The See-Through Leopard

by Sibel Hodge

  ‘Well, let’s get some lunch while we’re waiting.’ Dad slung his arm around my shoulder and we headed towards the kitchen.

  Chef grinned at me. ‘Hello, Miss Jazz. What have you been cooking up lately?’

  ‘I made risotto last night,’ I said proudly.

  ‘It was pretty good, too.’ Dad said.

  ‘It was awful.’ Zach wrapped his fingers round his throat and mimed having a choking fit.

  I slapped him on the arm playfully and narrowed my eyes. ‘It can’t have been that bad. You soon stuffed it down.’

  Chef waved a carrot at me. ‘You’ll make someone a good wife one day.’

  For a moment I stopped in my tracks as his words hit me like a slap on the back. That was so far from reality it was like saying I’d travel to the moon one day.

  I took bowls of soup and a plate of bread to the table to get my mind off dwelling on the fact while the rangers and Richard and Jenna filed in.

  Richard sat next to Dad and patted him on the shoulder. ‘I’ve waited a long time to start this breeding programme. Thanks to all your hard work, we’re on the way.’

  Dad smiled proudly, nodding his head. ‘This has been a dream of mine for a long time, too. If this works, it will help Kilingi and the rhino.’

  I leaned over to Dad and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘What’s that for?’ he asked me.

  ‘For being the best Dad in the whole world.’ I hugged him.

  Two hours later, the rhino trucks were making their way into the park and a group of us milled around, waiting for them with excitement.

  The two trucks carefully came to a stop and three men got out of each vehicle, wearing the familiar bush uniform of khaki shorts and shirts. They introduced themselves to everyone and we all shook hands. There was a vet, who’d been keeping the rhinos sedated just enough so they wouldn’t do themselves any damage in the crates, along with men from the Kruger National Park Service who had dealt with the logistics side of things their end, and who Dad and Richard had been in constant communication with over the last few months.

  Richard disappeared to drive the heavy lifting equipment that would hoist the holding crates out of the truck and into the boma.

  I sat in the tree next to the boma with Zach, and we watched the men attach a hook from the lifting crane to chains around the first crate. Richard pulled a lever and the crate lifted into the air, swinging slightly as it went. Inside the boma, four men stood, holding onto ropes that were positioned on every corner of the crate to pull it steady. Baruti, the rhino inside, watched us all with a watery stare, probably wondering what on earth was happening to him. When the crate was lifted over the boma walls near the entrance, three of the men ran out while the remaining one jumped up on top of the crate and undid the heavy wooden poles holding the door closed. He slid the crate door up, jumped off and ran out the door as the others secured the entrance to the boma with lightning speed.

  Slowly, a nose and horn appeared out of the crate and sniffed the air.

  Zach glanced at me, and we grinned at each other before turning back to see Baruti stepping out of the crate and taking slow steps into the boma, investigating his new home. Watching this huge, regal creature with its prehistoric body and thick folds of armour-plated skin was just breathtaking. After the elephant, rhinos were the largest land mammal in the world, and yet, even with their armour and their size, their lives were so vulnerable, hanging in the balance because of their horns.

  Baruti shuffled forwards and stopped, his legs unsteady from a mixture of the drugs and being cooped up in the crate for a while. He stayed in the same position for about ten minutes, then trotted forwards and sniffed the ground. We’d left fresh grasses and water for him at the furthest end of the boma. Would he be relaxed enough to feed straight away?

  No such luck. He wasn’t in the least interested in food. He turned around, walking slowly to the side of the crate and stopping a couple of metres before it. Then he dropped his head down slightly, his myopic eyes firmly fixed on the travelling crate, and ran towards it.

  There was an audible gasp as he bashed a hole in the side of it, but he wasn’t finished. He reversed up, bowed his head, and rammed it again, letting us know in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t happy. After a few more goes he seemed satisfied that he’d let us know exactly what he thought, and he wandered calmly to the other side of the boma and sat down with a seemingly satisfied look on his face before he investigated the food and began to eat.

  While he was distracted, Richard quickly hoisted the crate back out over the side of the boma.

  Now it was time for Bella.

  Because the walls of the wooden boma were tightly fixed together, they wouldn’t be able to see each other, but they would know by smell that another rhino was nearby. Dad hadn’t wanted to put them in the same enclosure in case they attacked each other, but this way they would hopefully be reassured that they weren’t stuck in there alone.

  Richard, Dad, and the rest of the men repeated the operation with Bella, but as the crate swung over the side of the truck, one of the ropes slipped off, leaving the crate swinging at a wonky angle in the air.

  I gripped Zach’s hand and squeezed it tightly with worry. ‘God, I hope it doesn’t crash to the ground. She might get injured.’

  Zach kept nervous eyes on the crate, squeezing my hand back.

  ‘We need to do this quick or the crate might fall,’ Dad called out as the men on the ground tried to steady it.

  Very slowly and steadily, Richard released the crate down onto the ground to avoid it slipping any further. Three men ran back out of the boma as another jumped on top of the crate and slid open the door. As soon as he did, Bella was out and bolting for the other side of the boma. The ranger ran the other way out of the entrance, and the door was quickly secured.

  ‘That’s one feisty girl,’ Zach said. ‘Let’s hope she’s got as much get up and go in the mating department.’

  Rhinos are usually solitary animals, and realising that they both had company, they went to the inner walls of the boma and investigated each other’s smells, hopefully drawing some comfort from each other. We sat and watched them settle down for a few hours before dusk fell and the men drove off on the long journey back to South Africa.

  The next morning was release day. I woke up with a feeling of immense hope that was also mixed with sadness. If this worked, I prayed that we could help to increase the population and stop them from becoming extinct like the northern white rhinos, a subspecies that hadn’t been seen in the wild since 2006, or Africa’s western black rhinos that had been poached into extinction. How could we let that happen? If African rhinos were being poached at the rate of more than one a day, it was anyone’s guess whether they would still be around for our grandchildren to see. There was a lot riding on this rhino breeding programme, and we wouldn’t know how successful it would be for years to come yet, but at least it was a start.

  After Dad climbed onto the loading equipment to get a good look at how the rhinos were doing and whether they looked good to go, he glanced down and gave Richard and Zach the thumbs-up to open the boma doors.

  In unison, they swung open the heavy wooden doors and then ran up the tree, making sure they were out of horn-ramming distance. Bella realised there was an open path to freedom first and bolted out of the door, her feet kicking up the soil as she went. Baruti’s ears flicked for a while before he, too, realised the door was open. He wandered out at a leisurely pace and looked around him for a while before trotting off across the plains into the distance, stopping every now and then to check out his surroundings.

  They were free, and hopefully, with the anti-poaching team on the reserve, they’d be safe.

  And as we all clapped and cheered and I felt the tears of emotion prick at my eyelids, it suddenly hit me what today was.

  I felt a stabbing pain in my chest.

  It was the two-year anniversary of the accident and Mum’s death, and I hadn’t ev
en realised it.

  I spoke to her in my head less and less now as I got caught up in Asha and my new life on the reserve, but how could I have forgotten the day she died? That familiar feeling of guilt welled up in me. It felt like I was betraying her memory. I wondered if Dad had planned the release of the rhinos to coincide with today in the hope it would get my mind off things, or whether that’s just the way it had worked out.

  I felt torn between the knowledge that all this life was going on without her and the need to keep her memory alive. Was it wrong of me to be feeling some happiness again when she would never be able to feel anything?

  As the others headed to the bar for a celebratory drink, I slipped away and walked back to see Asha.

  If anyone understood what it was like to lose their mum, it was her.

  Chapter 17

  I stood back and surveyed the birthday cake I’d made for Zach. It was the first cake I’d made using one of Chef’s recipes, and I was pretty sure his wouldn’t have looked anything like mine. Both of the thick chocolate sponges had risen massively in the middle into big domes. Maybe I’d added too much baking powder.

  I grabbed the bowl of whipped cream and lathered it on the top of one of the domes, then added chopped strawberries and placed the other sponge on top, dome side down, and pressed hard. The result was a wobbly looking mess with cream and strawberries oozing out the sides.

  I tutted to myself. I wanted it to be so perfect. I was just about to take off the top layer, scrape off the creamy goo, and cut a slice off the dome to make it flatter when Dad walked in.

  He took one look at the cake and burst out laughing.

  ‘It’s not funny,’ I grumbled.

  He tried to stop smiling and stifle the laugh. ‘Well, I’m sure it tastes nice.’ He turned the kettle on to boil. ‘Do you want a cake for your birthday, too?’

  My birthday was two days after Zach’s and I didn’t really feel like celebrating without Mum. I’d rather concentrate on Zach’s instead to take my mind off it.

  ‘I think I’ll have had enough of cakes by the time this huge brick gets eaten.’ I frowned at my handiwork.

  ‘There’s a woman from the Cheetah Conservation Organisation who’s come to visit Kimani for a few days and see how she’s getting on.’ He poured boiling water over a spoonful of coffee and added some milk. ‘I’m taking her out to find Kimani after breakfast, but you should have a chat with her. The CCO has successfully re-wilded ten cheetahs now. She might have some good advice.’

  I paused. ‘Is she nice?’

  ‘She’s very nice.’ He quickly downed his coffee as he watched me squash down the cake. ‘Well, I’d better be off, I’ve got a busy day.’ He kissed me on the top of the head and left me staring at the cake.

  I heard Zach calling me from outside a few minutes later and rushed down the steps.

  ‘Happy Birthday!’ I smiled. ‘How does it feel to be nineteen?’

  He shrugged. ‘The same as it felt to be eighteen, I guess.’

  ‘Are you doing anything to celebrate?’ I asked, waiting to hear him say he was going out somewhere nice with Kira and getting ready to cringe inside.

  ‘Nah. I’m not that big on birthdays. I’d rather spend the day checking out the animals than in a fancy restaurant somewhere. Not that you’ll find any fancy restaurants in Jito.’ He shrugged. ‘But I think we should celebrate yours.’

  ‘I’m not that much into celebrating, either,’ I fibbed. ‘When Mum was alive she would always try and make it a special day for me. It just wouldn’t be the same celebrating without her here.’

  ‘Well, I was thinking…there’s a music festival in Jito on your birthday. Why don’t we head over and check it out?’

  I sighed. ‘I don’t want everyone to see me.’

  He ignored me and said, ‘It will be a good night. It’s not like there’s much in the way of entertainment round here. I’ll pick you up at seven.’

  I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘Bossy.’

  He raised a smug eyebrow, looking quite proud of that.

  ‘Do you want your present?’ I asked.

  ‘You got me a present?’

  ‘Well, I made it.’ I shrugged. ‘It looks a bit crap.’

  ‘Great! I love crap presents.’ He chuckled and rubbed his hands together.

  ‘Do you promise not to laugh?’ I looked up at him from beneath my eyelashes.

  He made a sign of crossing his heart. ‘I’m intrigued now.’

  I led him into the kitchen. He took one look at the cake and burst out laughing.

  ‘Hey, you promised!’

  ‘I’m not laughing.’ He slapped a hand over his mouth, but I could still see his eyes creasing up at the corners. ‘I bet it tastes really nice. Chocolate’s my favourite.’

  ‘I know. Do you want to try some before we take Asha out?’

  ‘I don’t know if I dare. It might give me food poisoning.’ He eyed it suspiciously.

  I elbowed him. ‘I went to a lot of trouble to make that cake. Do you want some or not? Because if not, I’ll just eat the whole lot,’ I huffed.

  He removed his hand and tried to give me a serious look, but I could see his eyes still dancing with humour. ‘I’d love some.’

  I cut us both a slice, placed them on a plate, and handed him one.

  He took a forkful and chewed slowly, then he put the plate back on the kitchen worktop and grabbed hold of his throat, making choking sounds like it was poisoning him.

  I glared at him. ‘Ha ha. Very funny.’

  He swallowed and burst out laughing. ‘I thought so.’

  ‘That joke’s getting old now.’

  He polished off the rest of the cake. ‘Are you going to make Asha one? Surely we should celebrate her first birthday somehow, too.’

  ‘What would I put in it? Oven roasted warthog or barbequed impala?’ I scrunched up my nose in disgust.

  ‘How about we try and take her hunting? Her Mum would begin teaching her to catch prey around now.’

  It was bad enough having to feed her carcasses, but I’d been dreading the day when I had to try and teach her to kill live prey. ‘I don’t like the thought of putting live animals in her enclosure to chase. It makes me feel sick. It’s like you’re just putting it there to be murdered.’

  He nodded. ‘I know. I don’t like it, either, but it has to be done. She’s got to learn to stalk and chase them properly before we can get her out in the reserve doing it for real. If she can’t hunt in the wild, she’ll die. Out here, one animal has to die for another to live. That’s the way it’s been for thousands of years.’

  I knew what he was saying was right, but it didn’t make it any better.

  I nodded reluctantly.

  ‘We’ll start after the festival,’ he said. ‘Let’s take her out for a walk before I keel over from that cake.’

  ****

  I kept a low profile on my birthday. I didn’t want to go to the lodge and see any of the staff. The most important person I wanted to see that day wasn’t going to be around, and I just wanted to forget about it. I didn’t even want to go to the festival, but I hadn’t really been off the reserve in nearly a year, and maybe it would be nice to get a change of scenery.

  I showered and changed into some three-quarter length brown linen trousers and a black strappy sun top. God knows why, but I even swiped on some pink lip gloss that I’d found in the bottom of my suitcase. Even if my face looked awful, maybe my lips would look nice.

  Yeah, right, Jazz. What are you thinking?

  I was brushing my hair when I heard the sound of Dad talking to someone on the veranda. I looked at my watch. Zach was early.

  I slipped my feet into some flip-flops with sparkling turquoise butterflies on them that Mum had bought me and hadn’t seen the light of day since arriving. I headed outside and saw Dad sitting in a chair next to a very regal-looking black woman who had the most shiny, flawless skin I’d ever seen. She had high cheekbones and oval-shaped deep brown eyes. She s
at with her back held straight, a soft tilt to her head as she listened to a story Dad was telling her. She must’ve been in her early forties, and she looked stunning.

  ‘Ah, Jazz, I’d like you to meet Mandisa,’ Dad said to me. ‘She’s the lady I was telling you about from the CCO.’

  Without even the flicker of revulsion on seeing my face, she stood up and held out a slim arm towards me. ‘Lovely to meet you.’ She smiled, revealing perfect white teeth.

  Maybe Dad had already warned her about the freak he had for a daughter.

  I shook her hand. ‘You, too,’ I mumbled, eyes downcast.

  Dad stood up. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to chat while I get the wine.’ He looked at Mandisa. ‘Would you like red or white?’

  ‘White, please.’ Her gaze lingered on Dad for a while before she turned her attention back to me. ‘You look very pretty. Are you going somewhere nice?’

  My eyebrows crinkled up. Pretty? Was she blind?

  I flicked my gaze at her to see if she was joking, but all I saw was a kind smile. ‘Er…I’m going to the music festival.’

  ‘That should be fun.’ She nodded her head towards Asha’s enclosure. ‘I saw Asha. Your father tells me you’re doing an excellent job with her.’ She sat back in the chair. ‘It’s an amazing thing when you get to see them progress back into the wild. The CCO has done a lot of work with orphaned cheetahs, but the problem just keeps getting bigger. Their population has gone from a hundred thousand to around ten thousand. We need to keep all the cheetahs we can out in the wild.’

  Dad reappeared with two glasses of white wine and sat down again, handing Mandisa a glass.

  As she took it, her long, slender fingers brushed against Dad’s. Their eyes met for a brief moment before she sipped it gracefully.

  I watched them both for a moment until Zach pulled up in the Land Rover, tooting the horn.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ I said.

  ‘Have fun,’ Dad said. ‘I’ve heard the music is supposed to be pretty good. We might join you later.’