fence and Amie wondered if she sat there every day.
As soon as Amie got out of the car, Angelina would scurry over and cling onto Amie’s skirt or trousers, and from then until Amie left, the child didn’t leave her side for a moment. Mrs Motswezi said they had no knowledge of where the child had come from and no one had ever come looking for her. She was just one of thousands of displaced children, presumably an AIDS orphan and even her age was uncertain.
While Amie played with the other children, Angelina would climb up onto her lap, and just gaze at Amie’s face. More often than not, she sucked her thumb, and refused to join in the games. She simply wanted the close physical contact and sat quietly for hours.
Amie arrived one day in the summer to find Mrs Motswezi and her staff in a fever of excitement. A party of ladies was arriving from Ireland the following day. They were part of a church group which had sent money to help fund the orphanage in the past, and now they wanted to visit and see for themselves what had already been done and how they could help further.
Groups of children were gathered around the water trough as the teachers scrubbed their faces until they were almost raw, then whipped their shirts, dresses and shorts off, leaving them stark naked, while they dunked the clothes in the water and scrubbed them hard with bars of soap. They sent the little ones off to pick up the litter, while the elder ones were put to work cleaning windows and sweeping floors.
In all the times Amie and the other wives had visited, she’d never seen such frenetic activity, but with the prospect of more money, it was obviously worthwhile making an effort for this visit. Amie had been in Africa long enough to realise this was the only reason for the massive clean-up, the usual one, more money.
Not that she could blame them. The government gave little or no support and both school and orphanage were run almost totally on overseas funding. There had been a case recently in a neighbouring country when it was discovered that a group of ladies had been accepting money from several churches based in Europe, to feed and house orphaned and abandoned children. An overseas video crew had faithfully recorded the orphaned children who’d recounted heart-breaking tales, such as watching their parents being murdered in front of their eyes. Others had told how they nursed family members through the last stages of AIDS and other fatal diseases.
Money arrived in huge amounts, especially from the United States, when the video was shown over there. It was only when the same video crew had returned unexpectedly to do a follow- up story that they discovered the AIDS ‘orphans’ were all living at home with parents and family, the building housing the ‘orphanage’ had been borrowed for the official visit, and all the caring workers and the money had disappeared. Amie guessed this was a check to see that Mrs Motswezi and her ladies were not operating the same scam.
Amie agreed to come back the following day and welcome the foreign visitors and also to film their visit so they could take the tape back with them. This would prove to the church members contributing back home that their money was not being wasted or spent elsewhere.
A little after eleven, a minibus drove in through the main gates and six hot and bothered people climbed out. Amie grinned to herself, remembering her own culture shock when she’d first arrived. There were four ladies and two men, and they blinked in the bright sunlight as they gazed round the bare earth playground.
Mrs Motswezi ushered them inside with many words of welcome, and as they walked through into the inner courtyard, the children broke into song, moving gracefully in time to the music. Even though Amie had heard them sing many times before, the small, black, scrubbed, and shining faces once again brought tears to her eyes. As they swayed and stamped to the music, one of the teachers came over to urge Angelina over to join the other children.
“Come, sing for the people. You know the words,” she said, but Angelina, with her thumb stuck firmly in her mouth, shook her head and refused to leave her accustomed place by Amie’s side.
As soon as the singing had finished, benches were brought out and placed on the veranda for the visitors to sit on. They sank down gratefully, mopping their brows with hankies and scarves. Amie also noticed with amusement that at least half the ladies were wearing tights and shoes, and she caught sight of a nylon petticoat under one dress. Had no one warned them about the heat? Had none of them been to Africa before? Should she mention the only suitable clothing for Africa was made of breathable cotton, not heat-trapping nylon derivatives? Mrs Motswezi was the only other person she knew who seemed totally at ease in her polyester suits.
After the usual refreshments of cool drinks and biscuits (they all refused the tea) they were taken on a conducted tour of the school, and then the classrooms that were used as the hostel.
They gazed in horror at the thin little mattresses on the bare concrete floor, they examined the large black cooking pots, and they toured the vegetable garden where some of the elder children proudly described each vegetable in great detail. They looked quite shocked at the lack of facilities in the classrooms, and realised that science laboratories, a school hall and a gymnasium were probably unknown to both children and teaching staff. They examined the pile of pitiful homemade toys and recognised the lack of textbooks and even exercise books, yet there, in a locked cupboard next to the principal’s office, sat the three new computers. The headmistress explained they were kept there for extra security and each child had a lesson once a year. As the visitors left, they pledged to raise as much money as they could for the school. They shook Mrs Motswezi’s hand, thanked her for her hospitality and said they would get right on it as soon as they got back to Ireland in a couple of days.
Mrs Motswezi looked puzzled until Amie explained to her the people were going to raise lots of money as quickly as possible. Mrs Motswezi smiled and passe
d this on to the other teachers, who all laughed and clapped and ululated loudly.
Amie captured the highlights of the day faithfully on her camera and before they climbed back into the minibus, she took the tape out of the camera and handed it over to the visitors.
“It’s only rough footage of course,” she explained. “But you have a record of the school and the children ...”
“… and especially the singing,” the lady who seemed to be in charge interrupted. “That was truly beautiful.”
“Yes, it was,” agreed Amie.
As Amie drove out of the school grounds that day, she felt a lightness of spirit she hadn’t felt for a long time. There were good people in the world; and they were going to help, and she was sure there were many like Mrs Motswezi all over Africa working tirelessly for the disadvantaged and those in need. As she turned onto the main road, she made up her mind not to listen to Diana and the other wives with their tales of doom and gloom. They were not necessarily right, and they had a one-sided view of life on this continent. Today, Amie had seen the other side and it was one that gave her hope.
At the weekend the mood at the Club was subdued. It seemed as if everyone was talking about the changes around town. Local people who had been helpful and friendly before, were now morose and sullen. No one was willing to talk and it appeared that almost overnight, many of the expats got the uneasy feeling they were almost regarded as the enemy. Amie was most uncomfortable with the atmosphere.
“Don’t take it too much to heart,” said Diana, as they sat on the veranda drinking coffee after dinner. The men had gone into a huddle inside and Amie wondered if they knew something they weren’t telling the women.
“It’s difficult not to feel a bit unsettled,” replied Amie. “The butcher practically threw my meat at me yesterday and the girl on the till in the supermarket just stared at the counter and didn’t even glance at me.”
Her friend lit a cigarette then said, “This will happen every now and again. You think you’re all settled and begin to feel almost at home, and then something upsets the locals and you’re sharply reminded you’re still an outsider, and always will be.”
“Have you any idea what’s causing it?”
“No, but it could be all kinds of things. It’s possible someone back home in Westminster has said something rude about the president and as a result, everyone feels insulted. It could also be some of the wannabe rising politicians in the local townships stirring the locals up for their own ends.”
“There isn’t really any such thing as an opposition party here though, is there?” murmured Amie.
“No, of course not, just a token few, and if they do get any popular backing, come next elections they and their followers are soon ‘persuaded’ not to vote against the current ruling party. Democracy African style, it’s nothing like democracy as we know it.”
“I understand that much better now,” said Amie. “We’ve been here over eight months.”
“Goodness, is it that long already?” Diana was surprised. “Time speeds up as you get older.”
“I feel as if I’ve been here all my life!” said Amie, surprised at the sudden feeling. “Well, of course, not really, but you know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do,” replied Diana “I know exactly what you mean. Ah, here come Anne and Kate. I wonder if they’ve heard anything on the grapevine. Anne’s maid can never keep her mouth shut.”
Amie had got to know several of the other wives, and although she felt closest to Diana, in spite of the difference in their ages, her circle of friends had widened considerably. It was a special kind of friendship, she was thinking, as the others dropped into a couple of empty chairs. Both Anne and Kate were in their mid-thirties, and had lived overseas for several years. Neither had children and Amie had not liked to ask either of them why not. They were fun to be with and they spent a lot of time together.
Anne brushed her short, fair, hair away from her face and exclaimed, “I simply can’t do a thing with my hair. Would you believe it, my hairdresser told me he couldn’t give me an appointment for over a month!”
“What a load of rubbish,” exclaimed Diana. “What’s got into him?”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Kate. “You’d think he’d be glad to take your money.”
“So come on, Anne, spill the beans. What have you learned from Beauty?” asked Diana referring to Anne’s maid.
Amie smiled; so many of the local girls had some very inappropriate names. Beauty made her think of a good name for a horse!
“Well,” Anne began slowly, attempting to build up the tension as she smoothed her dress over her long, slim legs. “Beauty has been even quieter than usual, but I think it might have something to do with the people in the far north.”
“The M’untu tribe?” asked Diana. “They’re the largest group up north, I believe.”
“Maybe, but there’s definitely some unrest up there and the government is very nervous right now.”
“We’ve had these scares before,” said Diana. “Usually they blow over after a couple of weeks. It’s unlikely the government forces will let it simmer.”
“Most unlikely,” agreed Kate. “Gives them the opportunity to send the troops out for a little action and a bit of raping, looting and pillaging as well. It keeps the soldiers happy.”
“There’s plenty of warlike stuff around,” said Amie. “I’ve seen soldiers with guns, and the odd tank, and there are the ‘no go’ military areas. They must spend a huge percentage of their income on weapons and the like, and that was before, when there was no whispering about unrest.”
“Well, I have some news which may cheer you up,” Diana said. “We’ve all been invited to the game lodge at Nkhandla for the weekend!”
There were gasps all round.
“How did you swing that?” asked Kate, with an enormous smile on her face.
“Not absolutely sure,” Diana was smiling as well. “Blame Richard for the invite. He met up with the owners who were in town collecting supplies. They got talking, and it seems there are not too many overseas visitors right now. The place has got a bit lonely, maybe?”
While Kate and Anne seemed to know all about Nkhandla, Amie was totally in the dark.
“There are only two smart game lodges in the whole country,” explained Kate, “at least that’s what I’ve been told; I’ve never been there myself. Has anyone else?”
While Anne shook her head, Diana replied. “I’ve been once, almost three years ago now, not long after we arrived. It’s quite beautiful up there and so peaceful. And, thankfully, they don’t allow hunting in their area, not like River Bend, that’s where the hunters make for. I know we’re all going to have a wonderful time.”
“When’s the invite for?” asked Kate.
“This coming weekend, and for this, I am sure all husbands will find a good reason to take time off work and prepare for a little game viewing.”
“I thought when I came to Africa there would be wild animals everywhere, even lions walking down the street at night,” said Amie without thinking, then stopped as she realised how foolish she sounded.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” said Kate, squeezing her hand. “I had exactly the same expectations. It’s true there’s lots of dangerous wildlife in town, but it’s all small and insect sized! All the big animals have learned a long time ago to stay well away from the towns and even the villages.”
“So, will we see the big five?” asked Amie. She at least had heard of those!
“Possibly, but you can never tell. Go on a game drive one day and you’ll see nothing at all, except a few buck, and there are always plenty of those about. Another day, you’ll be lucky. Dirk owns the lodge and he and his trackers will have a good idea where the animals hang out, so keep your fingers crossed.” Diana took a sip of her wine; she was enjoying the excitement her announcement had caused.
“If there’s an invite for me, then I’m definitely going, even if Charles can’t make it,” said Kate
firmly.
“Me too,” agreed Anne. “Benjy can stay in Apatu and work if he wants, but invites like this don’t happen every day.”
“In Togodo they don’t,” said Diana. “Most other African countries have some sort of quite well-developed tourist industry going, and most of the enterprises are run by old time families who farmed and worked the land during colonial days. Most countries set up wildlife parks and associations after independence, but here in Togodo, the fighting that followed their freedom was bloody and protracted and most of the foreign landowners left.”
Diana’s words were a surprise to Amie. She’d been so busy learning about Togodo in the present day she’d never given its past a thought. Had anyone even put much up on the Internet about it? She decided she must Google it when she got home.
As if reading her thoughts, Diana went on. “You’ll get one account of the pre-first Togodian election wars on the net,” she said, “but when you meet Dirk and Helen, you will hear more first-hand. They had a tough time for a while, until the Kawa were victorious and set up the first government.”
“After the usual ‘democratic’ elections,” giggled Anne.
“Yes, and we don’t expect any other party to get in; not in the distant future, not as long as President Mtumba is alive.”
Hearing the others chat about Togodo and Africa gave Amie a sense of comradeship. She was learning that most of the expatriates she met had the same views as herself, whatever their age. It formed a strong bond among those people who were all from one culture, but who had chosen, or been chosen, to live in a different one. No, they were not family, but there were times Amie felt even closer to her friends here in Africa than she did to her real family. That thought came with not a little guilt attached.
On Friday, for once, Jonathon was home early from work. They threw their cases into the car and took off. Amie had packed and re-packed her case several times. First, she’d filled it with shorts, skimpy tops and sandals, but after listening to Diana’s advice on what clothing would be suitable, she tipped the lot out and started again. This time she put in long-sleeved cotton shirts, a fleece for winter evenings, long trousers, socks, sensible shoes, a wide brimmed hat and insect repellent. She hoped there would be enough space for her camera gear, but she kept it to a minimum, leaving the lighting kit behind and only taking spare tapes, the tripod and the camera itself.
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