The Doctrine of Presence. Benjamin Vance

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СКАЧАТЬ we met at the Lowvelt site. He was considerably interested in where we came from, what we were doing in Africa and was concerned why Gimp was restricted to a wheel chair. Like most men, he was completely taken with Lidia and wondered out loud to Gimp why we were planning to tour Tanzania and Kenya by land with such a beautiful, small lady. Gimp informed him that Lidia could handle herself. Michaele smiled doubtfully and just nodded his head.

      Approving of what I thought I recognized in Okeke, I asked him how attached he was to the elephant reserve at Hazyview. He inferred; not very. I arranged to have Mr. Okeke drive our vehicle into Mozambique, Tanzania and Kenya if he and we could take the beating. He assured us the roads were fine to good and we allowed him to heap our vehicle with supplies in case we couldn’t make hotels each evening. He arranged for a nice hotel in Pretoria, where we met a friend of his who he said possessed intimate knowledge of illegal ivory movement in Africa. Michaele’s friend tried to convince us to take an airplane to Tanzania or Kenya and not to suffer the roads. He pleaded with Gimp not to take Lidia over the roads because she might lose her precious baby.

      This came from a guy we had just met and in whom I initially sensed a guarded nature. I saw Gimp steel-up and I thought to diffuse the situation as quickly as possible. However, Lidia took over, gave Mr. Owusu a look that could turn a normal person to stone, while holding up her hand in a motion for him to desist. She was not happy with Michaele’s buddy and one could almost feel it in the air. She bent over and whispered something to Charley Lindell. They exchanged close, searching looks and I knew we would be flying to Kenya; all “six” of us.

      On the flight to Nairobi, Lidia got a bit air sick. It wasn’t due to the flight, it was actually something she ate, we guessed. One of the stewardesses took her under wing and monitored her in the bathroom for more than half way to Nairobi. As one would guess, we spent one day at a hospital emergency room and another in a nice, cool hotel called The Crowne Plaza. The following day, Gimp put Lidia on a plane back to the States. They both seemed content with her leaving, but Lidia cried and the little girl looked as if she would be lost without Gimp.

      That evening, very late or very early, I received a call from an old friend of mine called Alfredo Alvarez. I pretended to be hazy with regard to our previous association. Fredo said, “Cut the shit Daiwee. Okay, I apologize. Are you guys’ lonesome? Have you got tired of just Gimp and Lidia yet?”

      I briefed him on Lidia and he got sort of quiet after a terse statement that he was happy for them, and so on. I called him on it and he was quiet for a few seconds, then cleared his throat.

      “You know that you and I are never going to have that joy again don’t you Daiwee? I mean, shit … we could have kids, but we probably wouldn’t see them grow up and have their own kids and stuff. Do you regret not having kids? I have one, but didn’t get to see him in school and playing ball and seeing his girlfriend and stuff. Hell, he might even have kids by now and I don’t even know.”

      “Damn, I didn’t know you had a son Fredo. How old is he? Don’t you ever get to see him or hear from him?”

      “Naw, I officially gave up my rights to him and I only saw him a couple of times before he was eighteen. He should be thirty three now. He let me know the last time I saw him that he loved his step dad, and his mother let me know in no uncertain terms I was not part of his life. That’s okay though. I should have been there all along. Anyway, do you ever regret not having kids?”

      “Yes … yes I do. I saw so much shit in Nam that I became scared of having a family, you know. I saw orphans up the wazoo everywhere I went; I don’t know … it gave me pause. Plus, I never found a woman who I could trust; a couple I fell in love with, but found I couldn’t trust ‘em later. I was gone too much with my first love; the Army.”

      I heard Fredo clear his throat again. I also noticed he dispensed with the Chicano talk as well. Finally he said, “Well, all I called for is to see if you needed me yet.”

      “Hell yes we need you. I’m getting tired of pushing Gimp’s wheels.”

      “Oh, bullshit Daiwee; where are you guys anyway? Are you still around South Africa?”

      “No, we’re in the Crowne Plaza hotel in Nairobi, Kenya. It’s nice. If you’re on the way, I’ll get us a suite. Have either of our other cronies called you?”

      “No, I’m gonna call em though. Samantha called me about three nights ago.”

      “What; Sam called … for what?”

      “She’s lonesome for you Daiwee. She just called to see if I heard from you or Gimp. I can call her if you want and tell her where you are.”

      “Thanks Fredo; no … she needs to call me if she wants any more information. Thanks for the offer though. After Lidia, I’m not sure I want her over here anyway. Most of this city is a shithole.”

      “Okay, sounds like a place for me … to be. How are the chicks Daiwee?”

      “Some are beautiful Fredo, but they have better tans than yours. You might feel out of place.”

      “Bullshit, you know what they say; turn ‘em on their heads, and … .”

      I interrupted, “When are you leaving? I suggest Lufthansa. They might fly you directly from Germany to Nairobi. They treated us great, by the way.”

      “I’ll be leaving tomorrow if I can Daiwee; first class. Take care and tell our boy Gimp hello for me.”

      I had to admit; the guy had class when he chose to, and technical expertise that I didn’t comprehend. Obviously the machismo was a front. We all knew it, Fredo knew we did, but somehow it was just a part of Fredo we all accepted and actually supported, probably for morale’s sake. It would be nice to see him and his bullshit again.

      11

      The next morning, I informed Gimp that Fredo was on his way. We decided separately, but then agreed to jointly check out our new hires to see what light they could shed on the intensity of poaching in the national parks. What we learned was depressing and somewhat surreal:

      Apparently, the demand for criminal ivory had prompted poachers on horseback, helicopters, boats, and on foot to deplete the elephant population in Africa by about fifty percent over ten years. About sixty percent of elephant kills in Eastern Africa were illegal. The most staggering and maddening statistic were, as many as 25,000 elephants were killed in one bloody year. In 1979 the population was over 2 million; some estimates put survivors at 450,000 in all of Africa during our time. Ostensibly, poachers in Tanzania were even using poison so rifle shots wouldn’t give them away.

      Rhino poaching was probably worse. Some estimates put white, black and some other rhinos on the “extinct in the wild” list within 10 years. Black Rhinos had been all but decimated and most were in private reserves where they could begin a protected comeback. The rhino horns were removed by poachers, usually with a chain saw after the animal was shot and frequently before it was dead. Some rangers were resorting to removing the rhino horns under sedation, to reduce their value to poachers and keep them alive. In photos, the live rhinos seemed so depressed and looked so unfamiliar after their horns were removed.

      Michaele Okeke’s friend’s given name was N’tolo. Michaele and N’tolo told us all those things and more over a few warm beers one night in a dark shanty suburb of Nairobi. I remember the smell of burning exotic woods, the pretty waitress’s white teeth and shiny СКАЧАТЬ