Kidnapped on Safari

by Peter Riva

  It was Mbuno, up front with Teddy, who asked the brothers questions and then translated for Bob and Pero in the back. The long wheelbase Land Rover had two single seats up front and two bench seats on either side of the back. It was a noisy diesel, and Mbuno almost had to shout for Pero and Bob to understand. The road they were on would skirt the lake, then follow the eastern bank of the Malagarasi River. The askari assured them it would only take two hours to get to where they had left the Land Rovers yesterday morning before setting off on foot. There was a ranger checkpoint there.

  Bob explained, “We parked and then filled in a piece of paper of how many were in our safari group and where we were walking. There is a main trail that is signposted . . .”

  Teddy continued his description of where they had walked and driven with Bob, answering Mbuno’s translation with “that’s right” or “I agree” every once in a while. The story took a long time to relate. The group had proceeded along the path into the outer marshland surrounding the river and followed the stream of the river south to the lake. They never got all the way to the lake. Ube had spotted fresh leopard tracks, although he had been looking for greater kudu, which like the marsh edges and sweet grass this time of year. Ube asked Mr. Winter if he wanted to pursue the leopard or keep looking for kudu. Mr. Winter chose leopard because he had never seen one alive in the bush. As they followed the tracks, they left the marsh and were in light forest off the side of the road. The leopard was in the tree . . .

  Mbuno told Teddy to stop, he knew that part. What he had not heard was the exact details of what had happened next. Teddy explained, “Kulikuwa na kelele kubwa katika msitu ambayo alifanya chui neva!”

  Mbuno shook his head and translated for Pero and Bob. “There was a big noise in the forest, and the leopard became nervous.” Bob looked puzzled. “You did not hear this, Mr. Bob?”

  Bob raised his voice to be heard up front. “I may not have been able to. Ube and Teddy were in front. I was twenty yards or more bringing up the rear with Keriako. But, man, what’s a big noise? What did it sound like, can you ask?”

  Mbuno did so and was surprised when Teddy admitted he had not heard anything; it was Ube who had told him and everyone else to get down, as Ube had heard the noise. Mbuno questioned Teddy, trying to get the exact words Ube had used. It was Keriako next to Pero on the bench who responded, “Nadhani yeye alisema ni ajali kubwa.”

  Mbuno explained, “He says that Ube heard something, a great noise of a great crash. Those are not noises you hear in the forest. They are man noises. That is why he sensed danger.” Mbuno told Teddy and Keriako to continue. Splitting the recounting, they said Ube had made them retreat into the marsh grasses where they hid for a while. Finally, Ube told them all to be quiet. Both men put a universal finger to their lips to demonstrate and said, “Shhhh . . .” They heard men’s voices but could not understand what they were saying. Then Ube told Teddy and Keriako to lead the safari party into the muddy ditch and to take everyone to safety.

  Pero knew something was missing. “Mbuno, ask them about the orange hat.” He did.

  Keriako answered that the “kijinga mtu” (stupid man) with the orange hat had stood up, and it was Keriako who pulled him down while Ube took his hat from him. Keriako added something about the hat until Mbuno, having heard enough, stopped him with a hand gesture. Mbuno seemed angry.

  They were driving as fast as the road conditions would allow, swerving now and then to avoid larger potholes. It was bright daylight, and the road was clearly visible. As they rounded one sharp corner after another, following the meandering river to their left, Pero thought, When they had driven the tourists to the airstrip in the near dark, they must have been driving slower. And it would not have been so damn hot.

  The humid, fetid air from the riverside made Teddy run the wipers now and again. The actual marsh ran seamlessly off to the left. Pero watched and allowed his mind to wander. Green, thick, and impenetrable . . . tracking kudu in that? Leopard? Nuts. When the road climbed a few dozen feet and they could see over the grasses, the river appeared. Muddy and tree-lined, it lay maybe a hundred yards beyond. On the right of the reddish-tan dirt road, the forest was no more than seventy-five feet high, a solid canopy of eucalyptus and other trees, whose roots would all be reaching deep down into the water table below, replenished by the river. Beneath the forest canopy, Pero could identify the usual East African small wait-a-minute bushes, acacia-like plants with spiked three-inch thorns, and small clusters of euphorbia cactus trees, a favorite treat of rhinos.

  Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Pero returned to the questions he wanted to ask. “Had they moved the campsite, and if so how far away from the other site?” Teddy explained that they had followed Ube’s orders and taken the men to safety at the original campsite by the baobab trees, where they picked up their luggage and boxes, and then the brothers drove them to the airport right away. The plane was there, but it took a while to find the pilot, who was not expecting them. Speaking over each other, Teddy and Keriako quickly explained that they wanted to use the airstrip’s police radio, but since the policeman was home, they had to go and get him, and he charged them six thousand shillings for the call. They confirmed that they spoke with Sheila at Flamingo Tours, telling her that Ube was not back and conveying what had happened. They asked for instructions. Sheila told them to send the safari clients back to base, then return by themselves to camp and pack it up into the Land Rovers. Then she told them to go back to the airfield and call in. When they did, she gave them instructions not to drive home to base, but instead to set up camp at a new site away from the old one, and then drive back to the airstrip and await the arrival of a Mara flight. Pero knew those were the instructions he had given Sheila. It all fit.

  Mbuno continued translating as they recounted how the two of them returned to the baobab campsite, loaded everything into the two Land Rovers, and drove away. Mbuno asked where the new campsite was. Keriako explained that he and Teddy had discussed it and felt that keeping it near the trail-head would not be a good idea. So, they continued up the road into the reserve another five miles and set up the tents in a small clearing, maybe three hundred yards off the road. They felt it was safe atop a small hilltop with acacia and giraffe in sight of the camp. No lions, they were very sure about that. Mbuno and Pero knew that the typically skittish giraffe being near the camp was a good sign that things must be peaceful in that area.

  Teddy looked at the rearview mirror and spoke up, “Kitu ni kufuatia.” (Something is following.) Instinctively, Pero, Bob, and Mbuno looked back. They could see the unmistakable shape of the large Unimog truck moving fast, maybe a mile back. Teddy started to speed up. Mbuno put his hand on Teddy’s forearm and patted it, telling him to drive normally. Mbuno asked Pero, “What did you tell those men at the airstrip?”

  “That we’re a film-scouting crew looking for suitable animals to film. We’re from Hollywood. They told me to get lost.” Mbuno nodded in agreement to the lie. Bob looked concerned.

  As the Unimog closed the distance, Mbuno knew the road was wide enough for them to pass, but he wanted to avoid confrontation. He told Teddy to indicate left and look for a place to turn into if necessary. The Unimog came close enough to ride their bumper. Suddenly, passing the Unimog, the Mercedes SUV pulled alongside the Land Rover on their right side, and Pero was glad Bob was sitting on the bench opposite him, on the driver’s side, his face out of sight. To be sure, Pero said, “Hey Bob, pretend you’re sleeping, okay?” Bob lowered his chin and did not turn around. The front passenger of the Mercedes peered into the Land Rover cabin, making a mental tally. Pero waved hello and got no response. It was the same man who had told him to leave. In the back seat sat three men wearing suits and ties, all looking straight ahead. None of them were African, and, to Pero, they appeared not to be Asian or European, either. Something about their thin ties and shiny suits, he thought.

  The Mercedes hit the gas and sped past, inches from the Land Rover’s side, and
was quickly followed by the Unimog, which forced the Land Rover to put two wheels onto the rough shoulder, bouncing it over some rocks and dips, and choked them in the dust from the huge truck’s wheels.

  Teddy had been very calm, keeping the vehicle straight and in the lane, if you could say that a washboard dirt road in the middle of nowhere had lanes. Pero saw that Mbuno had put a hand on the wheel, and he thought, Imaginary lanes, a possible sideswipe accident; not likely the threat will go away. Something is very wrong here. He looked at Mbuno and suspected that he was thinking the same. If the truck had been a reckless matatu bus, driven as those means of conveyance often were—a danger to all—it would have been a normal occurrence on such a rural road. But for two shiny, undented, professional vehicles to be driven that way indicated a strong disregard for others and, perhaps, authority.

  All Pero could say was, “Where the hell is Ube? Let’s find him and get the hell out of here.”

  Mbuno simply responded, “Ndiyo.”

  Not more than five minutes later, as they topped another small hill, Teddy said he could see a dust cloud coming their way from far ahead of them. He pointed through the windscreen. Mbuno peered forward and told Teddy to get off the road quickly to the right. As they hastily bounced down the side of the raised road, the wheels sank into soft earth. Teddy engaged four-wheel drive low and made headway, slowly, to where Mbuno was pointing, slotting them between two large eucalyptus trees, mostly hiding them from the raised road behind them. Mbuno gave the order to stop and got out.

  Bob wanted to know if they should all get out, but Pero told him to wait for Mbuno’s instruction. They watched through the dusty side glass as Mbuno crawled up the road embankment, grabbing tufts of tall grass and putting them on his head, camouflaging his whitening hair. Mbuno reached back and gave a signal to stay down in the Land Rover. He meant for them to stay hidden. Pero was fairly certain that, from the road, the Land Rover would not be easily spotted. It was too late to do anything more.

  The dust cloud could be seen now, advancing quickly. When it was near enough, the top of a giant, eighteen-wheeler Volvo logging truck, engine roaring, appeared, coming and then going at speed. It was not empty—the giant eucalyptus logs still dripped sap. It was followed, one hundred yards behind, by an identical brand-new, shiny Volvo giant. Following those two was silence. Not a noise from any animal, no birds, no calls . . . nothing.

  Mbuno was still. Pero knew him well enough that this meant something else was coming. Moments later, Pero saw Mbuno make a hand gesture to wait and stay down again. As the choking truck dust settled, two more vehicles appeared, following the giant trucks. Mbuno could see clearly. Pero could just see the tops of the cabs as they drove by, moving fast. One was the Mercedes SUV, and one was a flatbed Nissan—a half-ton truck of the type seen all over Africa, dented, repainted perhaps a dozen times, showing signs of past accidents. The vehicle seemed to crab down the road, with two locals in the cab and two men in the open back.

  Only Mbuno’s expert eyes could see that one of them was Ube, unmoving, but his gaze was alert. His body posture, one shoulder up and one down, his torso slightly hunched in the middle, told Mbuno he had been beaten. Mbuno, in that split second of recognition, observed that the man with Ube was looking at Ube, not at the forest. Mbuno raised his hand, made a circular motion, and then dropped down from any possible sight. Ube’s eyes were, Mbuno noted, staring right at him. He would have seen.

  As soon as they passed, Mbuno returned to the Land Rover. Pero could see the resolve on his face. Pero, having been through so much with Mbuno, knew that he had seen something troubling from the roadside. Pero asked, “You okay, brother? What was it? What did you see?”

  “It was Ube.” Everyone in the car started to speak, making suggestions that they chase them, but Mbuno held up his hand. “He is hurt but watching. I see his eyes. He will wait. We need to scout, then rescue. If they were going to kill him, they would have left him for vultures. They are taking him. I do not know where. We must scout.”

  Bob spoke up, “But surely we need to follow—”

  “It is Tanzania, Mr. Bob. The trucks are new, the Mercedes is new. These people are new. They do not belong here. They cannot hide . . . how do you say it?” He paused, “Yes, they cannot hide in plain sight and not be known. All the local people will know where they are, what they are doing, where they sleep.”

  Bob nodded agreement.

  Teddy and Keriako asked Mbuno to tell them what he was saying. He repeated his thoughts in Swahili. They, too, were pacified, trusting Mzee Mbuno, asking only where he wanted to drive to now.

  He told them to drive to the camp, adding in English for Bob and Pero, “We will radio. Zanzi-Agroforestry is the name on the truck.” Pero understood Mbuno needed Heep, Mary, Susanna, and Tone to find out who Zanzi-Agroforestry were. Pero knew that once they figured out what Zanzi-Agroforestry was really doing there and where they were located, then they could rescue Ube. Mbuno put a cap on it: “We will find Ube.” It was a statement of assured fact.

  Pero and the rest of the Land Rover’s occupants took comfort in Mbuno’s leadership and resolve.

  Only Mbuno knew how little confidence seeing Ube that way had afforded him. Once, long ago, he had rescued a life-threatened, injured Ube from a gang of Zanzibari—men from the Arab-influenced island of Zanzibar off the cost of Tanzania. Those men had been elephant poachers led by Ube’s corrupt biological father, Mbuno’s wife’s brother. Seeing Ube in a truck with the words Zanzi-Agroforestry on the side sent waves of worry through his body. Mbuno feared that this time he might not be able to get Ube out alive.

  CHAPTER 9

  Wito Nyumbani, Kwa Makini—Calling Home, Carefully

  On arriving at what Pero immediately thought of as “Giraffe Hill,” Teddy and Keriako were eager to be useful. Mbuno told them to make a meal and make up the cots in the three tents, one for Pero, one for Bob, and one for Mbuno and the two brothers. Teddy looked at Keriako and beamed. The prospect of the honor being shown them to tent with Mzee Mbuno was palpable. Mbuno patted them on their backs and said, his eyes smiling, “Kutosha, sasa kupata Kwenda.” (Enough, now get going.) The young men sped off to their tasks happily.

  The camp had no water supply so Teddy advised that they ration water until they could get down to the river for more washing water. At the airstrip they had filled a ten-gallon plastic container, mostly for hydration. Mbuno thought that would do for drinking and rinsing sand-scrubbed cooking pots. The problem of food was another matter. Keriako explained to Mbuno that they had left the remainder of a bushbuck carcass at the previous site, hanging from a lower limb of the baobab. There had been no time to keep the flies off it previously when they had driven the men to the airstrip in a hurry. Mbuno said not to worry. He could see there were beans, as well as corn meal and sorghum, the two staple ingredients for making posho. He was also pleased to see a fresh sack of wheat flour and told the boys to make safari bread, to be cooked in the embers of a hot fire after making enough posho and beans for lunch and dinner; they may need to eat dinner cold.

  Pero, meanwhile, had opened the hood of the Land Rover, placed the green canvas bag on the right fender, and connected the two battery alligator clips. The canvas case was clearly ex-military. There were two latches, more like clips really, on the front that Pero released to lower the front flap. He tipped the radio back, read the frequency on Wolfie’s taped piece of paper, verified that the dial was still set correctly, and called Bob and Mbuno over. “Ready, let’s call in.”

  Mbuno had seen Susanna put the Silke Wire microphone on Mary at Lake Rudolf, and he repeated the placement. He opened his small Swiss Army knife that he always treasured and made a small slit on the inside of Pero’s button-down collar. This created a pocket for the half-cigarette-shaped piece attached to the wire, which he supported over the re-buttoned collar.

  Bob asked, “May I? I had a set in the Corps—well, newer than this—but I think I can handle it.” Pero said, “Why not
.” Bob flicked the power on, and nothing happened except for the dial illuminating. There was a small red bar light that read, “Standby.” Bob looked at Pero, and Pero shrugged, reached behind the radio, and switched on the Silke Wire base transmitter-receiver. The radio sprang to life. On the set, like on the dash of every airplane, was the radio’s call sign. Pero spoke, “This is Auxiliary Z4WD broadcasting in the blind. Can anyone read? Over.” On the radio, the blinking lights of the LED bar showed that Pero’s voice was picked up, modulated, and was now broadcasting. It was comforting to know the radio was working.

  Susanna’s voice came in loud and clear. “I’m here, oh, sorry”—someone was speaking to her—“Z86DF receiving. Over.”

  “Hi darling, we’re here, safe and sound. Over.”

  A distant voice cut in, mid-sentence, “Z3WD receiving Auxiliary Z3WD. In the blind, receiving you four by five, will monitor and stand by. Over.”

  Pero responded, “Hey, Wolfie, that’s great. Pressing matter. Please all assist knowledge on reverse spell Y-R-T-S-E-R-O-F-O-R-G-A dash island off Dar. Who-what-where details. Over.”

  As Susanna responded, Pero heard Heep’s and Mary’s voices also in the background. “Copied, understood, will work that out. News missing person? Over.” Pero was pleased they did not mention Ube by name. Anyone could be listening. Wolfie was silent, and again Pero thought that was a sign of his professionalism.

  Suddenly a new voice cut in: “8KN98 here, confirm Gibson and I arranged Hasaan for development, delivery tonight to hotel. Over.”

  Pero was going to say Tone’s name, then thought better of it. “Thanks. Understood. Over.” Then Pero waited to see if anyone else added anything. The crackling radio made him impatient. Pero then had to relay the news of Ube. Pero explained that the person they were looking for had been seen being driven and had gone by them in the opposite direction. “You-know-who was sure they had recognized each other.” His friends said that was a good sign but wanted to know the connection to the name he had asked them to research. Pero didn’t want to broadcast that and said simply, “Currently unsure.”