Night In London (Night Series Book 2)

by Casey Christie

  The vehicle came to a stop and Night heard his friend get out and close the driver’s side door behind him and then walk to the rear, his feet crunching against the sand and stone surface.

  Night heard the unmistakable sound of the security latches to the rear door opening and finally the door swung open.

  “We’re here” beamed the Sergeant at his Captain.

  “And where is here?”

  “Ermelo.”

  The name of the settlement approximately 200KM out of Johannesburg meant little to Night other than hearing his friend mention it now and again. He knew it was mainly a farming settlement and that Daniel had extended family here.

  “We made good time. Come, they are waiting” said Shaka while gesturing to a group of people standing under the cover of a large awning providing welcome shade from the intense African heat.

  Night noticed that the majority of the dozen or so people standing there, all men, were wearing western style clothes, a few in farm worker overalls. But one man caught Night’s attention. He was wearing nothing but an animal skin across his midriff, a Leopard’s hide, by Night’s judgment and had the traditional beaded headdress accompanied by some animal feathers. The man was at least a head taller than every other man present and he stood unmoving, seemingly staring directly at Night.

  “A witch doctor?!”

  “No, Mike. Well, that’s what white people call him.”

  “Sorry, I meant a Sangoma?”

  “Nope. A Sangoma deals with other matters. That is the local Inyanga – he deals with physical problems. Come they are ready to see our boy and we must not keep them waiting.”

  Shaka then climbed into the vehicle and gently took hold of Wamba and carried him out of the vehicle and towards the waiting group of men.

  As they approached Night could start to make out the detail in the men’s faces and was surprised to find a couple of the men looked old, very, very old.

  “The oldest man you see there is the local chief, some say he is over one hundred and ten years old. Though I don’t believe it, I just think he smokes too much of the herbs which make him look older than he is -- and too much sun. Anyway, don’t look at anyone directly in the eyes and keep your head down and don’t talk unless spoken to. These men don’t trust whites, specially not white cops.”

  The two police officers reached the group of men and Daniel addressed the chief in Zulu. After a long conversation with the chief Shaka turned to Night.

  “They say that you are welcome here and that you are under the chief’s protection while here but that you must have respect and love in your heart while on their ground and that if you think any evil thoughts they will know.”

  “Okay.”

  Night noticed one of the younger men, perhaps in his early thirties and more formally dressed than the others, smiled at him.

  “Don’t talk. They say that the Inyanga will heal Wamba but that your sceptical mind must not be present while they look at him.”

  Night nodded but his mind raced. What were they going to do to his boy? He had heard plenty of stories about Witch Doctors invoking spirits and placing spirits into animals and he definitely wasn’t comfortable with that as much as he wanted his friend back, if he did actually believe in such things of course. Which he reckoned he probably did, having seen with his own eyes what can only be described as a demon or dark energy one late night while walking a Johannesburg street as a youth.

  Night suddenly felt a small hand grasp his and he failed to hide his fright as he jumped and his heart skipped a beat.

  “I’m sorry if I frightened you, mister” said a small boy in a rudimentary school uniform, with an oversized smile and startling eyes beaming at Night.

  “Shongi, how are you big guy!” said Shaka affectionately.

  “I’m good thank you, Uncle.”

  “Mike this is Shongi, he is 12 years old and is the son of William, that man that I am sure you have noticed that has been smiling at you.”

  Night nodded his head.

  “I sure did, good to meet you, Shongi.”

  “Good to meet you, mister. Now you must come with me, mister, I want to introduce you to my children.”

  Now Night was truly intrigued. He knew that some Zulu boys became sexually active, even married, at a very young age but surely this was too young.

  Michael turned to look at his friend questioningly.

  “Go with him, Mike. The elders have arranged it and want you to meet his children so that perhaps it may help to put your mind at ease.”

  For a moment Night stood rooted to the spot unsure whether or not to leave his only child with these men.

  “Do you trust me, my brother?” said Shaka with a knowing smile.

  “Of course I do, but I..”

  “Then go with little Shongi here and leave Wamba with me and these healers, my people. He is my boy as well, Mike. And if I thought for one second that any of these men were to bring harm to him in any way I would cut his fucking heart out! Wouldn’t I?” Shaka smiled again in an attempt to lessen the harshness of his words. But all it did was make him look more like the caring and big hearted but sometimes brutal maniac he could be. For the thousandth time Michael Night made a mental note never to really piss his friend off for any reason, ever.

  That was enough for Night. He nodded his head and patted Wamba who was cradled protectively in his friend’s massive arms and let the boy gently lead him away. He heard Shaka’s large footsteps as he walked towards and was then enveloped by the group of men.

  “Are you also a police man like my uncle, mister?”

  “Yes, he is my partner.”

  “Are you a constable like my uncle, mister?”

  “No, I am a Captain and your uncle is now a Sergeant.”

  “Wow, he didn’t tell us he is now a Sergeant. So does that mean he is your boss then, mister, I mean Captain?”

  “No, no, me and your uncle are equal, we are brothers.”

  “But Sergeant is more than Captain, hey mister?”

  “No, Captain is a higher rank than Sergeant by two ranks but that doesn’t matter to me and your uncle. Specially your uncle, he doesn’t care about rank, he only cares about being a police officer and looking after people.”

  The boy stopped walking and looked up into Night’s eyes and titled his head slightly.

  “Can I ask you a question, please.. Captain?”

  “Of course you can” said Night now thoroughly captivated by this little, inquisitive, highly polite and obviously well educated young boy.

  “Why are white men always higher than black men?”

  “That is not correct, young man. Black and white are equal.”

  “But you’re a white and a Captain and he is a black and a Sergeant.”

  “That is correct but there are many white and black men in the force and in fact there aren’t that many white men left and all of my bosses, men and women of a higher rank than me are all black.”

  Shongi began to walk again, still gently leading Night by the hand and was obviously processing the new information made apparent by the way he was talking to himself in Zulu. Night could only make out the odd words of Sergeant and Captain as the little boy spoke to himself.

  “May I ask you another question, please Captain?”

  “You may, young Shongi.”

  “Have you been in the police force longer than my uncle?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  Apparently satisfied with the answer the young Zulu boy nodded his head and led Night past a kraal, an enclosure for the safe keeping of livestock at night usually surrounded by thorn bushes, and out onto a large field of grass where a sizeable herd of cattle were grazing. Night knew enough about cattle to know that whoever owned this herd was a wealthy man, not only in Western monetary terms but certainly in Zulu expressions of wealth.

  The pair continued walking until they crested a small hill where Shongi gestured for Night to sit on a large rock. The hill provided a 360 degre
e viewpoint of the land and Night noted a large and rusty windmill that drew water from the earth just below them. Its blades barely moved in the almost windless sky.

  Shongi put two fingers to his lips and whistled. It was an impressive performance and Night was surprised by just how much volume the young boy achieved.

  “My children will come to us now. Please do not stand when they come until I tell you to.”

  “Cool” said Night with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

  “Promise me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Please promise me, Captain. Promise me that you won’t stand until I tell you that it is safe to stand? And don’t make many movements either.”

  Now Night was really concerned but what could he do but promise the boy that he would not stand... or move much. Who or what were these children?

  Night didn’t have to wait long to answer that question.

  About 100 metres away Night noticed three figures break through two large African Marula Trees, trees famed for making elephants drunk. They were animals, too large to be canines Night thought, leopards perhaps. Then Night noted their coats had no spots, they were in fact just one colour, brown.

  The figures came closer and at some speed and finally Night saw them for what they actually were: Boerboels. The herding dogs were now at the bottom of the hill and they seemed to lose no speed as they made the climb up it.

  Now closing the distance night could hear the animal’s paws pound against the soft grass and hear them take in and exhale massive amounts of air. His hair began to stand on end once more and his eye widened as they all seemed to be zeroed in on him.

  “Please do not be scared, Captain. They do not like fear.”

  Oh shit! thought Night.

  And within a few heart beats the three animals were within a few feet of Night and they began to growl at him in the most menacing tone.

  Shongi began to speak to them in a soothing tone, Night not understanding the herder’s Zulu words but he understood well enough the purpose of the boy’s tenor: to calm them.

  Night had never seen more magnificent examples of the breed. As he thought that he felt immediately guilty. Except for Wamba of course, he corrected himself. But truth be told Wamba did have some fat on him, just a healthy layer of course but that was to be expected of a domesticated city dog. These animals although still very big were not a match for Wamba’s size but were all muscle with not a layer of fat to be seen. Their fur coats shone healthily and the striations of their muscles moved in the sun as though each muscle was made of a hundred different fibres.

  Shongi’s tone now changed to that of a command and with that the three animals all lay on the ground but never let their eyes leave the newcomer. They stopped growling but breathed heavily through their jaws from their recent exertion, the sound of the trio in concert was breathtaking.

  “Just let them look at you and smell you for a while, Captain. They are not used to seeing white men. Not up close and near their cows anyway.”

  Night then involuntarily looked in the direction from where the animals had just come and realised that it was the perfect vantage point from which to keep a protective eye on the herd of cattle that were grazing on the green pasture.

  After what felt like hours Shongi walked over to where Night sat and took a seat next to him.

  “I am the senior herd boy and it is my job to keep the cows safe and these are my children. They are my policemen and help me keep the lions and other hunters away.”

  “That’s a very important job, and those are very impressive children” said Night who then waved a hand at the dogs without conscious thought.

  One of the dogs didn’t appreciate Nights gesture and immediately got to its feet and began to growl once more, its head down and ears pinned back. Night knew this one meant business.

  Shongi immediately said something to the animal and it stopped growling but walked straight up to Night.

  “Don’t stand or make movements, Captain. This is Dingiswayo, named after a great Zulu King, and he is the boss of the dogs and if any of them were going to kill you it would be him. But everyone calls him Dingi.”

  Night took no comfort from the boy’s words as Dingi reached him and began to sniff around his head and bare neck. The dogs nose caught scent of something and began to growl, the sound almost deafening so close to Night’s ear. Then Night’s heart nearly jumped out of his mouth as another one of the dogs, the smallest one, but not by much, got up and also started sniffing him.

  Night loved dogs, particularly powerful working dogs, but this very moment he was scared of these dogs. Shit scared.

  “This is Nandi, the sweet one. And if anyone was going to stop Dingi from killing you it will be her. Because she really is very sweet.”

  “Oh fucking great, my life is in the hands, or paws, of Nandi the massive bloody Boerboel that fights lions for a living” thought Night.

  But Night didn’t have too long to sweat as Nandi eventually made her way to stare straight into Nights eyes and then gave him a massive lick before falling affectionately sideways onto Dingi using her weight to push him away and obviously placate him. And in that moment the energy of the dogs went from being a suspicious aggression to a contented playfulness.

  Night took no comfort from Shongi’s next words.

  “Shew, that was flipping close, mister, I thought Dingiswayo was going to kill you, like that last man who visited.”

  “What!?” said Night who stood involuntarily at the boys latest confession.

  Shongi then burst out laughing and held his stomach. “Only joking, mister Captain. They would only kill you if I told them to.”

  Night laughed, not really out of mirth but more from relief. Night knew well that little Shongi told no lies. Boerboels were used across South Africa to protect livestock from roaming predators and they were many stories of the big and powerful beasts taking on Lions, sometimes to the death. If Dingiswayo wanted to kill Night he certainly could have, with some difficulty, but Night understood the pack mentality and knew that if just one of the dogs went for him the others would too and Night would be a dead man in minutes. His 9MM calibre pistol in his in-holster would have been of questionable effectiveness against the powerful working dogs, even if he could get to it, effective against one perhaps, but all three and he stood no chance.

  Night also knew dogs to be lovers first and fighters only if needed.

  The last of the three dogs then got to it’s feet and walked over to the strange white man sitting with their master. Night now noticed it was the largest of the three almost matching Wamba for size.

  “And this is Gwala” said Shongi.

  “Gwala? In Zulu doesn’t that mean..”

  “Coward, yes. He is a massive chicken. He only ever runs behind his brother and sister and won’t do anything without Dingi’s permission. Shame hey, he really is a chicken but at least he is big, I suppose God knows that sometimes it helps for the chickens in the family to be the biggest.”

  Night now laughed with genuine humour as Gwala fell to the floor and rolled on the ground as though embarrassed by his master’s words.

  The next few minutes were thoroughly enjoyable for Night as the dogs slowly allowed themselves to be petted by him and in return they gave him the odd massive lick.

  Then as if woken from a happy and playful trance, Night heard the unmistakable sound of a group of Zulu women ululating – a sound that always sent a shiver up Michael Night’s spine.

  “They must be beginning the healing” said the young boy nonchalantly.

  Night acknowledged the boys words and was then thrilled to look down into his lap and see Nandi the sweet looking up at him, lying on her back with her tongue hanging out of her mouth.

  Some time later and Night finally drew himself out of his canine heaven, playing with and cuddling the sweet female Boerboel and her cowardly brother and focused in on the young man sitting across from him obviously keeping a watchful eye on his herd. Di
ngiswayo sitting alert on his hind quarters next to him.

  “Can I ask you a question, Shongi?”

  “Yes, Captain” the herd boy said with a smile.

  “Who is your father, I mean I know his name is William but what does he do?”

  “Oh, I thought you knew, he is an animal Doctor. What do you white people call him.. oh yes, a verinaty?”

  Night laughed and Nandi seemed to like the sound and vibration of it as she placed her large head on his chest.

  “A veterinarian, oh no wonder he was smiling at me.”

  Night stayed on that small hill and totally lost track of time as he played with the two large Boerboels. Dingiswayo keeping a distance and always staying close to little Shongi and every so often shot a stern look at Night.

  “They really like you, Captain.”

  “Thanks, Shongi. They are brilliant!”

  “Do you like dogs? Most white people seem to like dogs, us black people not so much, well we don’t not like them but we keep them to look after the cows and property but not really as pets, so I guess you like them?”

  “I love dogs, particularly the bigger working dogs like this. My first dog, when I was younger was a Rottweiler, and I really liked the fact that you can really play with them you know, like wrestle with them. So yeah, I like dogs.”

  “Our President Zuma said that keeping dogs as pets is a white persons tendency, what does that mean?”

  “He’s an idiot but he’s right I suppose. It just means that white people tend to, usually, keep dogs as pets. But I also know many black people who keep dogs as pets in Joburg..”

  “You’re a police man, you can’t say that our president is an idiot, can you?”

  “You’re quite right, Shongi. As a police officer I have no stance in politics.. but I do still think he’s an idiot.”

  “So does my father. He says that Zuma is stealing from our country.”

  The conversation was pierced by the unmistakable sound of Zulu drums beating.

  “Time to go back, Captain.”

  Little Shongi dismissed his dogs and they swiftly made their way back to their position under the Marula Trees to keep an eye on their charges. The young boy took Night’s hand once more and guided him back down the hill and to the origin of the pulsating drums.