Ivory Ghosts (15 page)

“Sounds good, thanks.” As I walked toward my car, I wondered whether he was staying at Susuwe for the weekend. I was tempted to ask what he was up to later, but I felt embarrassed. Then I realized how much I could accomplish by accompanying him up north. “Are you really going out to track that wounded elephant you mentioned earlier?”

“Looking for more target practice?”

“I'm serious.”

“Yes. Two o'clock sharp. I'll pick you up at your place.”

I should have hesitated but didn't. “Okay.”

Jon pulled up to my barracks at five minutes to two, with Natembo standing on the back of the truck and Gidean inside. I was sitting on my porch with my backpack, ready to go.

I jumped down the stairs and nodded to Natembo as I got in. Gidean moved over and I nodded to both him and Jon, as well, and we drove off.

“Hello, Gidean.”

Seeing Natembo made me think about Bernie. “Any word about Bernie?”

Jon shook his head and drew a line across his throat. “He didn't pull through.”

“Oh no! I am so sorry.”

Gidean nodded back stoically.

Given the solemn mood, I regretted my decision to join them.

Jon handed me an open package of sticky gummy candies.

I declined with a hand up.

He shrugged and emptied the package into his mouth. “By the way, your target practice has changed species. How do you feel about buffalo?”

I stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“Apparently, our wounded elephant is on a suicide mission. He went back into Angola. Can't take the pain and knows where to go to get relief. Instead, our afternoon's entertainment is a wounded buffalo. Savimbi's men clearly haven't done a good job of training their soldiers how to aim. Now we've got to clean up after them. Where is the humanity in letting a poor animal walk around three-legged out there? It's like one of those ‘Weeble' deals. Did you have those when you were little? This will be the second one in a week. Of course you know what happened to the first one. The impact of that old Mercedes snapped its leg like a bloody chopstick. But this Weeble's genesis was a gunshot wound.”

I looked at him nervously, afraid of where this would lead.

“I suppose all good little Americans had Weebles. I know I said that the elephant was the most formidable thing to shoot in the bush, but I was wrong. It's the wounded buffalo. What do you think?”

I had lost track of all the talk since the mention of a wounded buffalo, wondering whether there was some way I could finesse myself out of this little adventure, but when Jon asked what I thought, I froze, wondering if he was playing a cruel trick on me.

I had to keep my cool. Maybe he had heard what had happened to Sean, and he was playing me. But he couldn't possibly have known how I had performed under those circumstances. But, then again, conservation circles in southern Africa ran small. I braced myself. “I'm sure Natembo or Gidean are a much better shot than I am.”

“Yes, I expect they are.”

That was easier than I thought. And in my relief, I didn't feel much like conversation. Jon seemed to sense this, and we drove in silence for some time.

Finally, we came upon the baobab tree that I had noticed the day I arrived, and, although only a week had passed, it looked as if it had been considerably further gnawed through the middle. “Elephants seem hungry.”

“Yes, Angolan elephants haven't been going home after their wet season holidays for some time. The place is taking a beating.”

Having seen exactly why elephants might not have wanted to cross the border, I still asked, “What do you mean?”

“It's still not safe for elephants to wander in southern Angola.”

“Even after the war?”

“Worse—no subsidies after the war,” Jon explained. “Savimbi's boys are eating them for breakfast. It's Namibian takeaway or former UNITA soldiers starve.”

“That bad?” It was hard for me not to be sarcastic after what I had seen on my first flight, but I refrained. “But if this is known, why isn't something being done about it?”

“We have no jurisdiction over the border. The boys in gray are seeking exile in the Caprivi—and they are hungry exiles. And the guys with automatic weapons with little sense of consequence are starting to follow them south. But this is nothing. There's a site down by Horseshoe that looks like an elephant lumberyard still standing. I'll take you to Lagoon sometime. The knobthorn trees are all naked. The bark must taste like gummy bears.”

“Sounds good.” Now that Jon was warming up, the day was looking better. But a dark cloud still lingered with the news of Bernie's death.

A giraffe loped off the edge of the grassy plain and into the acacia forest. It's always so surprising to see how such a long-necked animal is able to run so gracefully. Always made me wish that I could throw on a saddle and go for a ride.

There was a bang on the roof and Jon stopped and stuck his head out the window. “See something, Natembo?”

We all got out.

Natembo pointed to buffalo tracks in the sand. He could see from the pattern that one animal was dragging a back leg. He touched some low leaves on a bush and pointed out some blood. “It's with the herd still.”

I looked at the tracks as the others got their rifles. There must have been about fifty buffalo, judging by the number of tracks. Once again I regretted that I hadn't turned down the wounded buffalo hunt. You'd think one mad buffalo would be enough for a lifetime. But I was already committed. There was no way I could ask to wait in the truck at this point.

We all walked through the tall grass of the open teak woodland. The clear visibility was comforting. I could see way ahead of us and to the sides. It would be hard for a buffalo to sneak up on us in this environment.

Dappled sunlight hit the cool green leaves in patterns that looked like the patches on a giraffe. Since elephants didn't much care for Rhodesian teak, the place was intact. I felt as if I had walked back in time into a virgin teak forest, untouched by logging—with only a few fire scars here and there.

Knowing we were well behind the large herd, we followed the tracks through the grass between the trees until the teak petered out and we entered a dense acacia forest. This place had a distinctly different feel; the dark canopy was unnerving, and my breath shortened.

Dancing shadows to the left and right caused my head to spin. Phantom lone buffalo popped up in the black patches behind trees, gnarled bosses and curled horns. Every time I was sure that there was something there, I froze.

Natembo sensed my fear and caught my eye. He nodded to indicate that everything was going to be okay. That made me feel a little better.

As we got closer to the river, we passed more and more trees that were either knocked over or heavily damaged. The camel thorn and knobthorn were hit the hardest. I saw what Jon was referring to. The saplings were chewed down to nubbins, and most of the adult trees were almost completely debarked.

“This place is trashed.” I hadn't seen anything quite like it in Kruger.

“Wait till you see what they've done with Horseshoe. Hell, they've hammered it. These trees won't recover.”

It didn't take long to stumble upon a small elephant family group under a shady grove. The older females were fanned out, watching for trouble, while cooling themselves with slow flaps of their ears. Others dozed on their feet. One held her trunk up and rested it against her head, sampling the air for anything unusual. A few youngsters lay down within the circle of protection. There were two other larger groups arranged in the same configuration, one resting to the left, another to the right. We were surrounded on all sides by silent elephants.

An unwitting sentry practically tiptoed from one group to another, heading directly toward us. Jon waved for us to get down as the large cow approached without even a twig snap.

Gidean had his firearm ready. The elephant was almost upon us when she caught our scent. She waved her upturned trunk high, smelling the air. The huge gray mass loomed above us on tiptoes, frozen midstride, as we huddled under the brush. Her ears were held straight out as she looked down at us, eyes wild and jaw open wide with fear.

Three rifles were cocked, aiming for the sky.

The elephant emitted a low rumbling sound, like a distant truck changing gears. And suddenly the herds were alert. In an instant, they melted silently into the bush.

The sentry eyed us for another second, then turned tail and ran.

The men relaxed their shoulders and put down their arms when suddenly the noise of gunfire rang out to the north, only a few hundred meters away, followed by the deep bellow of an elephant. There was a screaming roar and a trumpet to the west of the gunfire.

The men all looked at one another, and Jon signaled for me to follow as we advanced carefully from tree to tree, Natembo and Gidean running ahead. As we got closer we heard more gunfire, most probably from a low-caliber automatic weapon, given the rapid-fire frequency of shots and their pitch, followed by what was probably the last low rumbles of a dying elephant. There was silence for a few minutes as we made our way closer, then another bellow and scream, as if the elephant had gotten a second wind. Either that or there was more than one elephant under attack.

Jon rushed toward a clearing in front of us. I ran after him and, as the clearing opened out, I could see a dead elephant and two former UNITA soldiers in tattered uniforms hacking out a tusk with their machetes. Jon waived Gidean and Natembo ahead to the left and right, and they entered the clearing from three sides.

“Halt or we'll shoot!” Jon held them at gunpoint as Gidean and Natembo walked toward them, looking around to the north in case there were more soldiers.

The soldiers dropped their machetes, grabbed the tusk, and ran. Gidean fired low and hit one of them in the leg as they disappeared into the bush. Gidean and Natembo ran after them, yelling and shooting in the air, while Jon stayed behind to investigate the clearing.

“Shit!” He looked at tire tracks. “They've got a vehicle.”

As Jon searched for further clues, I couldn't help but stare at the fresh carcass. I approached the mutilated face and touched the splintered bloody jaw where the tusk had been hacked out. It was a small cow. I looked down and noticed her enlarged mammary glands.

From the surrounding tracks of both elephants and humans, it looked as if the soldiers had separated this young female elephant from her family. A set of tiny tracks followed along next to and underneath the larger elephant.

I imagined the mother tossing her trunk at the soldiers with wild eyes, keeping her baby tucked under her. The deep circular drag marks from her feet indicated she had spun wildly around, probably to avoid having her back to her assailants.

The soldiers would have opened fire and riddled her with bullets before she dropped. I moved over to a depression in the loose dirt next to the drag marks, just next to where the cow lay. It looked like the place where she had dropped to her chest but was then pushed over. The boot marks around the site told me that they probably put a bullet in the side of her head to finish her off before pushing her over so they could chop out her tusks.

I realized that the second series of roars that we had heard must have come from a baby. They always sounded much louder than expected. It probably tried to charge them. I quickly scoured the area for the footprints left by the calf after the struggle. Sure enough, baby tracks led off to the right. I started following and could see drops of blood. “Bastards!”

“Where do you think you're going?”

“The baby. It can't be far.”

“Are you mad? Catherine, get back here!”

I kept walking.

A vehicle started in the distance, and I stopped short. More yelling. Gunfire exchange. As the vehicle noise receded to the north, Gidean and Natembo burst back into the clearing.

“We've got to go. We've got to catch them before they cross the border.”

“We can't just leave it here to die!”

“A lot more baby elephants will die if we don't stop this.”

I pointed to the footprints. “But it can't be that far. And it's wounded.”

“And what will we do? Invite it to join our herd? Come on, Catherine. There could be more soldiers out here. We've got to beat them to the border.”

I stared into the bush.

“We can come have a look tomorrow.”

I couldn't bear the thought of that baby out there alone and wounded with its mutilated dead mother lying here. I looked at Natembo and Gidean, wondering what they must have thought of me.

Jon touched my elbow and I followed him. We retraced our route, again running from tree to tree, watching our backs, ears alert for the noise of a snapping twig or the crunch of dried leaves underfoot. We searched vigilantly for fresh footprints until we got to the vehicle.

After a tense drive to the border, we saw the vehicle tracks enter Angola, and we turned back frustrated. There was nothing we could do.

Jon dropped me off at my place just after dark. “I'll pick you up six
A.M.
sharp. We'll go find the little tyke.”

I nodded and got out, knowing that the young elephant probably wouldn't make it through the night.

I went to bed with two muesli rusks and a fresh cup of rooibos tea with a dab of condensed milk. I was avoiding opening a box of long-life milk and having it go bad—that, and the desire for the sweetness of comfort food. Anything to soothe me after the horror I had just witnessed. I lit a candle, and by the time I had arranged my mosquito net, a moth had already gotten into my tea.

I gently removed the moth and put it on my cardboard box nightstand. It tried pathetically to flutter its wet, sticky wings. After staring at its struggle, I got up and released it through a hole in the screen, knowing it wouldn't survive.

I dipped my rusk into my now scaly tea and took a bite, the crunching echoing in my head. After a few more bites, I blew out the candle, got into bed, and shut my eyes. Somehow I managed to pass the night between nightmares and waking dreams.

I woke with a start and looked at my watch. Five thirty
A.M.
and still dark. It didn't matter how pointless it was to relive it, but when I woke from the recurring reenactment of Sean's death, I always kept rewinding and replaying it again and again. Sometimes I froze up, and the actual memory would restart. Sometimes I'd follow through with the killing blow, and the altered memory would restart.

I opened the tiny woven basket on my nightstand and pulled out my ring. I held it in my fingers, turning it around and around, and then put it on. I had been afraid to wear it again, but it suddenly felt like I needed the crutch.

I groaned, got up, and splashed cold water on my face from the bathroom tap. I inhaled and then exhaled slowly. A shower would have helped, but I hadn't hooked up my Geyser hot water heater yet. I wasn't in the mood for a tongue-biting shower despite how much I would have appreciated it afterward. Showering in the middle of the day when the water had been heated up in the pipes was more bearable. I promised myself that I'd hook up the Geyser the following week.

I went to the kitchen to light the kettle, grab a couple of rusks, and put together my backpack. I packed a small bottle of gin, two tonics, and a can of pilchards. I didn't think I'd feel much like drinking, but I couldn't help anticipating the probable fate of the baby elephant. I shoved an extra shirt and light sweater into my bag, not sure how long a day it would be. Habit forced me to pack for getting stuck. I also packed my binoculars, my revolver, and some extra shells.

I sat on my porch staring at the floodplain for a while, dunking my rusk into my tea, until Jon's vehicle pulled up. He got out and walked up the steps. “You look refreshed.”

“Good night's sleep and tea fixes just about anything, right?” I smiled unconvincingly. “Tea?”

“Cheers, thanks. I've had.” Jon looked around at the wasps' nests and sagging roof. “How are you getting on in this ol' dump anyway?”

“Love the view.”

“Must be an oven inside.”

I nodded. “Not sure which is worse, the ghosts or the bad dreams.”

Jon picked up a rusk and pointed it at me. “The truth holds more horror than dreams around here, Catherine.” He took a bite and crunched loudly as he walked down the stairs with me following. “Of that, I can assure you,” he said over his shoulder.

“How is Bernie's wife?”

He grimaced. “She'll be okay. She had to be expecting it. It's amazing he lasted this long.”

Jon climbed into the vehicle and started it up as I threw my backpack into the passenger seat and got in. We drove over a rise and down to the expansive floodplain, chasing a herd of zebra back into the forest. The sky was wide and blue, spotted with fluffy clouds that promised to stay innocuous, at least for a while.

“You'll be relieved to know that the wounded buffalo has been put out of its misery. They found the tracks near the station a half hour ago and decided to follow them up the river.”

“That's good to hear. After yesterday, I couldn't help wondering what happens when you come across poachers. Do you shoot them?”

Jon shook his head and lowered his voice. “I've got a letter from the permanent secretary. Says we're allowed to defend ourselves in the line of duty. No one would go out if they couldn't. You saw what it was like.”

As we approached the clearing where we had seen the elephants the day before, Jon parked next to a tree and turned off the engine. I pulled out my holster. “Okay for me to carry?”

Jon paused and looked at my pistol. “That thing registered?”

I nodded.

“Then, okay, as backup.”

We got out and walked cautiously toward the site of the poaching incident. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I braced myself for the worst.

We heard a low cough.

Jon whispered, “Lion.”

Jon held up his rifle and peered into the clearing. It was a gruesome sight—elephant entrails splayed out and a pride of fatted lions littered about the clearing, sticky with blood. Some yearling lions were crouched down, stalking something behind the carcass.

We kept our distance from the lions and slowly walked around the carcass. The lions glared at us with mouths open and panting, immobilized by their full bellies. The baby elephant stood behind its dead mother, exhausted and mortally wounded with deep claw marks across its back. His hindquarters were gnawed to the bone. I couldn't believe he was still alive.

The poor thing was charging at the lions hopelessly, ears out, tossing its torn and flaccid trunk at the taunting lions. The young lions seemed amused and surrounded the calf, some crouching at the front while another jumped on its back.

The calf bellowed.

Without thinking, I pulled my revolver out of the holster and fired off a shot. The lions scattered—the elders more sluggish than the youngsters. The baby elephant also ran off.

“Catherine!”

“I just couldn't let them do it!”

“But that's nature, Catherine. It's goddamned bloody nature.”

I was furious. “That elephant didn't lose its mother by natural causes!” I moved to follow the baby, and Jon held me back by the arm.

“Catherine, the little bugger is finished. As soon as you make this personal, you lose everything. Can't you see that?”

I shook my head and tried to hold back a flood of tears. “It doesn't seem fair.”

He turned and gave me a grave look. “I just don't want to see you make a mistake. You need to keep your head on straight if you really want to make a difference in this place.”

I hesitated. If Jon only knew just how straight my head had been on in order to keep everything that I had witnessed in the past week inside, he wouldn't have said that. I kicked the sand littered with acacia thorns. “Couldn't we at least put it out of its misery?”

Jon tightened his lips and motioned for me to follow him. We tracked the baby and found it standing next to a tree looking hideously mauled and pathetic. Jon held up his rifle and shot once. The calf collapsed.

In the silent aftermath, Jon put a hand on my shoulder. “The broken dreams of both man and beast.” He took my hand, squeezed it, and led me away. “Come, I know just what we need right now.”