‘Lloyd?’
‘You’ve a charmed life. They’re up for it. Really keen. I think they caught some of the rumours of us coming out of the police station. Are you sure you can get away from the outreach programme long enough to make it worthwhile?’
‘That’s fantastic Lloyd. I’ve been thinking about that. I’ll tell them that I have to do a technical recce. Meet with a sparks or some other sort of film crew. You could be my sound man. I’m sure we could join up and creep away for half an hour.’
‘You think they’d buy it?’
‘Why not? The film business can be a bit mystical. I’m sure we could pull the wool over their eyes.’
‘Wool?’
‘Never mind. They don’t know anything about filmmaking, I can make it sound very techie, essential that we sort out the audio and lighting before we shoot it.’
‘If you say so. I’ll arrange the meeting in a hut in a nearby kraal; you could say that you’d like to film in one and need to discuss the setup.’
‘Sounds good, I’ll have to think of a way of keeping them out of it.’
‘Yeah, I’m sure our bunch of terrorists won’t want an immunisation team to listen in. That reminds me, don’t mention anything about the embassy bombing, they don’t know I know anything about that. We’re just there to support them with their publicity campaign. If they start talking about more devious things we’ll only listen, yeah?’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll take your lead, just see if you can nudge them around to talking about Ebola.’
‘I’ll do my best. By the way, I should’ve asked, how are you? Recovered yet?’
‘On the mend. And you?’
‘Still walking, I’m sorry about the crash. Didn’t want to stop in case they searched our papers.’
‘Yeah, what happened to them? I was so confused yesterday, forgot to ask.’
‘I was still conscious after the car rolled so I threw the bag into the bushes. It’s probably still there. Haven’t dared go back in case someone follows me.’
Nathalie closed her eyes and tried to remember the location. Of course, nothing. She had been completely knocked out. She couldn’t even remember the terrain leading up to the accident.
‘You don’t think anyone would find it?’
‘Well, the Bush was pretty thick and I threw it as far as I could. With a bit of luck if we get a storm the papers will get soaked anyway. I wouldn’t worry about it. The police have checked who you are with the hospital and are satisfied.’
Nathalie was about to pursue the matter when their call was interrupted by a knock at her door.
‘Okay, here’s someone to clean my room. I’ll text you when we are on the road, and you can let me know where we can meet.’
‘Will do.’ Lloyd closed the call without saying goodbye.
The minibus was early. Nathalie felt like royalty as she surveyed the entourage that waited for her in the hotel lobby. They stood as she entered and Sue Jones introduced her to them one by one; the district medical officer, the senior nurse responsible for the outreach programme, and two immaculately dressed immunisation nurses in their white uniforms.
‘I wasn’t expecting…’ Nathalie tailed off as Nurse Jones glanced at her furtively.
‘We are honoured to have the district medical officer with us today. He will explain the programme on our way to Gweru. It’s a four-hour drive and I hope you don’t mind, we’ve booked you in at the Midlands Hotel.’
‘Midlands Hotel?’
‘Yes, the best hotel in Gweru. You see, the team need to pick up the vaccines from the refrigerated store first thing tomorrow morning.’
Nathalie was becoming concerned. ‘But I thought you said we were going to Shurugwi.’
Nurse Jones smiled. ‘Sorry, I assumed you knew. Gweru is not far from Shurugwi district. It’s just that there’s no, how shall I say, suitable accommodation there.’
Nathalie shrugged her shoulders. ‘Oh that’s fine then, I’m not too fussy where I…I mean I’m sure your arrangements will be…’
Noticing the impatience on the medical officer’s face Sue Jones interrupted her and suggested that they make a move.
The minibus had seen better days and the further they drove from Harare the rougher the road became. For the first part of the journey the district medical officer droned on and on about health statistics and the importance of information systems. Nathalie tried to concentrate but every time the vehicle hit a pothole she nearly screamed out with pain from one of her multiple bruises. Thankfully after an hour the medical officer seemed to run out of things to say so Nathalie had time to relax. She pressed her face against the window. The sprawling low rise buildings of the Harare suburbs had now turned to scrub, with the occasional tree forming a silhouette against the threatening skies. A crack of thunder was followed by a lightning flash and then a torrent of water hit the windscreen. The driver reached for the dashboard and the windscreen wipers scraped across the screen only to come to a halt in the middle. The scene outside became a streaked blur. The minibus slowed and veered from side to side as the driver unwound his window. Holding grimly on to the steering wheel with one hand he reached around to try to wipe the windscreen with the other. It was hopeless, and dangerous. With each attempt the bus slew into the side of the road. The two nurses looked really scared so Nathalie, realising that she was the VIP passenger, tapped the driver on the shoulder.
‘Wouldn’t it be better if we stopped for a while, just until the storm cloud passes over?’
The driver turned around and looked for some assistance from the chief medical officer. As he did so the bus struck another pothole and they all nearly hit the roof.
‘I think Miss Thompson’s right. Pull over for a few minutes and, while we are waiting, you could take a look at that windscreen wiper.’
The nurses’ expressions turned to relief as they rearranged their crisp uniforms and repositioned themselves in their seats. The driver disappeared into the deluge and made some futile attempt to repair the wipers. The rain came down harder driving into the thin metal shell of the bus like nails. Nathalie tried to clear the steamed-up window with her elbow but the condensation kept reappearing. Although it was nearly midday the sky above was black. The road was becoming hardly visible, covered in a stream of red mud. Nathalie began to wonder whether stopping was a good idea. But the rain eased off as quickly as it had arrived and the sun began to filter through the cloud cover and splinter through the raindrops on the windows. The chief medical officer looked at his watch and leaned out of the window to shout at the driver.
‘Hurry up man, I have to get to Bulawayo before nightfall. This is disgraceful; when did you last service this vehicle?’
The wiper began to slowly squeak across the screen as if in protest.
‘Bulawayo?’ queried Nathalie. ‘I thought we were going to Gweru.’
The driver climbed back into his seat, dripping water onto the medical officer beside him.
‘Nurse Jones and I are going on to Bulawayo after we’ve dropped you off at your hotel,’ said the medical officer irritably. ‘That’s if we ever get to Gweru,’ he added brushing the drops from his jacket.
The rest of the journey was driven in silence. The morose driver with saturated clothing shuffled around in his seat trying to keep the minibus away from the ruts of red mud in the deteriorating roads.
Nathalie looked around at her fellow passengers. So, Sue Jones and the medical officer were not going on the outreach programme. That left the senior nurse and his two assistants. A lot easier to cope with if she was going to slip away to meet up with Lloyd and the WEXA group. She studied the face of the senior nurse. He hadn’t spoken a word to her after their initial introduction. He seemed shy but she could sense something deeper under his gentle demeanour. The badge on his khaki epauletted shirt read Joseph Karasa.
‘Well Joseph,’ she thought, ‘I wonder whether we could get to know you a little bit better?’
The Midlands Hot
el in the centre of Gweru looked more like a mosque than a hotel. It was constructed of tiers of white arches and accompanied by a minaret-looking clock tower. The minibus pulled up at the entrance in the town square and the driver jumped out to take their luggage from the back. The chief medical officer stayed seated and he turned around to shake Nathalie’s hand.
‘This is where we part Miss Thompson. I’m afraid, because of the conditions, we are running late and Nurse Jones and I have an important meeting in Bulawayo. I do hope you’ll excuse us for departing so suddenly.’
‘Of course,’ replied Nathalie, stepping out of the bus. ‘A pleasure to meet you. I look forward to seeing you again when we return with the film crew.’
‘Absolutely, if I’m around. It would be good to see the project through, my diary permitting, you understand?’
A hotel porter was disappearing through the sliding glass doors with her luggage, and Nathalie suddenly realised that her transport was about to vanish.
‘Oh by the way, how do I get back to Harare?’
‘Not a problem, Joseph will look after you. We’re dropping him and the nurses off at the transport depot. The Land Rover is in for repair so they will pick you up tomorrow morning in the Toyota. After you have finished the rounds they’ll drive you back to Harare before nightfall. Now if you’ll excuse us we must go.’
‘Charming, I’m sure,’ thought Nathalie, as the minibus pulled away. ‘Great hospitality.’
She turned and walked into the hotel lobby. It had that 1950s colonial feel. She handed her passport to the reception desk and filled in the obligatory forms. She was given her key and, to her surprise, a note from the slot under her room number. The porter led her to her room, put the luggage on a small standing rack and waited for his tip. He seemed satisfied with the US one dollar bill and shuffled off down the corridor. Nathalie glanced into the shower room and placed her hands flat on to the bed. The mattress felt sturdy enough and the room, although not to the standard of the Holiday Inn, was adequate. She sat on the bed and opened the note in her hand. On it were simply the words room 206. She looked at her key. The number on the fob was 229; 206 would be on the same floor.
‘In for a dollar,’ she thought, and leaving her luggage untouched made her way to the corridor. The simple plaques on the wall pointed the way. She turned the corner and gently tapped on the door of room 206. It was opened almost immediately.
‘Ah Nathalie,’ exclaimed Lloyd. ‘I was expecting you earlier.’
Six
They had the Midlands Hotel coffee shop to themselves. Nathalie played with the spoon in her saucer whilst Lloyd gave his explanation.
‘It wasn’t difficult. I’m a journalist; a couple of calls to the hospital and find you’re the star of the show. Coining money from a big Western charity, that’s the way they see it.’ He looked around at the drab surroundings and snorted. ‘Being accompanied by the big cheese and put up in a glamorous hotel in Gweru. To soften you up I think.’
A door creaked in the far corner, they both turned to look but it was only the wind.
‘Well the big cheese has left me on my own. In other circumstances I would be a bit pissed off but I couldn’t have arranged it better.’
‘Yes I heard he had an urgent meeting in Bulawayo. That’s what gave me the idea to meet you here. The WEXA group are getting nervous. I mentioned that you were undercover with the immunisation team. They didn’t seem to like that. Too many people.’
‘Shit.’ Nathalie threw the spoon onto the table. ‘You mean to say I’ve come all this way and they have chickened out.’
Lloyd picked up the spoon and carefully replaced it into the saucer. ‘Not exactly.’
‘Not exactly, what does that mean?’
‘That’s the reason I’ve spent hours travelling through rivers of mud to get here.’ Lloyd put his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. His deep brown eyes stared into Nathalie’s.
‘Okay, sorry I’m tired, bloody awful journey like you. Will they meet us?’
‘I think so. As long as it’s later this evening. They’ve given me a rendezvous location, but there’s no guarantee. As I told you they’re a bit of an amateur outfit, a fickle bunch.’
‘Yeah, an amateur outfit that bombs the German embassy and murders three of its occupants. They weren’t fickle that day were they?’
‘That’s the problem. And it makes it more dangerous. They are unpredictable.’ Lloyd started to get up from his chair. ‘It’s quite a drive, if we are going to get there by dusk we ought to get going.’
Nathalie hesitated.
Lloyd sat down again. ‘Changing your mind? I wouldn’t blame you, we could call it a day now if you want; I’ll just invoice my expenses.’
‘No it’s not that, I’m up for it. It’s just that I haven’t got a car; my friendly medical officer left me stranded.’
‘Well I didn’t come by bus. The garage lent me a jeep whilst they are beating my car wreck into shape. You needn’t look so worried; I don’t think the president’s cavalcade will be driving where we are going.’
The road was even rougher than the one from Harare. The afternoon’s rain had turned the dusty thoroughfare into a river of slime. Nathalie noticed that Lloyd had tied bundles of sacking and plywood boards onto the back of the jeep. He was obviously used to these conditions. Their progress was slow. Every two or three miles the vehicle slithered sideways and became bogged down in the mud. Eventually there was an impasse. No matter how hard he tried Lloyd couldn’t make the thing move another inch. He was gentle on the accelerator yet still the wheels spun and dug the jeep deeper into the mire. Nathalie got out to push but was blinded by the rust-coloured spray that covered her from head to foot. Lloyd switched off the engine and climbed down from the cab. For the first time since she had met him Nathalie saw Lloyd break out into a broad white smile.
‘If you could see yourself.’
Nathalie wiped the mud from her eyelids. ‘I can imagine.’
Lloyd reached into the back of the jeep and pulled out the sacking and boards. ‘Here, you push those under that wheel, and I’ll do the other.’
Fifteen minutes later and they were on their way again, Nathalie caked in red mud and Lloyd with the same white smile.
The thunderous clouds had given way to sunlight and a purple-tinged sky. The sun itself appeared huge against the flattening horizon. Dusk in Central Africa, especially after a rainstorm, was really something. In the distance they could see a group of small round huts with conical thatched roofs. Their shadows were already lengthening against the bare earth clearing.
Lloyd squinted against the light.
‘I think this is it. The settlement was abandoned some months ago. They said if we got here before nightfall they would be waiting for us.’
‘Can’t see a car. Maybe they got stuck like we did.’
‘No, I think I can see fresh tyre tracks. Someone could have dropped them off. We’ll soon know anyway. I’ll park here, the scrub’s a bit thick to drive right up.’
Lloyd pulled off the track onto the verge and put the handbrake on. They sat in silence for a few seconds listening in the still air. Not a sound.
Lloyd opened the driver’s door with a creak. ‘We’ll try the hut on the right first, I suggest we go together.’
Nathalie nodded and followed him. This wasn’t the first time she had met ‘undesirables’ but it didn’t make it any less scary. The first hut was about four metres in diameter and was made of daubed dry mud. The exterior was probably painted in a cream wash but under the current sky it appeared a burnt orange. Lloyd peered into the small opening. Nathalie stood to one side and waited. A few moments later Lloyd stood up, shook his head and pointed to the next hut twenty metres away.
‘Your turn,’ he said quietly.
Nathalie trod over the scoured earth, avoiding the strange constructions made out of twisted dried branches which were thrust into the ground. They looked like some sort of giant basket weaving
but were probably the foundations of an unbuilt dwelling. The second hut was slightly larger, still circular, with an exposed brick base beneath the mud superstructure and thatched conical roof. The doorway was higher and she had no need to stoop as she entered the interior. It was dark, very dark. After a few seconds the light from the vent in the roof outlined three seated figures in the smoky atmosphere. They resembled some sort of African mujahideen. Cross-legged, wearing headscarves that partially obscured their faces. They would have looked threatening apart from the fact that the scarves were made from the colourful floral fabric worn by Zimbabwean women. Nathalie beckoned Lloyd into the hut as the man in the middle began to stand.
‘Welcome,’ he said in a rather shaky voice.
‘As frightened as me then,’ thought Nathalie.
Lloyd nodded, thanked them for the invitation and introduced Nathalie.
They were asked to sit and were offered a mug of dark hot tea which one of the men poured from a blackened kettle resting on embers in the middle of the floor. The hole in the roof was not an efficient way of removing the smoke from this open fire and the soot in the air began to claw at Nathalie’s eyes.
‘Zimbabwean,’ said one of the men proudly.
‘Taganda tea, grown to the east of here,’ explained Lloyd. ‘Big export.’
Drugs to Forget Page 5
