Storms Over Africa (33 page)

‘What did you do?' She loved these stories. She intended to use them in her articles.

‘My friend put a nice big hole where his brain was and he lost interest in us,' Greg said. ‘It was a hairy couple of minutes, though.'

After breakfast and showers Richard suggested they go for a drive. Penny was still asleep and Joseph said he would stay in camp. Greg decided to stay behind as well, hoping for a chance to talk to Joseph. David did not want to be in the company of Steve and Richard so he excused himself, saying he wanted to finish the novel he was reading.

They drove along the same track they had used that morning past where the buffalo had been and beyond. Although she looked for them, Steve saw no sign of the buffalo. The land was almost dead flat with occasional stony hills breaking the landscape. The soil was a sandy red, dotted with dry tufts of grass. The land looked uninviting and hard. Richard read her thoughts. ‘You should see this place after rain. Wild flowers spring up everywhere. I once saw this country so covered with colour it looked like a carpet.'

She could not see how flowers would grow in such bareness. ‘Must be beautiful.' She thought he had to be exaggerating.

He stopped near a rocky
kopjie.
‘These hills are useful for spotting game,' he said. ‘Let's climb this one and see what we can see.'

The ground was uneven and rocky and, as they began to climb the
kopjie,
vegetation became even scarcer, with just the occasional hardy thorn tree finding space to grow between the rocks. It wasn't a hard climb, the hill was only nine metres high, but the elevation increased their viewing of the land sufficiently to make it possible to see a good ten kilometres.

Richard carried binoculars and a rifle. They reached the top of the hill and sat on a large rock. Steve felt its warmth through her cotton shorts. Richard scanned the horizon then tensed. ‘We're in luck.' He handed her the binoculars. ‘There are three lionesses lying in the shade of those trees. Have a look.'

The trees were perhaps half a kilometre away. She took the binoculars and looked through them. At first she could see nothing but the flat, scrubby land. Then a tiny movement in the shade caught her attention and she focused on it. Sure enough, three lionesses were lying, panting in the heat, under a clump of thorn trees. Through the glasses they seemed close enough to touch and she thought
briefly about the safety of the Land Rover at the base of the hill. The big cats lay relaxed, only their ears and eyes revealing their readiness to move if the occasion warranted. She heard a small exclamation from Richard and looked up at him.

‘Over there, to the left.' He pointed. ‘It's the old boy.'

She swung the glasses and found him. He was huge, with a black mane like a ruff around his neck. He was sitting facing her way and, it seemed to Steve, his topaz-coloured eyes were penetrating her soul. Then, while she watched, convinced he could see her, the lion suddenly scratched himself, as a cat would. He looked so undignified and harmless, especially when he toppled sideways when his vigorous scratching caused him to lose balance. She laughed, delighted, and handed the binoculars to Richard so he could see.

‘He's a big brute,' Richard commented, looking at him through the glasses. ‘Bit long in the tooth.'

‘How can you tell?'

‘Look at his coat. He's had a lot of fights in his time. And his mane is a bit stringy.'

‘I think his mane is magnificent.'

‘I think your mane is magnificent.' He bent his head and blew in her ear.

She wound her arms around his neck and he
removed the binoculars and kissed her deeply and lovingly. ‘Let's go back to the Land Rover,' he said huskily.

‘What about children?' She remembered their audience the last time they made love in a car.

‘Out here? No way. The
shumbai
will see to that.'

‘
Shumbai
?'

‘Lion.' He grinned at her. ‘Might as well start teaching you the language.'

As they made their way back to the Land Rover, a thought struck her: making love with this man—who was as different to her as his country was to hers—while four
shumbai
stood guard, would have to be the purest form of wild.

In the end they made love on a blanket on the ground. The temperature in the interior of the Land Rover was bordering on forty-two degrees Celsius. Steve worried briefly about the lions before forgetting them altogether.

Afterwards they drove to where they had seen the lions and found them still lying in the shade. The old black-maned male had joined them. Leaning with her body half through the window, Steve took photographs until the male uttered a sharp loud growl and lumbered to his feet.

She looked back into the vehicle. ‘He just swore at me.'

‘He's a bit bad-tempered' Richard agreed. ‘One of the females must be on heat.'

Caught by the size and grace of the lion, she continued to take photographs while the big cat stared right into the lens of her camera, his tail twitching.

‘Get in,' Richard had been watching the lion and figured a charge was not very far off.

The lion gave a chuffing cough and flattened his ears. Steve kept taking pictures.

‘For Christ's sake, get in and shut the window,' he urged desperately.

He knew when the charge came it would be at a furious pace. Although the lion would baulk at the Land Rover, there was nothing to stop him taking a swipe at Steve's beautiful face.

The lion crouched. Steve kept her camera on him. Suddenly, and for no apparent reason, one of the lionesses came to her feet and, in one fluid motion, cuffed the lion so hard his head bobbed, then turned her back on him and walked away. Steve captured the whole thing on camera, including the lion's cowardly backdown after he had been so soundly reprimanded. He stalked away, trying to look dignified. As he passed the female who cuffed him he uttered a violently loud snarl but she ignored him.

Steve finally stopped photographing and sat back inside the Land Rover. ‘I wouldn't have
missed that for quids.' She rolled her film on, removing it and replacing it with another without even looking at the camera.

‘He could have taken your face off,' Richard was furious with the risk she took. ‘He was as twitchy as hell.'

‘You take risks, why can't I?' She was still elated.

‘That's different.'

‘Why, because you're a hairy-chested hunter and I'm just a girl?' she challenged.

‘You don't understand the dangers,' he said. ‘I've lived in Africa most of my life. I know when a lion means business.'

‘How?'

‘By the way he gathers himself and by the noise he makes.'

She saw the worry for her in his eyes and backed down. ‘I'm sorry, I know it was risky. It's just that the shots were too good to be true, especially when the female smacked him across the head. It was just like an irate parent. And the look on his face, Richard, did you see it? I swear he felt
embarrassed
.'

He snorted. ‘Lions, dear girl, never feel embarrassed. They feel hungry. They feel threatened. They feel horny. They never feel embarrassed.'

She was looking past him. ‘What's he up to now?'

The lion was trotting towards them and
then disappeared behind the front of the Land Rover. Looking out through his window Richard uttered a single curse before starting the engine and driving rapidly away.

‘What happened?' She looked back at the lion who had halfheartedly tried to chase them but was now almost lost in the dust the vehicle made.

‘Bugger was starting to chew the tyres.'

They followed the track which took them back to the Limpopo river. ‘How far from our camp are we?' she asked.

‘Must be about twenty kilometres.'

She pointed across the river. ‘Coming from Australia where all the land is one country, it seems strange to think that over there is a different country with a different currency, its own government, even a different language.'

‘Actually, along this section of river, the land over there is Zimbabwe. That's the Shashi river. Across there is known as the Tuli Circle.'

‘I'd have thought the river would have made a natural border.'

‘So it does, mainly. But when the Pioneer Column came up from South Africa they expected trouble from the Matabele. The British Government which controlled Bechuanaland decided to grant Rhodes a small amount of land on the other side of the river for defence purposes. Fort Tuli was on the river. The land granted was to be a circle, the
extremity of which was the distance a maxim gun could fire. Hence, the Tuli Circle.'

‘Is Fort Tuli still standing?'

‘Only a police camp and an airstrip. I understand that the Rotary Club at Gwanda wanted to turn the area into a children's adventure camp but, before they could start, the war got in the way.'

‘Are you bitter about the war?'

‘Yes, although in retrospect, it was a war we couldn't win and yes, I'm sorry the blacks are running the country. But it's still a great country and a good life and I couldn't imagine living anywhere else.'

‘You really don't like blacks, do you?'

‘Not true.' He glanced at her briefly before going on. ‘I would lay my life on the line for men like Samson. I respect him and I like him.'

‘But you wouldn't invite him into your house as a guest.'

‘He wouldn't come if I did.'

‘That's not the point.'

‘Okay, Steve, I'm a racist.'

‘Don't get cross. I'm trying to understand.'

‘Sorry. It's a bit hard to understand for someone new to Africa. You have to realise that, until comparatively recently, we were the masters. The blacks had no education, no skills and no ambitions. We employed them as servants and manual workers. Perhaps it was wrong of us not to see that they wanted what
we had, but we were used to giving orders and we were used to thinking of ourselves as being superior. I know you're referring to Penny and Joseph and it disturbs you that I disapprove simply because he's black but I can't help it. I've been in Africa too long to be able to think of Joseph Tshuma as an equal. To me, he should be working in the garden or living in his village. He should be in government or teaching in a school, I don't care what. In other words minding his own business, not mine. His entire psyche is so different from Penny's that, quite apart from my own personal objections, marriage between them would raise too many obstacles.'

Steve looked sceptical. ‘Can't you just judge him as a person? In Australia, colour is irrelevant.'

‘Nice and simple, hey?' he agreed. ‘There's more to it than that here. Joseph can have as many wives as he likes. He expects to make them pregnant as often as he can. He demands their complete obedience. His word is law. If he doesn't like the way they brew his beer, if they don't get on with his mother, if they can't have children, if they backchat him, he can discard them. A woman is a chattel. She is not entitled to opinions or needs. Penny wouldn't last five minutes.'

‘She seems to be in love with him.'

‘Penny's not in love. She's playing with fire.
She's thumbing her nose at society and she's having the time of her life doing it. She's always been like that and her relationship with Tshuma is the ultimate. Sure, she thinks she's in love with him, but I know my daughter and I know that if her involvement with a black man weren't so damned shocking to most of us she'd never have got involved.'

‘Couldn't you be wrong?' Steve asked. ‘Maybe Joseph is different, maybe he's prepared to meet her halfway.'

‘I'm not wrong, darling. There's more to Joseph Tshuma than meets the eye. For starters he's political dynamite. He's trying to undermine our government and destabilise the country. He's a dangerous man and, for some reason, he's playing his own game with my daughter. Black and white issues aside, I simply don't like him.' He hesitated, not sure how much to tell her. Then, ‘I interrogated him during the war. He was my enemy. He has no business in my life now.'

‘Can't you forgive and forget?'

‘Do Australians really forgive the Japanese?'

‘We're trying to.'

‘But do they?'

She changed the subject. ‘How do you know all this stuff about him trying to undermine the government?'

‘Greg works for South African Intelligence. He's not just on safari with us, he's working.'

‘Why are you telling me this?'

‘Because I want to share my life with you,' he said simply, pulling her close and kissing her. ‘I don't want secrets between us. If Greg hadn't seen this safari as a golden opportunity to observe the man, I can assure you that Joseph Tshuma would not have been with us.'

‘Are you involved in Greg's work?'

‘Not directly, but if the need arises I will be.' He squeezed her hand. ‘I love this country, Steve. No bastard is going to plunge it back into war if I can help it.'

‘I guess I can understand that,' she said slowly. ‘What I'm having the problem with is the fact that it was their country for starters.'

‘Steve,' he said, not unkindly, ‘Australia once belonged to the Aboriginals.'

‘I know. This just seems different.'

‘That's convenient,' he said dryly.

She gave him a sudden grin. ‘Shut your face.'

They had stopped to watch some fish eagles swooping down to the river. Others in trees were calling to each other in their high and eerie way. The heat was so intense the land across the river waved and danced in hazy slow motion. ‘Better head back before we cook,' Richard said finally, starting the engine and turning the vehicle towards their camp, but he had only driven a few hundred metres before he stopped again, staring ahead.

‘What is it?'

‘Vultures,' he said, pointing. ‘See them?'