creature now scurrying up the wall.
Gunner eyed it, whipped off his hat and
plonked it over the offending arachnid.
‘Just a rain spider. Nothing to worry
about,’ he said, picking up a magazine and trapping it inside his hat.
‘Relatively harmless. They hunt at night and sleep during the day. They can bite,
but their venom’s no more dangerous than a bee sting …’ He glanced at Amber,
trembling in the bathtub. ‘Granted, though, they look bloody
terrifying.’
Amber nodded mutely, her eyes not leaving
Gunner’s hat for a second.
‘It’s the small black-button
spiders with red underbellies you need to avoid like the plague,’ warned the
ranger,checking the bathroom for any other
creepy-crawlies. ‘They have one of the most toxic venoms produced in nature,
fifteen times stronger than a rattlesnake’s. You’ll probably know them as
black widow spiders –’ He was interrupted by two soldiers from the presidential
guard appearing at the door.
Better late than never
, thought
Connor.
‘False alarm,’ said Gunner to
the soldiers, and they wandered back outside, muttering to themselves.
Gunner held up his hat cheerily.
‘Well, Amber, that’s your official welcome to Africa. All clear
now.’
He headed for the main door and spotted the
damaged lock. ‘I’ll have someone fix that tomorrow. Oh, and remember to
shake out your boots before putting them on in the morning. You don’t want any
other nasty shocks.’
He disappeared into the night to release the
eight-legged intruder.
Connor turned to Amber. ‘Will you be
all right?’
Quickly recovering her composure now the
spider was gone, she pulled her towel closer around her and shooed him out of the
bathroom. ‘Yes, absolutely.’
There was a flush to her cheeks and she
wouldn’t quite meet his eye. But, as she closed the door on him, she smiled shyly.
‘At least you’re tough enough to fight off spiders.’
Dawn had barely broken and the sun, low on
the horizon, cast a golden sheen across the wakening savannah. A few zebra glanced up
from their early-morning grazing as the convoy of Land Rovers bumped their way along the
dirt track, sending up clouds of dust into the warm, still air.
In the lead vehicle Connor sat next to
Henri, who was fidgeting with excitement, his head darting left and right like a
meerkat’s as he searched for animals. Stifling a yawn from the impossibly early
start, Amber steadied herself in the front seat beside Gunner, who was at the wheel.
Although there was ample space, Laurent and Cerise had elected to go in the second
vehicle to give their children the freedom to enjoy the safari alone. The other four
Land Rovers transported the president, his ministers, their wives and a detachment of
the presidential guard.
Perched on the bonnet seat of Connor’s
vehicle was their tracker, Buju, a quiet man with soulful eyes and a shy smile. Upon
introduction, Gunner had spoken for him, explaining that Buju had grown up in the Ruvubu
Valley, lived off the land by hunting and gathering, and that he knew everygully, waterway and crevice of the national
park like the back of his hand. Buju would be their eyes and ears on the safari.
From the man’s watchful gaze and calm,
almost still, presence, Buju appeared very attuned to his environment and Connor
realized it would be hard for any predator to sneak up on them without their tracker
noticing. Yet, despite this assurance, Connor didn’t allow himself to lower his
own guard. Although it was good to have another pair of eyes on the lookout for danger,
his Principals’ safety ultimately lay with him.
Buju held up his hand and the safari convoy
came to a halt. Gunner killed the engine. Behind, the other five drivers did the same
and the rumbling of motors ceased, to be replaced by a chorus of birdsong, buzzing
insects and the occasional braying of zebra. The soundtrack of Africa. Then
Gunner eyed it, whipped off his hat and
plonked it over the offending arachnid.
‘Just a rain spider. Nothing to worry
about,’ he said, picking up a magazine and trapping it inside his hat.
‘Relatively harmless. They hunt at night and sleep during the day. They can bite,
but their venom’s no more dangerous than a bee sting …’ He glanced at Amber,
trembling in the bathtub. ‘Granted, though, they look bloody
terrifying.’
Amber nodded mutely, her eyes not leaving
Gunner’s hat for a second.
‘It’s the small black-button
spiders with red underbellies you need to avoid like the plague,’ warned the
ranger,checking the bathroom for any other
creepy-crawlies. ‘They have one of the most toxic venoms produced in nature,
fifteen times stronger than a rattlesnake’s. You’ll probably know them as
black widow spiders –’ He was interrupted by two soldiers from the presidential
guard appearing at the door.
Better late than never
, thought
Connor.
‘False alarm,’ said Gunner to
the soldiers, and they wandered back outside, muttering to themselves.
Gunner held up his hat cheerily.
‘Well, Amber, that’s your official welcome to Africa. All clear
now.’
He headed for the main door and spotted the
damaged lock. ‘I’ll have someone fix that tomorrow. Oh, and remember to
shake out your boots before putting them on in the morning. You don’t want any
other nasty shocks.’
He disappeared into the night to release the
eight-legged intruder.
Connor turned to Amber. ‘Will you be
all right?’
Quickly recovering her composure now the
spider was gone, she pulled her towel closer around her and shooed him out of the
bathroom. ‘Yes, absolutely.’
There was a flush to her cheeks and she
wouldn’t quite meet his eye. But, as she closed the door on him, she smiled shyly.
‘At least you’re tough enough to fight off spiders.’
Dawn had barely broken and the sun, low on
the horizon, cast a golden sheen across the wakening savannah. A few zebra glanced up
from their early-morning grazing as the convoy of Land Rovers bumped their way along the
dirt track, sending up clouds of dust into the warm, still air.
In the lead vehicle Connor sat next to
Henri, who was fidgeting with excitement, his head darting left and right like a
meerkat’s as he searched for animals. Stifling a yawn from the impossibly early
start, Amber steadied herself in the front seat beside Gunner, who was at the wheel.
Although there was ample space, Laurent and Cerise had elected to go in the second
vehicle to give their children the freedom to enjoy the safari alone. The other four
Land Rovers transported the president, his ministers, their wives and a detachment of
the presidential guard.
Perched on the bonnet seat of Connor’s
vehicle was their tracker, Buju, a quiet man with soulful eyes and a shy smile. Upon
introduction, Gunner had spoken for him, explaining that Buju had grown up in the Ruvubu
Valley, lived off the land by hunting and gathering, and that he knew everygully, waterway and crevice of the national
park like the back of his hand. Buju would be their eyes and ears on the safari.
From the man’s watchful gaze and calm,
almost still, presence, Buju appeared very attuned to his environment and Connor
realized it would be hard for any predator to sneak up on them without their tracker
noticing. Yet, despite this assurance, Connor didn’t allow himself to lower his
own guard. Although it was good to have another pair of eyes on the lookout for danger,
his Principals’ safety ultimately lay with him.
Buju held up his hand and the safari convoy
came to a halt. Gunner killed the engine. Behind, the other five drivers did the same
and the rumbling of motors ceased, to be replaced by a chorus of birdsong, buzzing
insects and the occasional braying of zebra. The soundtrack of Africa. Then
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