The Quintessence of the Wild

By Esther E. Du Preez

After Seth Tzimbi had finished his schooling, his mother sent him to say good-bye to her father, a Khoisan cave painter. Animals and nature had always intrigued him, therefor he was elated when he had the chance of raising a tiger cub.
Mitch Bourne, a Secret Agent who had rescued him and other children in Zimbabwe, en route to Nigeria (in The Spiderweb) invited him to visit her in Great Britain. He wanted to become a Secret Agent, and make the world a better place to live in. At Oxford University he started to study Veterinary Science and proceeded with his studies at the legendary Padua University while Mitch obtained permission to train him as a Secret Agent.
They were both sent to South Africa on a mission to catch poachers of ivory and rhino horn.
Mitch fell in love with a fellow undercover Agent, Andrew Short. After romancing her, they were married. He was recruited as a medical doctor by Chinese smugglers. Seth, was passed off as a doctor and accompanied him. Mitch and Seths two sisters were abducted by the poachers and sold to the Chinese. In Singapore, she was forced to kill two sailors when she and the girls escaped from the S.S. Shanghai.
Unsure of what the future held in store, they returned to South Africa and picked up the threads of their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jun 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496983008

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© 2014 Esther E. du Preez. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/09/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-8297-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-8300-8 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

1. The Khoisan

2. The Tzimbis

3. The United Kingdom

4. Padua

5. Kyleakin

6. Lion’s Lair

7. Neighbours

8. The German Shepherd Dogs

9. The Kruger Game Reserve

10. Traffic

11. Letaba

12. The week-end

13. The One

14. Night Time

15. A Wedding Feast

16. Tracking

17. War Zone

18. The SS Shanghai

19. Malaria

20. Escape

21. The Hub

22. Home

Dedicated to Jan and Zac who inspired me and to thank Elizabeth for editing it.

And to all animals over our planet.

1

The Khoisan

The cave reverberated with a gruesome growl when an object squirmed past its gaping cavity. !Xung dropped his paint and ran to the opening. He stared down the rocky precipice where blood dripped from jagged rocks. He clicked his tongue in the manner of the Khoi, his mouth dry. Yellow cheeks hollow under high cheekbones, accentuated his toothless mouth. He rinsed his mouth with water from his gourd. His panic abated. His small eyes searched Sethabiso’s large ones when he handed his grandson the gourd. Sethabiso swallowed countless times, his mouth was as dry as the Kahlahari. Then he clutched his grandfather’s wrinkled hand, staring around the enormous cave which was starting to darken and made his blood run cold. He stared at the trickle of a waterfall, where he had often put out his hands to catch some of the silvery drops, during the last three days. Now the gourd was safer.

What on earth was that? We’d better be off. Fear trickled icy fingers up and down their spines.

Since the advent of them with the white faces, the Khoisan had been banned to the Kahlahari desert, but once in a blue moon the elders of the clan remembered the folk lore stories which their ancestors had passed down to them, and the beatific vision of the sea-side overwhelmed them. They were a hunter-gatherer clan and it did not uproot them much to go south for the hot months and return when winter sharpened its’ claws. They knew where the white faces lived and made a wide berth around their farms.

He was brought up to respect his elders, so he listened politely when his grandfather bad mouthed the white faces. But he remembered Mitch Bourne and how she had rescued him and the other dark children from Zimbabwe at the beginning of that year. There are different kinds of people in all nations, his heart told him.

When his mother heard that they were visiting the sea-side, she sent him to say goodbye to her father before Sethabiso left for the other country. Still, he felt remorse because he had to leave South Africa and probably never see the old man again.

He was the eldest grandchild and his mother was fully aware of the fact that her father had hoped to endow him with his gift of cave painting. He was a keen observer.

A war was brewing between his people who lived nearer to the sea and the Xhosas - them with the large ding-dongs and the knobkieries. (cudgels).

Long ago, at ebb tide Beachcombers had packed the largest stones which they could carry, in half moon formation for fish traps as far as the retreating sea allowed them to go. When the sea pushed over the rocks at high tide and retreated again at ebb, it would trap the fish, snaring them for humans to catch, using sharpened sticks to spear them and prepare them for their meals. Crabs, mussels, abalone, periwinkles and octopus were also scavenged from the fish traps if they were lucky. Exposure to the elements on the shell middens, caused many of the implements to decay.

In their caves the loud roar of the sea woke the elders that night. The seasons were changing, the sea was becoming turbulent and they knew that the time had come for them to return to the Kahlahari.

It would be better if they moved inland come winter. It was a cumbersome but necessary task so they started making stone implements, which were stronger and lasted much longer. They used them to hunt mammals like dassies (hyrax), which were plentiful on the dunes near the sea. Being small themselves, their frizzy heads barely showed above the shrubs when bare-footed, they softly stalked moles, reptiles, birds, small deer and the tasty tortoises for their daily diet. Children were sad when a tortoise was boiled in the tonkas, (tin cans) as they used them for slow-going horses.

!Xung had been searching for a cave with calciferous inner walls, private and cut off from the world, where his paintings would be safely documented for generations to come. When he found this cave, he was over-joyed and started painting the history of the Khoisan. It smelt dry and clean in this haven of his. He studied his paintings one by one. The leaping baboon was perfect! Two giraffes and some elephants, as well as Khoisan stalking bucks were very good. He was busy with the hindquarters of a leopard when he was interrupted by the fearsome roar. It’s hard to leave a project hanging, thus he hastily changed the hindquarters into the face of a baboon before grabbing his belongings. When his grandpa started gathering his painting utensils, he needed no prompting and immediately followed suit.

The chimney at the back of the cave was treacherous and dark.

Be careful my child! His grandpa admonished. Make sure your foot is securely lodged before you move on to the next step.

Three days without food takes its toll, their tummies were rumbling. !Xung rolled large sips of water in his mouth. Then they nimbly set forth to the chimney which lead to the exit. It took hours of climbing—wracking their muscles, feeling with their fingers and toes for firm rocks, before at last the fragrant smell of plants and fresh air washed their faces as they poked their heads out of the earth, through the undergrowth.

Grandpa bared his gums in a relieved grin. Nothing was wrong, as he had feared. There had not been a battle. They had not been killed. His people were hulking over small fires, eating insects and berries. The smell of meat was appetising.

If only they’ve not eaten it all, he mumbled to his grandson. Not to worry, there are two goats, who are bound to have lambed by now, saliva dripped from his mouth. It meant they’d have milk, the nectar of the Gods.

Seth drew in a huge gulp of fresh air after he had seen the Khoisan, then his eyes swivelled to the other side. At the foot of the mountain, he could only just discern the shining Kouga river snaking its stony way over the rugged landscape.

How many thousands of baboons quenched their thirst, before sleeping in their thick-leafed beds? They would be easy prey for the baboons which were much larger than them, small children were told and seriously commanded not to wander off on their own. He could make out the white ribbon of a waterfall plunging into a dark black pool beneath it.

Drowsy children slept, some grown-ups were still dragging their feet through the dust and thumping the ground and wagging their heads in a victory dance. They greeted them gleefully, oozing excitement as the battle story unfolded. Dancing the riel (reel) which was an imitation of the movements that animals make, they were exhilarated beyond belief.

The enemy, by far outnumbering their clan, had advanced, knobkieries raised. Praises be, the Gods had intervened. With a piercing growl a leopard had leapt into their midst, claws flaying. She struck down the Xhosa leader with one blow. His second in command had the skin ripped from his skull.

As the sun fell on the horizon, splintering golden strips across the veldt, the terrified army of Xhosas fled, their bare backs glistening in the afternoon sun. The Khoi clan advanced before they realized that the leopard was defending her young. The leopard bounded back. Their elder - they did not have a leader, but made decisions by consensus - had just raised his bow and arrow in a victory stance, when she jumped. She was in mid-air when he let loose the taut bow. The arrow pierced her neck. Her momentum carried her over the edge of the cliff, where she disappeared howling. They shuddered.

Reverential silence. There was soft mewing, they searched and found the cub where it lay under the shrub. !Xung clicked his tongue. It was so cute. He laughed softly as he picked up the wildly scratching little animal, holding it at arms’ length from his body. He held up his hand in the peace gesture, scrutinizing the clan. They nodded. The cub could live. It was not in the Khoi tradition to keep pets. But !Xung needed to study the shape of this little creature. It would improve his drawing technique immensely. An opportunity like this was a rare occurrence indeed.

When he arrived at Baviaanskloof in the mountains, Sethabiso’s name had been shortened to Seth by his mother’s people, the Khoi.

Writhing inwardly, but suppressing it with all his might, he held out his arms. He had felt guilty when he told his grandpa about his plans to leave his people for another country, all- though he made sure that they understood that it was just a temporary visit.

This would be his parting gift to his grandpa. He would tame the cub even if it scratched off most of his skin. His thoughts raced as the cub was placed in his arms. None of these people had been to school. What had he been taught in his twelve years of schooling which the Khoi wouldn’t think of doing?

With blood dripping from his chest, he looked for the place where the cub had felt safe with its mother. He wrapped his arms tightly around the quivering little animal, trying to keep its back to him and its claws from his body. Then he lay down under the shrub, where the leopard smell was most pungent.

Grandpa please ask the man with the leopard loin cloth if I cannot have it. I know it is precious, but I’ll change it for this, he spoke softly, without imitating the sharp clicking sounds of the Khoi. Out of his own loin cloth he took the only valuable thing his parents had given him, and with downcast eyes put it in the old man’s hand. It wasn’t very large, but unmistakeably a diamond. A precious gift indeed.

He pointed to his neck and his grandpa wrapped the leopard skin cloth tightly around his neck, near to the cub’s nose. The other clan members kept their distance, admiring the diamond and trying to keep their eyes diverted from the blood dripping over Seth’s neck and chest onto his knees.

Will you please strew sand from where his mother lay, over our bodies, especially over mine? Don’t utter a sound and do it slowly, without talking or stamping your feet.

The cub acquiesced. Food, Seth thought, almost starting to tremble. The thought of the goat which had given birth, came to his mind. The others found it difficult to follow the softer tongue-fall of his father which he was now deliberately using, but his grandpa had been with him for many days.

Grandpa, I will be so glad if you could go to the goat and milk it in a new gourd as fast as you can. It is rich in colostrum and diluted with warm water, it might just do the trick.

When he was handed the gourd, he put it into the cubs’ mouth and it trickled down its chin. Slowly the taste, the smell and the wetness of the milk, started to please the cubs’ senses and he swallowed greedily. Seth could feel the furry little body relax. It became used to his comforting warmth and heartbeat. He heaved a sigh of relief, confident that he would have it suckling from the goat within days for at least the three month period which it took to wean leopards. Leopards are solitary animals, but that bridge had to be crossed when they came to it. The only thing he could do was to remind them about it constantly, otherwise a serious accident might happen.

He kept this up for a couple of days, imploring his grandpa to keep the children and grownups as far from him and the cub for as long as it took. At first he literally licked the milk from the cub, then he wet his fingers and stroked its fur until it purred.

Grandpa’s concern was for his grand-child. Genetic evidence points to the fact that Bushmen’s ancestors predate the rest of humanity, creating an Adam from which all humans trace their heritage. This many thousand year old nation had knowledge of long forgotten things. They knew more about plants and animals than one could deem possible. They were his grandpa and his mothers’ ancestry.

What if the scratches became septic? !Xung searched the vicinity for the balm or the comfort-bush (troos-siekte bossie) as the bush with its healing powers was called, which the Khoi used for wounds. He was doubly rewarded when he found a Boopane disticha which was also excellent for healing scratches.

Eureka! he uttered softly when he came across some Baroe plants during his search. It was not quite their season yet, but they were a good means for building up Seth’s strength. He ground the plants to a pulp as fast as he could with the hollowed out stone and the round one crushing the bush finely with his artists’ hands.

Please light a fire! He urged the clan. Using a piece of loin cloth which he had used for cleaning his paintings, he boiled the cloth till bubbles of paint ran over the edge of the tin and almost doused the fire. This procedure was repeated several times as the cloth had to be clean and the smell of paint absent. The young men and girls had to fetch fresh water in the low-lying Baviaans and Kouga rivers every day. Tonkas were a luxury of which they did not own many.

!Xung took some of the milk and cleaned the scars as thoroughly as he could. Carefully he spread the pulp over the wounds, pressing it down firmly. Some of the scars were badly swollen. He kept doing this for a number of days. The smell of the Khoi and the goat’s milk calmed the cub and it started licking the stuff from Seth’s body, which !Xung knew would be beneficial to both. Sure enough, Seth’s body started healing.

The little animal stopped lashing out and succumbed to the friendly treatment of his newly formed circle of friends.

Grandpa, please draw near and try the same things which I have done.

His grandpa was overjoyed when the cub, which they named Luv, reacted favourably. He almost called out his delight, but Seth had stressed the fact that the little animal was not ready for human sounds, especially those of the Khoisan, yet.

It was important that !Xung should study its’ build rapidly. It would have to stay in the mountains when they left. The name Luv silenced most of the clicking sounds in the Khoi vocabulary. Love, trust and gratitude shone from Seth’s eyes every time he looked at his grandpa. The cub must have felt the depth and tranquillity of their feelings for one another. It rubbed off on him too.

Gradually they allowed one by one child to approach, while they kept absolutely quiet.

His time with his grandpa was running out and he would have to return to his home town. His heart throbbed with gratitude when he cuddled his new love. Luv had accepted him. He also knew that within months the young one would begin claiming more substantial meals. That thought occupied almost every waking moment.

He had to start the process.

Could you snare oribi or small didopper antelopes? he asked the tribe, as it was their favourite venison meals. Hyrax, a small rabbit-like animal which tasted a bit like chicken, was plentiful and was also inspected. At first Seth sliced off tiny pieces of meat for Luv, but soon Luv would pull up his small nose and smell the meat. He would charge in that direction as fast as his short legs could carry him, pluck the animal from the child’s arms and start devouring bits which he tore off the little antelope. Often he would choke on a hoof or a piece of skin. Seth was obliged to put his fingers into his throat and try to dislodge it. A dangerous job indeed. He would wrap some animals’ skin over his hand to protect his fingers.

The kids would screech and scramble to stay out of the way of his sharp claws, but soon learnt that their clicks made him more aggressive, so they