WANDERINGS
Every great mistake has a halfway moment, a split second when it can be recalled and perhaps remedied.
Pearl S.Buck
The shore loomed close as Tarzan headed his boat inland. Betty, having become very agile and seaworthy, stood on the bow and guided him. He cut the twin engines just shy of the beach then jumped out and pulled the ropes, hauling the dhow to the sandy ground. Betty jumped in the shallow water and joined him. She walked behind him as he entered the wooded area that bound the beach. There they saw a wooden framed structure that was enclosed with partially caved in fronds and woven panels. Tarzan called out but there was answer. He looked around the area.
“This looks abandoned,” he said, stooping down to take a better look at the ground. “There are no tracks of any kind and the structure is in bad shape.”
“What could have happened?”
“AIDS, a boating accident, maybe no fish left – who knows. Whoever lived here obviously made their living from the water. There’s nothing else here to do. There are no remnants of fires having been laid in a long while.”
“Jack, all we have is what we brought with us.”
“Yes, Betty, I know. I’ve always lived this way. I’m sure you will tire of it in a few days.”
“Don’t be so sure,” she laughed, but only to cover her nervousness.
Shane’s green eyes were across from her at the breakfast table. He was laughing about the abundance of food that had been set before them. She could smell his Dolce and Gabbana cologne. She bit into a buttered croissant and woke up suddenly. Every bone in her body ached. She was lying next to Tarzan in the sleeping bag. Mosquitoes were buzzing about her head. She crept from the bag and walked gingerly down the stairs. She sat on the bottom step and lit a cigarette that was almost soggy from the humidity of the boat crossing. The mosquitoes continued their cacophony. Tomorrow will be better, she tried to tell herself. Against her better judgment she recalled the nights with Shane in the deluxe bed with the silken sheets.
In Kenya at the same hour, Shane sat on the balcony outside his bedroom in the mansion. He watched the smoke from his cigarette curl into the night air and disintegrate. He tried to envision Betty in a boat with Tarzan. He then imagined them making love. That didn’t work so he went back to bed and waked Johanna. They made love again.
Johanna.....
The next morning was a bright one. Tarzan wasn’t beside her when she woke up so she rushed to the beach to find him. There he was in his glorious nudity packing the boat. He tossed her the sack of coffee and placed the stove on the beach.
“Make some coffee and we can start off again,” he instructed.
“Jack, I thought you wanted to stay here. Where are we headed?”
“To Zambia - it borders Tanzania. If this place was so damn good for fishing there would people here already doing it. No fishing boats is a sign that these aren't good grounds.”
They took to the deep waters again, occasionally coming close to land to take a better look. In the open lake they adopted their same routine of swimming, fishing and sleeping under the roof of the boat in the sleeping bag. Tarzan’s catches were very good. They would cook them in the evening in the bow.
The fourth day, they put into a beach area that held a walled break. Up some stone stairs perched two cinder block chalets. Tarzan moored the boat to a tree. They were standing at the base of the steps when a human voice rang out.
“Who do you think you are, Adam and Eve?”
They looked up. There was a very aged and wrinkled woman holding a shotgun. She was extremely old, possibly in her late eighties.
“We just moored the boat for the night. May we stay here on the beach? We’ll leave tomorrow,” promised Tarzan.
“I’ve never seen a male lion with a woman before. Who are you?”
“Just two animals who need to fish for a living,” answered Tarzan.
“Come on up and let me get a closer look. I’m tough as nails….haven’t lived one hundred years for no reason,” said the old lady.
Betty hastily grabbed a blouse from the boat and put it on. Tarzan did the same with a pair of shorts. They made their way up the stairs.
“You must be one of those Kenyan lions who’ve gotten so fancy,” declared the woman.
“This is fancy?" chuckled Tarzan. "My name is Jack and this is Betty,” offered Tarzan making the introductions.
“Come on up. Can’t offer you no bath. The pumps broke.”
The chalets near Mpulungu on Lake Tanganyika...
“Bertram, something must be done. Betty has taken off to the Congo with that lion who fishes,” said Gloria Chimpo Baboon over her third cup of morning coffee and fifth cigarette.
“How do we know this, Gloria?” asked Bertram.
“I called her house and a chimpanzee named Pansy answered her phone and told me this,” said Gloria a bit miffed that her husband was skeptical.
“Dear Lord, that is extreme. What could we possibly do about the matter?”
“I’m calling Shane.”
Gloria stood two hours later in the President’s office. He invited her to sit down.
“Tea or coffee, Gloria?” he asked.
“Neither, please.....I want hard liquor. I am very concerned,” snapped Gloria, lighting a cigarette.
Shane drew the Scotch bottle from his desk cabinet and rang the houseboy for two glasses.
“What is this about, Gloria?” he asked, his green eyes diamond hard.
“It is about my sister….the mother of three of your children. I need help. She’s taken off to somewhere in the Congo. Tanzania was bad enough.”
“I know this. I went to Tanzania and saw that chimp there keeping her house.”
“And you did and said nothing till now? How disreputable of you. Betty has had her moments but she sure as hell didn’t deserve you,” said Gloria, her own dark eyes flashing fire.
“Before you get all bent out of shape, let me tell you the facts, Gloria. Betty left me, not the other way around. I begged her to come back and she told me that she couldn’t be herself when she was with me. That’s how that all went down.”
“Who could? You are spoiled rotten, change with the wind and can’t keep your dick in your pants.”
Gloria was distressed and wanted some action. She didn’t give a damn that she was saying all this to the most powerful figure in Kenya.
“Betty is no walk in the park either, Gloria.”
“I am very worried about my sister…..WHO IS STILL YOUR WIFE!!!!!”
“What would you have me do? I’d like to get her back here too, believe it or not.”
“You have the president’s office and powers at your disposal. Certainly you can figure it all out for yourself. You’re a big boy now.”
“Let me see what I can do. I’ll call you.....don't you call me.”
Gloria’s sister and Shane’s wife was doing exceptionally well, thank you. Tarzan had fixed the old woman’s pump which had pleased her no end. Then he had managed to restore some other things that were on the fritz. Now the lady warmed up perceptibly. Her name was Patsy. She and her brother had lived side by side in the two chalets. They had emigrated from Russia to Africa together when they were twenty somethings. The siblings had knocked around several sub-Saharan countries before landing in Northern Rhodesia which became Zambia by way of a bloody war of independence. Patsy and her brother had built these chalets on the lake and lived in them since that time. Her brother had been dead some two years or so by her count. Among other things, Tarzan had repaired Patsy’s generator and added his with it. The electrical power serving the two homes was iffy at best. The generators were a necessity. Patsy had led them to her late brother’s chalet just next to hers. There she had opened the slightly musty but charming home.
“There’s a telephone in here somewhere,” Patsy had said, before leaving them for the night. “You’ll just have to find it.”
Patsy.......
Ashley Lyon’s house was being built at lightening speed thanks to his brother, Lewis Lyon the construction magnate. It was shaping up beautifully. He took several to see it. Among the viewers were his estranged wife, Leah, his daughters Imani and Kitty, Chloe and Lucy Cougar. Jane and Luke Leoparde were daily visitors being in close proximity to the building project. Ashley was getting more into his role of divorcee and rather liked it. He was marvelous looking, rich as Croesus and had babes falling all over him. However, he was not about to be pinned down again. Leah had made vague attempts at reconciliation with Lucy making outright declarations in regard to her need for a ‘father for her three cubs’. Ashley went along his merry course disavowing the females of notions on his behalf and still remaining on friendly or better terms with all. his was a real gift.
Ashley Lyon's new home in the bush next to Luke and Jane Leoparde.....
Tarzan, taking Betty much of the time, went to the fishing grounds that were recommended by the amazing Patsy. There he found a cornucopia of fish species from grouper and perch to four varieties of cat fish. The biggest plus of all was the abundance of the very salable sardines. The fish were in profusion in these waters. Tarzan filled his freezer which sat at the back of the chalet he and Betty were occupying. One afternoon, Patsy showed them to a garage where a very old Land Rover sat polished to a fine tune.
“You two young folks take the car to Mpulungu sometimes. Just bring me some vegetables to go with my fish,” instructed Patsy. “And have a good time, that’s the most important thing.”
In the market place in Mpulungu.....
In Mpulungu, Tarzan sold all of his fish to a marketer who wanted all he could bring each week, having a large contingency of Europeans that snapped them up. They explored the ruins of an old British Church built in 1894. Sitting at an outdoor café of rickety tables and chairs, they ordered the local beer and kebab.
The following day, Betty found the telephone line, plugging her laptop computer in the socket. It had made the trip across the lake and was none the worse for wear. She was back in business and decided to write a travel article for Bob Bushbuck under an assumed name. She knew he would keep her secret. She would write about navigating Lake Tanganyika.
Mildred Lyon was attending a village meeting with her daughter, Lisa Lyon Leo in regard to an AIDS clinic. I was sitting in the living room of their home with Ralph Lyon. We had the floor to ourselves.
“Is Shane tripping over his gonads these days, Maury?”
“He is still very clever about running the government though I will admit that he is certainly stressed right now.”
“Millie warned me that the citizens of Kenya wouldn’t like this thing he has going with that crazy girl. I thought it wouldn’t matter. After all, I had raging affairs with Dodi Dik Dik and Aurora Leopardiaz during my days in office - even married them.”
“Dodi and Aurora are animals. I think the human angle is the problem, Ralph.”
“My honest opinion is that he needs Betty back his life, Maury. She seems a stabilizing factor somehow. How is she, by the way?”
I went on to tell him of my recent email saying that she was on a fishing odyssey with her lion friend.
"More lions?" he asked, shaking his head with the hot oil treated and glossy mane.
If Betty thought she could fool the brilliant mind of Shane Simba with an assumed pen name, she should have thought better. Bob Bushbuck, being circumspect no doubt, had placed her riveting article about Lake Tanganyika in a travel section of the Masai Mara Daily – a section that he assumed didn’t intrigue that many readers. Shane, who reads, voraciously, at least eight newspapers before work, caught it. He noticed that the site of the most interest was the port town of Mpulungu in Zambia. He picked up the phone in his office and placed a call.
Dr. Juma Mnyama and his new bride were thriving. They found that working together as a medical AIDS team was enhanced by their marriage. Staci Simba Mnyama, having taken accelerated courses in nursing school, was about to finish that chapter and become a full blown RN. She would add to this by taking courses in nursing specialties at a later date. In the meantime, she and Juma worked together, catching quick kisses and gropes whenever and wherever they could. Staci proudly wore a new ID tag on her uniform. It read: Staci Mnyama.