Chapter 21

 

Mhlongo watched with satisfaction as the idiot conservationist kid jumped nearly out of his white lily skin. He was sitting at one of the designated picnic areas in a deserted part of the park, watching two elephants in a shrunken watering hole. It was pure pleasure to watch his discomfort.

“I’m in a designated area, Ranger man. I have a right to be here,” Christopher whined in his American accent.

“Who said you didn’t?” Mhlongo put a cigarette in the corner of his mouth and lit it. They passed a few minutes in an uncomfortable silence that Mhlongo found satisfying. Finally he said, “Look, I do not know what you are trying to prove, but you need to have better marksmanship.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The chubby American didn’t look up, but turned his attention to his hands.

“You need to go somewhere and get your gun sighted, so you’re sure you’re shooting true to the sights. You need to lay prone on the ground, since you are a beginner, and take your time.”

“What are you saying? I’m part of the Schopenhauers. We don’t shoot at animals. And anyway, why would you help someone who kills animals? I could turn you in.”

“I don’t like to see animals suffer. With your ineptness you’re going to hurt one, and I’ll have to track it to put it out of its misery.”

“I’m not a poacher, if that’s what you’re saying.” Christopher dared to look up at Mhlongo in defiance, blue eyes flashing under a shock of dark hair hanging low on his forehead. Mhlongo squinted through his cigarette smoke.

“How long did you have to wait in that tree until the buffalo left you alone? Did it get dark?” Mhlongo enjoyed seeing Christopher turn red, and then even more pale than he was normally.

“I was just game viewing.”

“Outside a vehicle with a weapon.”

Christopher suddenly stood and said, “The park is doing nothing about poaching or helping preserve the habitats of certain animals. Someone has got to start paying attention. The park needs to take action.”

Despite the way the young man towered over him, Mhlongo felt the power he held over the American—the power of information.

“Like those giraffe captures that we allow? Where they ship them to other countries?”

“Exactly. The trauma to the animals isn’t justified.” Mhlongo was tempted to tell him about animal reproduction rates and food availability, but that wasn’t the point of this conversation.

“Maybe you should harass them instead of making my job difficult. Maybe if you do,” Mhlongo blew out his last puff of smoke, threw the butt to the ground and mashed it more than was necessary, “maybe I won’t turn you in. Then the shippers will complain to the park and get you another voice.”

Christopher shuffled his loafers in the loose dust beneath the park bench. “It’s an idea,” he said hesitantly. Mhlongo smiled at the back of Christopher’s head and thought how useful this boy could be. “Giraffes die more…quickly if you shoot through the heart.” He turned and walked away.