Claire's Prayer

by Yvonne Cloete

  The Victoria Falls Hotel

  Despite the late night, Claire and Naomi both woke up refreshed. Enjoying their tea in bed, they planned their last day at the Falls.

  “Well, Claire, why don’t we leave the afternoon free, so that you can re-visit the Falls and the rainforest? This morning we can go and see the craft village, and then the snake park,” Naomi summarised, as she returned her cup to the tea tray.

  Claire gave a brief and hidden shudder – snakes – but she quickly agreed, knowing instinctively that Naomi would really prefer to pack up immediately and go back to Impunzi and Tony. If given the choice, Claire would vote that they return to Impunzi as well. Her desire to see Seth was like a strong magnetic force within her. Knowing that she did not have the forwardness or the justification to suggest they go back, instead she thanked Naomi for spending the past few days with her.

  “Not at all!” assured Naomi. She could see the reservation in Claire’s response and rightly, if only partially, judged its provenance. “There’s no rush, really – genuinely. I have the rest of my life to run around with Tony. My whole life!” Glowing, she leapt out of bed and headed for the shower.

  The craft village was inside the town of Victoria Falls. There, families of different tribal origins lived traditional village life, giving tourists a good idea of how they had lived for many years. The huts were all built according to the styles of the different ethnic groups, showing the material culture of the many tribes. Claire was amazed at the beauty and rich simplicity of their lives. The wooden masks and soapstone carvings she saw were intricate and stunning. Children ran around laughing, happy and scantily clad.

  “A lot of indigenous groups live in small townships like this now,” said Naomi carefully, “including the Shona people. But they used to populate one of the most sophisticated civilisations in the country. The Bkalanga Shona built Great Zimbabwe, near Masvingo – it’s just ruins now, but it was huge stone city with more than 10,000 inhabitants between the 11th and 15th centuries, and built using thousands of hand-trimmed blocks of granite. It was the capital of the Kingdom of Zimbabwe during the country’s late iron age. Now they’re still magnificent, but blend perfectly with the bush surroundings… They still have massive walls, passages, stairways and entrances, though. Legend says it was actually the main residence of the Queen of Sheba! It’s really worth a visit.”

  Astonished, Claire looked around her at the humble dwellings. Outside the central-most dagga hut sat an old man with feathers and porcupine quills tied around his head, who wore a strange assortment of animal hides that crossed his chest and hips. Strips of leather were tied around his wrists and ankles, and his deep-brown skin looked as though it had been oiled. Sitting cross-legged on a grass mat, he chanted a haunting chorus. An American tourist approached the man, and he stopped chanting. A few dollars changed hands, and the tourist watched intently as the man shook his collection of bones and other objects and threw them onto the mat.

  “Look, Claire,” Naomi informed her quietly, pointing at the chanting figure; “that’s a witch-doctor – a ‘sangoma’, as they’re called by their people. People go to him for traditional medicine, and to have their fortunes told. I’ve heard stories before of sangomas putting spells on people… although he’s probably no more able to cast a spell than you or I! I reckon the cursed person will convince himself that he has the ailment and will eventually die. You know, psychosomatically – because he thinks he’s going to.”

  Claire shuddered. Despite Naomi’s skepticism, she knew there were more things in heaven and earth than she could understand. “Let’s go,” she said, taking her friend’s arm. No matter how he was dressed or the differences in their beliefs, Claire had seen something in the old man’s eyes: a haunted, jaded wisdom. He must know what all the westerners think about his faith, Claire realised. And it’s still his faith.

  Naomi smilingly suggested that they grab something to drink, and then explore the snake park. Stopping at a cart hawking canned drinks to tourists, Naomi spoke quickly to the street-seller. Instead of reaching for a can, he leaned down and mixed the girls two glasses of pale yellow liquid, and gave them a couple of bright orange cubes, dusted in icing sugar. Handing over the money, Naomi giggled at Claire’s cautious sips.

  “This is a more traditional Shona snack than coke and crisps!” she said. “The drink’s called rock shandy – it’s just lemon juice and water, and a couple of drops of bitters.”

  Claire took a longer sip. The drink was tangy and surprising, but hugely refreshing. Swallowing, she next took a bite of the sweet that had accompanied it. It was heavenly.

  “That’s mapopo,” Naomi explained, gratified at Claire’s delighted expression. “It’s candied papaya. Nice, right?”

  Claire nodded enthuiastically. Sitting on a low wall by the roadside, the two girls watched numerous tourists and locals pass by as the finished their rock shandies in the sun.

  “Come on, then,” Naomi roused eventually. “Next stop, the snakes!”

  Claire slowly got to her feet. Snakes had always made her deeply uncomfortable – perhaps, she reflected, because of the double whammy of their symbolic significance and the fact that there simply weren’t any in Ireland. But, as she and Naomi pushed their way through the turnstiles at the park’s entrance a short walk later, she decided that as long as they were enclosed in glass boxes she would enjoy seeing them close up.

  Glad that each tank was securely locked, Claire was amazed at the many different types of snake. The park boasted all of the well-known species of Zimbabwe. Just as at the crocodile farm the day before, Claire slowly found her perceptions being changed. The snakes had an amazing array of different colours and patterns on their smooth, dry scales. By the time she came to the last enclosure, a large, glass-walled pen containing trees and scrub, Claire was intrigued. She stared intently at the stunted bush behind the glass, and craned her neck to peer behind the numerous logs and boulders, but still could not see anything moving. She made to walk off. Then, a slight undulating movement on one of the higher tree branches caught her eye. Turning back, she gasped in awe as she finally saw the grey-toned body of a huge python. As the snake unfurled itself, Claire shuddered. Every play of its muscles could be seen clearly under its scaly, shiny skin, and it seemed to wrap itself around the tree as far as Claire could now see. It looked well over fifteen feet long…

  Naomi joined her, noting her fascinated gaze. She called the guide over to them. Grateful for the security of the cement and reinforced glass, Claire listened incredulously to stories about incidents of pythons killing small antelope and rabbits – and even, so one report read, of an astonishing specimen that had been found to have a five-foot Nile crocodile in its stomach. She thought of the crocodiles she had found so imposing the day before. They certainly hadn’t seemed like prey.

  Hoping she would never have the misfortune of meeting up with a snake in the wild, no matter how small or harmless, Claire entered the park’s neighbouring taxidermy museum pensively. She noted the animals she had seen already and, beckoning Naomi over, asked her the names of the others on display; there was a wide variety of mounted game, birds and even fish. Pleased for the chance to see all of the animals at such close quarters, Claire still felt that she would rather have seen them roaming wild and free, and alive. Adamantly refusing the offer of watching the ‘backstage’ preparation of animal skins and heads for mounting, the two women made their way back to the car.

  Settling gingerly onto the hot upholstery, Claire said, “Thanks, Naomi. That was really interesting – if a bit nerve-racking! Some of those were really incredible; I’ve always been terrified of snakes, but at least now I kind of get them a bit more.” Claire relaxed, and tucked one foot up under her. “The mounted kudu bull was magnificent, too – that was the first animal I saw here, you know?” Claire sighed, remembering pulling into Impunzi’s wide drive that first day, with Seth. It seemed both seconds and months ago. “Your country is really lovely, Naomi,” she co
ntinued. “There’s so much to see and do.”

  Carefully backing out of the parking space, Naomi answered, “And you haven’t seen the half of it! There’s loads I’m not even sure we’ll manage to get around to. You haven’t seen Lake Kariba, have you? That’s the largest manmade lake in the world; it attracts thousands of tourists year-round. The wall of the lake links Zimbabwe with Zambia, like the Falls do. They flooded what was the Kariba Gorge on the Zambizi at the beginning of the ’60s and it caused chaos for thousands of animals that lived there – loads were trapped on shrinking islands by the rising waters. A famous animal rescue operation was launched in about 1960, I think. They called it ‘Operation Noah’, and about 6,000 animals were rescued and taken to higher ground.” Naomi noted Claire’s rapt attention. “Seth has a video on Operation Noah, somewhere. I think you’d enjoy watching it.”

  “Kariba sounds fantastic, Naomi – even if we don’t make it this time. I’ll just have to come back to Zimbabwe! What else is there?”

  Considering for a few seconds, Naomi continued. “Well, there’s Great Zimbabwe, of course – we don’t usually take people over because it’s so far to Masvingo. The ruins are a must-see really, though, if you want to feel the weight of the history here. You’re right, I think you’ll have to visit us again and see the other parts of the country! But there’s also Hwange National Park, and I can promise you that you will be seeing some of that before you go home. It’s really one of the world’s most spectacular wildlife reserves, hands down. All types of wildlife can be seen in the park – including the ‘Big Five’!”

  “That’s lion, leopard, rhino, elephant and… what else?” asked Claire.

  “Cape buffalo – you saw some of them on the cruise, too,” answered Naomi. “And elephants. But not the others?” Claire shook her head. “And the rest camps there are lovely, too. But we’re not going to let you leave Impunzi and check into one of them for too long, understood?” Naomi laughed.

  Before Claire knew it, they were back at the Victoria Falls Hotel. Going to their room first to freshen up, they soon joined the other hungry tourists at the laden buffet tables. After enjoying a delicious, leisurely lunch Claire decided to have a shower before going to the Falls to do a few more sketches. Leaving the room a short while later, she waved a silent ‘goodbye’ to Naomi, who was settled comfortably on her bed, talking to Tony.

  Naomi watched Claire go with a little wave. She was tired out after having played the tour guide all morning, and really just wanted to curl up in Tony’s arms… But his voice would have to do for now. Tony, also exhausted from the lodge repairs he’d been doing, had mentioned that Seth was not ‘himself’, and had been in a mood since Naomi’d left for the Falls. Or more accurately, Naomi guessed, since Claire had left Impunzi. Naomi played around with the idea of talking to Claire about what was going on between her and Seth. She decided that, before she asked her outright, she’d give Claire a chance to bring up the subject herself.

  The afternoon passed in a haze for Claire. Her pencil never stilled as she sketched various people, trees and vines, all with the Falls in the background. Later, as the numerous mosquitoes let her know evening was coming, Claire reluctantly packed up her things. She stared as though endlessly into the boiling, frothing splendour. She felt a strange affinity to this place, and was reluctant to leave. She felt torn. The thought of losing sight of this beauty and peace felt like a physical pull at her heartstrings, but pulling her in the opposite direction was the image of Impunzi, which already felt like home… And of Seth, waiting there. Finally, unable to ignore the sinking sun, Claire made her way back to the hotel. Opening the door to their room, she saw that Naomi had fallen asleep, her novel resting on her stomach. Claire woke her up ordering tea from room service, allowing Naomi time to come back to herself before they had to reemerge into the realm of the living for dinner. As they shared the pot of tea ten minutes later, Claire showed her the sketches she’d made that afternoon.

  “They’re good, Claire, really good,” Naomi responded. “My favourite is still the one you did yesterday, though. The one with Seth in it.” She looked up at her friend. “You really captured his essence – the likeness is uncanny. You must have got to know him really well.”

  Claire felt caught out. She thought for a moment that Naomi was about to ask her directly what was going on, but the brunette quickly looked back down at the pad and the moment passed. Claire turned to the next page and animatedly changed the subject, speaking about how she planned to paint the wide-view image for her aunt. She let Naomi know that she’d asked the receptionist for an early-morning call so that she could be out before dawn, as she wanted to capture the sun rising over the Falls before they went back to Impunzi.

  Naomi had noticed the evasion, but had also seen Claire’s flushed cheeks and accelerated breathing. She’d decided not to press the matter. Instead, rolling her eyes at her friend’s never-waning – but yes, still endearing – enthusiasm, she avowed Claire was mad to get up at such an unearthly hour, and threatened her with dire consequences if she woke her up before seven.

  “I’ll be like a tiny mouse,” Claire promised.

  Naomi stood, and suggested, “Why don’t we have an early dinner, and go to watch the traditional dancers perform again? It’s our last night, after all!” Claire grinned in acquiescence.

  As darkness cloaked the heavens, Claire and Naomi crossed to the dance site. Wood fires were burning high, carefully contained in metal drums. Sparks flew up, and flickering shadows danced around. Joining the already-gathered crowd, they waited for the night’s entertainment to begin. Almost immediately, out of nowhere, the dancers appeared, their painted bodies prancing and diving in rhythm with the pounding drums. The audience watched in appreciative silence. The natural setting and flickering fires gave the whole scene an eerie sense of unreality. The dance felt transcendant, communicative… Claire thought back to the sangoma and other indigenous people she had seen earlier that day. They seemed people out of time – but the amount their way of life must have changed… Was is right? She had no answers. Everything always changed, though – she did know that.

  The sound of clapping and appreciative cheers brought Claire’s thoughts back to the present. Waiting until most of the crowd had dispersed, she and Naomi walked back through the quiet, velvet-black night back to the glittering hotel. Changing into their pyjamas, they settled down in clean sheets to watch some soporific television. The talk show they had on finished and, after watching the opening minutes of a horror film, Claire decided to read instead. She looked over and noticed that Naomi was huddled under her blankets, looking frightened but enthralled by the scenes unfolding on the screen.

  Claire did her Bible reading and, bidding Naomi a quiet ‘good night’, she began to fall asleep peacefully. She had found quietness and some kind of clarity at the Falls – even if it was just the revelation of realising how often her perceptions could be impressed, and how often they could change. She knew she had gained a slightly broader perspective. But she also knew that, before the next evening, she would see Seth again… and that everything could change still further.

  Chapter Eleven

  Now the works of the flesh are evident.

  (Galatians 5:19)

  Impunzi

  Seth and Tony had spent the morning doing maintenance on the lodges and grounds, making sure that they were all in perfect condition before the new season started. Seth had watched Tony covertly while they’d worked. He liked and respected the man, but there’d always been something slightly elusive about him – something powerfully feeling that Seth wasn’t sure he understood. He knew that Tony had experienced hard times, that his wife and child had died senselessly. But it had been Tony’s reaction to it that he’d never fathomed. Tony had, at the time, been a senior hand at Impunzi and a specialist in rearing livestock, close even then to becoming ranch manager. Seth had been in the no-man’s-land after adolescence, and slightly in awe of his father’s strong, talented young
colleague. Then Tony had gone utterly to pieces when the tragedy had happened, and just removed himself from his position – but what had astonished Seth had been that Tony had never, not for a day, stopped talking about his family. He had never hidden his pain, never avoided answering the perpetual question, ‘how’re you doing’, honestly. Tony had faced it out in a way that Seth had always hoped he could emulate, demonstrating to everyone how deeply he felt the loss of the woman he had thought would be with him forever, and the daughter he’d thought he would see grow up.

  Seth had never thought himself capable of feeling so intense an emotion for any woman. He had had his fair share of lady friends, but he had never felt involved beyond the point of the physical act. Reflectively, he admitted to himself that no one woman had ever had any lasting effect on his life. In fact, if they became too possessive, he found any excuse viable to back out of the relationship. Sometimes Seth wondered if maybe there was some fatal flaw in his emotional makeup. Perhaps he had simply not met his soulmate. But, when death had shown its face to him, Seth had there too found himself lacking something – not shaping up to the ways he aspired to behave. When his parents had been killed, he had told himself to be strong for Naomi. During his National Service, he had had to suck it up and shut it away for his comrades. Even when his grandparents had died, he had laboured under the impression that his sorrow would make his family’s grief harder to bear: he could still remember holding his breath against the smell of the hospital corridors, and closing his eyes against seeing his Grandpa connected to so many tubes and machines in the ICU. But it went further back even than that. Seth’s thoughts flickered back over the years.