Tusker

by Dougie Arnold

  “Harry,” his uncle’s voice cut into daydream. “I was asking what you thought we might have done differently last night.”

  “Well, one of my main concerns was our lack of reliability in talking to each other on the radio. If we could only find the funds to update, it would make a huge difference.”

  His uncle grunted, “What do you think Aziz? Harry does have a point; can’t we find the money from somewhere?”

  Aziz clasped his hands together as if in prayer, smiling in that rather concerned manner that he always seemed to have. “Well, I’ll re-examine next month’s accounts but I’m not very hopeful…”

  “That’s all I ever hear,” groaned Jim. “Harry is the youngest person here but he’s right. We were lucky last night. Poor radio contact gave the poachers a real advantage over us and we just can’t afford to let this keep happening.”

  Harry was watching Aziz as his uncle spoke and noticed not just the tightening of his knuckles as his hands bunched into fists but something in his eyes that he had never spotted before, a hardness perhaps, but it seemed so quick that he wasn’t quite sure.

  He was the only person in Uwingoni that Harry hadn’t taken to, perhaps he reminded him too much of some of his past teachers, facts, figures, little personality and always wanting to be in control.

  As he looked again, the permanent smile was there and the silky voice purred as usual. “I’ll see what I can do Jim.”

  Harry dismissed his thoughts. It had just been the briefest of moments after all.

  “I know it’s been quite a night and you must feel ready for a good sleep but you’ll have to put that on hold,” Jim instructed. “We have guests coming in soon, a family of six and one extra which I will brief you about later. Bethwell, just check the four-wheel drive on your Land Rover please. I drove it the other day and it was really difficult to engage when I was at the top of the escarpment road. If you came down that track just on your brakes, you would probably burn them out.”

  “Harry, I’d like you to go down to the airstrip. My pilot friend Ollie is kindly dropping off some fresh food supplies from Nairobi on his way north to another job. He’s not much older than you, I think you’ll get along well. As for everyone else, get that chai down your throats and crack on. You must all have a dozen things to do before the morning is out.”

  Within a few minutes only Harry and his uncle were by the campfire, even Aziz had retreated to his office to trawl through more bills and papers.

  “You are growing into Africa well Harry but make sure you always respect it, despite its beauty, it can be wild and unforgiving. Now off to the airstrip. Take Bluebird, she’s had a new clutch so should be fine.”

  Harry trotted over to the garage at the back of the camp where Ken the mechanic had his head under the bonnet as usual.

  “I’m taking Bluebird down to the airstrip. Is she all ready to go?”

  “All sorted Harry but look after her, she is very special.”

  Harry knew Ken treated the vehicles like his children but Bluebird was the oldest and had a special place in his heart. He had listened to the life history, made way back in 1975, smaller than the others, short wheel base as he had discovered they called it, and the only vehicle that was not green or sand coloured in the reserve.

  Harry had always loved cars and had been out driving on the day of his seventeenth birthday, new licence in his pocket. Nothing here could be further removed from the streets of London, he thought. He took handfuls of the old steering wheel as Bluebird bumped round the sharp left-hand bend below the garages, the yellowing dust from the track already billowing out behind him.

  The strip was only about a mile from camp and as he approached through the low shrub he startled several Thompson’s gazelle that had been peacefully grazing and swiftly darted off, their tails swishing from side to side like windscreen wipers. He had been amazed to learn from Kilifi recently that they slept only for five minute bursts and then only for a total of about an hour a day. How on earth did they survive on so little sleep he wondered.

  Sitting quietly and still trying to identify certain birdsong, he was aware of the distant sound of an engine. The small Cessna plane with its distinctive high wings above the cockpit was soon clearly visible but as it came in it didn’t attempt to land, instead it came in low only about thirty feet off the ground driving away the Tommies who had chosen another bad spot for their morning graze. Harry had learnt that this was a common thing for pilots to do in order to make their landing that much safer. The plane banked and came in again, impressively landing without a bounce. It taxied up to the Land Rover, the engine cut and a young pilot in a crisp white shirt with gold captain’s bars on his shoulders jumped to the ground. With an open, cheerful face and arm outstretched he bounded up to Harry.

  “I’m Ollie,” he smiled. “I’ve got some boxes of fresh supplies for you. Bit of a squeeze, I had to use this old 150 today, only two seats and not much space behind.”

  “Harry,” he replied, shaking hands. “This really is a small plane, barely room for two big people.”

  Ollie passed down the boxes of supplies, chatting as he went. “She’s a bit like a little car I suppose; you are so at one with her once you are up, every subtle movement of the stick or bit of turbulence is something you feel straight away. Pretty slow, flies at about eighty knots generally but you can push her to just over a hundred even though she is pretty old.”

  “Can I jump in?” enquired Harry. “I have always dreamed of taking the controls one day and learning to fly but it’s expensive and in England the weather is pretty rubbish much of the time but out here …”

  “Well this is probably the best plane in the world to learn on. In fact it is the fifth most produced plane of all time, which tells you something.”

  “I can’t believe how few controls there are!”

  “You really don’t need many,” replied Ollie. “Look, you have dials for your air speed and altitude which is pretty basic. Another shows you how steep your turns are then of course you have a compass and direction indicator so you know where you are going and the main stick is a bit like a steering wheel on a car, only it makes you go up and down too and finally that extended black knob is the throttle. Of course there are other things but if you get your head round those then you can fly.”

  Harry could actually feel his heart racing. “How long did it take you to learn?”

  “I went solo pretty quickly,” Ollie laughed. “One of the most exciting ten minutes of my life! The instructor got out and told me to go it alone. It was only a circuit of the airport but to be up there with nobody sitting next to me was something else, and no lay-by to pull into if something went wrong! Expensive too. I had to buy everyone at the Aero Club a drink afterwards. Tradition.”

  Harry instantly liked him. It’s strange he thought, sometimes it just takes minutes to know that you are going to be good friends with someone.

  “Look Harry, I’m afraid I have to go; some important Chinese engineer who is working on that new dam project needs to be picked up. Better not be late but I should be here again in a few days. I’m sure we could go up together for a short flight over the reserve then you could get a real feel about the excitement of flying a small plane.”

  “That would be amazing Ollie. Can’t wait.”

  The young pilot was back in his cockpit in an instant, shutting the flimsy door behind him. The single propeller spun into life, as the plane turned back onto the strip. The engine noise increased and she trundled forward, bumping over the uneven surface of the grass. Within only a few hundred metres the wheels lifted off and the plane soon became a distant speck in the vastness of the African sky.

  Harry jolted himself back to reality, jumped back in Bluebird and headed for the kitchen to deliver the supplies.

  Raymond, the camp cook, who could work wonders with the simplest of ingredients grinned broadly as Harry put the boxes inside the kitchen door. His face glistened in the heat of the cooker which had s
everal bubbling pans on it, the old blue and white apron stretched dangerously over his stomach.

  “Just working on something new for our guests. Think they will really enjoy it; hope you will have a chance to try some too. Won’t find it in any of those smart recipe books.”

  He moved back to stirring the pots, the wooden spoon tiny in his large hand.

  The morning flew by and at lunch Mike was back from the police station.

  “How did you get on?” inquired Harry.

  “I was lucky. Inspector Mwitu was there himself. He said he would be having a chat with our Somali friend this afternoon and thought he would soon have some answers for us. The prisoner didn’t seem so arrogant as they led him off to the cells. Rather him than me, Mwitu has a reputation for getting the answers he wants!”

  Harry inwardly shuddered at the thought of just what a question session in the police station would involve. Nevertheless, sometimes the rules needed to be pushed to the limits. They were effectively at war with the poachers and had to be one step ahead, otherwise there would soon be no elephants left.

  The remainder of the day passed in a whirl with everyone involved in preparing the camp for the arrival of the visiting tourists.

  It seemed to be dark even earlier than normal and Harry just wanted to get to his tent, even the thought of a tasty evening meal had lost its appeal. This had been one of the most exhausting but exhilarating days he could ever remember.

  Chapter Three

  “Harry come quickly.” It was Kilifi’s voice intruding on his dreams. “If you don’t move now we will have to leave you behind and believe me that’s something you would regret more than you know.”

  Harry opened his eyes, propping himself up on one elbow. He recognised the early morning birdsong but he could see through the flap that it wasn’t quite light.

  “It’s Mara,” Kilifi’s normally calm voice was mixed with both urgency and excitement. “I have been hearing the elephants trumpeting on and off for the last two hours and they are close to camp, less than a mile down the track I would guess. They are not concerned about danger, it is not that sort of noise and I don’t feel they have really moved. Jim asked me to come and get you; he is already behind the wheel by the camp entrance. Be quick or he’ll leave us behind.

  Harry was instantly alert. Still in his clothes from the previous day he was out of the tent running in socks and carrying his boots. The little stones on the path barely registered as he sprinted as fast as he could to the waiting Land Rover.

  Jim acknowledged him with a grunt as he squeezed into the front bench seat next to Kilifi and they set off down the track. They drove slowly, experienced eyes picking out the track in the half light.

  “We might be about to witness something so special that it will live with us forever. But don’t get your hopes up too much; this is an event I have seen just twice before in my life.”

  They could hear the elephants much more clearly now, their sounds breaking the stillness of the dawn, making everything else seem insignificant.

  As they came up over the rise in the hill there they were, actually on the track itself. They looked at the vehicle and its occupants, their intelligent eyes taking in the new arrivals. They had seen them on numerous occasions and there were more important things to concern them than a few onlookers.

  They were a close-knit family group, three sisters, three youngsters who were about six or seven years old and still learning much about life and one younger calf.

  Everyone’s attention was on the largest of the elephants in the middle of the group and very much its leader. They had named her Mara after the most famous reserve in the country and she was easily to distinguish because her left side tusk had broken about a third of the way up.

  Harry knew she was heavily pregnant and they had hoped to see her with a new baby any day. He was aware that elephants nearly always give birth at night. There was less chance of being interrupted and it would give the calf an opportunity literally to find its feet. It generally took about an hour to stand up properly and perhaps the same again before it could take any meaningful steps. He knew too that hardly any animal would risk taking on even a partly grown elephant, but a baby, despite the protection of the herd, was always at risk.

  Jim brought the Land Rover to a halt surprisingly close to them, cut the engine and remained motionless in his seat.

  Mara was the one who was trumpeting and the others kept circling her, flicking their trunks about and snorting onto the track, blowing up small clouds of fine dust. It was clear she was close to that magic moment.

  “Look, look,” whispered Kilifi. “You can already see a shiny grey sack appearing between her back legs. Well inside that is her calf. She has been pregnant for just less than two years and I really can’t believe the luck that has brought us here right now.”

  They watched in silence, no attempts to take photographs or even talk. It was all absorbing.

  Mara’s back legs flexed and as the grey sack lengthened they were amazed to see her gently kicking it with the inside of her feet, first to one side and then the other. The rest of the family moved closer and closer, their bodies partly obscuring her. Then she let out a trumpeting call far louder than before and the sack hit the track splitting as it did so to reveal her baby.

  “It isn’t moving!” whispered Harry, the emotion of the moment catching in his throat.

  “Just wait and watch,” urged Jim, his own feelings betrayed by his voice.

  Mara and her sisters were gently pacing noisily round the baby knocking the little body softly with their feet and then it started to move; the back legs first, wriggling from side to side, its tiny trunk flopping about in the dust.

  Even the youngsters were trying to do their bit, copying their mothers, using their trunks and feet to give support to the newest member of their family as it tried yet again to stand up.

  Eventually after what seemed an age and with Mara’s trunk partly wrapped round its body, the calf was off his knees and standing, all be it in a very wobbly way. It swayed forward where there was no support onto its knees again but was soon up, back legs splayed out, not trying to walk, just to stand and take stock of this new world of which he was the latest member.

  Harry realised tears were rolling down his cheeks but as he looked across at the other two hardened veterans of the African bush, he saw too that they were similarly moved. He knew he had witnessed something few would ever see and it was a lesson in how the power of nature can evoke such strong feelings even in those who have spent a lifetime trying to protect it.

  Now that the calf was standing, Harry pulled out his camera and started to take shots. Who else would have anything as sensational as this in their album?

  “I know there is a lot to do back in camp,” whispered Jim, “but it goes without saying that everything will have to be on hold for a while. Within the next hour he should be up to walking, even if only quite a small distance. They will want to head off into the bush where they’ll feel safer. It always amazes me that animals as large as these can hide themselves so easily.”

  “I know you named Mara because she is such a special elephant and that you have names for some of the others. Do you think we could name the new calf too?”

  “Did you have something in mind?”

  “Well uncle, I had thought of Meru. It is a fantastic game park and the name has a rugged feel about it, like the park itself. Meru and Mara sound quite good together too. What do you think Kilifi?”

  “It’s a powerful name for a young calf. Perhaps it will bring him luck and help him to grow into a strong and wise bull.”

  Harry looked across at his uncle. As usual he gave little away but a broad grin spread across his face. It was as though the magic of the morning’s events had weakened the normal stern mask. “Meru it is then. Let’s hope we can do all we can to make sure his days are long and healthy.”

  At that moment, as if on cue, Meru took his first unsteady steps and surrounded by
his new family he was gently led off into the bush and undergrowth on the side of the track and in a remarkably short time they had all disappeared from sight.”

  “Time for breakfast,” grinned Kilifi. “I can’t wait to tell the others about this morning. They will be so happy, but jealous of course that they weren’t here too.”

  As they sped back to camp they had little idea how much Meru was to play a part in their lives in the months to come.

  Over eggs and bacon Kilifi took on the role of storyteller and obviously relished the part. Anyone who could be there was, listening with amazement as the tale of the morning’s events unfolded.

  Harry sat in silence. He found it hard to believe how lucky and privileged he was to have witnessed something so wonderful. As he played the birth back in his head he marvelled at the way the other elephants had behaved, how supportive and protective they had been; one close-knit family. If only more humans could be like that he thought.

  He left the others and wandered up to the small rather ramshackle admin block. There were a couple of things he needed to sort out before their guests arrived the following morning.

  As he passed Aziz’s door, which was slightly ajar, he heard a somewhat different tone to the usual smooth voice, there was an urgency in it he wasn’t used to.

  “Yes that’s right, the big female has finally given birth so with him in tow they will not be able to move fast and will be much easier to track…”

  Harry was suddenly aware that his shadow must be showing through the gap in the door.

  “Who’s that? I’m busy on a call. Is it something important?”

  “It’s just me,” said Harry quickly. “Don’t worry, it can wait.”

  “Oh Harry, come in, come in. I was just on a call to a friend. It can wait,” smiled Aziz as he closed a file on his desk.