The Star of Simbako Read online

  ***

  They pulled into the compound at about two o'clock in the afternoon, almost running over some chickens who were enjoying a dust bath in a dry puddle. The main house shimmered in the heat. No-one ventured out into the sun, except for a small child who was dispatched to ask Tamba for permission to visit the Chief. He was snoozing in his hammock when they arrived and nothing would persuade him to arouse Chief Sesay from his slumbers.

  ‘What’ll we do now?’ said Sam, ‘we need to go back to the house and wait an hour or two.’

  ‘Do you fancy a quick field trip?’ said Fergus.

  Sam couldn’t believe her ears. She almost jumped with joy.

  ‘Okay. I’m game. Where to?’

  ‘There are old diamond fields a few kilometres away, if you are interested.’

  ‘That would be great. Let’s go now.’

  Fergus grinned at her enthusiasm.

  The diggings at Mano were nearby, but the state of the roads verged on atrocious due to the heavy rains. Sahr had a tough time keeping the jeep on the road. It juddered and slid the ten kilometres north, stopping finally on the top of a small knoll overlooking a vast plain covered in piles of gravel with water-filled pits stretching to the horizon. Hundreds of muddy workers toiled in the heat. Rusty machinery littered the roads that led to an abandoned washing plant, its girders skeletal against the blue sky. Sam stood in silence, staring at the ant-like activity below.

  ‘That’s why we’re here,’ said Fergus.

  ‘I don’t understand what all those people are doing. Hasn’t this ground already been mined?’ Sam said.

  ‘Many times. But the methods used in the past were rudimentary. These alluvials had bonanza grades. The companies wanted to obtain the maximum price they could per carat and the maximum number of stones over half a carat. Plant design meant that the largest and smallest diamonds got ejected in the waste and put on the spoil heaps.’

  ‘So, there could still be large diamonds in the material?’

  ‘Bound to be. But some heaps have been processed many times and others not at all. Can you tell the difference?’

  ‘I’d need a set of sieves to look at the size fractions.’

  ‘These people have nothing, but willpower and hope.’

  They stood for a while, watching the miners struggling to excavate gravel from the pits. Sam took photographs using her telephoto lens, trying to capture the essence of the place.

  ‘Seen enough?’ said Fergus.

  She nodded. ‘I’d like to come back another time and investigate which materials they are processing. Do you think they’d let me watch them work?’

  ‘I don’t see why not. They mine without a licence, so they aren’t entitled to privacy. If we approach without fuss, they shouldn’t object.’

  They got back into the car and left for Fona.

  ‘I'd like to see the terrace we are working on from the other side of the river. Do you think we could drop in there before we visit the Chief? I only need five minutes.’

  ‘Sure. Let’s have a look.’

  ‘The thing is, I’m not sure we’re allowed there,’ said Sam.

  ‘No bother. We won't take anything, will we?’

  ‘No, just look across the river.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s fine. Come on.’

  Sahr had memorised every road in the district and taking what seemed to Sam to be a tortuous route, he stopped at the edge of a meadow bordering the river. He pointed out the opposite bank.

  ‘That’s where you are working, Sam.’

  Sam and Fergus walked down to the riverbank along a small path which cut through the terrace. Sam looked across the river at the terrace where they excavated the pits. From where they were standing, it appeared to be a well-formed terrace with defined strata of different sized pebbles in their sandy matrix. The directions of ancient currents were preserved in the imbrications of their smooth forms, worn down by millennia spent in the river. The layers disappeared in the downriver portion of the terrace where the strata dipped down and thickened into the bank.

  A lightbulb illuminated in Sam’s head. They had explored the wrong part of the terrace. There was no point blaming Tamba. He had affected ignorance of mining for diamonds and, by going along with his suggestions, she had created the beginnings of a fragile trust between them. If they kept working, they would test the best part of the terrace in a few weeks anyway.

  She turned her back on the terrace and examined the material in the riverbank. It was similar or identical to that of the terrace on which they worked – bands of imbricated pebbles divided by layers of red sand. She bent down to examine the pebbles on the beach. Some had concentric patterns. She collected a few of the most unusual ones to take home.

  ‘What you got there, Sam?’ said Fergus.

  ‘Just pretty pebbles. Chalcedony. Look.’ She spat on one and held it out to him.

  ‘Yuck! I’m not taking that.’

  ‘Oh, go on, don’t be such a fusspot!’

  He took the pebble from her and gazed at it in genuine wonder. ‘Wow! These are brilliant! My mam would like one of these. She collects stuff like this.’ He reached out to grab one from the bank.

  In a flash, something shot out from a hole in the bank, grazing his hand which he whipped away. The viper slithered onto on the sand, casting a resentful backward glance at them. Fergus wiped his hand.

  ‘Jaysus, that was close,’ he said.

  ‘Did it get you?’ said Sam.

  ‘Only a scratch.’

  ‘Thanks to your reactions. Did you play cricket?’

  ‘I did. Fast bowler. Have you seen what you wanted to?’

  Sam gazed across to the other bank with its lumpy surface and a thick wedge of strata. She took photographs for comparison.

  ‘Yes, thank you. This was useful. Sorry about your hand.’

  ‘It’s nothing. Just another war wound to add to the collection.’

  Sam rolled her eyes and made for the car.

  ***

  After a warm fizzy drink in town, they returned to the Chief’s compound to see if he could receive them. Tamba lay slumped in a hammock outside on the balcony, his tummy like a stranded beach ball in a fishing net. A plump boy whisked flies away with a large fan.

  ‘Hi Tamba. We’re back. Can you get us in to speak to the boss?’ said Fergus.

  Tamba looked up with a mixture of irritation and concern.

  ‘What’s so important?’ he said. ‘The Chief doesn’t like to be disturbed in the afternoon.’

  ‘I don’t think he’ll mind this time,’ said Fergus, ‘we’ve come about the terrace.’

  ‘Ah, yes, the terrace. Wait here.’

  With a mammoth effort, he swung his legs out of the hammock, creating enough momentum to take his stomach with them. The child caught his outstretched hand, brace his short legs and pulled him up in one swift movement before he could fall backwards again.

  ‘That’s a neat trick,’ said Fergus.

  ‘They’ve done that before,’ said Sam.

  Tamba disappeared inside, huffing. Sam kicked over a couple more of the mosquito breeding pots in the yard. Fergus shook his head at her. She spread her hands to question him, but he said nothing. She shuffled her feet in frustration, making scars in the red dust.

  Moments later, Tamba reappeared and signalled for them to follow him. To her surprise, he showed them into the family sitting room with the fabled comfy chairs. The Chief sat in one with a thin child on his knee.

  ‘Sam. Come in,’ he said, ignoring Fergus.

  They sat opposite him, sinking into the soft cushions that felt as if they belonged to a carnivorous plant that might swallow them at any moment.

  ‘How can I help you?’ said the Chief, depositing the child on the floor where he was swept up by a harassed-looking young woman.

  ‘It’s a delicate manner,’ said Fergus.

  ‘Isn’t it always?’ said the Chi
ef.

  ‘We have a saboteur, sir.’

  The Chief blinked. His whole manner changed and he seemed to inflate, his body straightening in the chair. Sam could see the military man inside him straining to escape his useless body.

  ‘What on earth do you mean?’ he said, his voice crisp with rage.

  ‘Someone doesn’t want us exploring the river terrace. They have twice destroyed the grid and, last night, they knocked out the guard.’

  ‘Is there any reason they might try to stop us?’ said Sam before Sesay could answer.

  ‘Reason? No, I don’t think so. What reason could they have?’

  ‘I’m sorry if it’s upsetting. It’s just that we come back to square one every morning and I can’t make any progress. If we shouldn’t be working there, perhaps we could move across the river. There is a nice terrace there too.’

  ‘Maybe she is right, sir,’ said Tamba, ‘that terrace is bad luck.’

  ‘Don’t contradict me! I’m the Paramount Chief. No-one decides what happens in my territory except me. Do you understand?’ He quivered with indignation and Tamba lowered his head as if to avoid imaginary blows.

  ‘Yes, sir, I do. I’m sure Mr Fergus and Miss Sam will carry on the good work with your support.’ He didn’t look sure though. A sullen look had taken residence on his plump face.

  The Chief stood up.

  ‘I will make certain this doesn’t happen again. You may go back tomorrow. No-one will disturb your work. Please leave me now. I am tired.’

  ‘Thank you, Chief Sesay. We’re sorry we disturbed you,’ said Fergus.

  Shaken by the Chief’s violent reaction to Tamba’s interjection, Sam hung back. Her suspicions about the terrace were confirmed. The Chief turned to Sam, seeing her body language and modulated his tone.

  ‘Before you go,’ he said, ‘I understand you spoke to my daughter yesterday.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Sam.

  ‘I would like you to speak to her again. She suffers from a deep sadness and I'm at a loss. She might tell her secret to someone who is not local. I’d be grateful if you could talk to her about it and tell me how it goes.’

  Sam had no intention of telling Chief Sesay any of Adanna’s secrets. ‘I will, although I’m not sure she would confide in me. I’ll tell you anything important,’ she said, crossing her fingers behind her back.

  ‘Thank you, my dear. I knew I could count on you.’

  ***

  ‘What was that about?’ said Fergus at dinner.

  ‘What was what about?’ said Sam, blushing. She couldn't lie to save her life.

  ‘Don’t act all innocent and rosy-cheeked with me, missy. I’m not stupid and there is something you aren’t telling. Am I right or am I right?’

  ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. We discussed girls’ stuff, women’s problems.’

  Fergus blanched. Sam guessed right. He wouldn't pursue that topic.

  ‘You need to tell me if you talk about anything else. It could be important.’

  ‘Pass me the rice please.’

  They ate in silence. Fatimata had cooked a goat curry which had so much chilli in it that Sam struggled to eat. Fergus wolfed it down with great gusto, but when he sat back after cleaning his plate, he was sweating.

  ‘Hot, huh?’ said Sam. ‘I thought you were macho?’

  Fergus stared at her as if surprised to find her there. His eyes were unfocused and he got unsteadily to his feet.

  ‘Fergus? Are you alright?’

  ‘I don’t feel so good.’ He swayed. Sam jumped up and rang around the table in time to steady him.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Let’s get you to bed.’

  He leant on her and she staggered under his bulk as she tried to get him down the passageway. Opening the door with her left hand, she manoeuvred him into the room and left him leaning against the wall. She pulled back the sheets and grabbed him again as he slid down it.

  ‘Come on, you can make it.’

  Fergus fell flat on his back in the bed, moaning with fever. Sam noticed his hand. It was red and puffy with a scarlet line of inflammation etched across the back. So, the viper’s teeth had been dirty? Fergus flapped out his arm and wrapped it around Sam’s waist.

  ‘Are you coming to bed?’ he said.

  ‘No, not right now.’

  ‘That’s a shame. You have nice boobies.’

  Sam giggled to herself. ‘Thanks,’ she said, ‘now go to sleep.’

  There were no puncture wounds and a scratch wasn’t dangerous. His forehead felt clammy, but he didn’t appear to have a high fever and he must be lucid if he could focus on her breasts. She pulled off his shoes, debating taking of his trousers, but as she reached for the belt, she realised that she wasn’t that brave.

  Once she had covered him in a sheet, she to look for Fatimata to minister to him, but she had vanished. The wound needed cleaning before she him sleep it off, so she got the first aid box from the kitchen.

  She returned to Fergus’ bedroom to find him asleep, snoring between the sheets. After wiping the graze clean, she sprayed it with antiseptic and covered it with a plaster, so he couldn’t scratch it. Then, closing the door carefully so as not to wake him, she crept down the passage to her bedroom and entered.

  She did not see Fatimata watching her from the entrance hall, her face dark with rage.

  Chapter IX

  The next morning Fergus was already eating breakfast with his normal gusto when Sam came to the table.

  ‘Morning. You feeling better?’ she said.

  ‘Better? Than what? I don’t remember what happened, to be honest.’

  ‘You got viper venom in that scratch.’

  ‘Ah, the band aid. I wondered where that came from. Fatimata? Can you bring us more toast please?’

  A crashing sound emanated from the kitchen like pots being slammed down or oven doors being shut with force. Fergus shrugged. Fatimata’s tantrums were common.

  ‘Are we okay to start again this morning?’

  ‘Tamba didn’t seem very enthusiastic yesterday. I can’t help feeling he may be involved somehow,’ said Sam.

  ‘Tamba? Why would he help us with one hand only to sabotage us with the other?’

  ‘I've no idea. It’s just a feeling.’

  ‘And I’ve a feeling I need more toast. Where is Fatimata?’

  The kitchen door opened and she burst into the room carrying a plate loaded with toast which she dropped onto the table before sailing out again like a recalcitrant tanker. The toast was carbonised. Fergus picked up a piece and examined it.

  ‘I like my toast well done, but this is ridiculous,’ he said.

  ‘What did you do?’ said Sam.

  ‘Who knows? The woman is a complete mystery.’

  They finished breakfast in silence. Before they set out for the terrace, Sam visited Dembo, the parrot and gave him a cashew.

  ‘Sam’s the boss,’ she said holding a cashew just out of reach of the sharp beak. ‘Sam’s the boss.’ The parrot twisted its head to one side as if listening. ‘Sam’s the boss,’ she repeated waving the cashew.

  ‘Where are you, goddamn it? We’re leaving.’ Fergus’ voice. Exasperated. Sam threw several cashews into the cage. Dembo would capitulate soon.

  ‘On my way. I need to use the bathroom first.’

  ‘For God’s sake, woman, get a move on. We haven’t got all day.’

  They did, but Sam did not point this out. Sahr drove them to the terrace where Tamba and the team waited in the shade.

  ‘Hi Tamba!’ said Fergus, ‘You got a minute?’

  Tamba shambled over and the two men stood with their backs to Sam pretending to gaze at the river, but, in reality, they had formed a physical barrier to her presence that said you are not invited to this conversation. Fergus put his hand on Tamba’s shoulder and stared straight into his eyes. He spoke to him without smiling and waited. Tamba shook his head. Seemin
gly convinced by what he read there, Fergus let go, and returned to the car.

  ‘Everything alright?’ said Sam.

  ‘Perfect,’ said Fergus and jumped into the car beside Sahr.

  He stuck his arm out of the window and grabbed onto the roof. The muscles in his forearm and bicep flexed as the car bounced its way back to the road. He glanced back at her and flashed her a big smile with teeth that looked like they would eat her at one sitting. A lion personified. Sam could not pretend to be totally immune to his brand of charm. Annoying and bossy, he was as handsome as a film star on safari. What a pity he knew it.

  She wished that Ned would hurry and come back from Njahili. She coped better with them both there. Fergus always lost compared to Ned. She sighed and put her hair in a bun before stuffing it under her floppy hat.

  ‘Okay, then. Let’s try again,’ said Sam.

  Tamba seemed subdued, but he got to work organising everyone. Sam sat in Adanna’s chair to watch proceedings from the shade. She emerged to make notes and take photographs. She took handfuls of pebbles to measure and identify. The warm stones lulled her into a state of relaxation and she had nodded off in the humid warmth of the morning when there was a rustle in the trees. She spun around in a panic, imagining a ferocious animal stalking her. Too many Tarzan movies.

  Adanna appeared in the shadows, carrying a parcel wrapped in palm leaves.

  ‘A peace offering,’ she said, giving it to Sam.

  ‘Gosh, thanks. What is it?’

  ‘Lunch. Do you want to eat together?’

  ‘Isn’t it early for lunch?’

  ‘I’m always hungry.’

  ‘Me too.’

  Rice, fried plantains, chewy chicken in spicy tomato sauce, all eaten with fingers, licked clean with tongues vibrant with chilli. Sam wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and patted her stomach.

  ‘That tasted delicious, thank you.’

  ‘I’m glad you liked it. I can't cook many recipes. My father has people who prepare his food and they don’t like me interfering in the kitchen.’

  ‘Didn’t your mother teach you to cook? Mine forced us to learn the basics before we left home.’ Sam didn’t add so we might find a nice husband. Ned had already told her that Adanna’s mother had died in childbirth, so she was acting dumb to see if she could find out more about the ice princess.