Elephant Song - Smith Wilbur - Страница 9
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Daniel had never married again and had left Chiwewe not long after.
The memories of Vicky were too painful to allow him to remain. Now Johnny Nzou lived in the bungalow and his pretty Matabele wife Mavis tended Vicky's garden. If Daniel had been able to choose, he would have had it no other way.
This morning Mavis had prepared a traditional Matabele breakfast of maize porridge and sour milk, thickened in a calabash gourd, the beloved amasi of the Nguni pastoral tribes.
Afterwards, Johnny and Daniel walked down towards the ivory go down together. Halfway down the hill Daniel checked and shaded his eyes as he stared towards the visitors camp. This was the game-fenced area on the river bank where the thatched cottages with circular walls stood under the wild fig trees.
These structures, peculiar to southern Africa, were known as rondavels. I thought you told me that the Park was closed to visitors, Daniel said.
One of the rondavels is still occupied, and there's a car parked outside it. That's a special guest, a diplomat, the Ambassador of the Taiwanese Republic of China to Harare, Johnny explained. He is extremely interested in wildlife, particularly elephants, and has contributed a great deal to conservation in this country.
We allow him special privileges. He wanted to be here without other tourists, so I kept the camp open for him- Johnny broke off, then exclaimed, There he is now! Three men stood in a group at the foot of the hill. It was still too far to make out their features. As they started towards them, Daniel asked, What happened to the two white rangers who helped with the cull yesterday? They were on loan from Wankie National Park. They left to go home early this morning. Closer to the group of three men Daniel made out the Taiwanese ambassador.
He was younger than he would have expected a man of such rank to be.
Although it was often difficult for a Westerner to judge the age of an oriental, Daniel put him at a little over forty. He was tall and lean with straight black hair that was oiled and combed back from a high intelligent forehead. He was good-looking with a clear, almost waxen, complexion.
There was something about his, features that suggested that his ancestry was not pure Chinese, but mixed with European blood. Though his eyes were liquid jet-black in colour, their shape was rounded and his upper eyelids lacked the characteristic fold of skin at the inner corner. Good morning, Your Excellency, Johnny greeted him with obvious respect. Warm enough for you? Good morning, Warden. The ambassador left the two black rangers and came to meet them. I prefer it to the cold. He was wearing an open-necked short-sleeved blue shirt and slacks, and indeed looked cool and elegant.
May I present Doctor Daniel Armstrong? Johnny asked. Daniel, His Excellency the Ambassador of Taiwan, Ning Cheng Gong. No introduction is necessary, Doctor Armstrong is a famous man. Cheng smiled charmingly as he took Daniel's hand. I have read your books and watched your television programmes with the greatest of interest and pleasure. His English was excellent, as though he were born to the language, and Daniel warmed to him. Johnny tells me that you are very concerned about the African ecology, and that you have made a great contribution to conservation in this country. Cheng made a deprecatory gesture. I only wish I could do more. But he was staring at Daniel thoughtfully.
Forgive me, Doctor Armstrong, but I did not expect to find other visitors at Chiwewe at this time of year. I was assured that the Park was closed.
Although his tone was friendly, Daniel sensed that the question was not an idle one. Don't worry, Your Excellency. My camera man and I are leaving this afternoon. You will soon have the whole of Chiwewe to yourself, Daniel assured him. Oh, please don't misunderstand me. I am not so selfish as to wish you gone. In fact, I am sorry to hear you are leaving so soon. I am sure we would have had a great deal to discuss.
Despite the denial, Daniel sensed that Cheng was relieved that he was leaving. His expression was still warm and his manner friendly, but Daniel was becoming aware of depths and layers below the urbane exterior.
The ambassador fell in between them, as they walked down to the ivory warehouse, and chatted in a relaxed manner, and then stood aside to watch as the rangers and a team of porters began to unload the newly culled ivory from the truck parked at the door to the warehouse. By this time Jock was there with his Sony camera filming the work from every angle.
As each tusk was brought out, still crusted with freshly congealed blood, it was weighed on the old-fashioned platform scale that stood at the entrance to the warehouse. Johnny Nzou sat at a rickety deal table and recorded the weight of each tusk in a thick leather-bound ledger.
He then allocated a registration number to it and one of his rangers stamped that number into the ivory with a set of steel dies.
Registered and stamped, the tusk was now legal ivory and could be auctioned and exported from the country.
Cheng watched the procedure with a lively interest. One pair of tusks, although not heavy or massive, was of particular beauty. They were delicately proportioned shafts with fine grain and elegant curves, an identical and perfectly matched pair.
Cheng stepped forward and squatted beside them as they lay on the scale.
He stroked them with a lover's sensual touch. Perfect, he purred. A natural work of art. He broke off as he noticed Daniel watching him.
Daniel had been vaguely repelled by this display of cupidity, and it showed on his face.
Cheng stood up and explained smoothly. I have always been fascinated by ivory. As you probably know, we Chinese consider it to be a highly propitious substance. Few Chinese households are without any ivory carving; it brings good luck to its owner.
However, my family interest goes even deeper than common superstition. My father began his working life as an ivorycarver, and so great was his skill that by the time I was born he owned shops in Taipei and Bangkok, Tokyo and Hong Kong, all of them specialising in ivory artefacts. Some of my earliest memories are of the look and feel of ivory. As a boy, I worked as an apprentice ivory-carver in the store in Taipei, and I came to love and understand ivory as my father does. He has one of the most extensive and valuable collections he stopped himself. Forgive me, please. I sometimes get carried away by my passion, but that is a particularly beautiful set of tusks. It is very rare to find a pair so perfectly matched. My father would be ecstatic over them. He watched longingly as the tusks were carried away and packed with the hundreds of others in the warehouse.
Interesting character, Daniel remarked, after the last tusk had been registered and locked away, and he and Johnny were making their way up the hill to the bungalow for lunch. But how does the son of an ivory-carver get to be an ambassador? Johnny chuckled. Wing Cheng Gong's father may have come from a humble background, but he didn't remain there. I understand he still has his ivory shops and his collection, but those are merely his hobbies now. He is reputed to be one of the richest men, if not the richest man. in Taiwan, and that, as you can imagine, is very rich indeed. From what I hear he has his fingers in all the juiciest pies around the Pacific rim as well as some in Africa. He has a large family of sons and Cheng is the youngest and, they say, the brightest. I like him, don't you?
Yes, he seems pleasant enough, but there is just something a little odd.
Did you notice his face as he fondled that tusk? It was, Daniel searched for the word, unnatural? You writers! Johnny shook his head ruefully. If you can't find something sensational, you make it up.
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