A Pride of Lions

by Isobel Chace

  Johnny had already had his breakfast and was working on the aeroplane when I went along for my own. Only Mr. Doffnang was at the table, avidly reading one of the paperback thrillers he had brought with him. He looked up as I entered and waved a friendly hand.

  “So today you go to count the lions, ja?” he said politely, hardly looking up from the printed page.

  “Yes,” I agreed with barely suppressed excitement. “It couldn’t be a better day for it, could it? Don’t you think the whole world is beautiful today?”

  He gave me a look of sympathy. “Do you like to fly so much?” he asked.

  I hesitated. “I don’t know,” I said at last.

  “Well, well, enjoy yourself!” he muttered. He looked up and his whole expression changed to one of complete disapproval. I turned to see what he was looking at and saw that Janice had come into the boma. She was smiling straight at the Dutchman, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

  “Goode morgen, meneer,” she said sweetly.

  Hans Doffnang was completely stunned. “Does she learn Dutch now?” he demanded of me.

  I stared at Janice, who was plainly enjoying the sensation she had caused.

  “Are you learning Dutch?” I asked her abruptly.

  “Why not?” she smiled, and shrugged her shoulders indifferently. “He complains whatever I do,” she said.

  “What does she say?” Mr. Doffnang shot at me.

  I managed a fairly tactful translation which did nothing to improve his temper. He sat and glared at Janice across the table. “I am not complaining!” he snorted. “Why does she say good morning in Dutch?”

  Janice looked more amused than ever. “Why is he so annoyed?” she countered.

  Mr. Doffnang thumped the table with his fist. “I will have nothing to do with her!”

  Janice laughed, delighted. She leaned across the table, helping herself to a piece of toast which she slowly buttered and spread with marmalade. “It’s my good manners that made me address him in his own language,” she mused thoughtfully. “How does he reconcile that with the immodest vision that he has of me? He might even learn enough English to wish me good morning in my language!” she added, challenging him deliberately by arranging her hair across her cheek and grinning at him through it.

  They stared at each other with mutual anger, forgetting all about me. Janice wasn’t wasting much time, I thought. But I could have wished that she didn’t go out of her way to annoy Hans Doffnang. He was so vulnerable to her jibes and he was such a nice man that I didn’t relish his being hurt.

  Relief came in the form of Hugo. He had already had breakfast, but the sight of us eating made him want some more coffee. He sat down at the head of the table, allowing Janice to pour him out a cup of the boiling liquid and fuss over his comfort and whether he had enough sugar and cream.

  “You spoil me!” he teased her.

  “I like to,” she answered lightly. “It’s a more rewarding occupation than any other I’ve attempted this morning!”

  Hugo set his jaw thoughtfully. “What’s the matter? You can’t complain of the light today! ”

  She hunched up her shoulders, looking faintly sulky.

  “Don’t you ever think of anything else but work?” she demanded.

  Hugo grinned. “Not often,” he admitted. His eyes met mine, taking in my neat cream shirt with quick appreciation. “Talking about work, we’d better join Johnny on the strip before Karibu realises that she’s going to have to do without your society for the day! Are you ready?”

  I jumped eagerly to my feet. “I suppose you fly often?” I hazarded, hoping to hide from him my own state of nervous excitement at the thought of roaring through the heavens in Johnny’s bi-plane.

  “Often,” he agreed. I wasn’t bluffing him one bit. “Johnny is an excellent pilot. You don’t have to worry.”

  “I’m looking forward to it!” I said.

  The airstrip was on the other side of the rocky outcrop. The bush had been cleared away and the exposed red earth had been beaten down into a hard surface. At one end a weather sausage dangled at the top of a pole beside the distinctive flag of Kenya with its shield and crossed spears in the centre of the black, red and green stripes. The rain of the day before had already been swallowed up by the greedy earth. Indeed, it might never have fallen there at all, if it were not for the bright green of the surrounding grass and the belts of wild flowers struggling for life wherever they could find a foothold.

  Johnny had a small office in a ramshackle corrugated shed at one end of the strip. It was surprisingly tidy inside. The papers on the desk were all in neat piles and the radio was clean and well cared for. Behind the desk sat a tiny African figure, neatly clad in the uniform of the Parks’ wardens. He was little taller than a dwarf, but when I looked at him more closely, I could see he was an old man with grizzled hair and large sad eyes.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to get kitted up before we go out to the plane,” Johnny told me. He was more serious when he was working, I noticed. He pointed towards a selection of airmen’s helmets for me to take my choice. He himself was already dressed in clothes that looked to me as if they had come straight out of the war. He even had some goggles dangling round his neck and these I rather envied him, for the glare off the land was much stronger than I liked.

  Hugo busied himself with the radio. The static was appalling, but once he had managed to clear the line he received an answering call from the various other stations all over the gigantic area of Tsavo.

  ‘You’re going to have a lion count at Aruba, right?” a crisp voice came over the air.

  “Affirmative,” Hugo replied. “When I came through there the other day there were about a dozen there. Yesterday the askari there counted more than twenty. If they’re still coming in, we’ll have to do something to split them up.”

  “What’s the attraction?” the crisp voice asked.

  “There’s a male there,” Hugo said dryly. “We caught a glimpse of him. The most splendid brute I’ve ever seen. I should hate anything to happen to him.”

  “Then what do you suggest?”

  “I thought that if they don’t split up naturally, we might anaesthetise some of them and move them across country—”

  “It won’t take them long to walk back.”

  “They might not want to,” Hugo said hopefully.

  There was a grunt from the other end of the radio. “I wish you luck!” the voice said. “I don’t think it will work, but I can’t suggest anything better. If you want any help, say the word!”

  “I will,” Hugo promised. “Over and out.”

  “Out,” said the voice. The radio went dead and then the static began again until Hugo turned the radio off. There was a moment’s silence in the shed, then Hugo shrugged his shoulders and laughed without humour.

  “He’s not very optimistic, is he?” he commented briefly. “Well, come on, let’s away!”

  We walked across the airstrip to where the small bi-plane was waiting for us. The askari came with us, carrying a large box to help us climb into the tiny cockpit. Hugo went first, dragging me after him as I almost missed my footing. He pushed me towards a narrow seat and strapped me firmly in despite my indignant protests that I could manage quite well by myself.

  I was rather unnerved to discover that Hugo intended sharing my seat with me. By the time he had strapped himself in we were so close to one another that every time he took a breath I could feel the slight movement beside me.

  “You look cosy!” Johnny teased us as he stepped into his own seat.

  “I feel crushed!” I retorted.

  “A very suitable sentiment,” Hugo put in.

  I took a deep breath. “If it were only a sentiment—”

  He laughed. “What else?”

  “A physical fact!” I snorted.

  He gave me a look that made me tremble. “A rather nice physical fact,” he said in my ear.

  Whatever he may have intended, he certainly diverted my
attention from our take-off. It seemed to me that one moment we were on the ground, with the askari waving us off, and the next we were high in the sky, but how we got there I really couldn’t say! Once up, however, there seemed very little to be afraid of. As I looked out, I could see the sun glinting off our silver wings, and below the timeless land, a land so old that it may have been here that man sprang into being, a land old enough to live in mysterious contentment with itself. Below were the animals that had once walked the whole continent. They had lost the battle for survival almost everywhere, but here the mighty elephant still lived in freedom, and the lion, once feared as far away as China where it had never even been seen, was still king here.

  It was strange to me to watch our dancing shadow as it fell on the ground below, a small black shape in the midst of a bleached world that was only now turning green again. The elephants were easy to see. It was less easy to spot giraffes, unless they took fright and ran with their distinctive, loping action. Then, suddenly, I began to see more and more. Where everything had appeared empty, I could now see teeming life. Herds of zebra ran, sometimes with elands, and sometimes with wildebeestes or gnus, as if they were afraid to be alone with only their own kind to support them. There is something particularly satisfying about watching zebras. No matter how hard the conditions, there they are, their fat buttocks as well covered as when the feed is plentiful and green.

  We could see the artificial lake at Aruba almost immediately. The bright green of the well-watered trees that edged the lake shone out like a beacon. The lions had chosen a good place, I thought. A place that one might have chosen oneself, close to water and with enough long grass to give good cover when they were hunting the animals that came to the lake to drink.

  “Do you want to fly over first?” Johnny asked through the intercom.

  “Try it once or twice,” Hugo directed. “I want to take a good look round before we actually begin the count.”

  “Will do,” Johnny came back.

  I pulled my binoculars out of their case and focused them carefully on the bank of the dam below. Without even trying I could see half a dozen lions stretched out in the long grass, sleeping away the hot middle hours of the day. A pair of rhinos were standing knee-deep in the mud that lingered round the lake, their tough hides fidgeting as the insects moved in on them, annoying them despite the tick-birds that clung to their ears and marched up and down their backs.

  Hugo began counting under his breath. “One, two, three, five—no, six ... damn it, at least nine males! What do you make it?”

  I counted with him, ignoring the females and the young playing together under the trees.

  “There he is!” I breathed. “Oh, Hugo, can you see him? He is splendid, isn’t he?”

  “Very splendid!” he agreed, his voice dry with mockery.

  “But you can understand why they all want to join up with him, can’t you?” I persisted. “I’m sure he’s as clever as he’s beautiful!”

  Hugo smiled faintly. “I daresay. Apart from man, the lion is the best hunter that the animal world has ever produced. Brains and teamwork!”

  “And all organised by a mere male,” I added provocatively.

  “That’s why you think he’s so splendid,” he retorted crushingly.

  There was a certain amount of truth in that, I supposed, so I withdrew from the conversation as gracefully as I could by deliberately starting the count once again from the beginning.

  “I think there are about forty animals in all,” I said at last.

  Hugo groaned. “As many as that? I made it thirty- eight.” He tapped Johnny on the shoulder. “All right, Johnny, take her down and we’ll have a chat with the askari. He may have an idea how we can break up the pride.”

  “Okay,” said Johnny.

  We swooped down out of the sky to a perfect landing near to the Aruba compound. A group of askaris came running down to meet us, saluting smartly as soon as they saw it was Hugo.

  “The simbas are still coming in, Bwana,” their leader greeted us. “Is that why you have come?”

  Hugo nodded. “What are you doing about it?” he asked immediately.

  The askari shrugged. “Yesterday and today we have provided extra food so that the young will have enough to eat. There is nothing else to do while the Mzee gathers them round himself.”

  Mzee, old man, is a term of deep respect more commonly used of the President than a lion. Yet, when I thought of that magnificent animal drowsing in the hot sun, it seemed an apt title.

  Hugo smiled at the collected askaris. “I was thinking of forcibly splitting them up,” he said, almost apologetically. “I’ll need trucks and a great many men.”

  “Where can you take them that will be far enough away?” one of them asked.

  “I don’t know,” Hugo sighed. “To begin with we’ll take half of them across to Tsavo West. If that doesn’t work, we’ll have to get permission to take a few to Amboseli or Masai Mara. It will give us time to work on the problem if nothing else!”

  “Ndiyo, Bwana.”

  There was an air of excited expectancy amongst the men that was catching. They were pleased to be pitting their wits against the king of the beasts. There was more than the spice of danger that such an enterprise demanded, there was also the doubt that they would win. It was a fairer fight than most. The lions would not tamely give in to the will of man this time. They had their own cunning and their own customs to protect. “How are you going to mobilise all these people?” Johnny asked languidly.

  “On the radio,” Hugo answered. “I’ll have to ask you to fly back to my place to get the anaesthetic and the darts. You’d better take Clare back with you.”

  I glared at him. “I won’t go,” I said flatly.

  Hugo raised his eyebrows. “Won’t?” he said softly. “What about Hans Doffnang? This may take all of a week.”

  Of course I knew that my job would have to come first, but it was a bitter disappointment to me.

  “I suppose Janice will want to come to take photos of it all,” I said dejectedly.

  Hugo grinned. “Why don’t you suggest it to her?” he said meanly.

  “I will,” I assured him.

  Johnny pretended not to notice the undercurrents that lurked behind the exchange. “I’m going to brew up some coffee while you’re making out the list of the things you need,” he said lightly. “Shall we all go up to the compound?”

  He pulled me away, taking me firmly by the arm and smiling pleasantly all the time. “It’s not his fault,” he said as soon as we were out of earshot.

  “No,” I agreed, unconvinced.

  “Then why make it difficult for him?” he asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m not!” I said sulkily. “The thing is that he doesn’t want me to stay!”

  Johnny laughed. “Unbelievable!”

  I gave him a grudging smile. “I know I’m not being reasonable—” I began to explain.

  “Oh, quite reasonable!”

  I was shocked. “What do you mean?”

  “Stands out half a mile,” he said with brotherly frankness. “It’s not so much the lions, it’s Hugo!”

  I swallowed hard. “I don’t think that’s true,” I said more to myself than to him.

  “Well, if you ask me, you’re in love with the guy,” he went on in matter-of-fact tones.

  I blenched. “Nobody is asking you!” I retorted.

  “And,” he continued, ignoring my complaint, “as Hugo isn’t blind, I daresay he knows it too!”

  “Good heavens!” I exclaimed, much struck. “I really believe that you’re going to recommend kuheera too!”

  Johnny laughed. “I might—if I knew what it meant!” There was a moment’s silence. “Aren’t you going to tell me what it means?” he asked at last.

  I shook my head. “No,” I said bluntly.

  He grinned. “I’ll have to ask Hugo about it,” he teased me.

  “If you do,” I threatened, much put out, “I’ll ne
ver speak to you again!”

  We had reached the compound by this time and Johnny went straight to the shop to purchase some instant coffee. Apparently he thought the whole thing was extremely amusing, but he said with a kindness I had not expected, “Then I won’t And as a bonus I won’t tell Janice either!”

  I didn’t need to ask what he meant by that. I helped him light the small blue camping gas fire and set the tin kettle on to boil, annoyed that my hands were trembling as I did so.

  “Men have all the fun!” I said bitterly.

  Johnny’s eyes glinted behind his spectacles. “I wouldn’t be too sure!” he said blandly.

  By the time Hugo and the askaris joined us, the kettle was boiling and I felt no more than slightly awkward in Hugo’s presence.

  “I’m sorry it has to be like that,” he said as he accepted his mug of coffee.

  I gave him a cheerful grin. “It doesn’t matter.”

  He leaned forward slightly. “Shall I fly back with you? I could collect my own gear and come back with Johnny tomorrow?”

  “There will be less room for the gear,” I reminded him smugly.

  His eyes lit. “It might be worth it!”

  But I shook my head. ‘You’d better save your energies to deal with the Old Man,” I told him sharply.

  “All right,” he agreed. “On your own head be it!” Johnny and I walked back to the aeroplane alone. I had some difficulty getting into the cockpit and when I was there I could hardly see the seat belt properly for the unaccountable tears that had come, unbidden, into my eyes. Johnny sat down heavily in his own seat. He started up the engines and settled more comfortably before the panel of dials and gadgets with which he flew the plane. We went slowly forward, increased our pace and lifted gently into the air. Aruba fell away behind us. There was no reason, I thought dully, why I should ever see the place again.