Part 21 (2/2)
”Now, look upon this white man. You might think him young and un bearded but know you, that he is the grandson of Bawu and the great-grandson of Taka Taka.”
”Haul” gasped Shadrach's warriors, for those were names to conjure with. Bawu they had known in the flesh, Sir Ralph Ballantyne only as a legend: Taka Taka was the onomatopoeic name the Matabele had given Sir Ralph from the sound of the Maxim machine-gun which the old freebooter had wielded to such effect during the Matabele war and the rebellion.
They looked upon Craig with new eyes.
”Yes, Shadrach urged them, ”look at him. He is a warrior who carried terrible scars from the bush war. He killed hundreds of the cowardly, women-raping Mashona--2 Craig blinked at the poetic licence Shadrach had taken un to himself ”he even killed a few of the brave lionhearted Matabele ZIPRA fighters. So you know him now as a man not a boy.” Th he! They showed no rancour at Craig's purported bag of their brethren.
”Know also that he comes to turn you from goat-keeping women, sitting in the sun scratching your fleas, into proud cattle-men once more, for-” Shadrach paused for dramatic effect soon on this gra.s.s will graze cows so sleek and beautiful that to look upon them-” Craig noted that Shadrach could repeat his own words perfectly, displaying the remarkable memory of the illiterate. When he ended with a high stork-like leap in the air and a clatter of his fighting-sticks, they applauded him wildly, and then looked to Craig expectantly.
”One h.e.l.l of an act to follow, Craig told himself as he stood before them. He spoke quietly, in low, musical Sindebele.
”The cattle will be here soon, and there is much work to be done before they arrive. You know about the wage that the government has decreed for farm-workers. That I will pay, and food rations for each of you and your families.” This was received without any great show of enthusiasm.
”And in addition,” Craig paused, ”for each year of service completed, you will be given a fine young cow and the right to graze her upon the gra.s.s of Kingi Lingi, the right also to put her to my great b.u.m so that she might bear you beautiful calves-” Th he!” they shouted, and stamped with joy, and at last Craig held up both hands.
”There might be some amongst you who will be tempted to lift that which belongs to me, or who will find a shady tree under which to spend the day instead of stringing fencing-wire or herding the cattle.” He glared at them, so they quailed a little. ”Now this wise government forbids a man to kick another with his foot but, be warned, I can kick you without using ”my own foot.” He stooped and in one deft movement plucked off his leg, and stood before them with it in his hand. They gaped in amazement.
”See, this is not my own food” Their expressions began to turn sickly, as through they were in the presence of terrible witchcraft. Ikey began to shuffle nervously and look around for escape.
”So,” Craig shouted, ”without breaking the law, I can kick who I wish.” Making two swift hops, he used the momentum to swing the toe of the boot of his disembodied leg into the backside of the nearest warrior.
For a moment longer the stunned silence persisted, and then they were overwhelmed by their own sense of the ridiculous. They laughed until d -Leir cheeks were streaked with tears. They staggered in circles beating their own heads, they hugged each other, heaving and gasping with laughter. They surrounded the unfortunate whose backside had been the b.u.t.t of Craig's joke, and abused him further, prodding him and shrieking with laughter. Shadrach, all princely dignity discarded, collapsed in the dust and wriggled helplessly as wave after wave of mirth overcame him.
Craig watched them fondly. Already they were his people, his special charges. Certainly, there would be rotters amongst them. He would have to weed them out.
Certainly, even the good ones would at times deliberately test his vigilance and his forbearance as was the African way, but in time also they would become a close-knit family and he knew that he would come to love them.
he fences were the first priority. They had fallen into a state of total disrepair: there were miles of barbed-wire missing, almost certainly stolen.
When Craig tried to replace it, he realized why. There was none for sale in Matabeleland. No import permits had been issued that quarter for barbed-wire.
”Welcome to the special joy of farming in black Zimbabwe,” the manager of the Farmers” Co-operative Society in Bulawayo told him. ”Somebody w.a.n.gled an import permit for a million dollars” worth of candy and milk chocolate, but there was none for barbed-wire.”
”For G.o.d's sake.” Craig was desperate. ”I've got to have fencing. I can't run stock without it. When will you receive a consignment?”
”That rests with some little clerk in the Department of Commerce in Harare,” the manager shrugged, and Craig turned sadly back to the Land-Rover, when suddenly an idea came to him.
”May I use your telephone? ”he asked the manager.
He dialled the private number that Peter Fungabera had given him, and after he had identified himself, a secretary put him straight through.
”Peter, we've got a big problem.”
”How can I help you?” Craig told him, and Peter murmured to himself as he made notes. ”How much do you need?”
”At least twelve hundred bales.”
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