9

Derek spent the next week at school. With the bush as his classroom and the unlikely trio of his brother, a British former professor and a Shangaan tracker as his tutors, he was taught many of the fundamental lessons of bush craft – from how to source food and dig for water to navigating by the stars. He was introduced to the ingenious art of the ‘bush shower’ which involved filling an old wooden bucket with river water, hoisting it over a tall branch and then removing its cork stopper. He then had roughly a minute or so to get himself clean. The warm and soft river water made it a pleasure and it quickly became something Derek looked forward to at the end of each sweltering day. A cleansing ritual after hours spent in the fevered sun.

His time was divided largely between studying the bush and learning about the elephants. They were everything his father had promised they would be, everything and more. In only a few days he had already discovered extraordinary things about them. They were graceful, intelligent and remarkably kind animals. Andrew explained that he had often witnessed Greys coming to the aid of other animals either trapped in mud or cornered in a hunt, mostly by lions. It helped, of course, that lions were really the only living things that elephants seemed to truly dislike. It was a fierce abhorrence, a deep-borne, almost ancestral loathing between the two monarchs of the bush. Yet, while capable of immense violence, the African elephant was largely peaceful by nature. When reunited with distant relatives, they were known to celebrate and rejoice, often trumpeting wildly and rubbing each other’s backs with their trunks. Derek had already seen them play together in the Shingwedzi River, actually swimming between the banks. Both Maquaasi and Andrew were adamant that many elephants loved to dance and would often do so, even when alone, swinging their back legs and stepping from side to side to the tune of a song to which only they were privy. It was fair to say, however, that they were often fairly drunk at the time, having dined on vast quantities of fermented fruit. Maquaasi further insisted that they could hear ‘between lands’ and would communicate to one another in a silent language over vast distances, often summoning each other to gatherings. They could also be more than a little mischievous when they wanted to and Derek had already witnessed one of the young adult males spraying water over his sleeping sister and then actually scampering back to the river. He discovered that herds were predominantly made up of females and young males, but were always led by a matriarch. Fully mature bull elephants were not permitted to remain in the herd and, for the most part, wandered alone through the bush. Partly, it was believed, to safeguard against potential inbreeding and to protect the purity of their bloodline, but also, the Professor felt, because male elephants were simply born to roam. And roam they did, often on an astonishing scale. They could embark on gruelling journeys that would cover hundreds of miles in only a few weeks, following a number of ancient elephant trails, both seen and unseen. The more Derek discovered about the great tuskers, the more moved he was by them.

As the week drew to a close and the volunteers returned to their lives, Derek could hardly wait to spend a few days alone with one of the herds. There was so much more he wanted to learn about them. But any thoughts of the elephants had to be accompanied by the black shadows that pursued them. Just as vultures ghosted behind the great predators, so poachers tracked the elephants. In some quarters they were perceived to be great adventurers; courageous and charismatic rogues who often placed themselves in harm’s way for the ‘thrill of the hunt’. People swarmed around them in bars, listening for hours to their seductive stories, most of which were largely fiction, containing only faint smatterings of truth. Women were frequently taken in by their charms only to be chewed on and spat out the following morning. By nature, poachers were also often thieves, smugglers, con artists and murderers, driven by greed and personal gain. While Derek was desperate to escape his memories of the war, something about poachers stoked some of the dying embers within him. He quietly began to relish the prospect of a chance encounter with one of them, an opportunity to test the true depth of their courage. It made him understand that, as much as he tried to deny certain aspects of his character, he would always retain some capacity for darkness. Under the right conditions, subjected to the right pressures, he knew he was capable of killing again. It was now a part of him, and always would be. It flowed, dormant, like a sleeping poison in his blood.

Derek tossed a log onto the fire and propped himself up on his elbow. The Professor and Maquaasi had already turned in for the evening, but neither Derek nor Edward were in the mood for sleeping. As licks of orange and blue stuck out their tongues at the night sky, Edward topped up his brandy and leaned back against a large rock. Around them the bush sang and danced, hunted and slept, giving life and taking it under the glow of a swollen moon.

‘There’s something we need to talk about,’ Derek said, stoking the flames with a stick.

‘What is it?’

‘Well, we still haven’t spoken about … that day.’

Edward had been expecting the conversation for a while now. ‘Look, why don’t we rather leave it in the past? Right where it belongs.’

‘In a minute. But first there’s something I need to say to you.’

‘I don’t want to hear it, Derek. Let’s rather–’

‘Stop talking. Let me say what I need to say,’ Derek insisted, throwing the burnt stick at his brother. ‘I just want you to know how sorry I am for what happened.’

‘Enough, Derek–’

‘Listen to me, damn it! I nearly got you killed.’

Edward, reacting to his brother’s tone, leaned forward and placed his drink down in the sand. ‘Well, your apology is not accepted.’

‘What?’

‘You heard me,’ Edward shrugged. ‘It’s simple, really. You didn’t do anything wrong. So there’s nothing to apologise for.’

‘Like hell there’s not. Stop being an asshole.’

‘If you’re going to apologise for an enemy’s bayonet, then I must ask your forgiveness for the war … the black death … famine … floods … dogs that bark all night … should I go on?’

Derek shook his head and stared up at the stars.

‘I tell you what,’ Edward continued. ‘Let’s drink to something right here and now.’

Derek kept his gaze on the sky. ‘What?’

‘Let’s resolve never to speak about the war again. Let’s consign it to where it belongs, buried in the snow ten thousand miles from here.’

Resigned, Derek took a breath and slowly nodded. ‘All right. It’s a deal.’

‘Wonderful!’ Edward cheered, and reached for his glass. He quickly drained his drink and then wiped his mouth with his arm. ‘Now let’s discuss something far more important. How’re you feeling about spending some time alone with the herd?’

‘I thought those bloody volunteers would never leave,’ he began. ‘I honestly can’t wait to get out there. What time do you want to leave tomorrow?’

‘Just before first light. We should be able to track down your elephants within an hour or so. They haven’t moved much lately. They’re sticking to the same area. At least for now.’

Derek shifted away from the fire and stretched out on the sand. The stars, like faraway grey suns, bathed him in a silver glow. ‘Do you really believe we can keep them alive?’

‘I do.’

‘But there are so few of us.’

‘And so few of them.’

‘But what happens a year from now? Five years from now? Aren’t we just plugging the holes?’

Edward understood the question, but knew that there was no miraculous answer. ‘The government has plans to start a breeding programme.’

‘When?’

‘As soon as our young males reach adulthood and leave their herds.’

‘But even if that happens, they’ll just become fresh targets.’

‘We’re trying to get the authorities more involved, to offer the elephants some meaningful protection, but it’s a long process, I’m afraid. Unfortunately, it’s also our only real hope. Andrew’s money will not last forever. It could take years to get right.’

Derek closed his eyes, still coming to terms with the extent of the poaching. ‘How did it get so out of hand? I mean … how?’

‘I don’t know, but we just have to keep doing what we’re doing and hope the government makes a strong stand at some point. That’s all we can do.’

Derek watched as a star slipped from its pin in the sky and bled out over the horizon. After a while, he sighed and folded his arms behind his head. ‘Hey, Ed, do you think you’ll ever leave this place?’

‘Sure,’ he nodded, staring into the fire. ‘On my back and in a box.’