presumed wisest and their leader, stepped forward. “You cannot be so sure, Mma. That lion, if that is what we are seeking, may be close by. If he was successful once in that area, he may think he will be again. And if it is the leopard, well, he will be there, too.”
Sanderson realized there was no point in arguing with them. Carrying a weapon made a statement about manhood. She just hoped the rifle stayed out of sight.
She climbed back into the Land Rover, the men climbed into the bed of the Toyota pick-up and, with her in the lead, they bounced out of the village common area and onto the road to Kazungula. It was a fifteen-minute drive. Sanderson had not thought through how she would approach the hunt. There would have to be one. Mr. Pako would not let it rest until there was. The big hotel lodges in Kasane insisted on it. A predatory big cat that had tasted human flesh posed a threat to their guests; even though it was unlikely that a lion, even a maneater, would venture that close to the town, an attack had occurred, a man had been killed, and something must be done. Pako said there were procedures to follow. She had never heard of them, but then there had not been a lion incident in the area in her memory, so that could be the reason.
She slowed when the two vehicles reached the spot in the road where Lovermore Ndlovu had dashed into the bush. She signaled the truck to follow her, and she turned in and followed the tracks she’d made the previous week through the grass to the spot where the body had lain. The truck pulled up behind her and the men piled out.
Rra Kaleke led them to the spot that Sanderson pointed out.
“This is a very old track.” He squatted and studied the ground. “See, this spoor is almost covered with all of the other animals who have come to share in this meal. Not so many as in the park, no, but some. I don’t see any dipheri. ” The men peered over his shoulder and agreed. There were no hyena tracks.
“They will not come so close to the people, I think.” He studied the tracks some more. “It is a young lion,” The others nodded again.
The men walked slowly away from the spot searching for more tracks. “Here,” one called. “Here is where he slept his meal away.” The men crowded around the place where the tough grass had been flattened.
Rra Kaleke turned to Sanderson. “I am thinking this bad lion returned to Zimbabwe, Missus. See these paw prints? They are headed east toward the road and the border is just over there.” He waved in the general direction of the border hut where the flags of Botswana and Zimbabwe fluttered above the crossing site. “Even if we wanted to, we cannot follow him over there. The Zimbabwe people will have to shoot your lion.”
Sanderson was crestfallen. Pako would not accept that, she was sure. He wanted her to fail and he wanted that failure to be public. He would not accept this reasonable explanation.
Kaleke seemed to read her thoughts. “If you want Mma, we can go find another lion and kill him for you. That should make the men at the tourist hotels and your Mr. Pako happy. This lion will not be coming this way again soon, you know. There are dipitse ya naga over there. If this tau keeps clear of the old fellah who chased him away, he will not come back to this place.”
An abundance of zebras, as Kaleke said, was problematic. But he had it right. The lion would not try to cross the busy highway into Kasane again. He would stay across the border. She could not accept their offer to kill a random lion just to please or confound her boss. She would have to figure out a different story to placate Pako until he left for his new post. What his replacement would want was another thing entirely.
“No, we cannot kill another lion, Rra but, if you will do another thing for me, I will be very grateful. Will you hunt this lion for a few days as if the spoor led in the opposite direction?” The men looked at her quizzically. “It is
Sanderson realized there was no point in arguing with them. Carrying a weapon made a statement about manhood. She just hoped the rifle stayed out of sight.
She climbed back into the Land Rover, the men climbed into the bed of the Toyota pick-up and, with her in the lead, they bounced out of the village common area and onto the road to Kazungula. It was a fifteen-minute drive. Sanderson had not thought through how she would approach the hunt. There would have to be one. Mr. Pako would not let it rest until there was. The big hotel lodges in Kasane insisted on it. A predatory big cat that had tasted human flesh posed a threat to their guests; even though it was unlikely that a lion, even a maneater, would venture that close to the town, an attack had occurred, a man had been killed, and something must be done. Pako said there were procedures to follow. She had never heard of them, but then there had not been a lion incident in the area in her memory, so that could be the reason.
She slowed when the two vehicles reached the spot in the road where Lovermore Ndlovu had dashed into the bush. She signaled the truck to follow her, and she turned in and followed the tracks she’d made the previous week through the grass to the spot where the body had lain. The truck pulled up behind her and the men piled out.
Rra Kaleke led them to the spot that Sanderson pointed out.
“This is a very old track.” He squatted and studied the ground. “See, this spoor is almost covered with all of the other animals who have come to share in this meal. Not so many as in the park, no, but some. I don’t see any dipheri. ” The men peered over his shoulder and agreed. There were no hyena tracks.
“They will not come so close to the people, I think.” He studied the tracks some more. “It is a young lion,” The others nodded again.
The men walked slowly away from the spot searching for more tracks. “Here,” one called. “Here is where he slept his meal away.” The men crowded around the place where the tough grass had been flattened.
Rra Kaleke turned to Sanderson. “I am thinking this bad lion returned to Zimbabwe, Missus. See these paw prints? They are headed east toward the road and the border is just over there.” He waved in the general direction of the border hut where the flags of Botswana and Zimbabwe fluttered above the crossing site. “Even if we wanted to, we cannot follow him over there. The Zimbabwe people will have to shoot your lion.”
Sanderson was crestfallen. Pako would not accept that, she was sure. He wanted her to fail and he wanted that failure to be public. He would not accept this reasonable explanation.
Kaleke seemed to read her thoughts. “If you want Mma, we can go find another lion and kill him for you. That should make the men at the tourist hotels and your Mr. Pako happy. This lion will not be coming this way again soon, you know. There are dipitse ya naga over there. If this tau keeps clear of the old fellah who chased him away, he will not come back to this place.”
An abundance of zebras, as Kaleke said, was problematic. But he had it right. The lion would not try to cross the busy highway into Kasane again. He would stay across the border. She could not accept their offer to kill a random lion just to please or confound her boss. She would have to figure out a different story to placate Pako until he left for his new post. What his replacement would want was another thing entirely.
“No, we cannot kill another lion, Rra but, if you will do another thing for me, I will be very grateful. Will you hunt this lion for a few days as if the spoor led in the opposite direction?” The men looked at her quizzically. “It is
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