That night, the atmosphere remained strained. Will was still sulking. Logan disappeared to confront his conscience, while Dallas decided he wouldn’t be killing any more elephants. Logan was welcome to do so and this would be reflected in a financial adjustment to his share of the profits. Fear hadn’t brought Dallas to this decision. It was borne of respect for the elephant itself.
Ralph gorged on elephant meat and fell blissfully asleep by the fire. Dallas envied the dog. Sometimes, it seemed to him, the inability to reason must be a blessing.
TEN
It had taken five months to trade along the Thukela. They had gone at the worst possible time of year. Heat, storms, flooding, and a mysterious kidney disease that killed eight of their oxen were all caused by the fact that it was high summer. The valley, surrounded by one hill system after another, captured and held humidity, and in that climate, germs seemed to thrive. Insect bites and scratches from thorns invariably became infected. Daily inspections of cattle and horses were required to ensure they had not injured themselves, both being just as vulnerable as people to infection. Wagons bogging, food going off, lame horses and petty bickering were regular occurrences. Twice they became badly lost because the Africans refused to continue, insisting on a detour because an omen of some kind had been seen, supposedly a sign from wandering, unclaimed spirits waiting for their families to come and take them home.
Mainly they enjoyed courteous greetings and good trading relations but on three occasions they’d been driven away by angry inhabitants of a kraal. Once for unfortunate timing, which coincided with the death of a chief; another because, on the morning of their arrival, a calf lay down to sleep three times while its mother was being milked – a sign of impending disaster; and the third appeared to be caused by nothing more than jealousy that a rival clan had been visited before them.
The hatred between Logan’s Sotho skinner and Will’s Zulu driver seemed to be contained, but it simmered just below the surface causing Mister David to comment, ‘It would have been better if one had killed the other in Durban. All the boys are scared.’
‘Why?’
‘It is difficult to explain.’
‘Try.’
Mister David gave an apologetic shrug. ‘Zulus believe that when someone dies it weakens any who are close. While we are weak the spirits can easily lead us after the one who is dead. We must make ourselves strong to stop this from happening.’
‘How do you do that?’
‘With black muthi. There are many things we use. Roots, bark from special plants, fats, powders, the flesh from some animals. We eat this medicine and put it in our water for drinking. Even the cattle must be smoked with it to protect them. We cannot eat amasi for one week.’
Dallas knew that amasi was a great delicacy, a kind of curdled milk with a cottage-cheese consistency, which was part of a Zulu’s staple diet. Many taboos surrounded the eating of amasi, which was regarded as the food of a household and never shared with anyone who was not a member of the immediate family. To abstain from this greatly favoured food for a week showed the seriousness with which Zulus regarded death and the importance of taking a strengthening medicine. ‘Do you know how to make this black muthi?’ Dallas asked quietly.
‘Yes, master.’
‘Can you find the things you will need?’
‘Yes, master.’
‘Then I suggest you have them ready just in case.’
‘Thank you. I will do as you say. The others will be comforted to know they can be protected.’
‘I hope it won’t be necessary.’
‘I fear it will, master. What lies in wait is too strong to stop.’
Logan’s Sotho skinner seemed unaffected by the finger he’d lost in Durban when Dallas broke up the fight. The hand remained bandaged for a week and then Dallas noticed the man brewing his own concoction to treat the wound. The healing process was swift and the man’s dexterity with a skinning knife unimpaired. Dallas expected resentment from him. He was surprised, therefore, when it was obvious that the Sotho actually accorded Dallas great respect.
‘He’s grateful,’ Logan said.
‘Grateful! I shot his finger off.’
‘Might have been his hand, old boy.’
Dallas supposed that was one way of looking at it.
Will’s driver, too, treated Dallas with high regard. He’d lost a chunk of flesh from his upper arm. He bore the scar as if it were a badge of honour.
Logan explained, ‘He now has proof of invincibility against the white man’s gun. When he returns to his umuzi he will be greatly admired.’
Dallas shook his head. There was so much to learn about these people.
The animosity between Will and Logan hadn’t changed either. In five months of trading and hunting, their mistrust of each other had neither grown or faded. It was simply there, although a grudging respect did exist between them for individual skills. Part of the trouble stemmed from social differences but the main cause of dissension, as far as Dallas could see, was that each was a loner and, as such, resented the other’s presence. Dallas they tolerated. He, after all, was the one with the money.
Working their way down the Thukela River valley, despite any ongoing animosity, the expedition could be considered successful. Logan’s ability as a hunter, combined with Will’s judgment of goods and the bartering skills of both, ensured that as the wagons’ loads lightened of beads and blankets, they were replenished by skins, horns and ivory. Even the cattle, sheep, goats, pigs and chickens traded along the way were exchanged for tusks.
Whenever they found a particularly pleasant place to outspan where good grazing and water were plentiful, Dallas would rest the animals for up to a week. Logan used these stops to take his recalcitrant Sotho and disappear, ‘in search of elephants.’ More often than not they’d go on foot, with little more than rifles, bags of bullets and powder, bedrolls and some biltong. Sometimes they stayed away for three or four days, usually returning with information about villages and elephant. Occasionally they’d return carrying a tusk each and, on one occasion, boys from camp had to go and help bring back ivory.
There was always something to do during these rest periods – running repairs to wagons and harnesses; reims, sjamboks and trek whips to be made for selling; loads sorted and restacked. Back in Edinburgh, any clothing repairs or adjustments had been made by a seamstress. Dallas became quite adept with needle and thread, though his efforts tended more towards strengthening a garment as opposed to improving its appearance.
Will displayed an unexpected practical side to his nature and was more than willing to teach Dallas things learned from years of experience. These were tricks of the trade, like how to prevent bees and wasps building nests down the barrel of a rifle, and how to make a poultice from bread and mustard to ease the extraction of acacia thorns that so often became embedded deep within the men’s flesh. Will had the uncanny knack of knowing if a horse or one of the oxen was ailing well before the animal showed any obvious symptoms. ‘It’s easy,’ he told Dallas. ‘Their eyes go dull.’
Try as he might, when Will announced that Tosca wasn’t well, he could see no difference in her eyes. The next day his horse had a bad attack of colic. Will force-fed the poor animal a mixture of castor oil and mealie porridge to prevent her developing a blockage in the intestine which would undoubtedly have led to a painful death. It worked, although Dallas worried that Will had been so heavy-handed with the treatment that Tosca was in danger of defecating to an early demise.
After their first experience of hunting elephant together, Dallas and Logan had a pithy discussion on the subject.
‘I hear what you say about their destructive habits and I understand that the land can’t support so many. Even so, we’ve heard that numbers have dropped dramatically in recent years. That aside, I have no problem with buying and selling tusks or your continuing to hunt. It’s simply that I won’t be shooting any more elephants.’
‘Would you kill a mosquito or a fly?’
‘Of course.’
‘You’d happily shoot duiker and reedbuck?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is it the size? Killing smaller animals is fine but not big ones?’
‘That has nothing to do with my decision.’
‘What is your reason then?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Fear?’
‘I was certainly frightened but it’s not that either.’
Logan closed his eyes briefly, then admitted, ‘I envy you. You’re a hypocrite, but who isn’t? Okay, I’ll do the shooting. One question, though. If I ask for back-up in a difficult situation will you give it?’
‘Without hesitation.’
Logan nodded. ‘Good.’
A few days later Dallas was to witness one of the rarest yet most touching sights Africa could offer. It was an event, Logan told him, that only occurred once in every seven or eight years. He’d never seen it before and knew of few who had. In fact, the phenomenon was discounted by most as hearsay.
The meeting of elephants.
They’d made camp between two small hills that sat on either side of the river. The Thukela wound, snake-like, between them. This part of the valley system had been over-grazed by local cattle and was virtually devoid of wildlife. A lone jackal buzzard soared hopefully in search of sustenance but otherwise Dallas and his companions had the area to themselves. Logan, who had scouted ahead, returned with news that the next village was some four miles away and that they’d be made welcome. Nobody had seen elephants for about three months.
As was usual, the Africans were up at first light. Instead of rekindling the fires for breakfast, collecting water and rounding up their oxen, comforting camp noises accompanied by quiet conversation that generally woke Dallas, on this morning it was a complete absence of sound which had the same effect. Something was wrong. He propped himself up in the bedroll, rubbing sleep from his eyes and yawning. The Africans were bunched together and staring wide-eyed in every direction. Looking beyond, Dallas’s jaw dropped and he scrambled to join them.
‘Christ! Where did they come from?’
Elephant, perhaps a thousand, stretching as far as the eye could see, with more arriving over the hills, up the river, down the river, all along the valley, a moving carpet of shuffling grey shapes.
Logan and Will, woken by Dallas’s outburst, were equally stunned by the sight.
Dallas turned to Logan for an explanation, but his partner just stared in awe and said in a quiet voice, ‘Mother of God!’
‘Are we safe?’ Will worried.
‘They know we’re here, if that’s what you mean. As long as we stay put they’ll give us our space.’
‘But you said –’ Will persisted.
‘I know. No elephants.’
‘So how come –’
‘This is different. There’s very little feed here for them. What you’re seeing has either been prearranged or it’s the result of some remarkable instinct. No-one knows. Christ! Hardly anyone has witnessed this.’
‘There must be a theory of some kind,’ Dallas said. ‘What do people believe?’
‘Most think it’s a myth but I’ve heard others say that family groups can travel as far as two hundred miles for this event. It’s thought that each matriarch comes to do business, swapping their young bulls for others, as if they’ve worked out a way to avoid inbreeding. We’re about to find out, gentlemen. We certainly can’t go anywhere. Most of the family groups will have young and they’ll be protective. All we can do is sit and watch.’ With that, Logan turned to the still spellbound Zulus. ‘Get this fire going. Stay away from the river, we’ve got enough water. Leave the cattle and horses to themselves. They won’t wander far and any lions will be long gone. Don’t make any unnecessary noise, just go about your work in camp as if the elephants weren’t there.’
Hesitant at first, the Africans moved to do as instructed.
Logan settled himself comfortably into a camp chair. ‘Join me,’ he invited Will and Dallas. ‘What we are seeing today puts us among a fortunate few in Africa.’
Dallas asked Mister David if he’d ever seen a meeting of elephants.
‘I have heard of this thing but never seen.’
‘I’m not sure how it makes us fortunate,’ Will grouched. ‘Look at the bastards. They’re bloody everywhere.’
Logan ignored the comment and very soon, when it became apparent that the animals were not in the least bit interested in them, even Will relaxed.
They spent most of that day watching the elephants. In many respects, it was a lesson. Sibling rivalry, maternal love, grown male aggression, the confident majesty of a herd bull, playful youngsters – it was all on display. Sounds like stomach rumblings seemed to be one way they communicated, though there was much touching and intertwining of trunks as family greeted family, old friends who had not seen each other for many years. Semi-grown herd bulls sparred with much trumpeting, ear-flapping and butting of heads but their actions seemed more playful than aggressive. Dallas saw several examples of animals assisting injured or ailing companions.
‘That one’s on the way out,’ Logan commented, indicating a large female obviously struggling to stay on her feet. Family had gathered around in a concerned group, leaning against the cow in an effort to hold her upright.
‘Age?’ Dallas asked.
‘Probably. She looks old. The trip must have been too much.’
As they watched, the cow stumbled, both front legs collapsed and she toppled sideways.
‘That’s it,’ Logan predicted. ‘They’ll not get her up now.’
It wasn’t for want of trying. Others rallied to give assistance but to no avail, and eventually wandered away. During the next few hours, the fallen cow’s family tried everything to get her to stand. Quite suddenly, all attempts ceased. The group of elephants had accepted the inevitable, occasionally laying their trunks gently on the animal as if comforting her. It was the most touching scene Dallas had ever witnessed.
‘Look.’ Will pointed.
Vultures were already circling, more spiralling in by the second.
‘How do they know?’ Dallas asked.
‘They fly to a pattern a good two miles up. Each bird seems to have its own territory. When one drops towards a dead or stricken animal the rest soon follow.’
‘They’re out of luck for now,’ Logan put in. ‘The family will defend her.’
‘For how long?’ Dallas asked.
Logan shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Rest of the day, most likely. Sometimes elephants bury their dead beneath broken branches.’
Despite the crush of animals, some instinct caused others to leave a private space around the grieving family. Vultures waited patiently in the trees, but any daring to land on the ground were soon chased away.
Watching the elephants, Dallas fell in love. He marvelled at how such large animals could be so gentle. There were youngsters testing their mother’s patience to the limit yet reprimands were rare and, when they did occur, softened with loving gestures. Elephants in the river squirted themselves and each other with water. Those drinking drew water into their trunks then curled the tip into a waiting mouth and drank slowly with great satisfaction. The operation was repeated over and over until an elephant had quenched its thirst.
‘They can drink over twenty gallons in one session,’ Logan told them.
Once sated, many an animal rolled on the churned-up riverbank, covering itself in wet mud.
‘Keeps them cool and free of insects,’ Logan said. ‘Quite clever, really.’
The business of the gathering was yet another demonstration of an elephant’s ability to communicate. Matriarchs met head-to-head, their rumbling conversation going on for anything up to an hour. At the end of their wheeling and dealing, a young bull from each group was called to come forward. Some were rejected. If that happened the deal was off, both family groups wandering away to bargain with a different unit. When an exchange was successfully concluded the
re were touching scenes of farewell followed by a joyous welcome from the new family.
One young bull, obviously reluctant to leave, started dragging his feet, constantly turning to look back. The family he was about to join waited patiently, as if understanding. His mother stood watching, making no effort to call him back to her side. At last she turned away and was immediately comforted by other females in her own group. Taking a cue from this, the youngster joined his new family and was greeted with affection. They moved off together quickly to lessen his sense of abandonment. The scene brought a lump to Dallas’s throat.
At the end of that day the valley was still teeming with animals. The squealing, trumpeting and rumbling went on for most of the night, but come morning, only one group remained. During the dark hours all the rest had quietly departed, returning to their usual habitats. The elephants left were those still standing around the dead cow. They paid no attention as the wagons rolled past.
Dallas rode alongside Logan. ‘After yesterday how can you still kill them?’
‘Drop it.’ Logan’s response was full of suppressed anger. The older man’s conscience waged a war within himself. Respect and admiration were pitted against the heady excitement of hunting. The conflict was so deep-seated and complicated that Logan was at a loss to explain it properly. Dallas found his attitude impossible to understand.
They travelled a rambling route, following path-ways made by many different animals. Mister David explained that elephants would always find the most direct and convenient way through the hills. They seemed to know where to cross rivers, which outcrops to skirt and which to climb. Their droppings and destructive browsing were then followed by others. Local tribes used these routes for themselves, turning downtrodden grassy trails into well-used sandy tracks. And now the wagons added their impressions. Dallas knew that a road to the interior had been started the same way and found himself wondering if their path would be the forerunner of some future thoroughfare. He liked the idea. Somehow, it made him seem a part of this continent.
Shadows in the Grass Page 29
