Authors: Constance Bright
"Wow. Wildebeests spread across the savannah as far as the eye can see. We're gonna get some of those, aren't we? There sure seem to be enough of them that the herd can stand to lose a few. Can you get a good steak off them? I had bison once. Yummy."
"Actually, they do make good eating, yes. That's one of the main reasons I hunt them myself."
Karen stared out the window at the unending blanket of bovines, "Yay, wildebeest steak! Oh, damn, we should have picked up some A1 sauce in Cape Town--Ooh, giraffes!--We're not gonna kill any of those are we?" Karen looked at Julian pleadingly. "I had a story book about a baby giraffe when I was a girl. I couldn't bear to shoot one of them." Then her look hardened. "Have you ever shot a giraffe, Julian?"
Julian had killed more giraffes than he could count. They were tasty as well and their pelts brought in good money. "No. Me? No, never. I think they are most graceful animals. I could never bring myself to shoot a giraffe. I mostly shoot ugly animals like the wildebeest down there."
Karen looked out the window, "Ya, they are kinda nasty looking, those wildebeests."
The pilot told Julian that they were about to land. Julian sighed in relief.
Upon landing on the vast plain, Julian and the pilot brought down the gear. Julian checked his radio, held up three fingers to the pilot and the pair watched the Beechcraft taxi and take off.
"That means three days?" Karen ventured.
Julian looked at her. "Yes. Bush signals. It's a sort of shorthand we use."
"I'm learning already. So, are we going to cache most of the stuff here and hike with just the necessities to the camp?"
"This is where we camp, Karen. I told you, we're doing this in style."
"Oh," she mumbled, looking a bit disappointed.
"Don't worry." Julian consoled her. "This is just our base. We'll be doing plenty of walking when we track. First, we have to set up camp though."
"Don't you love camping, Julian? Daddy used to take me when I was a girl. I have a surprise for you after dinner. Oh! Are we going to hunt for our dinner?"
"I'm afraid it's beans and jerky tonight. We can't camp too close to where the animals are and setting up camp will take most of the day. Tell you what, though. We'll go after a wildebeest first thing tomorrow and we'll grill some for lunch."
Karen jumped up and down and clapped her hands.
Julian did most of the heavy work, including putting up Karen's room sized tent. Karen insisted, though, on setting up Julian's pup tent. He let her and figured he'd have to redo it, but when she went off to take a pee, he twanged the lines, taut from poles to stakes. "Not bad for a New York girl."
Karen had carried the latrine blinds with her. He saw her young figure rise from the tall grass after a minute, buttoning up her shorts. She called to Julian, "How deep should the hole be? The ground is tough."
"Two feet is good. I can dig if the ground is too stony."
"No prob. I can do it." She bent down and began to work the shovel. After a few minutes he saw the canvas sheets going up and soon she was trotting back to camp.
"Good job," Julian commended. "It looks sturdy from here. All 90 degree angles."
"Told you I learn quick. What's next?"
"We're about done. I'll get a fire going. It gets cold at night--quickly. You might want to unpack your jacket.'
Karen walked over to her tent, saying over her shoulder, "Daddy taught me how to build a campfire too."
Julian picked up the shovel Karen had used and dug a wide, shallow pit. Then he went over to the pile of brushwood he had cleared from where he set up Karen's tent and soon had a cheery blaze going.
Karen had decided to unpack some of her things and she rolled up her surprise for Julian in one of her shirts. It was a package of Graham crackers, a bag of marshmallows and several bars of Hershey's chocolate. "I bet you haven't had a s'more before, you boor." she said to herself, smiling as she exited her tent. Julian was standing beside the campfire, facing her, staring down the barrel of his hunting rifle.
"Don't move." He said in a steely voice.
Karen froze. Julian pulled the trigger and a flock of birds getting ready to roost for the night took flight from the copse of trees to the north of the camp as the shot echoed over the dusky savannah.
******
"I did it." Julian said out loud, almost unbelieving.
"Besides making me wet my pants, what exactly did you do?" Karen said, irritated now after the initial shock had passed.
"I made your wish come true. I just shot us our supper." Julian had lowered the rifle and his eyes were fixed at some point behind her and only slightly to the left of her tent.
Karen walked around as Julian came up to her, "A small springbok, female most likely. There must be a watering hole about a hundred yards that way. If the water's clear you'll be able to bathe too. Not a bad spot Nyemi picked for us, hey?"
"I can't see it." Karen squinted.
"It's fallen in the grass. C'mon, let's go get our dinner!" Julian jogged towards where the fallen animal lay and Karen followed excitedly.
Karen overtook him in her eagerness and when she came to the edge of the watering hole, there indeed was one there, she stepped around a group of bushes at its edge and stood over the kill. "It's so cute." She said wistfully.
"It tastes like venison. Only ten times better. Oh, and I have something better than your A1 sauce in my pack for this." Julian remarked.
"Ten times better than venison with special African sauce, huh?" Karen said thoughtfully. "Law of the wild, I guess." Looking at Julian she said, "Thanks. I really did want to feel we were more in the wild. I don't know how to clean animals though. Daddy never took me hunting."
Julian smiled. "I'll take care of it. I was right, a female so no trophy antlers but the water looks clean. You can bathe if you want while I get dinner ready. It'll be dark--and cold--soon."
"Is it safe to bathe here?" Karen asked.
"I can stand guard for crocodiles if you want," Julian teased.
"Boor," Karen said, as she ran to her tent for the biodegradable soap and shampoo she bought just in case.
Julian slung the springbok over his shoulders and made for the campfire. By the time Karen had come back from her bath he had two nice roasts on spits over the blaze. He was basting them with his special sauce. Karen walked up, tied up in a bathrobe and rubbing her hair with a towel.
"What makes that stuff better than A1?" Karen sounded genuinely interested.
"Ah," Julian said, hovering over the meal he was preparing, "This is a naturally jellied mix of mint and African herbs and roots."
"Funny, no one thinks of African spices," Karen mused.
"No, you're right. That's why this is one of the best kept secrets of the Dark Continent. I get this from a friend of mine who lives out near the Zulu reserve. He gathers the wild mint and other ingredients fresh and pounds them in a mortar made from a human skull." Julian stared into the fire.
"You're shitting me. I bet you I could find that at any grocery store in Cape Town." Karen countered.
No, I'm serious. He is a respected Shaman. He says the skull gives the sauce some of the power of its owner. You tell me if you don't feel like you can take on the world after you've had some of it." Julian said seriously.
"I don't believe in all that Voodoo and magic stuff." Karen said, drying her hair.
Julian tended to his meat. "You live out here long enough, Karen, and you'll see all kinds of magic with your own eyes you never even knew existed. And soon, you will believe."
They both watched the meat sizzle with the sauce in silence before Karen went off to get dressed and Julian unpacked the mess kits. He set up a Petromax for brighter light on a pole beside the fire. It was full dark now.
When Karen came out of her tent, a small folding table and two chairs were set up beside the fire. Julian had laid out the joints on metal plates. The basted springbok legs shone in the light of the campfire and the overhead Petromax.
"Smells yummy," she smiled. "If nothing else, your Shaman friend knows his spices."
"He is skilled with herbs," Julian said pulling out her chair. But poisoning you is out of the question, he thought bitterly. Van Meer said accident, and when Van Meer speaks, the waters go calm to listen, to heed--and then they do as commanded.
"Thank you," Karen said
Julian said nothing and took his seat, laying his hunting rifle across his lap. Karen looked at him.
"We can't be too careful," Julian answered her unasked question.
"Oh, I know. But, I mean, across your lap while we eat? Can't you lay it on the ground or something?"
"I could, but at night split seconds count. I'll drop to the number two spot as guide if something happens to you on my watch," he smiled wryly, wanting to throw up.
"Oh, so my safety is a matter of ego to you," Karen teased.
"Try the meat." Julian replied.
Karen looked at him then took up her knife and fork. She cut a slice, popped it in her mouth and chewed. "Oh. My. God." She managed to say after swallowing. "It
is
better than venison. And that sauce
is
amazing."
Julian started on his own joint. "No beans and jerky for us. We're dining African style--al fresco at that."
Karen laughed and they had a pleasant dinner. Julian almost forgot what he was here to do. They talked about hunting in Africa and Julian instructed her on keeping downwind and being quiet as a mouse when they'd go after the wildebeest the next day. Karen still thought he ate his meat like a boor, but otherwise, he could be very charming.
After they'd finished their bush roasts, Karen got up and motioned for Julian to come over to the fire. There was a big patch of embers to one side. "Perfect," she said. She made him roast some marshmallows until they were brown and crispy on the outside. Then she assembled the s'mores. "
This
," she said triumphantly, "is what we eat when we go camping in the US. Shove it into your mouth. It's best hot."
Julian was a stranger to the searing temperature of roast marshmallows and followed Karen's instructions.
"Oh, fuck!" he cried out through a sticky, burning mouthful of crackers and melted chocolate and marshmallows.
Karen threw her head back and laughed. "Sorry. It's just a little initiation thing we do to first time s'morers." Karen handed him the canteen of water.
Poking at the marshmallows still burning the roof of his mouth with a finger, Julian said, "The burning aside I can see why you like these Smore things. They actually are very tasty. There's something about the overwhelming creaminess and sweetness. It's almost narcotic."
"Want another one?" Karen asked, chewing on hers carefully.
"Yes, please, Miss Stevens. I like this Afro-American fusion bush diet."
"Yeah," Karen agreed, crouching over the embers and skewering more marshmallows. "Couldn't you just eat like this forever?"
"For as long as I can," Julian answered cryptically, feeling the pang of guilt again.
******
After dinner and the s'mores, Karen asked Julian more about hunting and what they would do the next day. Julian had never actually taught anyone how to hunt. He wasn't a real guide, but he pretended as best he could. He taught Karen the basics from what he knew himself, trying to sound as if he'd done it a million times, and played his part. Then Karen started to talk about other things and she moved closer to Julian, saying that it really was cold after the sun went down.