Ghosts of Tsavo

by Vered Ehsani

I couldn’t sleep. Between a pesky mosquito trapped under the net and all the theories trapped in my brain, there was far too much buzzing going around.

  Agitated by my failed efforts, I pushed off the blanket, swatted at the insect and missed, and tugged on my colorless housecoat. Lighting a lantern, I blinked into the small flame and left my room. I could hear snores and crickets, not the most melodious of combinations, and I hurried down the hallway into the living room.

  Moonlight filled the room with a cool, pearly light. When I peered out the window, I could see the demented zebra, its white stripes whiter, the rest of it blending into the night. For the first time, I noticed its fur was mangy and a few bald patches showed raw, pink skin. I narrowed my eyes and the glowing snake-like head hissed at me, eyes bright red. Of the zebra spirit, there was no sign.

  “Really,” I muttered and gazed farther afield. The camp’s fires were tiny flickers against the vast expanse of shadowy savannah. I could just make out a clump of darker shadow out near the horizon; it was a herd of elephants.

  I continued to the kitchen which was devoid of the warmth of the stove’s fire. On a whim, and since tea was clearly unavailable, I exited out the back and to the barn where our ox and three horses were housed. Idly, I wondered if the spirit that had invaded the zebra could do the same with our animals.

  The beasts in question shuffled nervously as I entered the small, dark barn. Shadows bounced around me as I held up the lantern.

  “It’s just me, silly beasts,” I said soothingly. “I don’t eat horses, Nelly.”

  Oddly enough, despite my calming tones, that didn’t reassure the ox or the other two horses, for they backed away into their stalls, eyes rolling, ears laid back, nostrils quivering. Nelly fell asleep.

  I spun around slowly, my sliver of light only accentuating all the dark places where creatures scarier than possessed zebras could hide. I looked up to the hayloft and that’s when I smelled it: a musk filling the olfactory gaps between clean hay and warm horse. A memory flashed up, of Kam and me by the river, drops of glowing blood and a loud cough in the bushes.

  There was no cough or heavy foot falls, only the ox pawing the ground and then it stopped. The scent faded back to memory.

  “Just a smell in the breeze,” I told them. “Nothing to worry about.”

  That reassurance didn’t stop my heart from pounding, and all I wanted to do was dash back into the house and hide under my blanket, pretending to sleep. With great restraint, I held the urge to run in check, although I intended to carry out that plan but in a less panicked state. As I turned about, light and shadow danced on the walls until each of them had a chance to caress the creature in the barn entrance.

  “Good gracious,” I shrieked and realized only after my involuntary response that it was the girl I’d seen with Kam.

  She smiled shyly at me, perhaps trying to compensate for nearly scaring me into an early demise. Her teeth were bright against the darkness of her skin and the night. She was almost my height—no great accomplishment there—and her hair was trimmed short against her scalp, leaving more space for her large eyes that glowed in the lantern’s light. She was wearing a long piece of fabric wrapped around her chest and reaching past her knees.

  As I was temporarily devoid of the power of speech, the girl took it upon herself to fill in the conversational void. “Good evening, Madam Bee,” she said softly, as if to avoid startling me further.

  “You know my name?” I asked, rather stupidly, since she had clearly just demonstrated her knowledge of that fact.

  She nodded her head slowly a few times, her eyes still fixed on me.

  “And you are…?” I prompted her.

  “I am called Badilisha. But most people, they use my other name, Nyambura.”

  “Right,” I said, breathing in, breathing out. As Prof. Runal was fond of reminding me: if you can breathe, you’re still alive, so congratulations.

  “You’re Kam’s niece,” I said in an effort to make polite conversation, but really what I wanted to know was what she was doing in my barn in the middle of the night.

  Nyambura cocked her head to the side, a movement very reminiscent of Kam, and said, “I am Nyambura, daughter of Nyarvirazi.”

  I breathed in deeply. The musk of lion still lingered but faintly. Most humans with an olfactory sense considerably less sensitive than mine wouldn’t even notice it.

  “By any chance,” I asked, “did you notice a lion on your way over here?”

  Nyambura laughed, her cheeks shiny and her eyes bright. “Not here, no. The lions, they are nearby though.”

  At the time, I didn’t think to ask where she might have seen one, an oversight I would later regret.

  “Don’t worry about lions,” she continued.

  “Oh?” As far as I could tell, it was the one thing about which everyone was concerned.

  “There is no danger,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “That’s all very well to say,” I retorted, “but I doubt the construction workers agree with you there, especially those who’ve been eaten.”

  She cocked her head to the side again. “Those lions that eat men, they were hunted. They are dead.”

  I frowned. “Yes, that’s a point, but apparently, they’re back in some form or other, or so people believe.”

  “And you?” she asked. “What do you believe, Madam Bee?”

  I breathed in deeply. I could still catch a whiff of lion. “Well, I don’t for a minute believe they’re ghosts, that’s for certain. But what, I’m still not sure.”

  Nyambura stood silently for a moment, her large eyes serious and contemplative. Then she said, “That Englishman, he knows.”

  “Which one?” Even as I asked, my heart sped up slightly, for really, how many were there who would be interested in paranormal lions?

  The girl nodded at me. “Mr. Timmons, he knows.”

  My shoulders stiffened. “I’m sure he does, and I think I shall need to chat with that Englishman sooner than later.” I straightened up, as if preparing to charge down to camp, barge into the man’s cabin, and interrogate him. “Come on, I’ll escort you back to… well, where do you stay? Surely not in the camp.”

  She shook her head but said nothing. I walked her outside and turned to slide shut the barn door. When I turned around, Nyambura was gone.

  Chapter 24