Grisha lit another in a chain of cigarettes. “We are near last sexual of park,” he declared, pointing to an odd line of baobab trees. “That is beginning of Chizarira Park. We are ending here.” He checked his watch. “It is taking us nine cows, Plain-Neelie.”
“Charlotte said she would tie something around a tree where we should meet her,” Diamond said, pulling binoculars from her pack, along with the compass and the GPS.
“Wow,” I said, “you really do know what you’re doing.”
She gave me an amused look. “Twenty years of running safaris,” she replied. “Remember?” She did a few calculations. “We need to drive about five miles east southeast.”
“Da.” Grisha nodded and turned the Rover. I threw oranges while Diamond navigated. Tusker and his friend followed along, more or less out of curiosity now, because they were stepping over most of the oranges, apparently satiated.
Within ten minutes, Diamond spotted a large red rag that was secured around a baobab tree. As we approached, a group of men carrying rifles appeared on horseback from behind the trees. I held my breath, but a petite woman with cropped brown hair and a very large rifle rode up in front of them.
“Charlotte Pope!” Diamond yelled, jumping to her feet. “If you aren’t a sight!”
The woman kicked her horse on and trotted up to us.
“Diamond-Rose!” she exclaimed when she reached the Rover. “Bravo! We never thought you’d pull it off! Tie up your cargo and follow us—we’ve mapped a route back to camp.”
“Is road okay for Rover? This sexual of park?” Grisha asked.
Charlotte Pope threw her head back and gave a deep, hearty laugh. “Grisha, if I didn’t know you better, I’d think that was a proposition. But yes, there is a road of sorts, and the Rovers fit. We take them through here for our safaris.”
She leaned over from her horse to extend a hand to me. “And you must be Diamond’s friend.”
“Da.” Grisha introduced us. “This is Plain-Neelie.”
“Hello, Plain-Neelie,” Charlotte said. “Are either of you tired of sitting in the Rover? You can get on some horses. My men can switch with you.”
“I’ll take a horse,” Diamond said, jumping down from our truck. I followed. She mounted a bay horse that one of Charlotte’s men handed to her, and I was given a brown-and-white pinto. The men who swapped with us climbed eagerly into the Rover and stretched their legs out with happy groans.
“Oh, how nice to get on a horse again,” I enthused, and turned to Charlotte. “And it’s plain Neelie.” Then I realized I had done it to myself again. “I mean, just call me Neelie. Neelie.”
“Well, I’m glad to meet you, Neelie-Neelie,” Charlotte replied, then gestured toward our cargo of oranges. “I suggest you wrap the rest of those up really well,” she said. “I think Tusker will just follow out of habit. We don’t want to leave too much citrus around and risk bringing a herd.”
“Actually,” said Diamond, “we are bringing a herd. Tusker seems to be traveling with a young bull.”
Charlotte stopped her horse, looking troubled. “Bollocks! That could be a problem if we have to separate them,” she said. “I don’t know the capacity of the cargo plane.”
“We can’t leave one behind,” Diamond said. “They’re family.”
The men pulled the tarp around the remaining oranges, while Grisha made a sharp turn with the Rover to follow the path that Charlotte had pointed out.
“We threw some oranges to help lure him to our side,” Charlotte called out while we trotted along.
There was a loud trumpeting from behind.
“That must be him,” she guessed. “Or his friend.”
Grisha interrupted her thoughts. “Grisha makes heavy suggestament that we move quickly,” he called over.
“He’s right,” Charlotte agreed. “We’ll get them in position, and then we’ll dump all the citrus there and say a prayer.”
“A prayer?” Diamond asked.
Charlotte nodded. “I heard from Tom just before I left camp. He’s having a hell of a problem getting a plane in. He’ll tell you all about it when he comes tonight.” She sighed. “If he can get here.”
“And if he can’t?” Diamond asked.
Charlotte made a face. “We told him that his safety comes first. We don’t want anything to happen to him.” She glanced at Diamond. “Have you met him yet? He’s a terrific guy.”
Diamond laughed and gestured to me. “I haven’t. But Neelie has. He might be very glad to see her.”
“Nyet,” Grisha called over. “Mr. Thomas will not be filled with gladment to see Plain-Neelie.” He pulled a cigarette from the pack in his pocket while steering with his other hand, lit it with the smoldering tip of the one still in his mouth, and then gave me a smirky grin. “Grisha decides that he will not tell Mr. Thomas you are here. Mr. Thomas can discover himself after he makes arrivement.”
“Really?” Charlotte looked at me with surprise. “Tom is so pleasant. I can’t imagine him not being glad to see anyone.”
“We were sort of friends,” I said, feeling my face grow red.
“Lovers,” snickered Diamond-Rose from the back of her horse.
“Well, if you prefer, you don’t have to stay in camp. You can always pick up a transfer back to Victoria Falls later on tonight,” Charlotte said, kicking her horse on. She added reassuringly, “I know how it is with ex-lovers.”
“I’m staying,” I said, gritting my teeth. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
There was another series of trumpeting from behind us. Tusker and the young bull had picked up speed, apparently annoyed that they had exhausted their supply of fruit.
“Let’s go,” Charlotte yelled. We moved our horses into a canter while Grisha gunned the engine.
Tusker started to amble after us.
“Let’s finish the job!” Charlotte yelled. “Another hour and we’re going to have ourselves a flying elephant—or two!”
Chapter 9
TOM NEVER MADE IT.
Grisha dumped the pile of fruit in a large, open clearing. A clearing that was perfect to land a plane in. A clearing that was large enough to save an elephant, even two, with good flat ground and low-lying trees on the periphery, but there was no plane waiting for us there.
Diamond and I watched from horseback for a few minutes, then Charlotte ordered the other horses back to camp while we remained a little longer. “We’d better go,” she finally said to us. “The horses have had a long day. They need water and a rubdown and to rest a little before we can give them dinner.”
“Please wait another few minutes,” I begged.
Tusker and the young bull came into the clearing and played with the oranges. The setup was perfect. A few tranquilizer darts, chains to pull them into the plane, and we would be finished.
But there was no plane.
The sun was beginning to soften into rose-orange. Charlotte checked her phone for the third time, but it was still dead. “We can’t stay all night,” she said to me. “Let’s get back to camp and see what’s going on.”
“No!” I protested. “We can’t leave them here. They won’t just hang around.”
“What do you suggest we do with them?” Charlotte asked in an exasperated tone. “We can’t tie them up.”
“But what was the whole point of this?” I said, my voice rising. “They’ll wander back! They’ll get shot!”
“We don’t have the plane,” Charlotte said sharply. “Let’s get back to camp before it gets dark. Maybe Tom’s been able to call Billy.”
We walked the horses back, while Grisha followed us in the Rover. I could barely look at him as he nervously lit cigarette after cigarette. All I could think was that Tom just had to come, that Tusker’s life depended on him.
ThulaThula Safaris was a set of tidy huts and barns, stone barbecues, and a small private residence, which also served as Charlotte’s office. We all rode in, with Grisha close behind. There was a man sitting at a t
able outside the office, sipping a Zambezi Lager. I hopped off my horse. A worker came with his hand outstretched to take the reins.
“I can take care of him,” I protested.
“It’s my job, shamwari,” he said, bowing his head. “I give him good dinner.”
I handed him the horse just as Grisha pulled me by the arm to take it upon himself to complete my introduction. “This is Plain-Neelie,” he said to the man at the table. “She has produced heavy assistance.”
“Ah yes, you must be Diamond’s friend. Good to meet you, Plain-Neelie.” The man stood up and extended his hand. “Billy Pope, here. You’ve met Charlotte—I’m her husband.” He was barely taller than his wife, also lean, with dark curly hair and dark eyes, like a perfectly matched tea set. I started to speak but was interrupted by Grisha.
“Is plane making arrival?” he asked Billy.
Billy Pope shook his head. “I got off the phone with Tom about two hours ago, just before the service went out. He’s stuck in Botswana. He can’t even drive in—the roads are filthy with Mugabe’s soldiers, and he’s a marked man. They know exactly who he is.”
“Why can’t he fly in?” I demanded.
“The air force is still on full alert after Air Marshal Shiri’s near assassination last year.” Billy sighed. “Tom’s cargo plane is no match for their SF.260s. He can’t just invade Zimbabwean air space—they’ll shoot him down in a heartbeat.” He looked at his growing audience—Grisha, me, Charlotte, and Diamond—and made a helpless gesture with his hands. “It looks like we won’t be able to rescue this one.”
“But we have to,” I said, my voice growing urgent. “We have to rescue both of them.”
“‘Them’?” Billy repeated.
“Looks like Tusker brought a friend,” Charlotte explained. “A young bull.”
“Bollocks!” Billy exclaimed. “More trouble!”
“But we can’t just leave them,” I added.
Billy and Charlotte gave each other looks.
“Well, it’s late and we’re all pretty beat,” Charlotte said soothingly. “Why don’t we get some sleep and try to figure something out in the morning.”
“Da.” Grisha sucked on the last bit of cigarette in his mouth, though it was nearly all ash. “Grisha requires adjournment for sleep now,” he agreed wearily. “But Grisha is on full notification if you have needs of him.” He bowed and left us.
“I’m going to find something to eat and turn in as well,” Diamond said. She looked exhausted.
I felt stupid that I had forgotten my manners. These were good people, and they had risked their lives to help save Tusker. I was sure they would think of something by morning.
“Thank you for everything you did,” I said to Billy and Charlotte. My stomach growled loudly, and embarrassed, I rubbed it with my hand. Billy Pope heard it and laughed.
“There’s food in the office fridge,” he said. “Leftover cauliflower and cold sadza. Why don’t you eat, and then Diamond can show you where to sleep. Good night, Plain-Neelie.”
“Good night,” I returned.
“I’d better check on the horses,” Charlotte said, then yawning, she slipped her arm through her husband’s. “I need to get some sleep, too.” They strolled away, but not before I heard her explain, “By the way, her name is not Plain-Neelie, it’s Neelie-Neelie. You know how Grisha gets everyone’s name wrong.”
There was nothing we could do.
Nothing.
Tom’s plane remained in Botswana, and Tusker and his friend were left in the clearing near Charlotte’s camp. We were helpless.
I awoke early the next morning to a flurry of new people arriving for safaris and men cooking breakfast. Someone left bowls of breakfast sadza outside the hut I was sharing with Diamond, which was nothing like the one in Charara. It was a plain thatched hut, with a toilet and shower built over a drain and hidden behind a curtain in the corner of the room. A clean cot with a few thin blankets stood against one wall, and a folding table and several chairs filled another. Diamond had again volunteered to sleep on the floor, even though I had guiltily tried to talk her out of it.
“I don’t mind,” she said. “It’s what I’ve always done.”
We finished our breakfast, I showered and changed into my last set of clean clothes, and we looked for someone to talk to.
Charlotte was busy greeting newcomers to the camp, speaking to them in German and Italian, and motioned me to talk to Grisha. Diamond and Billy joined us.
“What are we doing about Tusker?” I asked, trying not to sound demanding.
“We’re not going to be able to save this one, Neelie-Neelie,” Billy said, dropping his voice. “Sometimes the smartest part of rescue work is knowing when you have to step back.”
“We can’t do that,” I said, fighting to keep myself from crying.
Billy shook his head. “I’m afraid we have no choice,” he said. “I’ve seen enough rescues to know when they’re not going to work.” Charlotte called him, and he excused himself, leaving me and Grisha alone.
“Grisha!” I cried. “Tell me what to do!”
“Billy has correctament.” He put his arm comfortingly around my shoulder. “Sometimes, Plain-Neelie, you have to leave elephant behind.”
The image of Tusker flashed in front of my eyes, his enormous body, the intelligence behind his amber eyes, maybe even a certain trust that those who shared the jungle with him would treat him fairly. My king of wild hearts in his empire under the golden African sun. How could I leave him to die?
“I can’t,” I said, and started to sob. “I can’t. How can you be so indifferent?”
“Grisha is not filled with indiffermence,” he said gently. “Grisha sees elephants he’s left behind in his eyes every night.”
I looked up into his face. It wasn’t filled with indifference at all—it was filled with sorrow.
And that was it.
I thought we were finished. Finished with Tusker and finished with Zimbabwe.
Charlotte Pope arranged for us to take a chicken bus straight to Harare later that morning. She had pulled strings and bribed an official, and even managed to get us seats on a plane out of Zimbabwe. To New York.
“We can’t just leave,” I protested to Diamond. “We can’t leave him out there, just like that.”
She took me aside. “Well, I know someone who was made minister in one of the government agencies in Harare,” she said. “Joshua Mukomana. An old friend of my husband’s. We hid him in the bush some years ago when he fell out of favor with Mugabe. Then he made Mugabe a lot of money, and they became friends again. I haven’t thought about him in years, but I seem to remember he was appointed the minister of something or other. I can give him a ring.” She gave me a rueful shrug. “I think it’s time to call in a favor.”
“You are on a fool’s errand,” Charlotte told us when Diamond mentioned what we were trying next. “The government is so corrupt, they’re impossible to deal with.”
We had to agree, but if we were on a fool’s errand, then at the very least, we were compassionate fools.
Chapter 10
JOSHUA MUKOMANA HELD THE UNWIELDY TITLE OF Minister of Environment, Tourism, Permissions, Unpaved Roads, and maybe Broken Hearts, and we had a last-minute appointment to see him.
First we had to say good-bye to Charlotte and Billy and Grisha. And leave two elephants, who were blithely unaware that their lives were imperiled. Diamond and I had done everything we could, and I was sick with anguish.
One of Charlotte’s guides dropped us at the dalla-dalla terminal, and we returned to Harare on a torrid and precipitous ride that entailed several bus changes, a collision with an oxcart, and again, too many chickens. The only good thing about it was that we saved ourselves considerable fare.
“When we see Joshua, I think we should tell him that we’re part of a big organization,” Diamond suggested as we bounced along the road. “They get quite impressed with complicated administrative titles here.”
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br /> “What kind of organization?” I asked, thinking Diamond was probably right. An official rescue organization would bestow a certain gravitas upon us and make all the difference in the kind of respect we got.
Diamond grinned and pushed a chicken away from her rucksack. “I’m not all that creative with names,” she said. “It took me three years to name my first dog, and all I came up with was Hereboy. You think of something. We should be there in about ten more minutes.”
It was late in the afternoon by the time we reached Joshua Mukomana’s well-appointed office in a new glass building on Causeway, not far from the gleaming modern offices of the president. The entire complex was patrolled by heavily armed soldiers with machine guns slung over their backs, and they were making me nervous.
Diamond pulled open huge glass doors with curved brass handles. We walked into a huge marble lobby decorated with eight-foot purple palms and six-foot-something soldiers. The palms remained in their pots, but the soldiers stepped in front of us.
“I have an appointment with Minister Mukomana,” Diamond announced. The soldiers verified it with a call, and we were sent on our way. I could taste adrenaline.
“Have you thought of a title yet?” Diamond asked as she led me through the lobby to the elevators.
I hadn’t. The carved mahogany elevator door opened in front of us, we stepped inside, and were immediately carried up to the twelfth floor. I was straining to think of a good name. The Elephant Club? Too pedantic. The Elephant Girls? Could be taken the wrong way. My mind remained firmly blank. The doors opened to reveal another armed soldier.
“No matter what,” Diamond warned me as we followed him down a marble hallway, “be patient.”
An Inconvenient Elephant Page 6
