“Snake bite.”
“You mean yer were bitten?”
“Yes. I did not see it, only a searing pain and my leg swelled up.”
“And they didn’t give you nuffing for it?”
“No. Why would they?”
“Yeah, well, I guess not.” Shalima walked round to the back door of the vehicle and rummaged around through the various bags she had loaded at the camp earlier. “Might have sommat here which would help,” she said. “Anyway, why’d they keep you alive? Have to feed you and all.”
“For information? I do not know,” replied Ben.
“And the other two, what’s happened to them?”
“When the other vehicles came, bringing more soldiers, there was lots of shouting and arguments and before they left, they came in and dragged them out. Then the vehicles drove away. If they took them I don’t know, they dragged them out of the tent and that’s the last time I saw them.”
“Ah hah!” Shalima triumphantly waved a small plastic box in the air. “First aid kit, magic, let’s see what’s inside.”
The contents were not too exciting. A few rolls of bandages, a small pair of scissors, some tubes of cream which had no labels on them and could be for anything, a couple of plasters, and a few packets of what looked like pain killers.
“Here try one of these, take yer pain away,” Shalima pronounced optimistically as she handed one to Ben, while she dug out a water bottle from under the front seat.
“Filthy beggars,” she said to no one in particular as she looked at the food wrappings, abandoned Coke cans and empty cigarette packets which littered the car. “Huh. Thought they taught you to be clean and tidy in the army.”
“They are not exactly first-grade soldiers, more like raw recruits,” Ben mumbled as he swallowed the tablet.
“Yeah, tell me about it. All they were good at was terrorizing people and praying a lot. They even had trouble getting the flag up and down,” she giggled. “Nasty buggers, cruel too. Not a glorious revolution at all.”
“I do not understand why they are here,” said Ben. “What do they want with rural people? They are not even African?”
“It’s a holy crusade,” Shalima told him.
“Pardon?”
“A crusade against the infidels,” Shalima elaborated, but one look at Ben’s puzzled face told her he didn’t understand.
“Hey, it’s a long story, goes back years, to the war in Iraq, and even centuries before that.”
“Iraq?” Ben had no idea what she was talking about.
“Yeah well, don’t you worry, takes too long to tell.”
“But do you know why they were hiding out here in the bush, in the middle of nowhere? This is land put by for a nature reserve, so no one is allowed to live here. They are hiding?”
“Ah, explains why there ain’t no people around, thought they must have got frightened away by the soldiers. The idea was to set up bases all over the place so you can get to lots of different places like embassies, airports, police stations, hey, even shopping malls. Lots of soft targets to choose from. Put the fear of God into the people. That’s what it’s all about. Bring everyone to the true religion or blow them to kingdom come.”
Ben lay back and closed his eyes. Shalima’s explanations made no sense to him whatsoever, but his pain had eased a little and for that he was thankful.
As the women struggled on, the going became harder and harder. They clutched their burqas and Amie still had the gun and the knife, but she had no water bottle. The heat began to take its toll. They were sweating less, but their mouths were dry and Amie’s tongue felt several sizes too large for her mouth. The shimmering mirages across the valley to their left appeared to promise lakes of cool, clear water one minute, then waver, and in a burst of light, all she could see was the valley filled with clumps of bushes, trees and open patches of yellow, sandy soil. She was beginning to feel light-headed, and suggested it was time to cross back over the ridge and make for the river.
When they crested the ridge and scanned the landscape, Amie was pleased to see the vegetation was much thicker, providing more cover. One by one they slipped over the summit, keeping low in case they were seen. But as they descended the slope Amie still had that creepy feeling they weren’t alone. She continually looked back, but could see nothing. She told herself she was imagining things, and tried to ignore the raised hair at the back of her neck.
They chose an area by the river where the vegetation was less dense so they could keep a look out for any crocodiles that might be sunning themselves, and while one of them kept watch they took it in turns to drink and cool off. Amie gently washed Angelina’s feet to get them as clean as possible. From the smile on the child’s face, she guessed the water was having a soothing effect.
“The big tree is still a long way away,” Mrs Motswezi pointed.
“Yes, I’d hoped to be there by now,” Amie was disappointed, and when she turned her head, she could have sworn something ducked down behind one of the bushes.
“Did you see something then?” she whispered to Mrs Motswezi, hoping that Angelina who was resting her feet in the water wouldn’t hear her.
“See what? No, I did not see anything. Where?”
“Oh, never mind,” Amie replied, “nerves getting the better of me I guess.”
There was a rustling on the opposite bank and first one Thompson Gazelle, followed by three more came down to drink.
“Oh, they’re so beautiful!” whispered Amie. Two zebras appeared and dipped their muzzles into the water, slurping and guzzling as they drank. She sat transfixed as a giraffe appeared and after waving its tall splendid neck in all directions, splayed its front legs and slowly lowered its head to the river.
“See,” Amie whispered to Angelina who had joined her on the bank, “see how it stands to drink? That is the most dangerous time for a giraffe, time when a predator might attack.”
No sooner were the words out of her mouth when there was a flurry in a nearby bush, a brief glimpse of a hidden, brown creature, and a small lion sprang out and leapt towards the giraffe. Quick as a flash it raised its head, butted the young animal and raced away. It turned to check its attacker.
The women sat stock still, even Mrs Motswezi, and Amie wondered if she’d ever seen much wildlife despite living her whole life in Africa. Not for the first time, Amie found it amazing how predators could walk around a group of animals and most of them appeared to take very little notice of their enemies. Were they unaware they could well be on the menu very shortly, or did they reason their chances were good because the herd protected them? It wasn’t until a big cat, hyena or jackal made a bid to take one down they would scatter and make a run for it.
The appearance of the young and very inexperienced lion had scattered the animals, and Amie feared they’d wasted too much time watching the unexpected free show. She was glad the giraffe had got away unharmed, but it was a reminder that there were other dangers that didn’t have anything to do with the men who might be pursuing them.
They resumed their long walk, this time staying on the river side of the ridge, but keeping a sharp look out for danger which could come from any direction.
They walked for most of the morning and on into the afternoon, taking the opportunity every couple of hours to revisit the river to cool off and drink. They gathered leaves as they went, which not only helped to assuage their thirst but to a small extent, helped to fill their empty stomachs. The long trek became a determined slog, one foot in front of the other over and over again. Every now and again Amie and Mrs Motswezi took it in turns to piggyback Angelina to give her damaged feet a rest.
All of a sudden, Mrs Motswezi grabbed Amie’s arm tightly and pointed. There, on the opposite side of the river, she saw a glint. “Can you see it?” she asked Amie.
“No, what?” Amie stopped. What new danger was this? The sun disappeared, and whatever had reflected the light, vanished from view.
“A light, like that of a car,”
said Mrs Motswezi, and with that she picked up the pace. “Yes,” she hissed with glee. “It is an army truck, it must be them.”
“Whoa, not so fast,” Amie pulled her back. “It may not be Shalima and Ben, we need to approach them while keeping out of sight. We could walk straight into trouble again. We’ve got this far, we must be careful.”
Mrs Motswezi looked crestfallen, but reluctantly she ducked down behind the bush and they observed the vehicle. For some time, nothing moved, and there was no sound of voices either.
“We will have to get closer,” Mrs Motswezi insisted, and before Amie could stop her, she leapt up and walked towards the river calling out in Togodian. Amie held her breath, this was such a dangerous thing to do. It was a fifty-fifty chance it was the right truck. The air exploded out of her lungs as she saw Shalima’s head pop up.
“Here,” she called. “What took you so long?”
Amie and Angelina emerged from their hiding place and joined Mrs Motswezi. In a few moments they’d be back together again and with the added advantage of transport. They were nearly safe, they just had to cross the river again.
“We are coming to you!” Mrs Motswezi called out and she was about to step into the water when Angelina rushed forwards to stop her.
“No, no, Ma Nomsa,” she cried, using the more familiar but respectful address for her old headmistress. “Look!” She pointed to several lumps sticking out of the water.
“More crocodiles,” exclaimed Amie in despair.
“No, kiboko,” replied Nomsa.
Amie didn’t understand what she was saying and looked at the water. The humps had disappeared and she couldn’t see anything.
“Kiboko killed the man in the water at the camp?” she asked.
“No, mamba killed the man.” Mrs Motswezi opened and closed her arms in a scissor movement to imitate the jaws of a crocodile.
The humps came to the surface again and Amie could see that midway in the river, was a family of hippo. She slumped down on the ground in despair. How were they going to get past them? She knew hippo only ate at night, coming out of the water to graze on vegetation, but they were known to be aggressive if they were disturbed, fiercely defending their territory. She knew they overturned boats and people had drowned.
The head of one hippopotamus appeared above the water and stared right at her. It snorted and opened its mouth wide. She wriggled backwards; even a few feet further away felt safer.
“We cannot cross here,” said Mrs Motswezi firmly. “We must go quickly.”
The three women backed away from the river, keeping an eye on the animals, praying they wouldn’t decide to come out just then. Dusk was approaching, the air was cooler and that made the situation even more dangerous. Soon it would be time for them to leave the water.
Amie tried to remember what Dirk had taught her about Africa’s third largest mammal, but she could only remember two facts: one they sprayed their dung around and the other was they could run at thirty kilometres an hour. He’d never told her how far from the river they might wander in search of food, only that they followed age-old paths because grazing was a solitary occupation.
Shalima climbed onto the roof of the Land Rover and waved to them. “Go further downstream,” she instructed them. “I’ll follow you on this side. Get past them.”
“That’s the best advice we’ve had all day,” Amie muttered. The fear of being attacked had given them an adrenaline surge and they made good progress for half a kilometre.
The river narrowed, lined on both sides by rocks that formed a roiling rapid as it squeezed through a narrow funnel.
“We might be able to cross here!” Amie exclaimed. “If we can find a branch, we can balance it on the rocks over the river and we won’t have to get wet again.”
Shalima’s head popped up from behind the rocks on the other side. “Hey, wanna hand across?” she called out cheerfully.
“We’re looking for some wood to use as a bridge,” Amie called back, as Mrs Motswezi approached dragging behind her a long, thin branch that didn’t look strong enough to Amie. She put her foot in the middle of it and grasped it at one end and pulled. It snapped in two. Mrs Motswezi looked disappointed.
Amie gave her a hug. “Sorry,” she whispered.
“Here!” Angelina called out. She was pointing to a thick log, the trunk of a long dead tree.
“Ah that is better,” said Mrs Motswezi, and using a short branch she poked all around it. While Angelina looked puzzled, Amie understood her older companion was checking to see what might be lurking around or inside the old log.
Satisfied there was nothing dangerous, the two women hefted one end and dragged it to the top of the rocks on their side of the river. The boiling chasm beneath them was not inviting and Amie went weak at the knees. If they fell, it would be unlikely any of them would survive. They’d be swept away in the turbulent waters and thrown against the stony banks on either side.
The two women heaved and tugged and pulled, and bit by bit they got the log closer and closer to the rocks but then it refused to move any further. No matter how hard they tried it simply would not budge another inch.
Angelina gave a squawk and pointed at something. When Amie followed her finger, she could see where the log had jammed between two large stones. The two women managed to rotate it while listening to Shalima giving them a long list of instructions from the opposite bank.
“Tug it this way, no, further to the left, now right!” she urged them.
“We’re doing our best,” Amie replied through gritted teeth. “If you think it’s so easy why don’t you come over and do it?”
“Nah! Never was much good at long jump,” Shalima replied with a rare show of humour, looking at the gap between the rocks on either side of the chasm. “Good Muslim girls like me weren’t encouraged to do that sorta thing.”
“Why am I not surprised?” said Amie under her breath as at last they managed to manoeuvre the end of the tree trunk up to the narrowest point across the river.
Amie told Shalima to stand by to grab the log when they pushed it across. Out of the corner of her eye she was sure she saw movement in the bushes below. The moment she glanced in that direction the movement stopped, but again, she had the feeling they were being stalked. She beckoned to Angelina. “Come up here Angelina and stand by me,” she ordered in a voice that sounded firmer than she’d intended.
Angelina looked puzzled, but moved to obey. She’d only taken a few steps when a man dressed in black fatigues leapt out from a nearby bush and grabbed her.
Amie froze. No, no, not now, not after everything they’d been through. No please, she muttered, let us go, just let us go.
Mrs Motswezi was the first to react. Picking up a large stone, she flung it at the soldier, but her aim wasn’t true and he ducked safely out of the way. Holding Angelina firmly with one arm, he used the other to gesticulate, first pointing at himself and then at the bridge.
Mrs Motswezi asked him a question in Togodian, but he shook his head. She tried what Amie thought might be a different African dialect, but again he didn’t respond and only repeated his pointing and gesticulating.
“Do you speak English?” Amie called to him, but he put his head to one side. “I think he wants us to take him with us,” she told the older woman.
“But he is our enemy!” she exclaimed, not taking her eyes off him.
“Do you recognize him from the camp?”
“No, but they all looked the same to me,” was the answer.
“Oy! Take yer filthy mitts off that girl at once,” screamed Shalima who was now standing on the highest rock on the far side of the river, lining the soldier up in the sights of a rifle.
Reluctantly the man let go and Angelina scampered up over the rocks and clung fast to Amie’s legs.
Shalima kept her eyes on her target while Amie and Mrs Motswezi dragged and pushed the log into place. With one final heave, it reached the other side, but it slithered around on the top of the sm
ooth surface of the rocks. They could anchor it in a cleft on their side of the river to keep it stable, but they could see no way of stabilizing it on the other.
A few moments later, Ben’s head popped up. He was still suffering from the after effects of the snake bite and he dragged one leg behind him, but using one hand, Shalima hauled him to the top of the rock and passed over the gun. Ben kept it steadily trained on the soldier who hadn’t moved a muscle since releasing the child.
Shalima was now free to help stabilize the log, but she could see no way of securing it to anything. “I’ll have to sit on it and hope yer weight will keep it in place,” she called over. “Who’s coming first?”
“Send the child,” Mrs Motswezi replied.
“No, you go first, show Angelina how it’s done, then I’ll send her over,” Amie instructed while keeping an eye on both the log and the soldier who was now keenly watching the activity. She wasn’t certain he wouldn’t rush them at the last minute. If necessary, she was prepared to use her gun, and the knife. She knew Mrs Motswezi was unarmed.
“Do like a monkey,” Shalima told her as she attempted to climb on the log. “Hang underneath and cross yer ankles over and pull along with yer hands.”
Mrs Motswezi gave her a filthy look, before tying her burqa round her head, sitting astride the log and inching her way across.
“Where’s yer sister?” asked Shalima conversationally as she was halfway over, but Mrs Motswezi didn’t reply. Her face was a study of concentration and then she looked down and couldn’t go any further.
“No, do not look down,” Ben said to her in their own language. “If you look down you will be fearful. Look at the other side. Look at Shalima and keep moving.”
Still Mrs Motswezi seemed paralyzed and sat motionless for several seconds before she inched forwards again little by little.
“I can’t help you off,” apologized Shalima, “gotta keep hold of the log.”
Next over was Angelina, who scampered quickly across, never looking down even once.
Amie admired the child’s faith the log wouldn’t break, or slip out of place, or that her feet wouldn’t slide off. She wasn’t so certain, as she commenced her own perilous journey above the teeming water. She half scrambled across, sitting astride the log, since there was no way she was going to attempt to cross commando style like Shalima had suggested.
Amie in Africa Box Set 1 Page 52
