Bakari Part 1
Bakari
The young woman clutched the small child to her breast. The plane was going down and everyone knew it. It was amazingly quiet on board as one hundred and twenty people came to terms with the truth and prayed. The young mother was no different, but all her prayers were centered on just one person; her baby son. She was praying to a God she wasn't sure she even believed in, let alone trusted; praying that he would spare her boy.
A tiny but remarkably strong hand grasped a bit of her hair and tugged until she tore her gaze from the horrific view out the window in order to look into her baby's wide, blue eyes. He was wearing that small baby frown, the one that said everything he couldn't yet verbalize, namely asking what was wrong.
She closed her eyes and sent up another plea. "Please, please, spare him, he's so special, please, save him."
Tears pooled in her son's eyes and he whimpered before tucking his head under her chin even as he started to pat her cheek in comfort. That truly undid her as she began to pray out loud. "Please, save him."
A thunderous noise assaulted the passengers of the Kisoro AirFlight Electrojet as its metal met treetops at an alarming rate. The left wing was sheared off and, as the plane listed sickeningly to the right, air rushed into the gaping hole left by the loss of the wing. Suddenly the young woman's arms were horribly, terrifyingly empty.
As the right wing hit the ground, her terrifying scream of, "No!" was swallowed up by the gigantic explosion.
***
The jungle quiet was broken by the sound of man's invention. Engines coughed and sputtered as the great silver-winged bird tried to gain height and failed. Monkeys stopped their frantic flights through the dense trees; birds skittered away from the path of the huge monstrosity that was far too low, dangerously low.
The plane lurched almost as if drunk before dipping down, twisting until its nose was down and, like a missile, aimed straight for the ground. At the last minute, it veered right and lifted ever so slightly - one final attempt to avoid the inevitable. But it wasn't enough, not nearly enough. The wing sliced through trees and was severed from the silver body.
Great, lumbering beasts below heard a high, shrill, penetrating scream immediately followed by what sounded like one of their own, crying in panic.
The silver monster continued its destructive path through the forest until it gave one final, heaving glide to the right, the only wing left digging into ground and ripping the jet apart.
The explosion lit up the jungle, the sound spreading out, almost deafening in its intensity.
Fire - burning flames in blue, orange and yellow, engulfed the silver machine and the screams. Finally, there was silence. Deadly silence.
The more curious of the jungle inhabitants moved forward, sniffing, twittering or slithering, but the residual heat soon had them backing off.
Several large, dark shapes moved quietly through the trees to make their way through the debris. Dark, nimble fingers plucked up bits and pieces of clothing as the brighter colors caught their eyes. They lifted the materials to their faces and smoothed them over their dark fur. Loose objects were pilfered, kept and hidden to inspect and play with at a later date.
Ears still ringing, one dark shape stayed back to search for the one sound that had enticed her to the scene - the sound of a baby, of one of them.
The great she-beast, so recently bereft of her own small baby, started moving quickly through the trees, nose quivering, eyes searching....
***
The baby boy was dropped in the middle of a patch of dense undergrowth, his landing greatly softened by mounds of moss, leaves, and branches that were suspended between great tall trees, growing so closely together, they served as a canopy.
For a moment, he lay stunned, the air having been knocked out of his tiny lungs. The velocity of his travel from his mother's arms to this nest had literally torn his blue jumper from his small body, but the jungle was warm and comforting, like his own crib at home.
Soon, breathing was easy again and his natural curiosity took over. He rolled over, pushed himself to his crawling position and swayed over to the edge of his nest. Unfortunately, the movement was just enough to dislodge him from his safe perch and he tumbled down the short distance to the jungle floor. He landed with a soft, "oof", shook his head and, having only recently learned to stand and take shaky steps, he immediately reached out with one tiny hand for purchase and found it in the trunk of a tree. Using its rough surface, he pulled himself up, a bit unsteadily, but up nevertheless.
The area he occupied was lush with greenery and bits of sunlight streaking the ground, all of which caught his attention. He reached out, almost fell, but before he could try again, the light was suddenly gone, blocked out by a huge shadow. The baby looked up and into soft brown eyes.
***
The she-gorilla had finally pinpointed the source of the smell. There, on the ground, a baby, and yet, not.
The creature took her warring stance by getting down and resting her arms on her knuckles, brow furrowed, teeth barred.
The baby watched, fascinated, before he too got down on his hands and knees and then squished up his features in a semblance of the funny face opposite him. Then he fell back, legs kicking wildly as the jungle was filled with the sound of his giggling.
The she-gorilla's eyes grew round, her mouth dropped opened - but then she smiled a gorilla smile. She rocked back on her rear, legs out in front of her as small sounds issued from her throat - sounds that were soft and inviting to the baby. His giggles stopped as he rolled clumsily onto his stomach and back up on hands and knees. He waited, unsure, but the sounds were so like his mother's that he was urged forward, his little diapered butt swaying with his movements. The gorilla put out one large hand, black fingers wiggling in invitation and, as he latched onto one, he started giggling again.
Slowly the she-gorilla let her hand rise, the baby holding on as his body rose with the hand. He kicked his legs and grinned at the fun ride. Then she brought him to her breast, cupping his small frame with one large hand, fingers drifting over hair that was so much softer than her own. His skin was so smooth, but warm and alive. His heart beat like her own and, in that moment, she claimed him as hers.
***
The fire was long out, the scavengers long since gone, satisfied in their hunger. The mountain gorillas had moved back into the deepest recesses of their forest home, their trophies wrapped around massive shoulders and necks, or laid out in soft jungle grass to sleep on and then play with come the new morning.
Three she-gorillas lay in nests, their babes playing gently about them, sleep not far away. Several feet from the domestic scene, two young male gorillas, not yet of breeding age, played a game of roughhouse and, on a small rise overlooking his domain, sat the great silverback, their leader and guardian.
His attention was suddenly riveted to the stand of trees just south of his family. He didn't need to move because he could smell the scent of his mate, but he frowned at the very different scent that clung to her. The trees parted and she moved forward, a small object held protectively to her breast.
Taking notice, her brothers and sisters sat up and moved to her side, their curiosity stronger than their need for sleep. The giant leader remained aloof, seemingly uninterested.
Slowly she let her hand drop down enough to show her family her treasure.
Snorts, huffing air and stamping feet greeted the vision of the small, mostly hairless creature curled up in the crook of her arm, sleeping serenely, small hands fisted, exhausted legs twitching.
One she-gorilla tentatively reached out with a finger and ran it down the vulnerable back and then up to feel the downy soft hair on the small head. She snuffed in delight and another she-gorilla sniffed and gave a low chitter. The two males just shrugged and moved off for another round of play before a nap.
The new mother moved slowly toward her mate as he waited patiently, eyes fixed on the white blur against her dark chest. When she was a few feet from his position, she cradled the babe across her arms and held them out for his inspection. He sniffed, touched, frowned, then looked into her eyes, saw the need, but was uncertain. At that moment, the bundle moved and stretched out, its tiny fists opening. Eyes blinked up at the fierce brown eyes of the silverback.
The sky blue of the innocent eyes touched the silverback in the deepest corner of his mind. He drew back, almost afraid, but then the baby grinned and chortled as his fingers reached for him. He moved in, sniffed again, and hesitantly stuck one finger against the baby's tummy, which tickled and gave rise to giggles that seemed to swirl around the great beast, ensnaring his heart and soul. He looked at his mate, nodded as if unconcerned, then turned his back, the protector once again.
She sighed in relief, brought her child back to her breast and let him feed. She lumbered to her own nest where she settled in, baby resting on her chest and suckling, its small sounds of contentment reverberating through her body.
She was a mother again. And this baby was hers. Safe.
The jungle closed its arms around the machine of man - the night deepened - and the gorillas slept, safe in the knowledge that their protector watched.
***
Present Day - British Airways Flight 307
The man sat, his body still, eyes fixed on the view from his window seat. In one hour, he would be landing at Entebbe Airport and then it would be a forty minute drive to Kampala, the Ugandan capitol - his ultimate destination: the Biwandi Impenetrable Forest National Park.
To anyone interested enough to look, he would appear calm, easygoing and assured - but that was far from the case. He was exhausted, in pain, and fear was a constant companion.
From his early childhood, he'd carried a dream of someday visiting Africa, specifically, the mountainous regions of Uganda where he wanted nothing more than to sit deep in the rainforest and wait for a glimpse of a gorilla. A lifelong wish about to come true - he hoped.
He could be a patient man and the thought of waiting for hours, for just one glimpse, brought peace to his troubled soul.
His life was in shambles, his mind a puzzle he'd yet to solve, so, on the advice of friends, he'd given in, taken a leave of absence and booked the necessary flights. First up had been the American Airlines flight from his home in Cascade, Washington to New York - then, the British Airways leg to Gatwick and, from there, the final leg on British Airways to Entebbe.
A car would be waiting for him at the airport and he was actually looking forward to the two days and nights he'd spend in Kambala. He was booked into the Speke Hotel, where he hoped to enjoy rest and relaxation before beginning his journey into the mountains - a journey that might have no end.
His future was in jeopardy and, while he would never have consciously acknowledge this fact, the truth was that if peace escaped him, if the burning in his gut could not be assuaged, then there was a corner of his mind that told him Africa was a good place to disappear.
The pilot announced the descent into Entebbe, the seatbelt sign flashed, and the man wondered what the next few weeks would hold. Salvation or death. And did he care?
***
The difference in the air was the first thing he noticed as he stepped out of the Entebbe International Airport. He'd been expecting the heat and dryness since t was January, the middle of the dry season. But air had the potential to cause him pain, even the Washington State air. But this, this air caressed him, welcomed him, brushed over him like the softest silk imaginable.
The potential for noise that was unusual, and therefore again, potentially dangerous, had also worried him - and the airport hadn't disappointed him. He'd girded himself for the hustle and bustle of moving bodies, the different pitch pitch of so many voices in too many languages - even for the loudspeaker announcing incoming and outgoing. He'd readied himself for the bodies with all their various scents, knowing they'd bombard him. But now, outside - and as compared to inside - there was only blessed silence, which was weird because nothing was completely silent for Jim Ellison.
And yet....like the air moving gently around him, these sounds were welcome, different and, oddly enough, non-intrusive.
Without realizing it, he'd begun to smile, his body relaxing as his muscles unwound.
Jim Ellison hadn't looked forward to anything in weeks, but now, with his body responding to this country and his pain ebbing, he found himself actually jogging to the waiting rental car, eager to begin his 'vacation'.
Jim could easily have driven directly into Bwindi, but his plans didn't include the typical "Gorilla Tracking" packages offered to tourists. He'd obtained a special permit that would allow him access into the deeper regions of the Impenetrable Forest in order to track un-chartered gorilla families. The man, Ebo, who'd made this possible lived in Kambala and was a friend of Jim's boss, Captain Simon Banks and, with his connections, had managed to secure the limited pass that would open the doors for Jim's adventure.
Gorilla Tracking parties had begun in 1993, but only two gorilla families were tracked; the Mubare and Habinyanja groups. Tracking parties consisted of no more than six individuals per day, per group - but no way was Jim going to go the tourist route. He wanted to experience his meeting alone, as much do to with his difficulty with so many sights and sounds as with his need for privacy when facing the great beasts.
The world was full of exceptions and, thankfully so, because for the right price, the Ugandan government would - and could - grant private tracking permits. In this case, the price had been double what he would have spent for a typical gorilla package, but he didn't mind paying more, as he'd been assured by Ebo, in one of several emails, that the additional money was used to protect the gorillas of Bwindi, which, he'd learned, housed almost half the entire world's gorilla population.
Finally on his way, in a car that was a bit too small for him, he took in the scenic drive along Lake Victoria. Once again, Jim was surprised to find the view obviously pleasing, but also incredibly soothing. The directions provided by Ebo were perfect and, less than forty minutes later, he was pulling up in front of the Speke Hotel, a beautiful, sprawling, colonial-style building that immediately conveyed its European background. When he pulled up to the front, his luggage was taken out and rolled inside where he was guided to registration.
He had only three things on his mind as he was shown his room; shower, change and meet Ebo on the famous Speke Terrace.
The transition from Cascade to Africa was almost too easy. He felt immediately welcome, immediately home. The cultural shock should have been intense but, instead, he experienced a tingly sensation and found himself looking at the people he passed as if he should know one of them, as if....someone were waiting for him. He felt an excitement in the pit of his stomach, almost like butterflies, an excitement that said something was close and if he could just reach out and touch it, he'd never know pain again.
As he walked out onto the Terrace, catching his first glimpse of an African sunset, he felt it again, even stronger, as if someone else were seeing the same sunset, at the same time, and this person knew, knew he was here, watching as well.
He couldn't help it, his eyes left the spectacle in front of him and began to search, hoping he would know when his eyes found--
"Detective Ellison?"
The voice was low and with a distinct British accent. He turned to face a man about his height with short, black hair - and a huge grin.
"Ebo?"
He nodded and extended his hand. "Yes, Jambo! Welcome to my country, Detective Ellison. Your flight was pleasant?"
They shook, both smiling as Jim nodded. "It was very pleasant." He cocked his head and asked, "Jambo?"
"A word with many meanings, Detective, but in this case, a greeting."
"Well, then, Jambo!"
Ebo laughed, delighted at his new friends embrace of his language. He indicated a nearby table and said, "Please, shall we sit and enjoy the remainder of our sunset? I ordered it especially for my guest."
"I'm honored and you've definitely outdone yourself - it's spectacular."
Ebo guided him to the table he'd already secured, next to the rail where the view was even more spectacular. He ordered a drink for each of them and then sat back to study his "charge". He was surprised at how relaxed the man appeared, as he'd been warned by his good friend, Simon Banks, that Jim Ellison was ill and suffering greatly. And while he was very pale and the shadows under his eyes rather pronounced, he nevertheless appeared truly relaxed.
"I'm very glad you did not object to my request that you come to Kambala first. One must see my city when one comes to Uganda and I could not permit otherwise."
"For the miracle you accomplished, I would gladly have driven to hell. But this," he waved his arm to encompass everything he could see, "is definitely worth it."
Ebo leaned forward and said softly, careful that no one else would hear, "Simon mentioned that you have been unwell?"
Good old Simon. Trust him to watch out for his detective even half way across the world.
"Not ill. Just....tired." It was the only word he could come up with and, while not exactly a lie, after all, pain and fear can definitely tire a man out, it wasn't the whole truth either.
"So, I will make sure this adventure gives you all you desire, Rafiki."
At Jim's raised eyebrow, Ebo grinned and added, "Rafiki - friend."
Friend. Yes, Jim already felt a kinship with the man who would be his guide. Grinning, he said, "Rafiki."
Ebo nodded and both men turned their attention back to the glory unfolding in front of them.
***
When the sun had finished its slow and beautiful glide below the horizon, Ebo suggested an early dinner at the Rock Garden Cafe and now, after an excellent meal of rack of lamb, they sat once again gazing out over the city, sipping brandy and enjoying the peace.
Eventually Jim's curiosity got the better of him and he had to quiz his guide and new friend. "So tell me, what exactly happens tomorrow?"
"Ah, yes, the detective surfaces." His smile softened the words as he added, "We shall begin our journey early, at sunrise, which here in Uganda is always at six. We shall travel the difficult path to Bwindi, which is why I suggested you rent a four-wheel drive. We will be taking the eastern route, to Ruhija, where we will stay one night before beginning our trek into the jungle. Our accommodations will be minimal at best, as you requested. The route I have chosen is long and steep but, in my opinion, provides the best possible views of our forest."
"Sounds perfect. I take it we're on foot once we reach Ruhija?"
"Yes. We will travel for one day up the mountain and you can expect to see gorillas late on that first day. We will be in what my people call the "ghost" land."
"Ghost land? Sounds intriguing."
Ebo laughed outright, the deep sound bringing others around in their seats, smiles on their faces. "Foolish, but not intriguing," he finally said. "You have undoubtedly read Tarzan?" At Jim's nod, he said, "Well, the myth is alive and well in our forest in the form of a ghost man who walks with the gorillas. I travel throughout the region and have never seen so much as a glimpse of this creature - walking or swinging. But it makes for interesting tourist propaganda and if it preserves our National Forest by bringing in the tourist dollar, thus protecting its inhabitants, than I approve."
"I feel like I should be taking notes...watch for gorillas and man swinging through trees."
"There is, however, one myth that is real. A tribe that co-exists with the gorillas and are never seen by outsiders. They are named for dusk, thus they are called the Magharibi. Their name is most apt as they do not come out until the sun has set and they can melt into the night. Perhaps our 'ghost man' lives among them."
"They sound almost...magical."
Ebo seemed surprised by Jim's choice of words, but not disappointed. "Yes, that is a good word for them. Magical. There is one white man living with them - a priest, Father Benjamin - and a better man never lived. Perhaps I can arrange a meeting?"
"If the meeting includes a visit with the Magharibi, than yes, I would be honored."
"It shall happen, Rafiki."
***
As darkness fell over the mountain, the night creatures came out to scavenge and hunting. The sounds of the jungle changed as howls filled the air. Above the jungle floor, a dark shape moved gracefully through the trees, using the creepers and parasitic vines of the mistletoe and orchid to fuel his flight over the ground below.
The shape landed, a sturdy branch his perch. He gazed down at the beasts below him; his family. They moved slowly through the bamboo and he smiled but did not join them. Instead his gaze seemed to move beyond his jungle as if he could see something - or someone - beyond the boundaries that marked his home. He felt the presence, believed it to be moving towards him. For the first time in his many seasons, he felt restless, earning for something he could not guess, but knew, knew that it was coming.
Bright blue eyes blinked rapidly as he brought himself back to the present. He shook his head, long hair whipping about him before dropping effortlessly down to the floor. It was time to join his family.
But he could smell the change that was coming - and he wasn't altogether certain whether it would bode well - or not.
***
Twenty miles from Bwindi, just outside its borders, men gathered. Soldiers of fortune, hired to bring death and destruction to the National Forest in order to force the closure of the park. A huge consortium funded the "army", men whose only desire was the death of the mountain gorilla because of the wealth their poaching would bring them.
The soldiers sat around the camp, weapons on their laps, cleaning, planning, giving no thought to the beauty they'd been hired to destroy, no thought to the majesty, the greatness of the creatures they sought to wipe from this earth.
Nor did they give a thought to anyone that might exist in the jungles of the Impenetrable Forest that could stop them.
***
Jim Ellison slept deep and undisturbed, a rarity for him of late. Seconds before his alarm went off, his eyes opened. Today, the Impenetrable Forest and gorillas. He scrambled out of bed, eager to begin, the excitement of the day rooted again in his chest.
He grinned foolishly through his morning ritual, his eyes continually going back to his veranda, to the vista beyond. He felt like he should say something to someone, but he didn't have a clue what to say, or who he should say it to.
Finally, as he walked out of the bathroom, a towel around his neck, he said,
"I'm coming. Stay, don't leave until I get there." Then he laughed at the absurdity of the words, but as he moved out to his patio, he repeated them, almost as a prayer. "I'm coming. Stay, don't leave until I get there."
***
The journey to Ruhija was just as Ebo promised and Jim was glad he'd turned over the task of driving to his guide. He simply drank in every thing in sight, completely unprepared the lush, mysterious land around him, full of every shade of green imaginable. Medicine for his soul.
It was late afternoon when they arrived at the pre-planned campsite and, by the time they'd set it up, Jim was. Their supper consisted of a delicious stew, the ingredients of which Ebo refused to divulge, saying only that Jim would be better off not knowing. Jim smiled, wickedly, as he realized that he was eating a simple but exotic version of beef stew. Ebo didn't know that the man sitting with him at the campfire was able to taste beyond the normal range and that, while his sensory abilities were often agony to him, there were times, like now, when they came in very handy.
"Um, yes, I'm sure you're right, Ebo, but we have beef in America, you know," he said slyly.
Ebo squinted at his new friend, then grinned as he realized his charge had not been fooled. He gave an elegant shrug. "I tried, Rafiki, I tried. But have you ever tasted such a stew?"
"You have me there. Many of the herbs and spices are new to me, but I'm pretty sure I taste cinnamon and...thyme?"
"Perhaps you are the ghost man of whom they speak?"
Jim laughed heartily, enjoying his sense of taste for the first time that he could remember. What was it about the air here? Every sense seemed to be as heightened as usual, but without the accompanying pain and confusion. "No, Ebo, no ghost man here. Just a policeman from America."
Ebo looked as if he doubted Jim's words, but was content to allow their journey to unveil his secrets.
They agreed to turn in early and went to their respective tents, but once settled, Jim found himself needing to be outside, the confines of his small tent keeping him from this new world. He picked up his sleeping bag and took it out and over to the campfire. But instead of crawling in, he remained standing while drinking in the night and finding himself amazed at the silence of the jungle.
He was so close now, so close that the hairs on his arm were standing straight up, as if he were electrically charged. He let his hearing take center stage and only then could he make out the sounds of the jungle. Everything around him was crystal clear, every sound separate and to be enjoyed. He let the jungle envelope him, caress him, much as he would a lover, and, as the minutes passed, he still didn't move. A shadow seemed to glide around him, not yet touching, not close enough to touch, but there, comforting and real.
Was he going insane? Had his mind finally caved under the pressure of his senses? Was any of this real?
Euphoria was certainly a symptom of insanity, but if that's what he was experiencing, so be it. It beat anything else he'd gone through so he'd keep it.
He finally dropped onto his bag, lay back, hands behind his head and gazed up at the brilliant night sky. Would whatever he was moving toward - come tomorrow or maybe Saturday? He didn't know, but then again, he was a patient man.
He rolled over and slept.
TBC in Part 2