Waters of the Kalahari: Jessica Thorpe novels, #7

By William Wresch

Book 7: Southern Africa has been enduring drought for three years. The World Bank asks Jessica to help with an exploration project. Can water be found under the Kalahari Desert? Jessica agrees to help. It is her chance to explore Africa and do some good. She helps put in 90 wells. The project is a huge success. Then she loses everything, and must restart her life. She returns to Wisconsin and to her family as she tries to rebuild her company and rebuild her life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Wresch
• Release date: Mar 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781370032433

William Wresch

I have three sets of books here. The first is an alternative history of the US, envisioning how things might have gone had the French prevailed in the French and Indian War. That series comes from some personal experiences. I have canoed sections of the Fox, and driven along its banks. I have followed the voyageur route from the Sault to Quebec and traveled from Green Bay to New Orleans by car and by boat. My wife and I have spent many happy days on Mackinac Island and in Door County. The Jessica Thorpe series is very different. It takes place in the tiny town of Amberg, Wisconsin, a place where I used to live. I wanted to describe that town and its troubles. Initially the novel involved a militia take over of the town, and it was called "Two Angry Men." But both men were predictable and boring. I had decided to have the story narrated by the town bartender - Jessica - and I soon realized she was the most interesting character in the book. She became the lead in the Jessica Thorpe series. I restarted the series with a fight over a proposed water plant with Jessica balancing environmental rights and business rights. I put Jessica right in the middle of a real problem we are experiencing here in Wisconsin (and most other places). How badly does a tiny town need jobs? How much environmental damage should we accept? The third series changes the lead character. Catherine Johnson solves mysteries. She also travels. It took her to many places I have been. The last several books take place in Russia. I admit I have no idea what is motivating the current madness there. Catherine looks, she tries to help, she struggles. What else can any of us do?

Book preview

Chapter 1

He Sends Me to Africa

I’d like you to go to Africa and help with a water project.

No.

When I thought about it later, I realized he had set me up.  Odd, since I thought I was setting him up.  It was a spring day.  May.  Sunny, warm, and well...May.  A time to be out.  A time to enjoy.  We had gone hiking up in the mountains.  Switzerland.  Every mountain is stunning, and every mountain is laced with hiking trails.  We had one we liked.  Off we went. 

I was wearing a dirndl.  No surprise if you don’t know what that is.  Basically, a blouse with a jumper over it.  Worn by milk maids in centuries past, and by folk dancers these days.  I wasn’t either one, but I was six months into a marriage to a Swiss man, and I tended to out Swiss the Swiss.  Besides, the skirt made moves as I hiked out in front of my new husband.  I’m forty-three; he’s fifty-nine, but that doesn’t mean we are too old to enjoy watching each other move.  I had hiked that trail out front of my husband, my backside swishing at every step.  The views were amazing off every hillside, but I knew he was also watching – and enjoying – the back of my skirt.

So, I had an agenda for this hike - please new husband.  He had his own agenda.  He found a place he liked, spread out a blanket, sat with me, and then laid with me, my head on his shoulder, my hand on his chest, my lips to his neck.  A special place.  This was where we had created our life’s agenda.  It was the valley where the glacier had been.  In his youth, the valley had been filled.  Now the glacier was gone, just a small lake all that remained.  He had brought me here back when he was courting me, and got my immediate agreement – ice was melting, the world was getting warmer and drier, we needed to find and distribute water.

My agreement?  I would go back to Wisconsin and find water sources along the south side of Lake Superior.  His experts said it would be the last remaining water source in America.  Our company would be there, ready to pump, ready to provide.

His agreement?  We would marry.  Two middle-aged people who had lost their spouses, we would marry, we would love, we would prepare a world where our children and grandchildren (we each had four) would have what they needed.

Africa?  I didn’t have time for that.  I was President of North American Operations; he was corporate CEO and the guy who would dig wells in Europe.  Yes, the corporation was huge, but not so huge it could take on the whole world.

Besides, at the moment, I wanted an arm around my shoulders, and maybe a hand on my skirt.  Otherwise, what’s the point to wearing a dirndl?

You’ll be gone six to eight weeks, but it will help us.

How long?  The snow is mostly gone from the areas along Highway 2 I want to explore, so if I am going anywhere, it will be there.

Spring here but fall in the Southern Hemisphere.  Soon to be winter.  The rains flood the Kalahari in the winter.

I had to sit up and look at him.  Was he serious?

The Kalahari Desert?  You are sending me to the Kalahari Desert?  For a water project?  How does that make any sense at all?

Sandy soil.  The desert floods briefly from the rains, then it all disappears into the ground.  There’s an aquafer.  Maybe shallow, maybe deep.  They want to map it.

When did you become an expert on the Kalahari?

A woman from the World Bank gave me a call.  She wants you.

Tell her ‘no’.  I have my own survey to do south of Superior.

That’s why you should say ‘yes.’  It’s the same project.  You can learn about the process they use.

I don’t have time.

I laid my head on his shoulder again.  Maybe I dropped my head a little hard.  My answer was ‘no’.  If he didn’t hear my words, maybe he felt my head.  I was up with him hiking mountains, and soon enough I would be leaving him to go back to Wisconsin.  His job was to hold me while he still could, not send me off to a desert.  Notice the dirndl, Emil?  Think I wore it to work on my tan?

She promises you will be completely safe.

I’ll be eaten by a lion or trampled by an elephant.

The World Bank is a good friend to have.

We don’t borrow from them.

No, but we listen to their experts.  Now you will have one as a friend.  Basic networking, Jess.

That’s your job. You’re the CEO.

Your job too.

The World Bank?  I’m supposed to network with some expert from the Bank?  Emil, I never finished the eleventh grade.

Be careful, Jess.  It is okay if others underestimate you.  It lets you surprise them.  But don’t you underestimate you.  You have skills.  You got our first American bottling plant up and running.  You fought for it, you staffed it, you managed it.  And don’t tell me you were just a bartender.  Elias knew what he was getting when he found you.  If I had my way, I would require all our executives have some bartending experience.  It brings a whole new skillset to management.

Nice try, Emil.

I dropped my head on his chest again.  Feel me, Emil.

I’m not going.  Could I help staff a bottling plant in my hometown?  Sure.  I know everyone.  Can I go to a whole new continent and hang out with World Bank executives?  No way in hell.  You are asking too much.

They specifically asked for you, Jess.  They need you.  They want you.  I think you should go.

Emil, you are asking too much.

You can do this, Jess.

He was a smart man.  He knew to just be still.  He had his arm around me, and he held me.  No words.  A hand that stroked my hair.  One of his many skills.  I looked down the mountainside, down at where the glacier had once been.

If I get eaten by a lion, I will never forgive you.

I was on a plane three days later.

Chapter 2

Okay, so why am I in Johannesburg?

You don’t fly directly to the Kalahari Desert in Namibia.  You fly Bern to Frankfurt to Johannesburg, then to Namibia.  It was going to take me a while to get there.  Longer, since the World Bank people wanted me to stop in Johannesburg for a few days.  My first flight – Bern to Frankfort - was midafternoon, so I had the morning free.  There were two castle tours scheduled, but I let Johann take them both. 

Yes, Emil’s family owns a castle.  Big, ancient, gray.  That was my first impression of Emil – big, ancient, gray.  I arrived one night looking to buy the water plant he had built in my tiny Wisconsin town.  He stood, he stared, he made me wait.  I stayed in his castle while I waited.  We fought.  We talked.  In less than two months we were married.  I loved the guy.  Big, ancient, but a guy who could waltz, and – if the planets aligned perfectly – he could smile, laugh, and make me melt in his arms. 

And that’s what I did that final morning – I melted.  I laid with my head on his chest.  He stroked my hair.  Sometimes he kissed the top of my head.  Sometimes I put my hand places and teased him a bit, but mostly I just lay there, feeling his chest rise and fall as he breathed. 

Any final words?  Not really.  I am sure I told him I would miss him, and he said the same to me, but there is a time for quiet.  You are with the one you love.  You touch him, he holds you, that says more than words, doesn’t it?

Eventually we got up and crowded together in that tiny shower.  That might be another invention worthy of a Nobel – a shower that forces two people to be close.  We went through a lot of hot water as I wrapped my arms around his neck and practically hung off my man.

Later, I did my usual trick, wearing nothing but a slip, leaning into him as I buttoned his shirt and tied his tie.  I asked him to brush my hair.  He pulled a few times, but it was worth it to have him stand close, his thighs against my back.  He was still standing close, watching me, as I put on my makeup.  His hands slid across the tops of my shoulders.  This was all serious foreplay, for a time two months off.  Interesting way to spend a morning.

Around noon I decided it was time to get fully dressed.  I picked a fairly plain office dress, cotton, just over my knees, sheath cut with short sleeves and a scoop neck.  I had a matching blazer.  If the plane was cold, or Johannesburg was cold, or any place in the world was cold, I thought I was ready for it.  Emil zipped up my dress and buttoned my blazer.  I had the man’s complete attention.  How’s that for a going away present?

I don’t have much to say about the flights.  The lines at the airport weren’t bad.  The company (Emil) had booked me into business class.  I had room to stretch.  The food was good.  I probably had more wine than I should have on the flight south, but it was a twelve-hour flight, and we bounced for some of it.  I never got any sleep.  Instead, I watched Disney movies and drank wine.  I wouldn’t be seeing my grandbabies for at least two more months.  When I saw them, I wanted to know what movies they had been watching and be able to talk about the main characters with them.  So, it wasn’t twelve hours wasted.

It was six thirty in the morning when we landed in Johannesburg (apparently everyone calls it Joburg).  It’s the same time zone as Switzerland, so I didn’t have jet lag, but I was sleep deprived and well, I guess I was also hung over.  Not a great way to start my first day in Africa.

Things got worse.  I was met at the airport by three people from the World Bank – two eager young men in their twenties, and a very tall woman about my age.  The eager young men wanted to share their eagerness.  I wanted a cup of coffee and a chance to see a lion, or at least an elephant.

Eagerness won out.  They loaded me into a car and gave me a tour, the two men explaining every building we saw.  I just looked up at the buildings and thought, what the hell, I’m still in Frankfurt.  It’s the same buildings, the same streets.  How far down any of these side streets do you have to go to see a lion?  I kept my mouth shut.  So did the very tall lady.  No problem – the two young men filled every possible silence.

It got worse.  They pulled into an office complex, signed me through security, and took me up an elevator to their tenth-floor offices.  Standard office furniture and arrangement, smiling receptionist, large glass windows looking out at more glass office buildings.  Really.  I was in Frankfurt.  Maybe Chicago.  Into an office we went, projector all set up, PowerPoint slides ready to go, two eager young men now armed with a laser pointer and a slide deck that went on to infinity.  I did get a cup of coffee.  The price of the coffee?  A forty- or fifty-hour lecture on the history of the World Bank (rising from the ashes of the Second World War...  Really.  They actually said that).  Lunch was brought in (God forbid I get out of that conference room without hearing more history), and then I had an afternoon summarizing current World Bank projects (They were everywhere, and everything they touched improved lives). 

I think I set the world’s record for the number of times I nodded my head and pretended to smile.  Did I have any questions?  They so wished I had.  Sorry.  But thank you.  Somehow it was four thirty and the eager young men went off to wherever eager young men go to celebrate another day of successfully educating the world. 

I was left with the tall lady.

What do you say we go get some dinner? 

Since the question implied leaving the conference room, I stood and followed her.  I would have followed her anywhere.

Where did we get to?  We got to a parking structure, about a ten-minute drive, another parking structure, a bit of security, then up an elevator to an apartment that looked across a grassy space enclosed by other apartment buildings.  I was certain somehow I had gotten on the wrong plane and landed in Chicago.  Chicago with men who talked forever.

Jessica, have a seat.  She pointed to a small couch out on her balcony.  I’ll be back in a minute with a glass of wine and an apology.

I sat.  It wasn’t a couch, it was a glider.  I love gliders.  I had the thing swinging instantly.  A glider in Africa?  This really was Chicago.

Jeb and Daniel were hired in June.  Both out of really good graduate programs.  Both in the midst of their training.  Their job for their first year is to do visitor orientations.  The hope is if they do the orientation often enough, they will absorb it.

I think their absorption is ahead of schedule.

They don’t get someone like you very often.  They were quoting your movie lines yesterday.

Thirty-two seconds.  I was just rehearsing the girls while the lighting and sound people got things in place.

The director knew what she was doing.  You had the look.  The words sounded perfect coming from you.  And the way that girl looks at you...

She was the real actor on that set.

Maybe.  She handed me a glass of red wine.  I sipped.  Not bad.  It’s called Pinotage.  South African.  From the area around Cape Town.

So I’m actually in Africa?

Afraid so.  Not a lot of grass huts left.  People pretty much all live in concrete boxes – bigger concrete boxes if you are well off, small concrete boxes if you aren’t.  When they get you out to the Kalahari you will see a few wild animals.  Until then, it is cityscapes all the way.

And when do I get to the Kalahari?

It will be about another week.  I need a couple days with you here, and then we will need a few days in Windhoek.

And while I’m here?

I will try to be less boring than the boys, but I do have lots to tell you.  But.  While I make dinner, why not take a shower.  I have you in the second bedroom.  Relax, change.  I’m a fairly good cook.  Give me an hour.

And that’s what I did.  Does a shower make up for missing a night’s sleep?  No, but it helped.  I even stretched out on the bed for a little while before putting on one of my office dresses and going back out on the balcony.  No blazer.  No shoes.  I felt far more relaxed.

Elsa was working in what was essentially a galley kitchen – a long row of appliances and cabinets separated from the main room by a breakfast bar.  There was a very small table set for two.  I guessed most nights it was set for one.  The whole apartment had the feel of an efficiency.  Even with two bedrooms, it seemed the kind of place younger people might rent when they first moved into town.  And that might be her situation.  How long did the World Bank keep employees in one town or another?

As for Elsa, this would be a good time for a description.  I said she was tall.  She was actually very tall, and very blond.  If she wasn’t six feet, she wasn’t off it by much.  Her hair was almost white and ran past her shoulders with nice waves.  She obviously took good care of it.  And she was beautiful – model beautiful.  Her dress size was probably a two, certainly no more than four.  She could walk any runway.  She had the carriage for it.  She might be pushing forty, with laugh lines around her eyes, but her posture said she was strong, confident, and had found her place in the world.  She hadn’t told me her job title, but it was clear she was running this show. 

She had to know I was standing behind her watching, but she stood and let me watch before slowly turning and looking at me.

Feel better? 

Nice smile, beautiful turn of her hips.  She had changed into a white, sleeveless dress with a slightly flared skirt.  The skirt rotated around her as she turned.

Yes, thank you.  And thank you for putting me up at your apartment.

It is actually the Bank’s apartment, mine to use until I rotate out.  I can take you to a hotel if you prefer, but I thought this would be more convenient.

My room is fine.

Good.  Take a seat, I am just about done here.

I sat at the small table and watched her finish grilling some fish.  She added some final seasoning, then put them on top of a mixed salad.  I happened to notice she was wearing two-inch heels.  She also had a string of pearls around her neck.  Maybe I should have left my shoes on.

Sitting oppose her was a chore.  Her back was straight, her shoulders and neck perfect, her head held high and always looking towards me with a smile.  If you looked in a dictionary for poise, it would have a picture of her sitting at that table conversing with me.  I think I have fairly good posture, but I have to pay attention to it.  She seemed a natural at it.  Effortless. 

Yet I found I liked her.  If we were both competing for a man, well, I would have lost, and I would not have been happy about it, but maybe because she was so beautiful, and so poised, I just accepted it.  And she seemed like a nice person.  She wasn’t trying to make me feel like a bumpkin.  Her smile seemed real.  But I was careful to sit straight and take small bites.

What did we talk about?  The World Bank.  Well, she talked, and I listened.  But there were no PowerPoint slides, and this was not the official history.  She talked about top management changes, fights for control between various countries (the U.S. always seemed to be in the fight), and changes in direction over the years - fewer huge projects, more smaller projects like mine.  And then there was China.  An alternative lender.  Fewer restrictions, less concern if some of the money went into Swiss bank accounts.  China was a source that would say yes, when the Bank said no.

All this was very interesting (it really was), but my back was talking to me.  When had I sat this straight this long?  I so wanted to lean back into my chair.  Finally, we finished our meal, she put our plates in the sink, poured us each a glass of wine, and suggested we sit back out on the glider.  I didn’t quite run, but it only took seconds before I was out on the balcony, my back firmly against the cushions on the glider.

The sun had set.  It was beginning to cool, but still comfortable.  I could hear conversations from the balconies below us and to the side.  Across the grassed area there were people on those balconies too.  Apparently, this is what you did in the evening.  I was fine with that.  I love gliders.  Elsa joined me, and we got the glider rocking at a comfortable pace.

I guess it was my turn to talk.

Elsa, I appreciate the chance to come down here, even if I never see a lion.  But the truth is, I don’t know why I am here.

Three reasons.  Skills, politics, media.

I assume you mean well drilling skills.  Yes, I have those, but I look around at this city and think – if they can build this, they can drill wells.

They can, Jessica.  Africa has no shortage of talented people. 

At this point she took my hand and turned to look at me.  I looked back, wondering what I had said. 

Lots of people come to Africa, Jessica.  For lots of reasons.  There are still clowns who want to take a head back to their den.  And some are tourists, and some come to make money.  And there are white saviors—generally nice people who think they can do things Africans can’t.  I didn’t think you would be one of those.  I am really pleased to hear I am right.

Elsa, you don’t know me, but I am no one’s savior.  I am just a bartender who fell in with the right kind of people.

I’ve seen the video, Jess.  You holding a sign at a grocery parking lot.  ‘Be Kind.’  You looked cold.  And unsure.  But you did it.

The water plant divided people.  Most wanted the jobs, but some worried about water shortages.  People argued.  Shots were fired.  It was getting out of hand.

More than a bartender, Jess.  More.

There was so much more to the story, but I left it there.  I looked out into the night and slid the glider back and forth.  We established a rhythm.  I appreciated the silence.

Skills, politics, and media, Jess.  You have the skills that give you a legitimate place in this project.  And you recognize that others have skills too.  Good.  Politics?  We need to talk about that.  It is complicated.  But let me save it for another time.  Let’s move on to media.  You have a presence.  It may have just been thirty-two seconds of film, but it was a memorable thirty-two seconds.  I hope you’ll tell me more about the film sometime, but here is why I care.  Water is drying up or getting filled with shit.  We will probably die of thirst before we melt from global warming.

Yes.  Emil’s company has a plan for that.  My part of it is to put some wells into the region just south of Lake Superior.

Good place for it.  It’s one of six around the world our experts have identified.

Is the Kalahari Desert one of the other five?

She just smiled.

There’s no magic, Jess.  It would be lovely if we found water all kinds of places so we could solve this problem effortlessly.

So why are we going there?

We will find some.  But we will also be sending a message – the time has come to search, monitor, preserve.  Look at Namibia.  It is even searching a desert.  See the point?

Yes.  And me?

Keep a log, take pictures, send them to me.  We will get them out to the media.  Since it is you, some folks should pay attention.  If it was me, the project would be invisible.

I can do that.  Will I be eaten by lions?

We laughed and rocked.  I was pretty sure I would be safe.  If I wasn’t, she would have told me, right?

Chapter 3

The Gods Must be Crazy

It was after eight when I finally rolled out of bed the next morning.  Did I feel better?  Yes.  Did I feel like I could run a marathon?  No, but then I never did.  I did feel like I could handle another day in Joburg, even if that meant another day of PowerPoint torture.

I was still in my nightgown when I walked into the main room and sat at the breakfast bar.  Elsa put a mug of coffee in front of me.  She was also still in her nightgown.  Fairly short.  Wow, did she have skinny legs.  She walked around behind me to pull a couple tangles from my hair.

You look rested.

I feel better.  Thanks.  What’s on tap for today?

I thought we would go shopping.  She watched me react and couldn’t help laughing.  We can do some more PowerPoint slides if you like ...

Shopping will be just fine.

Yes, I noticed you didn’t bring much.

"My husband’s suggestion.  He thought I would be better off getting the things I needed