Free Storms Over Africa by Beverley Harper

‘buggered’ it meant it could be fixed. If it was ‘fucked’ then it was beyond repair.
    â€˜No, master. She is very fucked.’ To Samson, the pump was obviously dead.
    Richard tried to stare his head boy down. Samson gazed innocently back.
    â€˜How did the pump get fucked, old one?’
    Samson beamed at him. ‘The master forgot to put oil in it. When I came and saw the dam was empty I started the pump as I am supposed to do. I did not know the master had forgotten to put oil into the motor.’ The blame was clearly Richard’s.
    He took the news calmly. Things mechanical and the majority of rural Africans were not a good combination. As the white
baas
it was his function to repair the calamitous results when the two got together. He said, ‘Wait for me in the truck,’ and went back to his breakfast.
    He did not see David and presumed he was still asleep. It took him until midafternoon torepair the seized engine. It would have been quicker and easier to simply remove the motor and replace it with a spare, since he carried spares for all his equipment. He could then work on the problem in his well-equipped workshop. But Richard liked being out of doors. Working in the field reinforced his sense of being a landowner. He never forgot the claustrophobic atmosphere of his father’s hotels and so, any opportunity he had to work shoulder to shoulder with his men, in any kind of weather, was happily grabbed.
    When he returned to the house he asked Wellington where David was. ‘They have taken the Land Rover, master.’
    â€˜They?’
    â€˜Master David and Thomas.’
    â€˜Where did they go?’
    â€˜I do not know, master.’
    â€˜Did they say when they’ll be getting back?’
    â€˜No, master.’
    He had to leave it at that. He was not worried about his son. David knew the land like the back of his hand and was well used to driving the old, short-wheel based Land Rover. But when the boys had not returned by nightfall, he began to think of all the things that might have gone wrong. The Land Rover’s engine was reliable but old. Something could have broken, leaving them stranded God knows where. They might be bogged. Orworse. There were stray roving bands of men, relics from the war, armed and dangerous and making a living by robbing and raiding in isolated areas. These groups were to be found all over Zimbabwe. The boys might have met up with such a group.
    Richard was just about to press the panic button when he saw the lights of the Land Rover making slow progress across the valley floor. He relaxed. Then he got angry. David knew the rules. To be out after dark, unless he had said he would be, meant everyone would be worried, search parties organised, a lot of time and effort spent. It took twenty minutes for the Land Rover to travel from the valley up to the plateau. By the time the boys arrived at the house, Richard had worked himself into what Kathy used to refer to as a number three rage. A number three was middle of the range.
    David took the edge off his anger by walking into the house with his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. ‘I know, I know, Dad. I’m sorry. I miscalculated the time it would take us to get back. I thought I’d have more daylight.’
    This was fair enough. In Scotland, summer or winter, night falls like a soft, drawn-out whisper. In Africa, however, it falls like a ton of bricks. But Richard, although he understood this, had some anger to get out of his system. ‘Where the hell did you go?’
    â€˜Into the game reserve.’ David sounded evasive.
    â€˜You had me worried sick.’
    â€˜I’m sorry, Dad, I didn’t mean to worry you.’
    â€˜You are aware there are bandits out there?’
    David sighed. ‘Yes, Dad.’ His father always referred to bandits whenever he did not want David to do something or go somewhere he considered unsafe. The fact that neither