The Song of Mawu. Jeff Edwards

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СКАЧАТЬ I’ve missed them terribly.’

      ‘Will we wait for our house to be finished and for the school term to end, or will we collect them from their school’s tomorrow?’

      Nori smiled, ‘I’m sure the schools will forgive us if we take them now. We can explain where we’ve come from and I’m positive the children won’t mind if we haven’t moved into our new home yet.’

      ‘Then we’ll collect them tomorrow.’

      Nori kissed her husband’s cheek before resting her head on his shoulder and drifted off to sleep.

      ***

      Eliza watched her friends and was eternally grateful for the assistance that they had been.

      When the images of the bloodied refugees flooding across the border from their own war-torn country of Sonateria, and into the relative safety of Namola had been shown on televisions across the globe, the world had seen for the first time how truly savage the intertribal war had become. Thousands had not survived the journey. They had been cut down by machete swinging rivals or blasted to death by Kalashnikov assault rifles. Their bodies lay unburied along the roads that should have led them to safety. Buzzards gorged themselves and were eventually too full to fly away.

      Those that did survive the journey had arrived bloodied and wounded in Namola with little or nothing in the way of possessions. Food and water were scarce and the situation became even worse each day as more and more of their fellow countrymen arrived seeking refuge from the slaughter.

      As they crossed the border the refugees had been greeted by armed troops from the Grand Army of Namola who refused them free access to the countryside and nourishment. Instead, President for Life, Joseph Lattua had decreed that the unfortunate people be relocated to a dry, rock strewn valley named Ashloko which was completely denuded of flora or fauna. The President had no desire to have unfed refugees wandering the countryside, denuding his lush pastures and stopping his farmers from growing their crops, thereby denying him of much needed tax revenue.

      Eliza had spoken to the local Namolan people and learned of the legend of the moon goddess Mawu, particularly the part Loko had played in that drama. Now, having lived in Ashloko, she could well imagine that this was where the sun god Lisa had taken his revenge on the hapless Loko for the murder of Rang the hunter.

      The valley of Ashloko was five kilometres wide at its mouth and tapered back in a rough triangle as it rose to meet the mountains that surrounded it. ‘Moonscape’ was the word that sprung to Eliza’s mind when she had first seen photos of it and on arrival the word seemed totally appropriate. With its desert dry atmosphere and rock-strewn floor, the only sign of life was a small trickle of water that was provided by a natural spring near the valley’s mouth and the refugees formed their makeshift camp at this one habitable oasis.

      However, the soaring numbers in the camp quickly polluted the meagre stream, and the starving people had denuded the surrounding country of whatever greenery had managed to grow in that desolate place. The stream had become an open sewer and disease quickly spread throughout the camp.

      Eliza had witnesed this unfolding on her television screen in England and knew immediately that this would be where she was needed and where she wanted to work.

      The rest of the world was not blind to the refugees’ needs either and international aid organisations had immediately swung into action to help. Water and food was the first order of business, while medicine was shipped in to help the wounded, the starving and the diseased.

      ***

      As Eliza began her work in London she learned that there was much help already underway but was also aware that the amount of assistance that could be provided to any one disaster was finite. If another catastrauphic event were to occur, resources would have to be cut back to Namola in order to help with the new problem.

      This was why Eliza had decided to undertake this project. The Fund, as a charitable organisation, had decided that it would not interfere with those aid efforts that provided immediate relief but would set out to provide a more permanent solution to the existing problems. They intended to do this by setting in place permanent works projects that would enable the refugees to survive long after the other charities had moved on.

      She had begun by hiring an engineering company in South Africa and issuing orders for them to travel to Namola to locate a permanent potable water supply in the vicinity of the refugee camp.

      It had taken them several months and Eliza was forced to spend her time in England trying to fill in the days by planning and purchasing the equipment which would be necessary for the second phase of the project.

      Finally, the wonderful news had come through. By drilling at the far end of the valley the engineers had struck an artesian basin at a depth of approximately two hundred metres. The water itself was slightly alkaline but still potable and they had immediately capped the well, taking great care to disguise its presence as she had instructed.

      Ali Akuba had done most of the face to face negotiations with the very difficult and extremely corrupt, Namolan public service. The Fund had, for a relatively small amount of money, had been able to lease the land around the new well on a long-term basis.

      The Namolans had considered Ali a rather stupid person for wanting to rent such an uninspiring piece of real estate and Ali had ‘forgotten’ to tell the Namolans that there was now a source of water to be found in the arid valley. He knew that they would never bother to visit the site themselves because it was too close to the refugee camp and the crowds of sick people forced to live there.

      With the land and the precious water supply in their possession, Eliza quickly moved to the next stage of her plan.

      ***

      Using The Fund’s very tenuous relationship with the British Government, the Directors lodged a list of very unusual requests with Prime Minister David Foster.

      These ‘requests’ resulted in Diplomatic talks taking place between the British PM and President Joseph Lattua of Namola, whereby the Namolan President eventually agreed to allow their British friends to conduct a short military exercise in the hard desert of the Ashloko Valley.

      The exercise was designed for British sappers to test the delivery, use, and retrieval of their heavy earthmoving equipment under wartime conditions in co-ordination with the forces of the Grand Army of Namola.

      ***

      So it was on a clear evening a week later, that the Grand Army of Namola moved in battle formation to set up a secured perimeter and protect a specified area from a mythical invading force.

      Once the area was ‘secured’, a message was radioed to nearby British Forces and a short time later the Namolian troops heard the distant roar of several approaching aircraft.

      Three military transports, their loading ramps lowered, flew in low and disgorged their cargos, which floated down beneath large parachutes to a prearranged drop zone. These were followed by a second wave of aircraft who came in higher, from which a company of sappers parachuted to join their equipment that had already reached the drop zone below them.

      Once the sappers had landed and stowed their parachutes, they formed up and were issued further instructions from their sergeants. Quickly and efficiently the men moved off to their allotted tasks.

      Once the sappers had landed and stowed their chutes, they quickly moved into position to undertake their СКАЧАТЬ