Maurice & Friends

This seems to be a time of one festive event packed on another for our country. The bleak days of crisis receding further behind us, it seems our president wants to remind the global community that Kenya is once more a country filled with delights withstanding some basic problems. Alexandra Simba returned to the Mara to host the horse meet and trials that are usually held in England this time of year. Being an accomplished rider, Alex is not only the official hostess but competing as well.

Shane Simba spent the first part of the week to attend a global warming summit in Spain. He went alone with his small party of Cutty and the attending media. I stayed to help Alexandra pull together the details of the meet which was to be held in the Mara instead of Nairobi. There are to be several parties to honor the participants and global judges of horse flesh.

After a long day at our jobs, Lachlan and I arrived home almost simultaneously. We were engaging in our usual cocktails on the patio when his brother Rory peeked across the wooden gate that graces our back yard.

“I brought my own liquor,” he said.

He held up a bottle of Irish whiskey. Lachlan brought out an extra glass.

“I am making an Italian roast,” announced Lachlan. “Care to join us for dinner?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” teased Rory, holding his filled glass to ours. “Is Cutty going to be gone for long?”

Rory asked this question in a nonchalant, offhand manner. Lachlan and I saw what lay behind it.

“Cutty will be back by the end of the week. The big horse festivities are cranking up this weekend,” I allowed.

“You like Cutty as much as we do, don’t you, Roar?” asked his brother.

“Possibly more since I doubt if either of you share the same type of relationship with her as I have begun.”

“I can assure you that ours is loving but strictly platonic,” I giggled.

“I can assure you that mine is not – caring yes; platonic, not in the least.”

Lachlan's brother, Rory, pays us a visit....

Claire Cheetah made a drink and paced the floors of the house she shared part time with Shane Simba. She was expecting a call from him at any moment. He was in Spain for the summit. As it turned out, Claire made many drinks and smoked two packs of cigarettes. Shane failed to phone her. She was hung over the next day when she lectured two of her art history classes at the university.

North from Kenya and across the Mediterranean Sea, in Malaga Spain, Shane was at a welcoming cocktail party for the dignitaries assembled at the global warming summit. The following day was to be spent in morning golf with evening meetings. The hotel was the luxurious Ritz-Carlton and the company was exhilarating to say the least. A Spanish actress and model by the name of Inez was as enthralled with our lion president as he was with her. Inez was a golfer of great style and form. They were to share a game on the morrow. In a more expedient move, Shane welcomed her to his suite that night. They stayed together for his entire visit to Spain. Claire never received that long awaited phone call until Shane was the plane and returning to Kenya.

at the global warming summit .....meeting Inez

and then a bit of golf.....

Staci Simba Lyon didn’t wait for an appropriate time to accost her much loved dad. It was the first day after Shane’s return from Spain. She burst into his office as I was sitting with him going over the particulars of his summit trip.

“Daddy, why are you treating Alex this way?” was the first word out of the first daughter’s mouth. “She’s been supportive of all of us and you’re treating her like shit.”

“Staci, can this wait until later?” asked the aghast Shane.

“No, Daddy, it can’t. I just came from Grandma Cyndi’s house and Claire was there. She says she’s pregnant by you, Daddy. Claire is NOT Mummy. She’s a real bitch.”

I didn’t know what to do other than gather a few papers and skitter from the room. The secretaries were all in a hullabaloo at the loud voices emitting from their adored boss’s office. It was past working hours. We had stayed a bit late to make sure the paper work from Shane’s trip was attended.

“I think you can go home now, girls,” I giggled. “The boss will be busy for a while longer.”

Whatever Staci had said to her father on the subject of his wife, at the cocktail party which began the festive horse meets and trial week, Shane was an impeccable escort to the beautiful Alexandra Simba. The president and his lady were charming and loving the entire evening.

the President and his wife at the cocktail party....

Shane Simba found the locks changed on the home he had purchased for Claire Cheetah. Even his Masai guards couldn’t convince the cheetah female to emerge from the home and allow her presidential lover entrance. She had failed to attend the horse trials party although invited. She refused his calls as well.

It was a hot day when the first of the horse meets and trials took place in the Mara. I was forced to attend out of politeness for the occasion, first lady and the fact that I am the President’s chief of staff. I stayed long enough to see Alexandra Simba take four jumps and then fall on her ass, toppling off her mount. She seemed pissed as I suppose I would have been if I engaged in the lunacy of riding one of those great beasts. That first day a chap from France took the honors. Shane was there when Alexandra took her fall. He left the stands and went to where she led her horse upon recovery. I didn’t see what transpired.

Alexandra Simba and her favorite steed..

The next evening, the arts center honored the attendees for the horse meet by inviting them to an evening of mixed entertainment and a cocktail dinner. Of course, being the founder and head of the board, I was in full attendance at that shindig. Lachlan considerately donned the ensemble he hates most – his tux – at accompanied me. One of the entertainers was Claire Cheetah who played the cello. Cassandra Cheetah Simba played the violin in accompaniment to a small musical quartet of baboons who are making a name for themselves in Kenya. Among the other entertainers for the evening was Micah Mbube, the lion actor, who did readings from Macbeth.

As Lachlan and I were leaving, we saw Shane Simba shove Claire Cheetah in the back of the official limousine. They drove off not even seeing me standing in the driveway with my companion. We had noticed that Alexandra Simba left the dinner early. She was riding the next day in another event.

Claire Cheetah plays the cello.......

“Fancy meeting you here,” said Betty Chimpo.

She was speaking to Dickey Simba who had not called her since their impassioned weekend in Mombasa.

“I’m obligated to attend all of these presidential soirees,” he answered, lighting a cigarette.

“Why is this presidential?” she asked, taking his cigarette and putting the fiery tip to the end of her own.

“It’s all tied up with what Shane regards as necessary social functions for Kenya after the chaos. So I am present.”

“Did you bring anyone?”

“No, did you?”

I rode with my sister and Bertram,” she snapped, hoping she didn’t sound too churlish and pissed off.

“So you’re dateless too, Betty?”

Dickey’s khaki eyes were filled with amusement and Betty hoped it wasn’t at her expense.

“What the hell is with you, Dickey? Damn it, you can’t even to commit to three dates in a row. Are you really that emotionally retarded?”

He leaned over and whispered in her ear, causing her face to burn and neck to tingle.

“We are discussing a topic that has no place at a party; shall we repair to my apartment?”

“I really shouldn’t do that. I should teach you a lesson and just say no.”

“Teach ME a lesson? You are becoming thoroughly ambitious, Betty.”

Now he did laugh with gusto, causing those around them in their tightly knit conversational groups to turn their heads in the couple’s direction. Dickey placed a hand on Betty’s back and gently steered her toward the exit to the banquet area in the arts center.

Dickey meets up with Betty at the soiree....

Two bedrooms were being occupied by impassioned couples in different parts of the Masai Mara. In one, Claire Cheetah stood before Shane Simba in black bra and panties and holding handcuffs. A toy his late wife had once been fond of and to which Shane Simba had never been a strenuous objector.

Claire with Shane.....

In Dickey Simba’s bedroom, he and Betty made love. After, they went to his balcony overlooking the Mara.

“We need to continue our conversation, Dickey,” she said, putting her arms around his waist from behind and kissing his naked back.

“Betty, you know how I am. Unsteady and addicted to drugs and alcohol. I do my job well but that’s it,” he sighed.

The moon hovered between heavy clouds. There were distant rumbles of thunder.

“If you can do your job with such aplomb and grace why is it so difficult for you to sustain a relationship?”

The lump in Betty’s throat felt insurmountable. Her eyes stung with tears. The last thing she wanted was to break down and weep. She did love this lion so much and wanted some sort of life with him. Of course, she had felt this strongly before and failed to get her druthers. Why should Dickey Simba be different? Dickey removed her arms and turned around holding her tightly to him.

“Betty, a full emotional life is so much more difficult than just doing a job that you were trained to do. Personal life takes more stamina and commitment. Anyone can say they’ll be faithful and attempt commitment, but I know that any female I try to date steadily or live with is going to suffer for this.”

She threw his arms off her in genuine fury.

“That’s such a major cop out, Dickey. We all do our share of failing. The thing is to make a stab at having a full life. Why don’t you get help for your habit?”

“I enjoy my habit. I don’t want help for it for now.”

“Damn you,” she sobbed.

He didn’t attempt to stop her when she ran to his room, got dressed and left his apartment. She hailed a midnight cab and went home. She cried herself to sleep at around 4:00 am.

It was midnight and Leah Simba Tarzan was expecting a call from her husband, Jack Tarzan, who was taking a break to fish in his beloved Lake Tanganyika in Tanzania. Leah paced the bedroom floor, finally removing her finery from the arts center party, and slipped into bed. She patted the pillow next to her where Jack’s head usually lay.

“I love you, Jack…..hope you are having fun and enjoying a great catch,” she whispered softly to the place where he usually slept.

She was asleep in a few minutes.

A reporter called me in the middle of the night. He was a good friend of Jack Tarzan’s and worked at the Masai Mara Daily with him. I turned the lamp on and grappled for the bedside phone.

“Maurice, they just found Jack Tarzan’s boat capsized in Lake Tanganyika. They are searching for his body as we speak. Who is the best one to break this news to his wife?”

“Oh my God,” I exclaimed, immediately waking Lachlan who slept soundly beside me.

I had called Leah’s parents, Roy Lee and Janice (Jaguar) Simba upon hearing the terrible news. Roy Lee asked me if Lachlan and I would go with them to Leah’s home. We were glad to comply with that request – Lachlan’s psychiatric training might come in handy. We met them in the driveway of Leah and Jack’s home on Leoparde Drive.

I would prefer forgetting the profound horror and misery that Leah’s lovely face wore when she was told of her husband’s fate. I also want to put out of my mind the terrible moans and cries she sobbed into her mother’s bosom. We were all crying that terrible night.