The Burning Shore (46 page)

Bright red ants had come up from their deep nests to take advantage of it. The worker-ants scurried from plant to plant, sucking up the droplets so that their abdomens swelled and became translucent, on the point of bursting before they disappeared back into the burrows. At the entrance to each burrow a cluster of other ants were assembled, the wedding party to see off the breeding queens and their consorts as they lifted into the foggy air on paper-white wings, fluttering off, most of them to die in the desert, but a very few of them to survive and found new colonies.

The sand lizards had come down from the dunes to feast an the flights of ants, and there were small rodents, gingery-red in colour, that hopped down the valley floor on overdeveloped hindlegs like miniature kangaroos.

Look, H’ani, what is this? Centaine had discovered a strange insect the size of a locust which was standing on its head in an exposed position. The dew condensed in silver droplets on its shiny iridescent armour plating, then trickled slowly down the grooves in the carapace and were channelled into the creature’s hooked beak.

Good eat, H’ani told her and popped the insect into her mouth, crunched it up and swallowed it down with relish.

Centaine laughed at her, You dear, funny old thing. Then she looked around at the small secret life of the desert. What an enchanted land Africa is! At last I can understand a little of what Michel tried to explain to me. With an African abruptness that no longer surprised Centaine, the mood changed. The curtains of fog peeled away, the sun struck through and within minutes the gem-like droplets of dew had vanished from the stoneplants. The ants disappeared into their burrows, sealing the entrances behind them, and the sand lizards scurried back into the slippery dunes, leaving the dismembered paper wings of the flying ants they had devoured to blow idly on the small offshore wind.

At first the lizards, still chilled by the fog, basked on the sunny front of the dunes, but within minutes the heat was oppressive and they ran across the ridges of the slipface to shelter on the shady side, Later, when the noon sun dispelled all the shadows, they would dive below the surface and swim down through it to the cooler sands beneath.

H’ani and Centaine shouldered their carrying bags and, bowed under the weight of the egg-bottles, went down to the beach. O’wa was already at the camp and he had a dozen fat lizards impaled on a stick of driftwood, and a goodly bag of the gingery desert rats laid out on the flat stone beside the fire.

Oh, husband, what an intrepid provider you are. H’ani laid down her carrying bag the better to praise the old man’s efforts. Surely there has never been a hunter of all the San to match your skills! O’wa preened quite unashamedly at the old woman’s blatant flattery, and H’ani averted her face for a moment and her eyes flashed a message to Centaine in the secret language of womankind.

They are little boys, her smile said clearly. From eight to eighty, they remain children. And Centaine laughed again and clapped her hands and joined in H’ani’s little pantomime of approbation.

O’wa good! O’wa clever! And the old man bobbed his head and looked solemn and important.

The moon was only four or five days from full, so that after they had eaten, it was bright enough to throw purple dark shadows below the dunes. They were all still too excited by the fog visitation to sleep, and Centaine was trying to follow and even join in the chatter of the two old San.

Centaine had by now learned the four click sounds of the San language, as well as that glottal choke which sounded as though the speaker was being strangulated.

However, she was still struggling to understand the tonal variations. The different tones were almost undetectable to the Western ear, and it was only in the last few days that Centaine had even become aware of their existence.

She had puzzled over the way H’ani seemed to repeat the same word and showed exasperation when Centaine had obviously not been able to detect any difference in the pronunciations. Then, quite suddenly, as though wax plugs had been removed from her ears, Centaine had heard five distinct inflexions, high, middle, low, rising and falling, that changed not only the sense of a word but the relationship of the word to the rest of the sentence.

It was difficult and challenging and she was sitting close to H’ani so she could watch her lips, when suddenly she let out a surprised gasp and clutched her stomach with both hands.

It moved! Centaine’s voice was filled with wonder. He moved, the baby moved! H’ani understood immediately and she reached out swiftly and lifted Centaine’s brief tattered skirt and clasped her stomach. Deep in her body there was another spasm of life, Ai! Ai! shrilled H’ani. Feel him! Feel him kick like a zebra stallion! Fat little tears of joy squeezed out of her slanted Chinese eyes and as they ran down the deep corrugated wrinkles on her cheeks, they sparkled in the light of the fire and the moon. So strong, so brave and strong!

Feel him, old grandfather. O’wa could not refuse such an invitation, and Centaine, kneeling in the firelight with her skirts lifted high over her naked lower body, felt no embarrassment at the old man’s touch.

This, announced O’wa solemnly, is a most propitious thing. It is fitting that I should dance to celebrate it. And Uwa stood up and danced in the moonlight for Centaine’s unborn infant.

The moon dipped into the dark, slumbrous sea, but already the sky over the land was turning to the colour of ripe orange at the approach of day and Centaine lay for only a few seconds after she awoke. She was surprised that the two old people still lay beside the dead ash of last night’s fire, but she left the camp hurriedly, knowing that that day’s trek would begin before sunrise.

At a discreet distance from the camp she squatted to relieve herself, then stripped off her rags and ran into the sea, gasping at the cold invigorating water as she scrubbed her body with handfuls of sand. She pulled her clothing over her wet body and ran back to the camp. The old people were still wrapped in their leather cloaks and lying so still that Centaine felt a moment of panic, but then H’ani coughed throatily and stirred.

They are still alive, anyway, Centaine smiled and assembled her few possessions, feeling virtuous for usually H’ani had to chivvy her, but now the old woman stirred again and mumbled sleepily.

Centaine understood only the words Wait, rest, sleep. Then H’ani subsided and pulled her cloak over her head again.

Centaine was puzzled. She fed a few sticks to the fire and blew up a flame, then sat to wait.

Venus, the morning star, lay on the backs of the dunes, but paled and faded at the approach of the sun, and still the two San slept on, and Centaine began to feel irritated by the inactivity. She was so strong and healthy already that she had actually been looking forward to the day’s journey.

Only when the sun cleared the tops of the dunes did H’ani sit up and yawn and belch and scratch herselfGo? Centaine used the rising tone that changed the word into a question.

No, no, H’ani made the negative waving sign. Wait night, moon, go there. And she pointed with a quick stabbing thumb at the dunes.

Go land? Centaine asked, not sure that she understood.

Go land, H’ani agreed, and Centaine felt a quick thrill.

They were going to leave the seashore at last.

Go now? Centaine demanded impatiently.

Twice during the last few days when they had stopped to make camp, Centaine had climbed to the top of the nearest dune and stared inland. Once she had imagined the distant outline of blue mountains against the evening sky, and she had felt her spirit summoned away from this monotonous seascape towards that mysterious interior.

Go now? she repeated eagerly, and O’wa laughed derisively as he came to squat at the fire.

The monkey is eager to meet the leopard, he said, but listen to it squeal when it does! H’ani clucked at him in disapproval and then turned to Centaine. Today we will rest. Tonight we will begin the hardest part of our journey. Tonight, Nan Child, do you understand that? Tonight, with the moon to light us.

Tonight, while the sun sleeps, for no man nor woman can walk hand in hand with the sun through the land of the singing sands. Tonight. Rest now. Tonight, Centaine repeated.

Rest now. But she left the camp and once again climbed up through the sliding slippery sands to the top of the first line of dunes.

On the beach four hundred feet below her, the two tiny figures sitting at the campfire were insignificant specks.

Then she turned to look inland and she saw that the dune on which she stood was a mere foothill to the great mountains of sand that rose before her.

The colours of the dunes shaded from pale daffodil yellow, through gold and orange, to purplish-brown and dark song de boeuf, but beyond them she imagined she saw ghost mountains with rocky crenellated peaks. Even as she stared, however, the horizon turned milky-blue and began to waver and dissolve, and she felt the heat come out of the desert, a whiff of it only, but she recoiled from its scalding breath, and before her eyes the land was veiled by the glassy shimmering veils of heat mirage.

She turned and went down to the camp again. Neither O’wa nor H’ani was ever completely idle. Now the old man was shaping arrowheads of white bone, while his wife was putting together another necklace, fashioning the beads from pieces of broken ostrich shell, chipping them into coins between two small stones and then drilling a hole through each with a bone sliver and finally stringing the finished beads on a length of gut.

Watching her work Centaine was reminded vividly of Anna. She stood up quickly and left the camp again, and H’ani looked up from the string of beads.

Nam Child is unhappy, she said.

There is water in the egg-bottles and food in her belly, o’wa. grunted as he sharpened his arrowhead. She has no reason to be unhappy. She pines for her own clan, H’ani whispered, and the old man did not reply. Both of them understood vividly and were silent as they remembered those they had left in shallow graves in the wilderness.

I am strong enough now, Centaine spoke aloud, and I have learned how to keep alive. I don’t have to follow them any more. I could turn back to the south again alone. She stood uncertainly, imagining what it would be like, and it was that single word that decided her.

Alone, she repeated. If only Anna were still alive, if only there was somewhere out there for me to go to, then I might attempt it. And she slumped down on the beach and hugged her knees despondently. There is no way back. I just have to go on. Living each day like an animal, living like a savage, living with savages. And she looked down at the rags which barely covered her body. I just have to go on, and I don’t even know where, and her despair threatened to overwhelm her completely. She had to fight it off as though it were a living adversary. I won’t give in, she muttered, I just won’t give in, and when this is over I will never want again. I’ll never thirst and starve nor wear rags and stinking skins again. She looked down at her hands. The nails were ragged and black with dirt and broken off down to the quick. She made a fist to cover them. Never again. My son and I will never want again, I swear it. it was late afternoon when she wandered back into the primitive camp site under the dunes. H’ani looked up at her and grinned like a wizened little ape, and Centaine felt a sudden rush of affection for her.

Dear H’ani, she whispered. You’re all I have got left. And the old woman scrambled to her feet and came towards her, carrying the finished necklace of ostrich shell in both hands.

She stood on tiptoe and placed the necklace carefully over Centaine’s head and arranged it fussily down her bosom, cooing with self-satisfaction at her handiwork.

It’s beautiful, H’ani, Centaine’s voice husked. Thank you, thank you so very much, and suddenly she burst into tears. And I called you a savage. Oh, forgive me.

With Anna you are the sweetest, dearest person I’ve ever known. She knelt so that their faces were level and she hugged the old woman with a desperate strength, pressing her temple against H’ani’s withered wrinkled cheek.

Why is she weeping? O’wa demanded from beside the fire.

Because she is happy. That, O’wa opined, is a most stupid reason. I think this female is a little moon-touched. He stood up, and still shaking his head, began the final preparations for the night’s journey.

The little old people were unusually solemn, Centaine noticed, as they adjusted their cloaks and carrying satchels, and H’ani came to her and checked the sling of her bag, then knelt to adjust the canvas booties bound around Centaine’s feet.

What is it? Their serious mien made Centaine uneasy.

H’ani understood the question, but did not try to explain. Instead she called Centaine and the two of them fell in behind O’wa.

O’wa raised his voice. Spirit of Moon, make a light for us in this night to show us the path. He used the cracked falsetto tone which all the spirits particularly enjoyed, and he performed a few shuffling dance steps in the sand. Spirit of Great Sun, sleep well, and when you rise tomorrow be not angry, that your anger burn us up in the singing sands. Then when we have passed safely through and have reached the sip-wells, we will dance for you and sing our thanks. He finished the short dance with a leap and a stamp of his small childlike feet. That was enough for now, a small down payment, with the balance promised when the spirits had honoured their part of the contract.

Come, old grandmother, he said. Make sure that Nam Child stays close and does not fall behind. You know that we cannot turn back to search for her if she does. And in that quick, swaying jog, he started up the slope of the beach into the mouth of the valley, just as the moon broke clear of the darkening horizon and started its journey across the starry heavens.

It was strange to travel in the night, for the desert seemed to take on new and mysterious dimensions, the dunes seemed taller and closer, decked in silver moonlight and dark purple shadows, and the valleys between them were canyons of silence, while above it all the vast panoply of the stars and the milky way and the moon were closer and brighter than Centaine had ever believed possible. She had the illusion that by simply reaching up she could pluck them down like ripe fruit from the bough.