He came into my office, a big man, broad shouldered and tall with a fleshy face and dark straight hair brushed back from the forehead. He had slightly protruding eyes, and a congenial smile.
"I am looking for a job. I hear you need a diesel mechanic. I have all the experience you need." He was not just saying something; rather he was making a statement. He looked at me as if he already had the job.
"Sit down. When can you start?" I looked at him; he was dressed in a khaki green shirt and a brown pair of shorts, long socks and tan loafer shoes. Neat and clean. "Would you like some coffee?" I called the tea girl and ordered two cups of coffee. "Tell me about yourself, starting with your name."
"My name is Dick Combrinck, and I did my time as a diesel mechanic with the Public Works Department. I have worked for them for the past ten years, and I feel that I can do with a change."
I had taken a job with an agricultural implements company in Lusaka. The firm catered for the small subsistence farmer, and supplied mainly ox drawn implements. By the time I joined they were selling tractors on a sub agency basis from the Massey Ferguson dealers, and were making very little commission in the process. It had been decided that we would find our own agency, and as fate would have it the very next week a tall gent with an American accent walked into my office and promptly offered us the John Deere agency. I hurried him into the managing Director's office, and soon we had the agency signed up. Orders were placed for a range of tractors, and we also ordered a mechanical cotton picker for a large cotton scheme in the country.
It was June, and the farmers were in the throws of the maize harvest, which was very good that year and tractors were very much in demand. Sales boomed, and we found that we needed an extra man who could handle tools desperately. I had been promoted to workshops manager, and now I had to employ another mechanic. That was when Dick walked into my office.
The cotton picker had arrived, dismantled and in six large timber crates. They were stacked in the back yard one on top of the other. Not only were they in the way, but we were afraid that if the engineers from the J.D. Company did not arrive soon enough the rains would come and the cotton growers would wait till the next harvest before buying and paying for the expensive equipment. Dick was duly employed and we started to clear the backlog of jobs in the workshops. We worked together on the various projects, and within weeks they were all cleared out. The awaited J.D. engineers had not yet arrived.
"Let us try to assemble this monster." I told Dick, "We can pack all the bits and pieces on the ground, and using the manuals we can assemble it piece by piece. The next day we started and soon the cement yard was littered with pieces like a massive jigsaw puzzle. Taking up the manual we started on the assembly. Bit by bit it came together, and soon all we had to do was mount it on the tractor which had arrived to take the unit. This was done, and the machine was parked, and when the two engineers arrived all they needed to do was to adjust the timing of the machine. They were astounded that we could assemble the machine as fast as we did and without a glitch. Little did they know the sweat blood and tears we had shed in the process. Dick and I discovered each other during this time and what is more we found we had a passion for the same thing: The bush and the hunt. The Boss was so impressed that he gave us an extra long weekend. We decided to go hunting.
I pitched up at Dick's home the next morning in the old Land Rover, and found him waiting with all his camping equipment ready. With him was a weird looking character whom Dick introduced as Henry van Heerden. The minute I clapped eyes on him I immediately thought of Tweedle Dee. Henry was dressed in khaki shorts and shirt. The shorts were two sizes too big, and his legs protruded from them like those of a Maribu Stork, he wore a pair of calf high boots with buckles at their tops that clinked when he walked. His head was large and round with thin sandy hair, and he had an apple shaped body. Henry had an engaging smile and pale blue eyes. His handshake was firm and brief. "Dick asked me to accompany you on this trip, I hope you don't mind." He said while looking at me expectantly.
"Plenty room," I replied, a little unenthusiastically. "I have a trailer which we can collect if needed. But I think we will get it all into the Landie." We loaded up the equipment and soon set off with Henry sitting in the middle and Dick next to the window. I did the driving.
The minute we passed the town limits Dick reached into his suitcase behind him and came out with a bottle of Limousine brandy, and breaking the seal he took a long swallow. "Care for a toot?" He said, passing me the bottle. I took a small swig and the tears came rolling out of my eyes. It was real rotgut stuff. I passed it back to Henry, but he declined and passed it back to Dick who took another long swallow. After that, the bottle stayed with him, and every now and again he would lift it and pull at what was left.
"I want to take you to the Luano Valley." Dick said. "Instead of turning off to the Zambezi, carry straight on along the Great East Road till you come to mile 54, and then wake me up if I happen to be asleep."
We ran at a steady pace along the Great East Road, which was all gravel and quite corrugated. The dust flew in whirls behind us and the interior was soon chokingly full of dust. We had to stop and roll up the canvas sides to let the air in, and then we resumed the journey. No sooner had we started when I heard snoring coming from Dick. The bottle was half empty, and he held it between his feet as if he were afraid it might break.
One and a half hours later we arrived at the mile 54 marker, and I brought the vehicle to a halt Dick awoke with a start, and said,"Carry on till you get to the graded water run off to the left" About two hundred yards further we came to the run off ditch. "Turn in here," Dick indicated a left turn, and I took the Land Rover into the ditch and carried on along its curve. A little way beyond the end of the drainage ditch a track suddenly appeared, and we continued along it.
After about ten minutes Dick stopped me and got out walking into the bush a way in order to attend to a call of nature. When he got back to the vehicle he brought out his rifle stashed behind the seat. "We must be alert now, these hills are full of Kudu, and also Roan Antelope" He sat with the rifle leaning against the seat between Henry and himself
After about ten miles we arrived at a barrier across the road, and a black man in the uniform of the tsetse control stopped us. Dick got out and handed the man a packet of cigarettes He took a clipboard from him and started to fill in our vehicle details while the guard walked around it with a small net in his hand looking for possible tsetse flies. He then lifted the pole barrier, and we resumed our trek. After almost nine miles we came to the edge of the escarpment. The descent was appallingly steep and rocky, dropping about one thousand feet within a mile to the floor of the valley. At the bottom of the descent the road leveled out into the valley with stands of Mopani and raisin bush alternating with open savanna patches .The tracks became sandy but quite hard, and the going was smooth and easy. We picked up a bit of speed, and cruising around a wide bend we almost ran smack into a massive old buffalo bull. He shook his head and ran about twenty paces into the open bush and turned around facing us with his horns back towards his shoulders. The Land Rover came to a sliding halt and Dick hopped out of the cab and took aim over the hood. The rifle lifted as he squeezed the trigger, and the buffalo staggered back and turned to run off, but it was sorely stricken and it staggered and went down onto its chest. A long bellow erupted from his throat and its head flopped forward.
"Our camp spot is not very far from here," Dick said as he cut the bull's throat to bleed it, "I suggest we hasten to it and off load and then we can come back for this fellow."
Within fifteen minutes we arrived at the campsite next to the Muapula River. There were tall shady trees, and I could see that it was a favorite site because the grass had been cut and a place cleaned for the fire with the normal ring of boulders forming the fire pit. We offloaded the vehicle and stowed everything onto the ground next to the fire pit. As soon as that task was accomplished we set off for the Buffalo carcass. Arriving at the spot I took the Landie right up to the carcass, and we all alighted and started to inspect the beast. It was an old bull, and quite unsuitable for biltong, and his roasts would be like carving a block of hardwood, but it would be good for rations for the farm laborers who would eat anything, and we decided to quarter the carcass right there and transport it to the camp where we would skin out the quarters. The bull had a nice spread of horn, and Dick decided that he would take the horns home with him.
Back at camp Dick took over and within a few minutes I could see that he knew how to organize a camp. A long sapling was cut and positioned horizontally between two trees and the tarpaulin was thrown over and suspended like an awning and pulled tight with a large section let down the back against which our bedrolls were set so that our heads were against the canvas and the Landie parked on the other side so that no predators could surprise us from that side.
While Dick arranged the rest of the camp, Henry and I skinned out the quarters of the old buff. The skin over the neck and withers was so thick that I needed to sharpen my knife at least three times before it was finished. We cut the quarters into more manageable pieces and suspended them from low branches out of the reach of lions and hyenas. The bits of hide were discarded about fifty paces from the camp, and as the sun was setting we started to break out the rations for supper. Dick had built a friendly fire in the pit, and I started to heat some meatballs which my Wife had packed for the trip, and a pot of Putu (a crumbly maize porridge) was soon cooking in the three legged pot.
Henry had saved the bull's testicles complete with the scrotum, and these he skinned out leaving the bag intact, then he split each ball and washed them out nicely in the stream after which he salted them and put them onto the grid so that they were barbequed to a fragrant brown turn. The scrotum he took and pulled it over an empty beer bottle hair side out. He tied it off at the top and put it into a fork of the tree under which we were camped. After eating and washing the dishes in the stream we sat and talked over a scotch for Henry and myself, and the balance of the brandy for Dick.
When Dick's bottle was empty he tossed it over his shoulder towards the rubbish pit, and stood up, stretched, yawned and walked over to his bedroll and promptly went to sleep. Henry and I looked at each other and decided it would be best to join him. I lay awake listening to the far off call of a jackal, and the chirrup of the Scops owl, and soon I was fast asleep. The moon was full and high in the sky and lit up the camp and the surrounding bush in a silver eerie light.
I woke with a start. There was a rattling of dishpans and pots. I took up my spotlight which I kept next to my bed, and directed the beam to where the dishes were stacked. An enormous hyena stood and flashed his large round green eyes at the light, and then he took off at a leisurely gallop, his bristly tail held over his back. I switched off the light and settled back into my blankets, and hardly fell asleep when the din repeated itself and in the beam of my light there it stood again. I stood up and taking up a piece of wood from the fire I sent it in an arc of sparks toward the creature. With a whoop he turned and galloped off Just before dawn it was back again snuffling at the place where we had skinned the buffalo quarters. I awoke and sent another stick after him, and as the sky was turning grey in the east I put on the coffee pot and went down to the stream to wash my face and brush my teeth.
"What a pest that hyena was during the night." Henry lamented. "I hardly slept at all We should of shot the beast!"
"No, Henry," Dick said, "They are pests around the camp, but at least they will tell you if Lions are around by their nervous cackle, and they will not attack you if there are a few persons in camp." Tonight we will put some innards of whatever we shoot some distance from the camp to keep them busy."
As we drew some distance from the camp I noticed that the hyenas had dragged the neck skin of the buffalo into the open, and had chewed away the edges, but the thick skin was too much, and they had left it out in the open.. We had stripped the Landie of the doors, the tailgate, and the windscreen, to eliminate rattles, and so that the screen could not flash light into the bush and thus frighten the game. Dick was driving, and Henry was seated next to him with me on the outside. We were travelling through the bush when we passed a wide open space with a dry tree at the edge. There were a few vultures perched on the dry branches. As we drew near we could see that the birds were intently watching something on the ground. We came up to the tree and saw a large termite mound a few paces off, and in front of the mound, there were the remains of buffalo carcass, but there was nothing else to be seen. As we drew closer the vultures took of with a flapping of their wings, and Dick stopped the Landie under the tree. I stepped out of the vehicle and walked over to the remains to study the ground for tracks. Henry walked up the side of the mound. It was covered with short knee high grass, and as Henry stepped into the grass a lioness flew down the opposite side of the mound with a mighty roar, and Henry ran back to the vehicle in a few bounds. It all happened so fast that although I had my rifle in my hands I could not even sight it on the lioness. Henry of course was speechless with fright.
About a mile ahead we saw a herd of kudu, and I dropped a young bull. We loaded him into the vehicle and continued on our way. Passing through a dambo two reedbuck rams ran off and stopped about a hundred paces from us. Henry took up my light rifle, a .222 Sako, and when the shot rang out one buck fell as if pole axed.
All the way back to camp Dick derided Henry for his near miss with the lioness, and by the time we reached camp Henry was quite annoyed at all the banter. Before we rode into camp Dick stopped at the piece of buffalo hide which was already quite dry and curling at the edges. "Pick it up and throw it in the back, and tonight we will set a trap for the hyena." Was all Dick would say. I picked up the drying bit of hide and threw it into the back of the vehicle.
We drove into camp and stopped at our skinning spot where we offloaded the two antelope, and while Henry and I started to skin them I saw Dick take the buffalo hide and walking about thirty paces from the camp he started to cut the hide, and then he came back for a pick and dug a hole some twenty four inches in diameter and the same depth. By the time we had hung the carcasses, He came over and gripping the innards, minus the livers and kidneys, and walked over to the hole where he deposited the guts. Next he took the hide and fitted it over the hole, and it fitted with about a foot overlapping the hole all around. Then he cut a few holes around the edge, with a small hole in the centre From the centre hole he slit the skin about six inches diagonally over the hole making four cuts. Next he fashioned a few stout pegs out of some hardwood and fastened these through the holes at the edge of the hide. The hide was thus stretched over the hole containing the innards, wit the small hole and the diagonal slits right over the contents.
That night the hyenas did not come, and Dick said that they were probably finishing off the remains of the carcass which the lions had left, and we slept in peace. The next day we spent in camp cutting biltong and hanging the strips out to dry. It was hard work and after we had washed up in the steam we sat and had a leisurely drink and I prepared a hunter's pot and sawed some marrow bones which also went into the pot. Before we retired to bed I took the torch and walked over to the trap and inspected it. The edges around the hole were hard and were curling in towards the hole. I could also smell the ripe smell of the guts inside the hole.
We were still sitting around the fire with a whiskey each when we heard the patter of feet on the skin, and I shone the spotlight onto the hide. The Hyena was there with its head down the hole, and it was busy trying to gobble up the intestines down the hole. We could see that the skin had gripped it behind the ears, and stuck fast. It stood with its head down and its behind in the air Henry got up and walked over to our woodpile where he selected a stout stick, and walked over to the hyena. "You damned animal." He growled. "Tonight I will teach you a lesson for keeping me from my well deserved rest." Positioning himself behind the hyena he fetched it a mighty swipe on the behind, and came round for another shot. The hyena let out a loud wail, and Henry smacked it a third blow. Up went its tail, and it vented its bowels all over poor Henry. He was taken utterly by surprise, and turned around and dragged himself to the fire.
"Get away! Get away!" We yelled at him. All he could do was to pick up his suitcase and walk over to the stream. Then we heard him splashing as he washed off in the cold water. When he emerged he took his soiled clothes and put them on the fire with a totally disgusted look on his face. Then we heard a commotion and the hyena ripped the hide from the pegs and we could hear it falling over its feet as it disappeared into the bush, the piece of buffalo hide flapping like a sail around its neck. The last we saw of it, it was headed away still clutching the guts in its mouth.
The next day we headed for home, but every now and again Dick would sniff and say, "What smells like hyena shit?" Eventually Henry got fed up "Ag Dick, can it! How was I to know the thing would shit on me?" I don't suppose it ever again entered his mind to give a troublesome Hyena a whacking.
