Free Scarred Lions by Fanie Viljoen Page A

much exercise in years. And now it wastaking its toll. I had a pain in my side. My mouth was dry, my legs weak.
    André ran up ahead, opening the gate for us.
    As we crashed through it, relief washed over us. I heard the gate slam shut. We were safe.
    Just then we heard the drone of an engine. Rangers!
    ‘Hurry, or we’ll get into trouble!’ cried André. We scrambled off to a clump of trees beside the road, dropped down to the ground and waited … breathlessly.

CHAPTER 17
    The Land Rover drove past. Inside were Themba and Lwazi.
    Lwazi had a rifle with him. The Land Rover stopped at the Namhlanje gate. Lwazi got out to open it. He stopped for a moment, looking around as if he had heard something.
    No, please! I begged silently.
    Time seemed to stretch on endlessly.
    ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Themba.
    Lwazi shrugged and lifted the latch off the gate. Themba made his way through. We watched in stunned silence as Lwazi closed the gate again.
    That was really close.

    A thunderstorm broke out that afternoon. Flashes of lightning shattering the darkened sky.
    I stood at the front door, gazing at the spectacle, but shrinking back every time a bolt of lightning came thundering down, echoing against the Waterberg.
    Suddenly I heard a fear-filled yelping.
    ‘Umfana!’ The word was almost like a cry. ‘I’m coming!’
    The rain came pouring down now. Huge drops knocking holes in the dry sand. I guess I should have taken an umbrella, but it was too late to turn back now. I was already soaked.
    Umfana strained at his chain. His tail wagging anxiously.
    ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. But it didn’t calm him down. The yelps were louder now. His body twisting and turning, making it difficult for me to undo the catch on his collar.
    Another crash of lightning.
    It was quite close.
    ‘Got it!’ I sighed as the clip opened. ‘Come, boy!’
    We were both soaked to the bone as we stepped into the chalet. But at least we were out of the storm. I fetched a towel from the bathroom, and undressed, leaving my wet clothes in a heap on the floor. I dried myself before slipping on another pair of jeans.
    Umfana had already started shaking his coat dry in the kitchen. ‘No!’ I cried. ‘Do you want the old man to freak out?’ I used my towel to dry him properly. He still smelledlike a wet dog. My towel too. I dropped it on the heap of wet clothes in my room.
    The rain came down hard now, splodging the windows. Umfana kept on whining every time the thunder boomed.
    ‘Would you like me to put on some music?’ I asked. ‘It will drown out the thunder. Do you like British bands? Or do you prefer American? Sorry, I don’t have any African music.’
    Umfana tilted his head, listening intently. As if he understood every word I said. I loved it!
    ‘British it is then!’
    Soon the sounds of Razorlight filled the chalet. I almost didn’t hear the telephone ringing. Turning down the volume on the hi-fi, I answered the phone.
    ‘Hey, Buyi!’
    ‘Mum!’
    ‘Are you doing well?’
    ‘You know me.’
    ‘Making friends?’
    I told her about André and Simoshile. Leaving out the bit about the marriage tree.
    ‘And how is Africa?’
    ‘Way different from London. And guess what, it’s raining here!’
    ‘Oh bother! Can’t get away from the rain, can you?’
    ‘At least it doesn’t rain for days on end here. Most days are sunny and extremely hot.’
    ‘Are you and your dad coping?’
    ‘Yeah,’ I lied, ‘we get along fine. Don’t worry.’
    ‘You should help out around the house. Don’t sit around watching TV all day, you hear me?’
    ‘TV? He doesn’t even have one!’
    ‘No television? That must be doing you a load of good. And the fresh air too.’
    ‘No scarcity of that in the bush!’
    We talked and laughed for quite a while. I kept quiet about my encounter with the hippos and the lion. It would just upset Mum. She complained about work, the neighbours who’d had a huge fight, soccer hooligans taking to the streets after