“So, what do we do now?” asked Amie. Somehow the thought of returning to England wasn’t very appealing. She thought of the crowds, the media, the unwanted attention, the pushing and shoving, the concrete jungle, and the constantly grey skies.
“I think we should stay here for a while. Who knows, the new government might decide to continue with the desalination plant, or there may be opportunities in other parts of the world.”
“But how, how can I stay in Togodo!” exclaimed Amie. “They accused me of being a spy!” Jonathon laughed, and pulled her even closer to him.
“A spy! Then they caught the wrong Fish, didn’t they?” he laughed. “We’re reasonably safe here in the bush. Living off the land with Helen and Dirk has been the best time of my life. I miss nothing from home at all, except the folks, of course. You don’t want to go back do you?”
“I don’t think so, but I don’t want to make any decisions right now, either. Can’t we spend a little time together first and see how things go?”
“It’s a deal,” agreed Jonathon. “Come on,” he added, drying her eyes and pulling her to her feet, “let me show you the buck we killed this afternoon.”
Dave and the rest of the crew left the following day. Jefri went with them to show them a border crossing that was always unmanned. They would call in at the Robbins and get in touch with the families to let everyone know they were safe and well. They left one of the Land Rovers behind along with the rest of their stores and supplies. Helen was ecstatic with the bar of soap and bottle of shampoo Sandy gave her.
“You have no idea what you miss, until you can’t get it.” she said, cheerfully. “And it’ll be nice to have another woman to talk to. We can have our own coffee mornings under the Baobab tree.”
“Yes,” agreed Amie grinning. “I can’t wait to tell you about my tribe in the forest, they were just the most wonderful people, except they don’t speak English and you do, and that makes it all just perfect.”
It was several days later that Amie realised what Jonathon had said, and his words took on a new and sinister meaning. They caught the wrong Fish? She remembered the extra year he’d spent away after getting his degree, and his failure to come home during the vacations. She remembered that the desalination plant had moved more quickly and more efficiently than any of the other new projects in and around Apatu. Perhaps she’d been mistaken in thinking her involvement with Colonel Mbanzi was responsible for the rapid progress. She remembered the long evenings when he didn’t come home until very late. Maybe she didn’t know Jonathon as well as she thought she did, maybe she didn’t really know what he actually did either. She didn’t know whether to feel proud of him, or scared of what might happen to them in the future. For now, she would simply take one day at a time.
Amie
and
The Child
of
Africa
1 THE CAMP IN THE BUSH
The silence of the night was shattered by the sound of approaching vehicles. Bright lights split the night, illuminating flying insects in their beams as the trucks drew nearer. Excited shouts rang through the still air and one driver blasted his horn which woke everyone in the camp. Whoever had been on guard duty had no time to shout a warning as the new arrivals thundered towards them.
Jonathon wriggled out of his sleeping bag and seized the rucksack that was always next to him before pulling Amie to her feet.
“Run. Run,” he whispered. “Run as you’ve never run before.” Stopping only to grab their shoes, they left the tent and raced off into the darkness.
They’d been discovered and the only thought Amie had was to get as far away as fast as possible. There was no time to jump in the two trucks parked next to the tents. Their only chance was to make for the other side of the valley on foot and hide in the trees on the lower slopes of the mountain range.
She ran blindly, desperate to keep up with Jonathon. His legs were so much longer, he was just over six-foot tall and she was seven inches shorter, so he was forced to slow down to keep pace with her. She didn’t stop to think she might step on a night adder, or crash into one of the smaller termite mounds she couldn’t see in the dark. Nor did she stop to think of all the dangers beyond the safety of the camp. There were lions out here, hyenas, buffalo, jackals, wild dogs and elephants. Anything they might bump into could easily turn around and attack.
As soon as they were on the other side of the wide, dry river bed, they stopped to put on their shoes, Amie’s feet were already bruised and bleeding and it was more painful wearing shoes.
They set off again, running over the veldt, not caring what was in front or to the side of them, not even stopping to see who else was also running. They only knew certain death lay behind them. Low hanging branches slapped their faces and legs, and twice Amy stumbled over shrubs as she tried to zigzag round the odd acacia tree that loomed in front of them. The only piece of luck was the moon. It was bright enough to cast deep shadows near the larger objects which lay in their path, but not bright enough to make Jonathon and his wife too easy a target.
Amie’s breath became ragged, her chest felt as if it was going to burst open and she gulped for air.
“I, I, can’t …” she gasped. Even the fear of the unknown people, who had approached the camp in the dead of night, wasn’t enough to make her to run any further. She had no idea how far they’d come, but she knew she couldn’t run any more.
Jonathon pulled her on for a few more steps and then yanked her down on the ground behind a large rock. They crouched and listened, every sense alert to the slightest possible sound, but they could only hear silence. Not even the usual sounds they’d come to expect once the hot African sun had disappeared below the skyline.
Amie tried breathing deeply, in and out, in and out, until her heart slowed, then she started to shake. Jonathon put his arms round her and held her tight as she leaned against him. At least this time she wasn’t alone, but what were they going to do now?
Amie woke with a start, bathed in sweat. She reached out an arm and felt for Jonathon who was sleeping peacefully beside her. She was safe, her terrifying adventures were over, so why did she have these nightmares? She’d never run away from any camp in the bush, with or without Jonathon. When she’d been in trouble before, she was on her own, her personal long and lonely fight for survival. Were these new dreams a psychic look into the future?
It was only a few years ago that Amie had been living at home in a suburb near London, newly married with her future all planned out. She recalled the day Jonathon had announced out of the blue he’d been offered work in Africa.
Moving to Togodo had been a shock, but not long after settling in, civil war had broken out and Amie was caught right in the middle of it. Eventually, she’d met up with her husband again and they’d stayed with Dirk and Helen in their temporary bush camp since then. No one knew how long they would have to survive out here before government differences were settled and life could go back to normal.
Amie felt safe in Dirk’s camp. He’d grown up on this continent and knew more about its plants and animals than most. She’d fallen in love with Africa and was keen to learn all she could about her newly adopted home, but survival was paramount and to eat they needed to kill.
Amie sat motionless as she watched the kudu grazing peacefully on a short tuft of grass. Even after weeks of practice she found this the hardest part of all, remaining quite still. It never seemed to bother the African people; they appeared quite relaxed, squatting down and remaining immobile for hours on end. Amie had seen the women in town sitting on the pavements, legs stretched straight out in front of them, unmoving, as they gazed into space. She found it almost impossible to sit like that even for a short time, and if she got comfortable to begin with, after a while some part of her would begin to ache and hurt. Unlike Jefri, born and bred in Africa, she couldn’t squat. It wasn’t a position she’d ever used, so she had chosen to kneel. Now her left knee was sore, the pressure from a large ston
e pressing into her kneecap. She was quite sure she’d brushed the ground before kneeling down, but the pain was getting worse.
To take her mind off things she focused on a dung beetle as it struggled past, rolling a dung ball much larger than itself. It fascinated her that these little creatures always travelled in reverse, hind legs gripping their ball of dung, head down they pushed back with their legs. They can’t have any idea what obstacles they were going to meet mused Amie and shook her head and smiled.
Suddenly, alerted by her slight movement, the kudu sensed danger. Its head snapped up, its ears swivelling swiftly to catch the slightest sound. It stood quite still for several seconds, before deciding it was safe.
Amie breathed a sigh of relief. Jefri would be thoroughly disgusted with her if she spooked the antelope and sent it running off out of range. He’d think it was yet another example of how much these newcomers had to learn about living in the bush. She was surprised she no longer felt any pressure on her knee, thinking about other things had helped. Glancing at Jefri she saw he had not lost concentration, not for a moment.
The kudu lowered its head again and Jefri let loose the arrow which pierced its neck. Time stood still. The animal bounded away and ran for about half a kilometre before stumbling, rising, running a few more steps, and finally sinking to its knees.
They followed the thin trail of blood and the disturbed dust tracks to where the animal lay on its side, and Jefri quickly put the animal out of its misery by cutting its throat with the knife he took from his pocket. As she helped him gather some large stones to cover the carcass, Amie wondered if she would ever get used to watching such a beautiful animal die.
She knew tomorrow night, and for a few nights after that, they would all have meat to eat and yes, she would enjoy the taste and it would give her strength, but each time she accompanied Jefri or Kahlib on the hunt, a small part of her hoped they would not find any game and there would be no need to kill anything.
It was an unrealistic hope. In fact, it was stupid. There was not much vegetation left close to their encampment to feed them all, and if they dug up everything near the tents there would be nothing left to re-grow. As it was, they now had to travel farther and farther each day to gather the berries, leaves and roots they needed to survive. There had even been some talk of moving on if the rains didn’t come soon, and they would be forced to take refuge in the bush to the south.
There also were dangers in this, as most of the land was claimed by one tribal group or another, and if they encroached onto owned territory, their cover would be blown and it could lead to conflict. They were not in a position to defend themselves, despite the few guns they had in the camp.
Amie took one last look at the fallen kudu. Already the sheen was disappearing from its coat, and its eyes were glazing over. The flies had arrived and were feasting around the wound and crawling into the nose and mouth of the dead animal. She whispered a private prayer, thanking the kudu for providing life for her and her new tribe and commending its soul, if it had one, to heaven. She had learned the Bushman, or San, the original inhabitants of Africa, had always prayed over their kills and she much admired them for it.
Jefri would return with one of the other men to drag the carcass back before they strung it up, skinned it and prepared the meat.
What had life been like for the animal? Amie wondered as they walked back to camp. Was it constantly on the alert for danger? Did it worry about unfamiliar noises and movement in the bushes? Did it ever relax, even when sleeping? We’ve become like that she realised in surprise. They were ever watchful themselves, aware that unknown eyes might be observing them, even now at this very moment. But the only sounds came from a noisy troupe of vervet monkeys in a large acacia tree on the other side of the ravine.
Back at the camp Amie flopped down onto her sleeping bag and closed her eyes. Who would’ve thought remaining still for so long, waiting and watching, could be so exhausting? The sun didn’t help either, beating down on the dry, dusty earth. It sapped her energy, caused her to sweat uncomfortably and urged her to curl up and sleep.
But Amie couldn’t sleep, there was something nagging at the back of her mind, and not too far back either. She had tried to talk to Jonathon several times, to ask him the question she was itching to have answered. Each time, he had brushed her off, deflected her words, changed the subject or given her such a ridiculous answer she knew he was avoiding telling her the truth. She remembered his exact words when they had found each other again after the civil war had torn their lives apart.
“But how can I stay in Togodo? They accused me of being a spy!”
“A spy! Then they caught the wrong fish, didn’t they?” and Jonathon Fish had laughed.
What had he meant? Was her husband a spy? Had he really been working for some secret service outfit besides trying to build a desalination plant in Apatu, the capital? Was that only a cover? And if it was, was she a part of that cover? Or was it some silly joke? Was Jonathon only teasing her? If he denied there was any truth in his statement, how could she be sure? Spies were probably taught to lie convincingly in their first week of training.
One moment Amie believed she was being totally irrational, making something out of nothing. The next, her gut reaction told her there was at least some truth in what he said. She sensed something wasn’t right, and she needed to know, didn’t she?
Here they were living off the land in the middle of nowhere, in a country that had recently been embroiled in a civil war. She had only survived by the skin of her teeth, and she wasn’t sure if they were still looking for her. She had appeared to be co-operating with the losing side.
Jonathon and Dirk had been working on the Land Rover for days, trying to fix some problem, so she would have to wait even longer to get him on his own and ply him with questions.
“Amie, are you there?” Helen appeared in the doorway of her tent.
“Oh yes,” Amie sat up and rubbed her eyes.
“Are you OK? Not feeling ill or anything?” Helen sounded worried, it could be a disaster if any of them needed medical help.
“No, no I’m fine, a little tired that’s all. Did Jefri tell you, we, or rather he, killed a kudu?”
“Yes, good news travels fast. He took Kahlib to go and collect it. We won’t go hungry for a few days.” Helen paused. “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked again.
“No, I mean yes. I’m fine, really.” Amie had a horrible feeling she was being disloyal to Jonathon, but did Helen know something she might let slip? Anything was worth a try otherwise she would worry until she really was ill.
“Helen, can I ask you a question?” Amie indicated for Helen to sit on the log that served as a makeshift dressing table, chair, desk and stool in the small tent.
“Yes of course you can dear. I noticed something’s been bothering you, but I didn’t like to ask.”
That was so typical of Helen, she would never intrude, never pry. Yet she was also the most - what word would best describe her – serene? Yes, that was it. Helen was the most serene person Amie had ever met. She too had grown up in England but after meeting and marrying Dirk, had moved out to help run his small game lodge several kilometres south of Apatu, the capital of Togodo. She had told Amie she would never live anywhere else and didn’t even enjoy the regular trips into the capital to stock up on essential supplies. Rural Africa had captured her heart and, in over ten years, she’d never had any regrets. Nothing seemed to faze her; nothing was ever a problem and her glass was always more than half full. Was it the result of living the simple life deep in the African bush among the wildlife, far away from the big city, its materialism and all its problems? Whatever it was, Helen was someone you could talk to and trust. She ran her fingers through her short brown hair and her green eyes focused on Amie, waiting patiently to hear what she had to say.
Yet Amie was reluctant to voice her fears, she was going to sound stupid. Helen would think her paranoid, even if she didn’t give an opinio
n.
There was a long pause, broken by Helen. “Are you unhappy here?” she asked gently.
“No, no it’s not that,” replied Amie staring at the ground. “I like being here, it’s been the best three months of my life. If you’d asked me a few years ago if I’d be content living off the land, somewhere out in the middle of nowhere, I would’ve had hysterics. I’m amazed at how much I’ve changed, it’s unbelievable. I had such a conventional upbringing on the outskirts of London, followed the expected path, had my life planned out and then – it all turned out so differently.”
“You’ve been through a lot,” Helen said softly, reaching out to squeeze Amie’s hand. “These experiences take you to a new place, both physically and mentally. You can never go back to what you were, you know that don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. I’ve changed beyond recognition. Even a trip home to England showed me how I no longer fit in with the people I’ve known all my life. And that was before the civil war here had even begun.”
“You’ve been so incredibly brave,” Helen smiled. “I’m not sure I would have coped as well as you did.”
“Nonsense,” Amie said firmly, “you would have coped much better, and not done stupid things like eating poisonous plants.”
Helen laughed, “You can hardly be blamed for that. Do you still have nightmares about the war?”
“No, not anymore.” Amie considered this wasn’t really a lie, since her nightmares now had nothing of the war in them.
“But something is making you unhappy,” Helen persisted.
Amie sat silently for several minutes. How was she going to ask the burning question?
“You don’t have to …” Helen began to say but Amie interrupted her.
“I don’t know how to say it and you’re going to think I’m not quite sane but …”
Amie in Africa Box Set 1 Page 37
