Scarred Lions (10 page)

It can’t be, I told myself over and over again. I ran around the chalet, looking for Umfana. He wasn’t there. The ground was covered in tracks. Old tracks, crumbling in. Disappearing.

‘Umfana!’ My cry rang out over the bush. ‘Umfana!’ I listened for his bark, a yelp. Anything.

Except for the normal sounds of the bush, there was nothing.

I couldn’t believe it. How could he have broken free from his chain? The answer hit me: I hadn’t tied him up! Two days
ago, during that storm I’d let him into the house. Then Themba had arrived. I’d had to let him slip out the back door or I would have been in trouble.

Tie him up before he goes off killing animals.

That’s what Themba told me that first time. I didn’t listen. I just sent him off into the night. And now he was gone. It was entirely my fault. I needed to find him. Quick! But I would need help.

‘You can’t!’ cried Simoshile. ‘It is too dangerous.’

‘I don’t have a choice,’ I said. ‘I have to find him and I need you and André to help me!’

‘There’s a man-eating lion loose, Buyi. I’m not going to take that chance. I’m not going into any of the camps.’

‘I’m your friend, aren’t I?’ I pleaded.

‘Buyi is right,’ said André. ‘We have to help him.’

‘He probably didn’t wander too far,’ I pleaded.

Simoshile crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair. ‘I don’t know. I’m scared.’

I looked at André. He frowned.

‘We’re scared too,’ I said.

‘Then don’t go, Buyi. It is just a stupid dog. He’ll come back.’

‘It’s been two days already. He might be lost.’ Then softer, ‘I don’t want to lose him, Simoshile. Please, please …’

She thought it over a bit more, and then hesitantly gave in: ‘Okay, I’ll come with you.’

I felt terrible asking my friends to put their lives on the line for me. But I had no choice. I couldn’t venture out into the bush alone. They were my age but they had way more experience than me.

André suggested that we start with the Namhlanje camp. It was the one bordering our chalet. If Umfana had wandered off into a camp, it would probably be that one.

‘Umfana!’ I called when we reached Namhlanje. My eyes scanned the land, peering at the tangled underbrush for signs of life. It was already scorching hot. I just hoped we had enough water to last us the day.

‘Umfa – a – na – a!’

An hour went by. We found nothing. Once I saw the brown pelt of an animal move under a bush. I was just getting excited when it turned out to be a rabbit. It bounded off in a flash.

I didn’t pay any heed to the many animals that we came across. The various antelope, giraffe, warthog … My mind was set on finding my dog.

But still … in the back of my mind there came the warning. The scarred lion is still out there. Be careful!

‘Why didn’t you ask your dad to help you find Umfana?’ asked Simoshile.

‘He doesn’t know yet,’ I stammered. ‘He’ll be furious.’

‘Why do you say that? He seems like a kind man.’

‘I … I just know.’ I shrugged and shifted my attention back to the search. ‘Umfana!’ Desperation set in.

‘I would have asked my dad if it was my dog that had got lost,’ said Simoshile.

‘Me too,’ added André.

‘The thing is …’ I hesitated before continuing. ‘Things between Themba and me … it’s not too great.’ I somehow felt relieved to get it out into the open. ‘I know he is my dad and all, but we don’t get along that well.’

‘Have you talked to him about it?’ asked Simoshile.

‘No. We don’t talk much either. I’ve been here for almost two weeks now, but he still seems like a stranger.’ Silence. ‘He still doesn’t feel like my dad.’

‘Have you told your mum?’

‘No. I don’t want her to worry.’ I sighed. It was all too complicated.

‘I would hate for you to leave,’ said André, ‘but if you and Themba don’t get along … Perhaps it would be something worth considering.’

‘That would be like copping out. I don’t want to do that.’ I looked at André, frowning.
‘You remember that poster on my wall. The one with Amir Khan?’

‘Yes?’

‘You once asked me why I had it up.’

‘And you said it was because you like boxing.’

I nodded. ‘I’ve thought about it since. I think I look up to him because he is such an incredible fighter. He’s got extraordinary vision and he doesn’t let anything stand in the way of it. I want to be like him. I don’t want to be a loser.’

Simoshile smiled quietly. She reached out her hand to me. I took it and it felt warm and comforting.

‘Oh, please!’ cried André, rolling his eyes. ‘Are we looking for love here? Or are we looking for a dog?’

The moment was gone. We were back to the present. André was right; we had to
find Umfana. It was already late morning and we hadn’t made any progress.

Plodding along, our calls rang out without any success.

A terrible scream from Simoshile made my blood turn cold.

Umfana! I thought. She found him!

No. I followed her frightened eyes. ‘Ibululu!’ she said.

There was a snake right in front of my feet. Brown speckled. Short and stocky. Watching me.

‘Puff adder, be careful,’ whispered André. ‘They’re very dangerous!’

I didn’t move, just kept my gaze fixed on the black eyes, the forked tongue darting in and out of its mouth. The seconds ticked by. It felt like hours. Then the puff adder lost interest and lazily slithered off.

‘That was close,’ sighed André. ‘I hate them. They cause most of the snake bites in South Africa. And if they bite you, your body swells up to more than double its size.’

‘You look like you’ve been dumped in boiling water, that’s what my dad says,’ added Simoshile. ‘And the place where it bit you bursts open. Scary! Really scary!’

I shivered. ‘And can you die?’

‘Hell, yeah!’ cried André.

‘It could also have been something else,’ said Simoshile softly.

‘It was a puff adder,’ said André irritated. ‘It’s not the first time I’ve seen one, Simoshile. And you said it yourself.’

‘No, that’s not what I mean.’ We frowned, gazing at her. ‘In the Zulu culture we believe that our ancestors sometimes appear to us in the form of snakes.’

‘Ancestors?’ I asked.

‘Their spirits, really. Ancestors play a huge role in our culture. If they appear to you as a dangerous snake they’ll behave peacefully. Sometimes you can recognise them by the marks carried on the snake’s body.’

‘Okay, now you really are scaring me,’ I said. ‘What would they want from us?’

‘Not from us, Buyi – from you. The puff adder had its eyes fixed on you.’

A shiver ran down my spine. ‘What would they possibly want from me?’ I stammered.

Simoshile was now deadly serious. ‘Buyi, the ancestors may have come to warn you of danger lying ahead.’

I stared at Simoshile. Danger? Should we get out of the camp? But what about Umfana? We had to find him. Pangs of guilt still haunted me for not taking better care of him.

‘I could be wrong,’ she added. ‘But … what if I’m not?’

‘I don’t believe in any of that nonsense,’ said André. ‘It was just a snake that stared at Buyi’s ugly mug for a while and then slithered off. Nothing more. Let’s get a move on and find Umfana. I think we must try the erosion area. There’s lots of hiding places for a dog there.’

We changed direction and made our way through a rough piece of land. Simoshile’s words still played on my mind. I felt unsettled and tried to pass the incident off as unimportant. Since when did I start to believe in ghosts, or ancestors or whatever?

Around us the sun glistened on the leaves. The treebark was dotted with
grey-green
lichen. We shouted Umfana’s name. But still we had no success.

Then we reached the erosion area. It was like a surreal moonscape. A ravine curling through the land. Its sand-coloured walls covered in gothic-like structures. Towers, crevices, cracks, small caves. We climbed down into the ravine. The ground was like clammy sea sand. André stopped to examine the tracks left behind by animals. His finger drew an arrow shape around one of the tracks, and a Christmas tree shape around the other. He shook his head.

‘Impala and jackal, I think.’

‘I’ve never liked this place,’ said Simoshile, crossing her arms. ‘It’s scary.’

‘We’ll be okay,’ comforted André. I nodded as if I knew he was right.

The sand crunched below our feet as we marched on.

‘Umfana!’ My voice returned to me, echoing back from the ravine wall.

We searched the nooks and crannies of the rough walls. But there were way too many of them. If Umfana had fallen down one of the cracks we might never find him. It all seemed like a useless exercise. I hated to, but eventually I had to concede: ‘I think we should turn back.’

‘Shouldn’t we go on a bit longer? At least till lunch?’ asked André.

‘We’ll never find him. The game resort is just too big. It’s like searching for a needle in a haystack.’

André seemed disappointed. I was too, but what else could we do?

It was then that we heard the roar of an engine. My heart stopped. ‘Hide!’ I cried.

I was just about to head for one of the small caves when André said: ‘What? Are you stupid? Look around you …’

He was right. Our footsteps lay scattered all over the place. It would be child’s play finding us in there.

Moments later the Land Rover appeared at the top of the ravine. Then Themba, Lwazi, and Johan came into view. They all had guns with them.

We stared up at them. There was nothing we could do. There were no excuses we could give. We were in trouble.

‘It’s all my fault,’ I said when we reached the top of the ravine. We stood before the three uniformed men. I stared down at my shoes. ‘I asked for their help.’

‘Help with what?’ asked Themba angrily.

‘Umfana. He ran away.’

‘What! But I told you …’

‘I know.’

‘Get in the Land Rover!’ shouted Themba. ‘We’ll talk when we get home.’

I felt dreadful. Empty. Scared. I could sense my two friends felt the same. We didn’t speak a word. The fearful looks we exchanged said it all.

The tension was unbearable. We dropped the others off. Themba and I drove home alone. On our way there Themba suddenly stopped the Land Rover. He sat staring at the dust road ahead. His hands clenched around the steering wheel. I could see a jaw muscle tensing up. I looked away.

‘Why don’t you just listen?’ he exploded suddenly. ‘Is it that hard to understand,
Buyisiwe? There’s a lion out there. It has already attacked a man. It has killed another.’

‘But …’

‘No, listen! You thought you could take a chance and go off into the bush on foot. What if you came across the lion? Did you think you could run away from it? Lions cover more ground in two bounds than humans do in ten. You would have no chance against it.’

‘But Umfana …’ I stammered.

‘Forget about the miserable dog! I’m talking about you now! This isn’t London, Buyisiwe. This is Africa. Things are different here. Life and death … they go hand in hand here.

‘That lion is old. He probably got into a terrible fight and was exiled from his pride. That’s where the scar came from. But he won’t give up that easily. Survival – that’s all that matters to him. He is ruled by his age-old instincts. They urge him to feed.
Once a lion has attacked and eaten one man, he’ll do it again. We are easy prey for him now. It’s as simple as that.’

I couldn’t look Themba in the eye. His voice was relentless.

‘Have you ever seen a lion attack and kill its prey? If it leaps out at you it will knock you right back … it could break your neck. Or it might seize you by the throat, its incisors tearing into your flesh, your arteries. Closing down the blood flow to your brain. You already start losing consciousness as it drags you down. Helpless against its might. You wouldn’t even have time to cry for help. It would be over in a flash. It will tear out your entrails first, and eat them. Then it’ll have a go at your legs. Finally it will move its way up to your head, crushing your skull like it was a can of Coke!’

I shrunk back in the seat.

‘No, don’t look away now, my boy. You think you are so clever. This is what will happen to you.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered.

‘Sorry just won’t cut it, Buyi.’ He inhaled deeply. The whites of his eyes were showing. As his breathing steadied, his voice quieted down. ‘Why did you do it? Why did you go after the dog?’

The thoughts rushed around in my mind. I was afraid. Should I tell him? The answer fell out: ‘Because I loved him. Because … he was there for me when you weren’t.’

I thought Themba would go off again. I thought he would grab me by the throat and strangle the life right out of me. Go feed me to the scarfaced lion. But he didn’t.

It was as if a veil suddenly dropped between us. When he yelled at me only moments ago, he was so real. He was a human being. At last I had seen a man filled with emotion. And even though it was hurtful hearing him say those things, I felt closer to him than ever.

But now I could sense him pulling back emotionally again. Something was wrong. I just knew it. But what it was, I couldn’t tell.

‘Let’s go find your dog,’ he finally said. His words nearly knocked the wind right out of me.

There were no further words between us as we drove in the direction of the camp.

He was there for me when you weren’t.

I shouldn’t have said that. How could I? I was stupid! Now he’s going to hate me even more. I shot a quick sideways glance at him. It was useless. I couldn’t read what was going on in his mind.

A bead of sweat ran down his temple. His black face shining in the afternoon sun. The Zulu warrior.

I didn’t know the culture. What if we weren’t really on our way to look for the dog? What if it is expected to discipline children who speak ill of their fathers? Or worse – what if it is expected to kill them?

I wouldn’t know.

My hands were sweating. I looked at Themba’s rifle. No, I am mistaken. He wouldn’t do something like that. I could barely think now. All around us lay the beautiful South African landscape. But this all faded into the background. Fear had taken its place.

We drove down one dirt road after another. I pretended to look for Umfana. I even shouted his name a few times. My voice sounded weak.

‘Umfana! Umfana!’

We stopped numerous times. Themba got out of the Land Rover and inspected the ground. Looking around for tracks. When
he climbed back in, he would switch the Land Rover on again and drive further.

I didn’t want to ask him what he saw. If anything at all. Then, after what seemed like our twentieth stop, he appeared to have found something. He got back into the Land Rover and turned off the road. We headed through the grassland, past clumps of trees where fallen dry branches cracked under the tyres. We stopped another three times.

What I didn’t know was that death was only a heartbeat away. That every stop brought us closer to it.

Life and death … they go hand in hand here.

Themba saw him first. He stopped suddenly. Did he gasp for air, or was it only the wind? And was it that same wind that carried the faint yelping sounds towards me?

‘Umfana?’

I got out of the Land Rover. My legs felt weak. Where was he? My eyes followed Themba as he headed up a narrow footpath to a thicket.

And then I saw him. Horror rushed through my body. Could this be? I ran to Umfana, but stopped short, kneeling down a short distance away from the dog. I felt the nausea pushing up into my throat.

Still the yelps sounded. Begging me to come closer. To help.

I crawled to him on my hands and knees. Tears were now streaming down my face.

I touched his head. Gently. A rush of pain shot through me. I stared down at the blood covering my fingers.

‘What happened, boy?’

But I knew. I knew. The open wound ran right around his neck. Flesh exposed, cut by the piece of wire tied to a tree. Like a noose.

He had been caught in one of the poacher’s traps.

The poachers don’t care if they hurt the animals. And if they catch something that they don’t want, they just leave it there to die.

That’s what Themba told the American visitors yesterday.

I felt anger burning inside me now. It consumed me. I wanted to scream. Cry. Swear.

But all I could do was hurt.

Gently I loosened the wire noose. I slipped it off Umfana’s neck. He lay there unmoving in his own blood. His eyes were distant. His breathing shallow.

I ran back to the Land Rover and fetched a water bottle. I poured small amounts of it into the palm of my hand. Hoping that he would lap it up. That it would make him stronger.

But he didn’t respond. I watched the water run through my fingers, disappearing into the dry sand.

‘There’s nothing we can do for him,’ said Themba.

I dreaded those words. Deep inside me I knew Themba was right. I didn’t want to believe it. But seeing Umfana’s wounds made it all too true.

I lifted Umfana’s head onto my lap. Stroked the soft coat, curled my fingers around his ears like I had done that first day I saw him.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I whispered. ‘I should have taken better care of you. I let you down.’ I couldn’t stop the tears.

I heard Themba move away to the Land Rover. Moments later he returned. The sudden cock of a rifle behind me made me jump.

I looked up, right into the sun. Shielding my eyes, I saw Themba’s silhouette behind me. The rifle held out towards me.

‘He’s your dog. You have to put him out of his misery.’ The words fell like sharp rocks, burying me.

‘Themba?’

‘Shoot him!’