Nganakati

I needed to run an experiment and started the original with a strange beginning. Thank you to those who commented on it and especially those who sent mails questioning the 'bathroom humour' at the start. It is gone and Nganakati is now as it should be.

NOTE: Wasubi does not exist but this is based on happenings at an actual lodge and the events are not quite as farfetched as it may seem....

To give colour and feel to this I used some words from two African languages namely Swazi (siSwati) and Tsonga (Xitsonga) both spoken freely in the area in and around the Kruger National Park. There are other languages but I think two were enough. A list of words are as follows:

Mnumzaan (S)/ Nkulumba (T) = about the same as Mister or Sir

Nganakati (T) = Princess

Hosana (T) = Chief or high commander. There is some theory that it may originate from the Biblical "Hosanna".

Tatana (T) = Father

Muthi or Muti (S) = medicine

Potjie = a meaty stew cooked outside in a cast iron pot over an open fire.

Braai = BBQ but with some unique differences.

Boma = an enclosure made with wood poles and shuttered with straw and clay in which animals used to be kept safe from predators. It evolved into an outside area where friends sit at night, usually for a braai. It may or may not have an area covered with a thatch roof.

Panga = machete.

Veld = A universal word used for the African bush or savannah. Pronounced as 'felt'.

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The African bush.... As unique and diverse as the continent itself, the animals and especially the humans that inhabit it.

'Safari' is a Swahili word and means 'Travel'. Finding yourself at a Safari Lodge can only mean you are travelling in Africa and as such find yourself facing very much the same challenges as playing Russian Roulette. It may be fraught with, let's just call it, surprises. Unbeknown to those who languish in the sun around a pool to the sound of a fish eagle calling somewhere in the distance or maybe even a lion grunting and roaring, there may be very turbulent undercurrents playing out around them. Thankfully most undercurrents do not impact those who visit these lodges, but sometimes, just by accident or brutal coincidence, they do....

There is a misconception about Newton and his laws of gravity with the story going around that it was because he saw an apple falling. It is incorrect, of course. In his words he stated that he was in thought and was happened upon by an apple falling. This did not lead to the laws directly but it seems that it may have started a process of thought.

I was happened upon by an ablution block at a Safari Lodge here in Africa shortly before leaving school. A sewer had blocked, forcing raw sewerage down the paths and over lawns amongst tents, caravans and chalets. My future as a plumber was cemented in my brain right there and it worked out rather well for me. People are prepared to pay good money for working ablutions and also to save them the chore of dealing with their leftovers.

The Lodge in question used to be a very smart private lodge nestling against the world renowned Kruger National Park in South Africa. As a family we often went there and I have many pleasant memories of the place. The post-Apartheid government had to have their nose in it and eventually the owners simply gave up and left, leaving it to the inept to milk and mismanage it into the ground.

This is where I came in. As part owner of a smallish business that specialised in the installation and maintenance of infrastructure for the tourism industry, I saw the request of tender for the repair and expansion of, amongst others, the Lodge's dilapidated plumbing, sewerage and electrical systems. I visited the place for a day along with my senior guys, had a good look around, appalled at the deterioration and we worked out a decent tender, submitted it and promptly forgot about it. Our chances of being awarded the contract was unthinkable. We were a white owned and managed company with no politician in our pockets and the tender was not accompanied by an agreement to share the profits with some 'connected' person. Neither was the envelope stuffed with wads of money.

Our surprise at receiving an e-mail inviting us to the Lodge for a meeting with some stake holders was so great we laughed for almost an hour but on the designated day we were there. The meeting was scheduled for ten in the morning. Just before lunch a cavalcade of very expensive black cars arrived with blue lights flashing and sirens blaring from the Police escort. This, of course, on a twin track in the bush that, due to the surface, prohibits speed in excess of an ambling walk. The occupants got out and left for the restaurant not be seen again until almost sundown.

Those of us who came from nearby left to return the next day while others made the best of a bad situation and spent the night at the Lodge on the Government's dime, or more precisely, the Taxpayer's.

The next morning, once the hangovers had abated somewhat, the meeting started. For an hour we listened to a politician waffling on about a subject he had less knowledge of than a newborn and then we received some strange forms to fill in while the cavalcade left for another appointment promising more groaning tables and brimming glasses. What floored me was the fact that we were told exactly what the budget was. It took me a while to get over the shock. With that kind of money almost the entire Kruger National Park could be upgraded to average four star accommodations throughout. Here we were sitting in a hall on a lodge about one percent the size of the park with a repair budget rivalling that of the Defence Force. Well not really but you get my drift....

We handed in our completed documents and left, never thinking we would be asked to come and do the job. I noticed quite a number of 'connected' faces in the hall. I had dealt with some of them before and from experience I knew that there were more corruption scams running than there were people present. The buzz word being 'Tenderpreneurs'. (Those who do not know what this means are welcome to e-mail me)

A little more than four months later I was working on a medium sized Lodge's plumbing when I got an e-mail informing me that the tender for Wasubi Lodge had been awarded to us and that the date for commencement was in just over two months with a completion date two months hence.

It took the inept almost eleven years to mismanage the Lodge into the ground and now they wanted the place ready to receive royalty in sixty days. I shook my head but answered the mail, confirming that we would be there. I never said we would be starting the job....

I may be a fool but I am an OLD fool. Been there, saw that.

My agreement stated very clearly that work will only start once fifty percent of the contract value was paid into a trust fund, managed by some big names in the investment world. I had seen too many good guys lose everything because payment from the new government was either hopelessly late or never happened. I dislike being a bad statistic. A few days before the commencement date I took my truck, loaded what I may need to start the job and set off to the Lodge. My teams would arrive within hours once I get confirmation of payment and from there things will move fast.

Arriving at the Lodge I found that some entrepreneurial individual had had the bright idea of stripping most of the Lodge of all existing copper plumbing and electrical wiring to be sold as scrap metal. Almost nothing worked.....

I was disgusted and nearly left but shrugged and decided to pitch a tent and camp rather than stay in a chalet where the remnants of the infrastructure was hanging from the roof and walls. Walking around I discovered one ablution block still working after a fashion. A single light hung from the roof and there was water although it was cold. Being high summer in Africa meant that hot water was simply a luxury.

Rummaging around on my truck I came up with enough left-over bits and pieces of plumbing as well as some electrical cabling. As the sun set I had two hand basins, a shower and two toilets working again. An old fluorescent light fitting came in handy to cast some workable light around the ablution and I stood back to admire the result of my abilities. It was almost habitable again....

I don't do glamping but neither do I appreciate having to live like the homeless so I came prepared. Once the ablution was operational I found a camping spot nearby and got that up and running while a hard-wood fire burnt merrily, casting a flickering warm glow around my campsite. My tent was up, bed made and a table with comfortable canvas chair stood waiting for me to open some of the crates I had hauled with me.

Around me, spread around the campsite in haphazard fashion, other fires were burning and from the sound of it, some people were having as pleasant a time as was possible under the current circumstances. From my camping fridge I pulled an ice cold beer and had just sat back to slake a thirst that was making my throat feel like someone had hauled a hedgehog up it wrong way round, when a pleasant voice called out; "Hello the fire?"

Canvas camping chairs can be wonderfully comfortable and mine has been with me for years now. It fitted like an old pair of jeans. Where I had a lump, it had a hollow and vice versa. Getting out of it was an acquired ability bordering on an art form though. Getting it wrong was a bad idea....

A female voice was the last thing I expected to hear at the camp in its current state of disrepair so I was suitably surprised and maybe even a trifle alarmed so I left the chair a touch quick. Rule 1. If you have something in your hand, put it down first. Rule 2. Get your balance right. Rule 3. Watch where your feet are. There were a number of other rules I missed applying but those first three were enough to make all others pale to insignificance.

With beer in hand I jettisoned myself from the chair and took.... No, correct that. I started to take a step but the foot that needed to move forward was gently tucked behind a strap that I, the talented 'fixer all', had put between the front legs of a chair I loved like a dog to brace a slightly rickety frame.

There is a message sent to Brain from our ears to tell it that balance has been lost. Let's face it. Every time the human being takes a step, it is teetering on the edge of catastrophe and not much is needed to set a whole calamity in action or motion, depending. Most of this I blame on Brain for sending a panic message to our legs to prevent a simple unflattering sit-down and change it into a sequence of events that sometimes defy description.

With beer in hand I got just over halfway upright, leaning forward to balance my posterior still somewhere behind my centre of gravity and tried to take the step needed to leave the chair. My foot didn't move. Instead of simply falling back into the chair and at the worst, spill some beer and a little ego, I tried to salvage the abortive jettisoning from my chair by, yes you guessed it, trying to get my other foot to move forward. Of course it didn't because it had my weight on it and all I achieved was to move my body past the point of salvageable equilibrium and I started falling, still heeding Brain by pulling harder at the foot stuck behind the strap. The chair, at a fraction of my weight, left the ground and like an angry octopus it wrapped itself around my lower legs, binding them together pretty well and I fell over like a pole.

Of course my hands flew out to break the fall but one had a beer in it. The beer squirted from the little hole at the top of the can as it got squashed under my weight and I felt some of it hit me in the face and on the side of my head a single moment before my face slammed into the ground, raising a cloud of dust that instantly mixed with the beer, creating a muddy goo.

I lay still long enough to make sure I couldn't do more damage and then carefully rolled over looking back the way I had come, trying to disentangle my legs from a chair I hoped was still useable. Faint dust was floating in the air and through it I saw a woman holding her face in her hands staring at me in shock. I did the only thing that came to mind. I breathed a startled "Hi," and lifted my hand in greeting only to pour the remains of the beer onto me once more.

I saw the shocked surprise leave her face. She squinted and moved her hand over her mouth but it was to no avail. I have to give it to her. She tried to smother it but like a sneeze and desperate lunge at a toilet, the harder you hold back, the worse it becomes. To the end of my days I will remember the image of vaporised spittle catching the light from the fire as it blew from between her fingers when she guffawed and then she bent over to lean forward with her hands on her knees, screaming with laughter.

These things pay. It took only a few seconds for her to lean over too far and as she stepped forward to regain her balance her legs gave way. She ended up on her knees and then simply fell forward with her face in her hands, still screaming.

Laughing in sympathy I got my legs out of the chair and carefully got up, beating dust from my clothes and listening to the woman doing her best to stop laughing. Just as she heaved a sigh I intentionally snorted and the poor thing lost it all over again.

I think she was exhausted but at last she gathered herself and sat up straight, staring into the dark. She snickered once and then turned to face me. "I'm sorry."

"For laughing?"

"No, for scaring you."

I could only chuckle. "Fact is Ma'am, you didn't scare me. I refuse to greet anybody while seated but I fumbled that one a little."

"Only a little?" she laughed. "What can you do for an encore?"

"I'll work on it," I chuckled and turned to look at the fire. "By the way, you. She spoke to you. She said hello."

She giggled and turned to the fire as well. "Good evening Fire. I'm Cathy."

I coughed apologetically as the fire simply crackled. "I try my best but my fires lack basic manners. I'm Kevin."

"Kevin Fall?" she giggled and I laughed.

"You guessed it?"

"What?"

"My surname."

"Fall?"

"Well, I guess it is spelt differently than what you may have in your head, but yes. Kevin Andrew F...a...u...l...l at your service Cathy."

Again I had to wait for her to stop laughing and when she did I crooked my head at her. "What brought you to my fire?"

She seemed thoughtful and then looked up at me. "I saw you working on the ablution this afternoon. Thank you for what you did but may I beg one of two things?"

"Fire away."

"You fixed the men's side. On my side it is a total mess. There isn't even water in the toilets."

"Use my side."

She nodded with a slight smile. "One problem though. The doors...."

I looked over at my truck. I guess I had whatever was needed but I also needed to eat. I was ready to swallow a scalded crocodile face first but I guess she needed what was needed. I took a deep breath.

"Do you need a toilet right now?"

"No."

"Okay. We both have a problem. You need a lockable door and I need to eat. Can you do the food thing while I do the door thing?"

She almost jumped in her eager. "Done!"

I pointed to the truck. "There are two camping fridges and a trunk filled with groceries. On the roll-over bar is a work light with a switch. If you can rustle up a few sandwiches to toast on the fire, something that resembles a salad and pick some meat to braai, I will fix the doors so that your safety and modesty may stay intact."

"Done!" she called over her shoulder, already on her way to the truck. I followed and got her a flashlight from the cab.

"If you need anything that you cannot find here, don't ask. It simply isn't here then," I said with a chuckle and lifted a toolbox from the back.

It took some proper McGyverering to make the main door close properly and fit a hasp and staple on the inside but I got that done. The door to the only toilet stall still with a door hanging on was a much bigger challenge and I needed to get some metal sheeting to close up and strengthen the shattered part where hinges and a lock had once been.

On my way back to the truck I nearly tripped up again. Cathy was busy at the fire and the smell floating past me said that something mouth-watering was happening there. That was not really what got my attention. She had turned my rustic man-camp into a home. The table was set beautifully and suspended above it she had tied a length of white rag onto a few twigs of the tree against which the flashlight threw it's harsh light, softening it and causing a warm glow to illuminate the area. I stood there and just looked at it all, enjoying it just a little too much. Aching memories also floated by....

My field truck is anything but a vehicle to take a girl on a date. I care for it and it is washed regularly but the load bin is filled with a small hardware shop cum scrap dump in itself. Some bits and pieces have been with me from before this truck was even made but still they can be found somewhere at the back. I know where just about anything is and my personnel know that repacking or cleaning the load bin is tantamount to grabbing a full grown lion by the balls. If all the gods smile on you, you may escape with your life. And even then, only maybe.

I liked looking at Cathy being busy in a camp that had suddenly become homely. I grabbed at a box on the truck, moved it to the side and with a grunt pulled out a sheet of aluminium chequer plate. Laying it down on the tail gate I measured out the bits I needed and then set about cutting it.

I heard her approach and looked up. The small headlight I wore briefly illuminated her face before I swung away to prevent me from blinding her. Damn! Now that she wasn't laughing her stupid head off I noticed that she could be quite pretty. Even with dusty tear trails over her cheeks from laughing at me. Those large eyes....

"Dinner will be ready in ten minutes Kevin. Should I call you?"

I shook my head and the beam played over my hands, sooty dirty and bleeding from a stupid mistake with a screw. "No need. I will go wash up and be back. I can finish this after dinner or even tomorrow."

I leaned over, got some grime removing soap from a canister and walked away, whistling to myself as I listened to her boots crunching on the fine gravel of the pathway. When I got back I noticed a beer on the table and my thirst suddenly returned. As I reached for it my hand was grabbed and pulled away.

"Lemme see that cut."

I rolled my eyes but allowed her to gently remove the patches of toilet paper I had used as stoppers for the bleeding. She had apparently fetched her own first aid kit and soon I was sporting clean wounds, small as they were, covered by plaster.

"Thanks Ma'am. Now, may I have some of that beer? I really am thirsty."

She giggled. "Think you can sit down in your chair without a repeat of earlier?"

I chuckled and gingerly sat down in my chair to the sound of a beer can opening. As I took it from her an image of me falling over backward ran though my head and she started as I packed up laughing.

"Funny?"

"What if my chair broke now?"

"Once I stop laughing?" she giggled and I nodded with a grin. "We'll eat on the ground."

Simple as that....

I emptied that beer in record time and leaned back watching her work, wondering if a second beer would be as good when she spoke over her shoulder, as if reading my mind. "I have a wonderful white wine for dinner. Do you want another beer?"

It was tempting but I waved it away. "A tall glass of water may be a better idea. What can I do to help?"