Tembo Makaburi

By John Isaac Jones

"Tembo Makaburi is a novella about a big game hunter and his indentured servant in the Africa of the 1960's, long before governments placed any restrictions on the killing of endangered species. It is difficult to review this novella without giving away the plot, so I will just say that this story pits Wa

• Language: English
• Publisher: John I. Jones
• Release date: Jun 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781735574554

John Isaac Jones

John Isaac Jones is a retired journalist currently living at Merritt Island, Florida. For more than thirty years, "John I.," as he prefers to be called, was a reporter for media outlets throughout the world. These included local newspapers in his native Alabama, The National Enquirer, News of the World in London, the Sydney Morning Herald, and NBC television. He is the author of five novels, a short story collection and two novellas.

Book preview

Tembo Makaburi

1

Serengeti plains, 1968

In the distance, through the shimmering African heat, a hunting party of three vehicles—a Land Rover and two open-air jeeps—lumbered slowly across the vast savannah of rolling grass lands. As it moved, giant clouds of red dust boiled in its wake, and intermittently, as the caravan drew near, grazing wildebeest jumped at their approach, then scampered off to a safe distance and watched the party pass. Nearby, scattered about under a stand of baobab trees, a pride of lions—their mouths bloodied by a fresh morning kill—lazed quietly in the late afternoon heat. In the far distance, the snow-capped rim of Mount Kilimanjaro loomed like a giant white halo in the cloudless sky.

Moments later, the caravan slowed as it approached a cluster of Masai huts, then the Land Rover, the lead vehicle, suddenly jerked to a stop. Instantly, the other two vehicles stopped behind it. Slowly, a cloud of red dust cleared away and the passenger door of the Land Rover opened. Walter Big Bwana Cravens, leader of the party, stepped out. Rifle in hand and decked out in safari garb, he strode some twenty yards ahead of the Land Rover, then stopped and gazed into the distance. At well over six feet with broad, muscular shoulders and a burly, rough and ready look, Cravens was a big, imposing man. Seconds later, he turned his attention to the earth in front of him. After taking several steps, he knelt on the ground and pulled back a clump of lemon grass to better view an elephant print. Satisfied, he pursed his lips thoughtfully, then stood up and, for a long minute, trained a pair of binoculars on the terrain ahead.

Abasi! he called, taking down the binoculars.

Seconds later, a smallish, early-thirties Masai native emerged from the Land Rover and was at his side.

Yes, Bwana? he said.

He’s two, maybe three hours ahead of us, said Cravens, indicating the trail leading into the tall grass. He’s moving fast, really fast for an old bull elephant.

The guide nodded, then knelt to examine the footprints.

He knows where he’s going, the guide said. And he’s clever. He is trying to stay in the deep grass so his trail will be harder to follow.

He’s headed for those black mountains, Cravens said, pointing to a range of lava-black promontories to the northeast. What’s in those mountains?

Don’t know, Abasi replied. I’ve been to them, but never inside.

There’s something in those mountains he’s interested in, said Cravens. Maybe a female.

Maybe more than one, the guide replied.

You mean like a harem?

Yes, Abasi said.

For a long moment, the hunter and his guide stood side by side, peering across the savannah toward the mountains. For almost ten years now, they had been hunting the savannah together. Nine years earlier, Abasi,