Ben and Zoe hurried across the flagstoned courtyard of the Amani Lodge. The hotel was deep in the Samburu National Park and boasted every luxury. A fountain sparkled in the bright afternoon sun and guests lounged around the swimming pool under thatched umbrellas, sipping drinks. Parrots squawked in the surrounding trees and, every now and then, black-faced monkeys darted across the floor in search of something to eat, until they were chased away by the waiters.
“It makes a change staying somewhere this posh,” said Zoe, gazing around. “Look at all the rich tourists chilling out.”
“We’ve got more important things to do,” said Ben. “Get a move on. The leaflet said the village tour leaves in three minutes.”
Zoe quickened her pace. “I wonder how Erika’s getting on following up her lead.”
They’d only just checked in at the lodge when a message had come from Wild headquarters that illegal bush meat was being sold in a town half a day’s drive away. Erika had gone speeding off in a hired jeep to see if it was linked to the slaughter of the elephants.
“How could Erika be following up her lead?” said Ben in a mock questioning tone. “Our tutor’s ill in bed, remember?”
“Of course!” Zoe grinned.
They had concocted this story just in case anyone asked where their guardian was.
They climbed some steps to a lawned garden. Here and there, gazelles grazed on the short cropped grass as if they were out on the plain.
“This is such a beautiful place!” Zoe went on. “It’s hard to imagine that horrible things are happening to the elephants not so far away. I hope we can get some useful information from the Samburu. Where did the leaflet say the trip to the village started from?”
“Here at the north garden,” said Ben. “But I can’t see anyone.”
A teenage boy in a green Amani Lodge uniform was weeding a flower bed.
“Excuse me,” called Ben. The boy looked up and grinned. He wore a staff name badge with “Runo” on it. “Does the tour of the village leave from here?”
“Yes,” said the boy. “It went two hours ago – at one o’clock.”
“What?” gasped Zoe.
Ben checked his watch and looked sheepish. “Oops! I forgot to change to Kenyan time.”
“But we need to get to the village as soon as possible,” said Zoe, worried. The boy looked at her. “I mean, we were looking forward to going today.”
Runo put down his trowel. “Can you ride a camel?” he asked, his eyes dancing with mischief.
“No,” said Zoe.
“Yes!” insisted Ben.
Zoe glared at her brother. “We’ve never ridden camels in our lives,” she hissed.
Ben shrugged. “We’re good horse riders. It can’t be that different.”
“I can get you camels now,” said Runo.
“Make trip to the village very fast.”
“Great!” said Ben, getting out his wallet. “How much?”
“Nothing,” said the boy. “But you will take package of kitchen leftovers to my grandfather for his goats. He lives there. His name is Wambua. You follow me.”
“I thought you said this would be easy,” said Zoe, gripping tightly to the front of her camel’s saddle as her mount lurched from side to side. “It’s nothing like horse riding at all.”
“Just hold the reins and keep it steady,” called Ben from his high perch. “Runo said the camels are very well trained. They often take tourists on rides to the village.”
“I’m sure we weren’t meant to take them out without a handler,” said Zoe. “When we got to the camel compound, Runo was very secretive.”
“It nearly wasn’t a secret after you let out that shriek!” said Ben.
“I thought I was going to fall off when it got up rear end first,” protested Zoe.
“It’s fine when you get used to it,” said Ben smugly. “And there’s a great view from this height.”
They gazed out over the amazing panorama of the Kenyan plain. The flat landscape was broken up by clumps of bushes and the occasional acacia, its branches stretching like a fan towards the deep blue sky.
“There are animals wherever we look!” exclaimed Zoe, shading her eyes. “Zebra, deer, and that’s a massive herd of wildebeest on the horizon.”
“And giraffes feeding at those trees!” added Ben.
“Ahh! Look at those sweet little piglets!” cried Zoe, as a family of warthogs snuffled past, noses to the ground.
Ben raised his eyebrows. “Gooey overload, Zoe!” he complained.
They followed a well-trodden path through the yellow grass, towards some far distant dome-shaped huts surrounded by a thick fence.
“I told you this would be easy,” called Ben. “I’m going to try and go faster.” He squeezed the camel’s flanks with his legs. Nothing happened. He squeezed a bit harder. With that the camel gave a deepthroated snort and bucked him off.
Ben hit the ground in a cloud of dust.
“It’s not funny!” he grunted, rubbing his bottom as Zoe burst out laughing.
His camel blinked its long lashes and then began to plod towards the village. “After you,” said Ben, as he followed on foot at a safe distance.
Finally, they reached the entrance to the village – not much more than a narrow gap in the thorny fence. Zoe persuaded her camel to kneel and then dismounted.
“That’s a barrier to keep the elephants out,” said Ben. “I read about it on the plane. Even though the Samburu care a lot about them they don’t want them trampling their homes.”
Zoe tied both camels securely to the fence, and tucked Wambua’s package under her arm. They walked between the round huts with walls of upright branches and woven sticks that they could see were filled with dried mud. Stretched skins and grass mats formed the domed roofs. Women were squatting at pots over cooking fires and a group of men were tending their goats. They all wore cloths wrapped round them like skirts and strings of shiny beads hung round their heads, necks, wrists and from their ears. They looked up when they saw Ben and Zoe approaching, then lowered their heads to their tasks. No-one greeted them, although some of the little children stared wide-eyed.
“These people don’t look very friendly,” Zoe whispered to Ben.
“Perhaps they’re shy,” he replied. “Let’s put in our translators.” He rummaged in his rucksack and peeled off the small earpiece from the side of his BUG. “Then if they talk amongst themselves, we’ll understand what they’re saying.”
They slipped the earpieces in.
Ben and Zoe wandered around, trying in vain to approach any villager who passed, but they scuttled away, heads bowed.
“Nobody wants to talk to us,” whispered Zoe. “And what’s really strange is they’re not even talking to each other.”
She gave a sudden gasp. “Something bad happened here,” she said, pointing beyond the goat pen. The blackened ruins of a hut stood stark against the blue sky.
“That looks like a recent fire,” said Ben.
“Here’s another burnt hut – and another,” said Zoe, as they walked through the village. “How strange. It can’t have been one fire – the huts in between are untouched.”
A woman walked by, clutching a baby.
“Excuse me,” said Zoe, holding up the parcel. “Wambua?”
The woman didn’t look at her, but hastily pointed towards a goat pen nearby.
An old man was splashing water into a trough and the goats were nudging him eagerly. He spotted the package under Zoe’s arm as the children approached him.
“From Runo,” said Zoe with a smile.
“Thank you,” said the old man. His face was painted with blue zigzags and his earlobes were pulled down by heavy bead earrings. “You are staying at the lodge?”
“We’re on holiday,” said Zoe, glad to find someone ready to talk. “We’re with our tutor and she’s sent us to find out all about elephants.”
“They’re such magnificent animals,” added Ben. “Can you tell us more about them?”
The old man’s face softened. “They are wonderful beasts,” he said. “We are blessed with a herd that lives on the plain. It is led by a matriarch called Nyeupe – that means white in your language. She is much paler than the other elephants. She is nearly fifty years old now and a grandmother many times over.”
He gestured for them to sit by a small fire. Nearby, a woman grinding corn in a wooden bowl gave them a nervous glance.
“Is it a big herd?” asked Zoe.
“Four grown females and two younger… you would call them teenagers?” said Wambua. “And somewhere out there are two bull elephants. They do not live with the herd.”
“Could you take us to see them?” said Ben.
For a moment Wambua’s eyes lit up. “It is a wonderful trek. We walk for a day and make a camp by the Tulivu waterhole at nightfall, ready to see the elephants when they come to drink at first light. That is while the lake still has enough water, as it does now.”
The woman suddenly called out to him in Samburu. Ben and Zoe heard her words translated through their earpieces.
“Be quiet, you foolish old man! Do you want to bring more trouble?”
Ben and Zoe forced themselves not to react. The woman had sounded very scared.
Wambua seemed to heed her warning, for he sighed heavily and shook his head.
“We don’t take visitors there anymore,” he said sadly. He gave an involuntary glance over to the burnt huts.
Ben patted his pockets. “We’ll pay well.”
“It is not possible,” said Wambua flatly.
Zoe decided to play the spoilt rich girl. “But I want to see a baby elephant,” she whined.
“There is only one left,” Wambua told her. “So it’s not worth it. Now I must tend my goats. Goodbye.”
He turned away.
Ben and Zoe got to their feet. “Thank you,” called Ben and they began to walk back through the village.
A little girl came plodding across their path, waving her arm in front of her like an elephant’s trunk.
“How sweet,” said Zoe.
A little boy jumped up and followed the girl, pretending to be an elephant as well. He had a rope tied round his leg and was limping badly. He cried out in his own language.
“Wait for me, Mum!” The translated words came through loud and clear. “My leg hurts.”
“Come on, baby,” said the girl. “We’re getting left behind.”
Suddenly, two older boys rose up from behind a box, holding sticks to their shoulders like rifles.
“Bang…bang!” they yelled and the two “elephants” fell to the ground.
Then they got up laughing.
“Now I’ll put a snare on you,” said the girl to one of the older boys. “And Pili and I are the hunters.”
She started to untie the rope from her friend’s leg. But at that moment one of the women came running over and the little girl froze, looking guilty.
“Stop that!” cried the woman. “I’ve told you before. No more talk of elephants! You don’t know who’s listening. Remember what happened last week.”
She gave Ben and Zoe a scared glance and ushered the children inside a nearby hut.
“They were acting out a hunt!” said Ben. “A hunt where young elephants were being snared to slow them down. They must have overheard their parents talking.”
“The baby and its mother are separated from the herd so they’re easy to pick off,” said Zoe. “How horrible. So hunters have snared poor Tomboi to get at his mum. The villagers seem too frightened to talk about it.”
“I wonder if the burnt huts are connected with this,” said Ben. “After all, something’s stopping the villagers from having anything to do with the elephants.”
“Then we’ve got to protect the herd for them,” declared Zoe.