Free Scarred Lions by Fanie Viljoen Page B

last night’s game.
    And eventually we had to say goodbye.
    I sat there with a stupid grin on my face, thankful to have heard Mum’s voice again. Glad that she was coping.
    Umfana fell asleep with his head on my lap. I let my fingers run through his coatand watched his ears twitch every now and again.
    The thunder had stopped but it was still raining, the mellow scent of soaked plants and sodden earth rushing into the chalet. Inhaling it deeply, I leaned back on the couch. For the first time in quite a while I felt happy.
    I must have dozed off, but was woken an hour later by the sound of a Land Rover’s engine.
    Themba!
    I was on my feet in a flash. Umfana was still in the house. ‘Come boy!’ I whispered. ‘Come!’ He wasn’t too keen on going back out into the rain. I opened the kitchen door and pushed him out. Just in time.
    The front door opened. I heard Themba stamping his feet at the door, probably to get some of the mud off his shoes.
    ‘Hi, Themba.’
    I saw him taking off his shoes and socks before he entered. His clothes were soaked like mine had been earlier. Perhaps even worse. His legs and chest were splattered with mud.
    ‘We got caught in the rain,’ he said, taking off his shirt. He wiped the rain off his forehead. ‘Have you had dinner?’
    I shook my head. Now that he mentioned it, I did feel hungry.
    ‘Why not?’ he asked.
    ‘I fell asleep on the couch.’
    ‘You should eat when I’m not here. There’s food in the cupboard and the fridge. I can’t hang around preparing breakfast, dinner and lunch for you, Buyisiwe. I’ve got to work. And I don’t want you carrying stories to Mama Unahti about me not taking care of you.’
    ‘I never said that.’
    ‘That’s what she told me. I don’t have time to babysit you, Buyi. You understand?’
    I nodded.
    ‘What is this mess?’ he asked, pointing to the heap of wet clothes and the towel.
    ‘I was also caught in the rain.’
    ‘Clean it up!’
    I scrambled to pick it up. He watched me all the while.
    ‘What should I do with it?’
    ‘Wash it.’
    What? Luckily I didn’t say it. His eyes rested sternly on me. I’d never done my own washing. Mum always took care of it. There was a heap of dirty clothes in my room as well. For the past few days I’d watched the heap grow, wondering who would do it.
    ‘There’s a washing machine under the counter in the kitchen. After you’ve finished, hang the clothes inside the chalet. They’ll be dry in the morning. Tomorrow you can do the rest of your washing as well. The rain will probably clear up tonight. You can hang those clothes outside. There is a washing line.’
    ‘How does the machine work?’
    ‘Figure it out.’
    I stood frozen to the spot. Figure it out?
    ‘What are you waiting for Buyi?’
    ‘Nothing.’
    ‘Then get a move on.’
    He disappeared into his room. I stuffed my wet clothes into the washer and as I frowned down at the dials at the front, I heard Themba’s voice again. Right beside me.
    ‘You haven’t been going out into the camps, have you?’
    I gulped. ‘No, sir … no.’
    Did he know I was lying? His face was emotionless. ‘We saw that lion again today. The one with the scar. He was in the Namhlanje camp.’
    ‘Oh,’ was all I managed to get out as my heart started racing.
    ‘He got away from us again.’
    ‘But at least you know which camp he is in.’
    ‘For now. They can move up to 20 km per day. He might be somewhere else tomorrow.’
    ‘But the fences would stop him, wouldn’t they?’
    ‘They didn’t stop him before. Lwazi was attacked in the Izolo camp. The fenceslinking the camps aren’t up to scratch anymore, thanks to the elephants. For now we just make sure the fences round the main camp are kept in good condition. To keep the visitors safe.’ Themba fell silent before he added, ‘Apparently this lion was seen at a small settlement a distance away.’
    ‘How do you know it was him?’
    ‘He had the same scar above his left eye.’