The Leopards of Sh'ong

By Paul Jaco

Shuna, a leopard cub, is rescued by Seevie when she is only one day old, and she becomes the latest member of a family living on a farm in Kwa-Violentia. The mysteries surrounding his family, make Seevie suspect that he is an adopted child. He and his girlfriend, Tensy, explore the mountain of Shong with its hundreds of caves, searching for the grave of Seevie's sister, Ladine, hoping to find answers about his real identity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Human & Rousseau
• Release date: Apr 28, 2011
• ISBN: 9780798153096

Book preview

The Leopards of Sho’ng

Paul Jaco

Human & Rousseau

To Joel and Jemma

To teenagers who don’t have parents,

and to parents

who don’t have teenagers,

but still they have them

1. Dead or Alive

The Mother

A pair of fiery eyes was fixed on us. To the leopard, we were two dots approaching over a saddle of granite. Carefully selected, her den was virtually impregnable, but as her yellow-spotted tail whipped up the sand behind her, her wild leopard fury grew.

Everything became vulnerable when man showed up.

We were walking along a southern path where the cliff dropped straight down into a noon haze of bushes far below. This was the Mountain of Sh’ong: a huge plateau, its secrets tempting us to go in search of the grim truths hidden under its crust of unseen landslides. Rugged traces exposed age-old surface volcanic activity.

A jut of rock rising from the earth, a cone of solid stone seen from afar, lured us with its cave, like an open, toothless mouth. We pressed on, never suspecting death to lie waiting inside.

Tensy was breathing hard.

Will you make it? I asked as she came up from behind me.

She looked down at my dirty boots. Easier than you, tough guy!

Subconsciously, we were steering our thoughts away from an early morning at the hospital where we visited our friends, Ashlea and her brother Shane. While hiking on a nearby mountain, they were assaulted by two gangmen wearing leopard skin loincloths.

I’m sure they wore those loincloths in tribal fashion, Tensy had said to Ashlea, and, knowing the switchovers that occurred so easily in strife-torn Kwa-Violentia, I could agree. After the attack the men fled into the wildlife reserve bordering the area.

Now, on a risky mountain search, we were doing more than just hiking. We were examining caves, thinking attacks like those on Ashlea and Shane would not happen to us. Life was still uncomplicated and we had a lot to look forward to. Both of us were hoping to finish school and study Medicine.

A few months before, we had joined the Speleobeetles club, where most members were looking for adventure, saying that cave hunting could be a pastime till you’re a hundred.

To us there was, however, more to it.

Driven by an obsession, we were explorers, two amateur detectives on a relentless quest. With a huge green grassland on the one side and those juts on the other, we were making our way over the rifts and ruts.

Somewhere up there, on that mountain, was my sister’s grave. No one knew exactly where. To me it meant more than just solving a family mystery. I needed to find that grave for personal reasons. I’ve always suspected that I was an adopted child and learning about DNA in our Biology class made my suspicions grow.

The Sh’ong Mountain plateau widened out like a table in front of us. Another cone, also with its cave, loomed higher up, above a ridge. On the north side, there were more giant stalagmite-type juts like this one, protruding from the ground.

Closing in on the jut we were aiming for, Tensy exclaimed: This one looks like a crook!

Holding a branch for her to pass under, I turned sideways to see what she was pointing at. The top of that protruding rock appeared to be slightly tilted, like an anthill tower crippled by too much rain. And it’s wearing a Phrygian night cap! I said. We were always discovering new things, making us feel like we were in a wildlife paradise.

But neither of us had time to wonder what the crook’s tonsils were going to be like. I didn’t even finish speaking when we heard a vicious snarl as a yellow-coloured, spotted streak leaped out, making me snatch my rifle from my shoulder.

Wait! In a quick movement, Tensy tilted the barrel upwards. I was too late to fire anyway. Within seconds, the leopard was already a hundred metres away in the grass, Madame Agility, bolting headlong towards a patch of thorn trees and bushes on the northwestern side of the mountain.

Expecting more trouble, my rifle cocked, I peeped inside the cave. In the sand were her tracks, deeper than those of a normal female, and I could see where her tail had beaten the sand. This was a place to have cubs, I gathered. I knew leopards.

A few hairs on a large rock forming a ledge and some sand marks immediately behind it, told me exactly where she must have been lying, waiting to attack, being diverted probably at the last moment by the sound of human voices. What else?

She was watching us, said Tensy, hardly believing our luck. She must have realised that she was outnumbered and decided to back off.

Still, she could’ve attacked us. The fluff on my arm remained standing on end as I studied the signs in the sand covering the floor of the cave. Had we come here a week or even a day later, we would have been unlucky enough to experience her hospitality – in maternal wrath. Guess this was to be the nursery.

Did we upset the family planning? Tensy wondered as she also entered to investigate.

Leopard cave, I said, trying to sound brave. Our other caves also had names. This one was no deeper than the distance between two goalposts. At the far end, it narrowed down to form a hollow area, which undoubtedly was the main source of attraction to the expectant mother. In this now remote area, it would be ideal for raising a family.

After that shock, we stuck around for a while, trying to see if we could find anything in line of what we were looking for. Nothing. Then we left, glancing back at the jut quite a few times in case there was a male hiding somewhere or stalking us. This was unlikely now, but one never knew.

To avoid passing near the bushes where the leopard had entered, we needed to descend southward, follow a loop eastward, and ascend over some rough terrain to reach the next cave.

Suddenly a mighty voice rose up from where we had just stood. Brilliant, you two!

We swung round. A giant figure was standing opposite the Leopard Cave.

Gum! I was a little perplexed as we walked up to the man who had taught me everything about the bush since I was nine.

You were lucky! He must have seen everything from a distance. His direction of approach was from the village below, where he and Grace were staying over in their new house while the opera season in Milan was in recess. Undoubtedly, his approach would also have scared the leopard. Was that why she took off so hurriedly?

We didn’t want to shoot her, I said.

Of course not! But you may have had to shoot her if she came for you; and you would have been rather late.

Okay-y, I said, knowing very well that his father, the great Sh’ong, was fanatic about conserving wildlife in the area. This whole plateau was part of his territory.

When will you be off again? Tensy asked. Gum and Grace were set for Italy, leaving their new house unoccupied again despite Sh’ong’s protests. Gum had become an opera singer, while his father wanted him to stay here, tending to community and family matters as would be expected of a duty-bound prince. Sh’ong even built them that grand new house as a present next to his own, a showpiece of the New South Africa.

We called them the G’s. Tensy and her sister Grace were not on speaking terms for the time being, due to a ballet issue.

Next month, Gum answered, walking past us. He turned round. You should be careful, the Spuds are active. They operate from your father’s mine, he said, looking straight at Tensy. I caught some of them up here last week. I don’t know how they got past the sentries. My men expected that two others would turn up, but nothing yet.

He probably beat the hell out of those he did find, I said softly to Tensy. Gum was more than just a singer, with a physique like that of Odysseus. His eye had a kindly glint as he saw me watching his rifle, which looked very small as it hung over his huge shoulder. Not many people could handle a gun like he did.

The Spuds were a gang from a local tribe who resented Gum’s father, Sh’ong, for being first in line for the nation’s kingship. They were carrying on with a feud for years now, with Gum at the centre of their hatred.

I stared after him as his giant figure moved towards the eastern side, now on his way home.

The mine was situated on the other side of Sh’ong’s mountain, reaching up to the slopes. Having to limit his expansion was a source of irritation to the owner, Neville Nobesy, Grace and Tensy’s father. He and his miners were not allowed to extend exploration to the top. He had employed several members of the Spuds gang as miners without first establishing who they were. This had wrecked his in-law relationship with Gum, who, when he heard about this, called him my father in claw. Except for that, Gum and Nobesy had a history of confused loyalty from the days when Nobesy poached rhino for the horns. When they caught him, he put the blame on Gum, who had to be bailed out. Gum resigned as manager of Nob’s Motors. It’s actually a long story. We were about sixteen then.

We began walking towards the cave closest to us, passing some warthogs grazing on their knees, and an antbear hurriedly disappearing into its hole. At a turn, a lynx went scurrying over a rise, giving us a dirty look before it vanished. Four caves produced nothing, and we called it a day.

We’ll come again tomorrow, I said.

Tensy just nodded and, with a last look at the bushes where the leopard had disappeared, we started for where the southern road would take us down the mountain.

Even while we were heading home from our second cave, eyes were watching us from a remote vantage point only skilled mountaineers could have reached. Two men had just climbed to the top, using an old military pair of binoculars to spy out the vast area. How could we have known about them?

I dropped Tensy at her place, where her folks awaited us with more news from the hospital. Doctors are having a battle with Shane; his soccer career’s in danger, Mr Nobesy said as we entered the lounge, being rather talkative for such a grouse pot.

It’s as if the warning is not enough, said Mrs Nobesy, while we told them about our visit earlier. She was French-speaking, and insisted we call her Mignoné, not Madame.

She began lecturing us: You’re too headstrong, you with your cave pursuits! See what has happened to your friends!

But Shane and Ashlea are white, said Justin, the youngest member of the family, who did not know that friends were not colour-bound, except maybe when one was still at primary school.

Mr Nobesy frowned: I forbid you to go up there again! He hated me, except when I allowed him to beat me at table tennis. All I liked about him was that he taught us how to use his blowguns from Madagascar, where he and his family had lived till four years ago.

That attack was ten kilometres from where we always explore, Dad. It was on the other side of your mine, Tensy reminded him, while Ashlea and Shane’s ordeal kept turning up in our minds.

Mignoné quickly tried to change the subject to avoid any arguments. How many kittens did Stella have?

Two, I said.

Just two! She had indicated that she wanted one when she last visited us.

I forbid it! Mr Nobesy insisted, ignoring our small talk about the kittens, his paunch protruding almost like a bullfrog’s.

Tensy was ready for him. We’ll find a slug of that gold, Dad!

She had him just where she wanted him. He was quick at pretending disgust, but we both saw a subtlety slithering into his eyes as he turned away, saying: I have to go to the garage; something’s wrong with the pumps.

We looked at each other happily. We could continue planning our next day’s activity!

Look, I said, grabbing a pen and some paper and drawing a little map, let’s forget about the leopard … and we both bent our heads in some serious planning, since I couldn’t stay too long.

If only we knew what was taking place on the plateau right then.

The two sneaky mountaineers had proceeded cautiously to the point where we had seen the lynx. They didn’t make a fire or even smoked. Hardy soldiers during the war, their eyes were fixed on the bright lights from the village down below. Moving through the place in the dark and silently killing half the people before dawn would be quite easy.

Their instructions were sinister but clear. It was about more than just a village or some gold ore. A whole mountain was involved.

A thunderstorm erupted, but subsided after some torrential rain. An SMS came over the mobile. It was from Mpudu, leader of the Spuds. Moale, come down. You’ll leave too many tracks. You can go up again later.

Our gear will get wet and dirty, Mpudu, protested Moale when he hurriedly phoned back, using their leader’s tribal name, and asking, and how can we descend now? It’s dark.

Then hide till dawn, said Mpudu. No tracks! But come down as soon as possible.

Moale clicked out. It meant sleeping in a cave somewhere near the cliffs where they had left their gear. Tomorrow will also be out, as the ground will still be wet. We’re not scared, he said aloud.

They nevertheless heeded the order.

The Cub

The cave looming in front of us was so deep that we could barely see the back walls. We went in after struggling through some mud, leaving our rifles standing erect in a bush. To keep our direction once we were inside, we always rolled out a thin rope behind us.

It was a grave we were looking for, but this cave also had nothing. When we came out, a surprise awaited us.

Two warriors wearing leopard skin loincloths confronted us. Their faces were painted with red and yellow root juice and in their hands were the two rifles we had left outside, now pointing ominously at us. The markings on their faces clearly showed their affiliation and origin. Their bare feet were covered in mud. We lived in Kwa-Violentia, after all.

Spuds! I said softly. This was worse than Ashlea and Shane’s nightmare, because our attackers now had guns, our guns.

It’s them! Tensy groaned. Over his shoulder, one of them wore a bag with an old army-type pair of binoculars and a mobile phone.

We had our camera equipment in our hands, and in a desperate attempt to save our lives I called out to them: Hi, gentlemen! Want these?

I quickly tried offering them what we had. There were our rucksacks, a tripod, a flashlight, two lenses, an unused spool and our binoculars. A hand-out was better than an assault. Watching their trigger fingers very closely, I braced myself for a quick veering reaction in case they started shooting, but what could one really hope for?

One of the men stepped forward while the other kept Tensy’s rifle pointing at us. He took our rucksacks and photographic equipment.

They threw some of the smaller items on the ground. Neither of them said a word. One decided he would also have the binoculars, and it went into the bag where the camera was. To our astonishment, after removing the cartridges, they placed the guns back where they had found them. Then they walked off rather briskly.

Our other cartridges were in the car. With the mine headquarters only six kilometres down below, they might have been off-duty workers. But then, why were they wearing tribal cloths, with all the root juice markings? Spying on us from afar?

I was sure I could take them on, now that they didn’t have the weapons any more. They were walking straight into that patch of bushes where the leopard had disappeared the previous day.

On the verge of charging after them, intent on using my karate skills, Tensy grabbed my arm firmly. They’ll kill you; they would have spears somewhere. Besides, they’re sure to have their own firearms. You have nothing. Trying to calm me down did make sense. Why didn’t they kill us?

We’re small fry, was all I could think of. Tribal reasons, maybe. Gum never found these two guys.

Her expression turned into one of deep concern. It can’t be just that. This is part of my father’s scheme! They’ve probably been watching us, trying to stop us from prowling around. Don’t forget that he’s interested in exploring this part of the mountain. We’re in his way. And he can’t stop us. But he tried yesterday, remember?

Oh, come on! I said.

You’re a black belt. If you went after them, they could have killed you, saying afterwards that you had assaulted them. I’m telling you, this is my dad’s way of trying to stop us from coming here.

I still don’t believe it, I said. And what about Ashlea and Shane?

She straightened up. Seevie, stop arguing. She turned and started heading back to the car, leaving everything for me to carry. Our day was over. Her figure was etched against the blue horizon where the mountain ended. She was crying, as if she could see into the future. She knew very well what havoc her father could create.

We took a path, and I glanced sideways. Some lofty trees made up the thicket where those men were now heading. Well, the leopard is their problem now, I said when I finally caught up with her.

Her argument continued on our way home. The only reason why they didn’t kill you, was because I was there.

They’d kill me to get you, bright spark, I said. Afterwards, this possibility did, in fact, strike me again when I remembered how one of those guys had looked at her.

During the previous week we had received the results of two tests at school, with Tensy getting hundred per cent for maths and ninety-eight for science and I only got seventy-nine and eighty-four. We were in the same grade, but our ways would part soon when she was to transfer to a special school for the gifted and I was going to remain where I was, IQ minus 16.

When we got to the car, I said: I’m coming back here. I’ll first get some more cartridges.

No, Seevie, no! Don’t go up there alone! she pleaded. Ask your dad to go with you if you have to risk it. And take Cram with you! She saw my resentment. You’re so stubborn!

I had to give in to her and tried phoning the man who was supposed to be my dad, Merby, on his mobile. But he was in a meeting, so I just took off after dropping her at home.

Soon I was back on the mountain with my dog, ready to shoot somebody in the foot if it meant getting that camera back.

It was Merby’s camera.

I found myself at the place where the two robbers disappeared over the rise. Yes, the little footpath they were following led straight to where that leopard mother had fled the day before. It was less than a kilometre away from where I was standing.

I cocked my rifle. Come on! I said to Cram, my pit bull terrier, a fighter who had saved my life more than once, like the previous Saturday when a wounded bushbuck charged me and my hunting rifle failed. Well trained, he took the spoor, stalking mode, heading straight towards the thicket. He did not have enough weight to handle a leopard, and his legs were too short. But he did once fight a honey badger to death somewhere in the bush, where our staff later found the remains of the skin. For two weeks he lay like something that was hit by a train, hardly eating; and did he stink! But he was all fight now.

When I reached the bushes I had to push past about fifty thorny acacias and at least twenty coral trees. From a deep shadow, I strained my eyes as I stopped Cram with a tssst. There was a small clearance. A dense collection of southern mahoganies and some bushes formed a thicket a little way in. I went on, very cautiously. There was no path to follow here. Still, Cram went ahead when I touched his backside with my foot. Everything was quiet. In front of us was a larger opening. Expecting anything to happen, I went in.

In the centre of the opening lay the leopard, dead. Her belly was ripped open and the contents lay spilled over the ground. An assegai, remaining stuck in her throat, was obviously the weapon of defence. Those men must have been unaware of what this place stood for!

Ten metres from her lay the man who had pointed Tensy’s gun at us; also dead. His face and abdomen were in tatters and he must have died bleeding to death from a severed jugular vein. His abdomen was virtually dissected by the animal’s formidable medial nails.

I touched nothing, holding Cram back from attacking the dead leopard. Dogs often defecated when they smelled a leopard, but Cram merely cocked his ears, looked in the direction of where the path was leading to, and then he headed straight towards the densest part of the thicket. Again I needed to restrain him.

We moved forward slowly, but we weren’t even halfway when the dog suddenly rushed in.

The largest leopard male I had ever seen, charged him! From his side swung an assegai shaft, and he was clearly out on a desperate, grizzly revenge. I had no choice but to shoot as quickly as I could. The dog was at his chest in an instant, but the bullet had entered his skull and had done its work, leaving an ugly sight. The spear had entered just below the spine.

On a great leadwood stem, forking out sideways, hung another human body, half-eaten. A .45 Browning lay in the bush about five metres from him. I didn’t touch the Browning either, whispering a short tribute of thanks to Tensy for sensing that the men could have killed me if I had followed them back there.

On examining the male, I concluded that a bullet might have ripped his ear off.

Not far from him I found the bag with the camera. I searched for the binoculars, but they were nowhere to be seen. I took more photographs.

As we returned, walking past the ghastly sight of the first body and the mutilated leopard mother, Cram sniffed around and stopped at a little enclosure near a hollow old tree trunk. Something smelled funny, and when I looked inside I found a little cub, nothing older than a day!

Stay! I commanded. Cram would never as much as snap at a house cat, but this thing smelt like bush and he could kill it in one bite.

What a discovery!

When I tried holding the cub against one of the dead mother’s teats, no milk came out. The mother must have been dead for hours already.

Towards late afternoon, after taking photographs of the scene where the female leopard and her attacker lay, I headed back, the camera slung over my shoulder and the cub tucked inside my shirt.

I was already quite far from that place with its ghastly scenes, when a voice called out to me from behind a boulder. Seevie! It was Tensy, of course. She had already seen me holding the stolen bag. When she reached me she kissed me and held me very tight. She had never done that before.

Looking for trouble, are you?

I shrugged her off, and quickly told her everything, speaking rather softly, not forgetting this was leopard area.

Luckily she was clever enough to bring a torch and when I showed her what was inside my shirt she exclaimed: Seevie! He must have been born last night!

I just said: Come. It’s a she. We walked down the same path where we went down previously, a path now having its own memories. Cram faithfully led the way.

He’s hungry, poor thing, Tensy said as