Oliver Strange and the journey to the swamps (school edition). Diane Hofmeyr

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      The station was crowded. A girl was standing next to a huge pile of boxes and crates. Oliver pushed his way across to her.

      “Hi. Is this the platform for the train to the Victoria Falls?”

      The girl didn’t look up. He was about to ask again but saw her earphones. She was singing to herself. He tapped her shoulder. She frowned as she slipped the ear-phones off. “What?”

      “Is this the platform for the Victoria Falls?”

      “Hope so!” She pointed to a sign. “Unless that’s wrong.”

      At the sound of her voice, a furry creature with huge eyes, popped out above the top button of her shirt.

      “Is that a monkey”

      The girl shook her head. “More lemur than monkey. She’s actually a bush baby. Her scientific name is Gelago sengalensis. Her African name is impukunyani so I call her Puku.” She tucked the creature back into her shirt. “What’s your name?”

      “Oliver. Oliver Strange. But you can call me Ollie. Most people do.”

      “Well dumela, then Ollie! My name is Zinzi.”

      Ollie didn’t know if he should shake her hand but she answered the problem for him. “In Botswana men and women don’t normally shake hands. Let’s get going. Here’s the train.”

      There was a smell of hot metal and burning coal as the gigantic engine came hissing and snorting into the station amidst clouds of steam that swallowed up the crowds on the platform. A stream train! He’d never been on a steam train.

      The platform became chaotic. People with luggage of all shapes and sizes balanced on their heads and tucked under their arms, pushed and shoved their way between vendors selling oranges and cigarettes and anything anyone might or might not need on a train.

      Zinzi hauled out a ticket from the pocket of her shorts. “I’m carriage 2749. Compartment B. What about you?”

      Ollie glanced at his ticket and nodded. “Me too.”

      “They must’ve put us together because we’re travelling alone.” Zinzi examined the tickets stuck in holders next to the windows. “Over here! Stay on the platform. I’ll hop on board. Then pass my stuff up to me.”

      “All of it?” Ollie looked at the huge heap of boxes and crates.

      Zinzi leaned out a window. “Careful how you handle that big one. Don’t let the catch open.”

      He heaved it onto his shoulder and came face to face with … “A snake!” He almost dropped the crate.

      “Don’t worry. It’s a small one.”

      “Small?”

      Zinzi nodded. “By python standards.”

      “You mean it’s a real python?”

      “Well it’s not made of plastic.” Then she grinned. “Don’t worry. He’ll sleep all the way. I fed him a huge rat. Pythons are lazy after they’ve eaten.”

      “Is it poisonous?”

      Zinzi shook her head. “Pythons aren’t poisonous. They just squeeze you to death.”

      Ollie swallowed hard. Of all things, why did it have to be a snake?

      “Quick-start! You’re going to miss the train.”

      He thought about asking for another compartment. A girl and a snake! But it was too late. The conductor was blowing a warning whistle. He climbed up into the carriage. There was a sharp, sour smell of coal-dust, hot metal and disinfectant. He squeezed past the toilet and the people in the narrow corridor. Then he froze. The snake crate was standing in the middle of the compartment.

      “It’s okay. There’s a catch on it. It can’t escape.”

      “Are you sure?”

      “Of course I’m sure.”

      There was a commotion as doors slammed shut. Then with a sharp whistle and an extra stamp of steam, the train moved slowly out of the station. Ollie pushed down the window. Faces and colours blurred. Then the platform ended abruptly and the train picked up speed. As it raced past some dark sheds, broken windows flashed. Then they were out in the open. Not a single building in sight, just the tangled bush and thorn trees slipping past and the click of wheels over joints in the winding, criss-crossing tracks that seemed to be singing …

      We’re going to I-la-la. We’re going to find your fa-ther.

      We’re going to I-la-la. We’re going to find your fa-ther.

      At last! He was truly on his way. Hot, dry air full of coal soot was rushing past his face and making his eyes sting. He slammed the window shut.

      Zinzi was shoving boxes under the bottom bunk and onto the metal racks overhead. Ollie watched as she pushed the python crate under the bunk.

      “Aren’t you going to check?”

      “What?”

      “The catch.”

      She gave him a look. Ollie slid his eyes away and glanced around the compartment. There were two bunks covered in shiny, green leather with saggy places where people had sat too often. Tucked into a corner was a table with a hinged cover and a leather strap. Beneath the cover, he discovered a tiny, stainless steel basin with a single tap. Everything he touched had a gritty coal-dust feeling.

      Zinzi stood with her feet apart, balancing to the sway of the train. “Which bunk? Top or bottom?”

      Ollie’s eyes slid back to the snake crate. “Top.”

      “Just a warning. Puku’s nocturnal. But if you bury your head under your pillow you’ll be okay. D’you have a pet?”

      Ollie СКАЧАТЬ