The Child's Elephant by Rachel Campbell-Johnston

Author:Rachel Campbell-Johnston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: RHCP

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The days and nights passed. Time bleared and slid. And then, early one morning, while the boys were still sleeping, the door was suddenly flung open and Lobo stamped in. ‘No more lazing about now, elephant boy.’ He chuckled. ‘It’s time we toughened you up.’

Gulu scuffled quickly away on his bottom, squatting watchfully against the farthest wall. ‘And you!’ Lobo scowled. ‘You are being put on woodcutting duties. There’s a pile of branches in the compound. You don’t need your feet to work with an axe.’

‘Can’t I help him?’ asked Bat. ‘I’m not sure he can manage.’

‘More likely he can help you.’ Lobo laughed. ‘He can tell you how not to end up like that. Look at him! That’s what happens to people who get lost. If he learns to walk again, we’ll keep him. He’s useful. He knows how to mend engines. If he doesn’t . . . well, he knows what happens to soldiers who can’t fight. Military life begins now. Here, put these on.’ He threw Bat shorts and a shirt, then turned on his heel and went out.

‘Dead men’s clothes,’ Gulu whispered as Bat held them up. ‘They come from the people the army has killed.’

Bat, who for so long had been wishing he could wash his blood-stained shirt, shuddered as he changed. The shorts were too big and he had to roll the waistband up.

‘Hurry up!’ Lobo shouted as Bat finally stumbled out. His legs felt strangely weak. Lobo pushed him into a blundering run. On the far side of the compound another boy was waiting and Bat was forced down into a squat in front of him. He froze still as his curls were shaved with the blade of a knife. A group of other children were being herded into the middle of the compound. There must have been about twelve of them, he thought, counting them with the same rapidity as he could count cattle. All were wearing the same hotchpotch of ill-fitting garments as he was; all were looking as worried and bewildered as he felt.

His eyes darted around them. Was Muka among them? He had to look twice before he finally recognized her. He had never seen her wear anything but a printed wrap. Now she was dressed in a T-shirt and trousers like a boy. Her braids were all gone. She was shorn down to the scalp and she was thinner, much thinner, than when he had last seen her. A blue shirt hung in straight folds from her angular shoulders and a pair of brown trousers had been belted with string. But she flashed him a look that meant she was managing and he felt an answering wave of relief. He longed to run towards her, to ask her what had been happening, to find out where she had been, what she had found out, but even as he began to edge hesitantly towards her, the man with the bloodshot eyes strode across to the group.

‘Line up!’ Lobo bawled.

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