The Lost Tribe by Mark Lee

Author:Mark Lee [Lee, Mark W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-63064-023-1
Publisher: West 26th Street Press
Published: 2015-11-17T00:00:00+00:00

9

THE FOUR MEN stood in the middle of the road. They were tall and skinny, with long noses and a set of tribal scars cut across their foreheads. Each man had a cloth wrapped around his waist and another piece of cloth draped over his shoulders. The cotton fabric, once brightly colored, had faded into a yellowish brown hue that blended into the grass. Their hair was tightly plaited, then dabbed with red clay so that it looked like a skullcap.

“Who are they?” Thomas asked. “Soldiers? Guerrillas?”

“They’re from the eastern tribes,” Mather answered. “It looks like they’re on a hunting expedition.”

The four hunters did not move when we approached them. They stood with deliberate casualness, their rifles slung over their shoulders along with some canvas ammunition bags. All of them wore jewelry: ivory necklaces and earrings, thin copper bracelets that clicked together when they raised their hands. Their dark black skin was stretched tightly over their skulls, and I could see the outlines of their ribs and leg bones.

Mather approached the group and raised his hands to show that he wasn’t armed. “Jambo,” he said in Swahili.

The oldest man answered him in English. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Yes. Go. Baridi.” He repeated the statement as he pointed to his companions and the trucks and the road north to the city.

The oldest hunter was called Teso. He had a scraggly-looking beard and a scarred lower lip. Teso knew six words of English: yes, no, stop, go, bullet, gun. Using this basic vocabulary and a little Swahili, he explained that he and his men had come from the east to hunt. When Mather asked what they were hunting, two men stepped into the grass and came back with a pair of elephant tusks. The base of each tusk was black and splintered. Dried blood covered the ivory and collected in the little groove where the elephant had rested his trunk.

Once again the hunters asked for a ride, but Mather wouldn’t give them an answer. He strolled back to the drilling truck and watched Sullah install the new radiator hose.

“What do they want?” Sullah asked.

“Transportation to Baridi.”

“Is it safe to take them along?” Thomas asked.

“I don’t think so,” said Badu. “These tribes steal cattle all the time.”

“The villagers said there were bandits on the road to Baridi. We might need some extra protection.”

“Who’s going to protect us from these people?” I asked. “What if they try to take something?”

“They wouldn’t want any of our possessions, except for the rifles. And we’re going to keep the rifles hidden.”

Mather argued with the hunters for a respectable length of time, then allowed them to climb onto the drilling truck. We drove north for a few more hours, then stopped to make camp. Two of the hunters immediately disappeared into the grass while Teso and the youngest hunter sprawled on the ground.

I could tell that Badu didn’t like the hunters, but Thomas coaxed him into acting as a translator. When I approached the group an hour later, Thomas gave me a confident smile as he scribbled down information on little white note cards.

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