Scarred Lions (6 page)

‘Oh goodness!’ cried Mama Unahti after hearing the full story. ‘Angiphili neze!’

Simoshile chuckled. ‘She says she’s not feeling well.’

‘It is all probably too much for her,’ I said, looking at Mama Unahti’s distressed face.

‘You boys stay out of the bush, you hear me?’ cried Mama. ‘And to think I took it all very lightly when I heard where you were this morning.’

‘You went to the bush?’ asked Lwazi and Simoshile simultaneously.

‘Please don’t tell my dad,’ pleaded André.

‘It was a stupid thing to do,’ said Lwazi shaking his head. ‘If you want to go out into the bush, ask your dad to take you along on one of the game drives.’

André and I nodded. Lwazi was right. I knew we shouldn’t have gone. But I had already learned so much from just one morning with André, not to mention seeing that splendid giraffe.

Night came all too soon. The end of my first full day in South Africa. I felt tired but somehow happy. I liked André and Simoshile. And Lwazi, and of course Mama Unahti. In just this short while they had made me feel so welcome. It was actually amazing. I had never made friends that quickly. I was always apprehensive when meeting new people. I kept up the walls around me. Fearful of really getting to know
them, always wondering if they didn’t have a hidden motive for getting to know me.

But with this group of people it was all different. When they talked, they talked from the heart. When they laughed, they did it as if nobody was watching.

Sadly, this was not the case with Themba. The few times I had been in his company I’d felt weirdly disconnected to him. I didn’t really know what to say to him. Was it because he hadn’t been there for me all those years? I didn’t know.

It was around seven in the evening. He still wasn’t home. What could he be doing?

I missed having a TV. Probably withdrawal symptoms. I felt fidgety. What was I supposed to do with myself?

Perhaps I should try and cook some sort of meal for Themba. He was sure to be hungry when he got home, all tired. My cooking skills weren’t up to much, but I wasn’t totally unfamiliar with a kitchen.
There were times back home when Mum didn’t want to cook and I simply had to step in if I wanted some dinner.

I grabbed some meat from the fridge and defrosted it in the microwave. It was beef steak. I found some chips as well. Eggs too. Steak, eggs and chips. That will do for a nice dinner!

Busying myself in the kitchen took away the boredom. I thought about the day, and again a smile spread across my face. Wait till I tell Mum about it.

I opened the kitchen door to let some fresh air in. And then I heard it … The sound of an animal … The lion! The thought flashed through my mind instantly.

No, there was a whine. Do lions whine? I wondered.

Of course not. I listened again, my hand on the doorknob, ready to bang it shut should something leap out at me from the dark. It sounded like a dog.

Should I go out? I was a bit scared, but the animal seemed to be in distress. I found a flashlight in a cupboard. Carefully I made my way outside. Past the tree standing right outside the kitchen. Clenched fist around the torch. The beam of light moved across the ground. And then I saw it: it was a dog, tied up to a tree. A long chain extended right up to its neck. It was an Alsatian. A fine looking animal.

‘Hey there, boy!’ I said, carefully approaching him. I didn’t know if he would bite. He whined again. ‘What’s your name?’ He didn’t seem to mind me coming closer. The chain around his neck jingled. He got up, stood there watching me for a while and slowly put one foot in front of the other. Again he whined.

‘Hey, there!’ I said, softly. I set the light down. He was now right in front of me. I extended my hand slowly. He gave it a quick sniff. He seemed to be okay with me, so I touched him. Scratching him behind the ear. He appeared to like it, and lowered his head. ‘Whose dog are you? Themba’s?
Why does he keep you all tied up?’ The dog turned his head and licked my hand. There was a tag on his collar. Umfana.

‘So that’s your name, hey, Umfana! I’m Buyisiwe. Buyi for short. I live here now. Why hadn’t I seen you earlier? Was it you I heard last night?’ Umfana seemed to like the attention. I looked around for his food and water bowls. They were full. So he was well taken care of. It was just this chain that bothered me. My fingers found the clip on the collar. I undid it.

‘There you go. Do you want to join me in the house?’ I picked up the flashlight again. The dog stayed back, sitting on his haunches. Looking at me. ‘Come, boy!’

He got up slowly, his head lowered but his eyes looking up at me.

‘Come!’

He followed me into the house, warily. Looking around.

Suddenly I caught the smell of something burning. The food! I’d forgotten all about it. I raced to the stove and turned down the heat. What a miserable sight! The steak had only just stopped short of being embers. The chips were, to say the least, extremely crispy. Luckily I hadn’t started on the eggs.

Umfana stared up at me. He tilted his head to the side. His black eyes were seemingly sorry for the mess I had made.

‘So much for dinner then,’ I said trying to scrape some of the black bits off the steak. ‘Jamie Oliver would be pleased to know that I’m not in competition with him.’

I put on a CD and went to my room. Umfana followed me. I opened the window. The sounds of night came flowing in with the evening breeze. Bloc Party on the right, Africa on the left.

‘Now there’s a combination for you, hey Umfana?’ I said pulling my fingers through his coat.

Themba came home around nine. I got up from my bed.

‘Hallo,’ I said. ‘How was your day?’ The words sounded stupid. Contrived like a third-rate sitcom. But I had to start making an effort to get to know this man.

‘Fine,’ he said and sighed. His clothes were all wrinkled and dusty.

‘I made some dinner. Or at least I tried. I haven’t eaten yet. I decided to wait till you got home.’

‘What did you make? Smells like something burned …’

‘Steak and chips. I just need to warm it up again. And fry up some eggs.’

‘You cook then?’

‘Well, I’m no Jamie Oliver, but –’

‘Jamie who?’

‘This English guy … The naked chef.’

Themba frowned. I suddenly realised how it must have sounded to him. Naked chef!

‘Never mind,’ I said.

‘Is this it?’ he asked pointing to the steamed up glass bowl. He removed the lid. ‘You did burn it. Meat is expensive! And this … this is a waste.’ His cold stare was fixed on me.

I felt my insides churning. I’d just tried to do some good.

‘Anyway, I had dinner with the guests,’ he continued. ‘I mostly do, remember that. It’s part of my job. Answering their questions, mingling, making sure they get what they’re paying for: the best African experience possible.’ He sighed. ‘I only eat at home on my off-days.’

Themba’s voice was almost void of emotion. He is just tired, I said to myself.
And Themba was probably right. It was a waste of good food. But something inside me wanted some recognition for at least trying.

I followed him out of the kitchen as he made his way to his room. When he stepped back out again moments later, he had his shirt off. His bare chest and arms rippled with muscles. Like that of a boxer, I thought.

My dad looked like a boxer.

On his way to the bathroom, Themba suddenly stopped. He had noticed something. ‘What’s that dog doing in the house?’ he asked firmly.

Umfana was lying stretched out in front of the couch. He whined and lowered his head.

‘Get him out! Dogs don’t belong inside!’ Themba’s voice boomed. I shrunk back against the wall. ‘And tie him up before he goes off killing animals.’

Morning broke. I was in a bad mood. What the hell was I doing here at all? Themba obviously didn’t like me. I wasn’t the son he wanted. Perhaps too much of a poncey English boy for his taste. But what did he expect?

Mum also hadn’t called the previous night like I had expected. I hoped she was all right.

André and Simoshile came knocking later in the day. My mood lifted.

‘I’m so bored,’ sighed André.

‘You’ll just have to get used to it,’ said Simoshile.

‘Ek wens hulle wil nou daardie blerrie leeu vang en klaarkry!’

I frowned. What was that? Simoshile translated. ‘He says he wishes they would just catch that bloo … um, that lion and be done with it.’

‘We can at least move around in the main camp. That would be okay, wouldn’t it?’ I tried. ‘It isn’t as if we should stay inside all day.’

‘Buyi is right,’ said Simoshile. ‘Let’s go for a swim.’

‘Yeah!’ I shouted.

André moaned, saying something about it not being the same. That he wanted to go to the bush. Nonetheless he followed us to the pool.

All our troubles were soon forgotten once we dived into the crystal clear water. The coolness enveloping us.

A flurry of voices caught our attention. It was the Japanese visitors. They were huddled together near one of the guest chalets.

‘They’ve just returned from their morning walk with one of the rangers,’ said Simoshile. ‘That’s probably what’s got them all excited.’

‘Why can they go to the bush, but we can’t?’ I asked.

Simoshile rolled her eyes. ‘Because the ranger carries a rifle!’

‘Oh yeah, right. I forgot.’

‘Something’s really got them going, look,’ said André, stretching his neck to see what it was.

They were all chatty. Laughing, while trying to arrange themselves into a group. One of them tried to get a photo of the others. But something was amiss.

‘It’s the tortoise,’ said Simoshile.

‘The what?’ I said.

‘There, on the grass. It’s a tortoise. They’re all trying to have their picture taken with it.’

Now I saw it. The tortoise didn’t seem interested in his fifteen minutes of fame. As soon as the Japanese tourists had organised themselves into a group, all smiling for the camera, the tortoise had moved along. And they had to re-organise themselves all over again a few feet further on.

They seemed to be enjoying it though, bursting out in fits of laughter every now and again. And when they finally got it right, they switched photographers and the madness started all over again.

I sat watching them with a gaping mouth. Every now and again I could hear André and Simoshile chuckling.

Then, all satisfied, they disappeared to their chalets and tents. The tortoise was finally left to make its way back to the bush in peace.

Mama Unahti sensed our frustration when we aimlessly hung around the main building after returning from the pool.

‘Oh my children, my children,’ she said, her body jiggling as she slapped her hands together. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘We’re bored,’ said André.

Her face lit up. ‘Nonsense! There’s plenty to do.’

‘But we want to go to the bush.’

‘No, you heard what Lwazi said. Do you want to become that scarred lion’s prey?’

‘But –’

‘No buts. There’s a lot to do. Just look around you.’

‘Like what?’ asked André.

‘Go climb a tree,’ she answered.

‘Girls don’t climb trees,’ said Simoshile screwing up her face.

Mama Unahti clicked her tongue. ‘Ah! Says who? Go, go, go! Before Mister Dreyer sees you.’

I don’t think Mum would believe me if I told her, but I climbed a tree that day. Simoshile stayed behind on the ground. ‘I’ll keep a lookout for snakes,’ was her excuse.

‘Yeah, right,’ scoffed André as he made his way up. ‘As if you would be able to see a boomslang from down there.’

Could there really be snakes up there, I wondered. A shiver ran down my spine. I decided to keep my eyes peeled and didn’t really bother with the amazing view from the tree.

The day dragged on. We went back to my home, deciding to play with Umfana. He enjoyed all the attention. And being able to run around freely for a while.

It broke my heart to tie him up again when André and Simoshile left.

I sat alone in the chalet, my thoughts were my only company. Waiting for the phone to ring. Wondering if I should call Mum. Better not, I thought. Not before I have permission from Themba.

The next three days were all much the same, dragging along endlessly. Until at last André called. ‘I’ve had enough of this! Let’s go to the watering hole. Who wants to foefieslide?’