The Bruises We Wear

By Darius Anania

Henry Hartman was known as one of the most ruthless and profit-hungry ivory poachers in Africa. After his arrest and time in prison, he changes his ways and becomes a conservationist. While tracking a herd for a conservancy, Henry witnesses a rare event of the birth of twin calves. The newborns defy the odds and thrive, which helps to change his heart. He accompanies them through adventure and danger, and is on the verge of becoming a member of the herd when his heinous past comes back to haunt him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Darius Anania
• Release date: Feb 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224701629

Book preview

Chapter 1 Elephant Elephant

P

itch black. Complete darkness. No light, no color, and no form. A void. An emptiness. For some people, pitch black was a source of fear. They felt lost, alone, or even trapped in the darkness. Others found the dark to be peaceful and calming. They found comfort in the basic color of everything and nothing. To some, the dark equaled an absence of guilt. Absence of self judgement.

Henry Hartman hated the dark of his dreams. It reminded him of the darkness inside of him. He was responsible for terrible things in his life, and he knew that he was capable of doing even worse. But the darkness was also comforting to him. It was a place where he could hide from the world and from himself.

The moments of blackness between Henry's dream state and his waking life were his favorite. In those moments, he was free from the pain and the guilt of his past. He was just a blank slate, waiting to be filled with whatever the future held.

B lack was quickly displaced by the brightness of the early morning sun. His vision was blurry as he blinked the sleep away. A deep inhale through his nose accomplished a few key things. It filled his lungs with fresh, clean air, which helped to wake him up and clear his head, it helped to calm his nerves and center himself, and it reminded him of the beauty of the world around him, even on a cool, early morning like this one. He took another deep breath and then sat up, stretching his arms and legs. He was ready to start the day. 

Those first few breaths also drew in the scents of the African savanna and provided valuable information about the environment he was in. He saw the top of the inside of his lean-to, the dew clinging to the inside, announcing the temperature variation between the underside and topside of the thin synthetic fabric. His nose picked up the musty and earthy smell of dried grass, the smoky charcoal smell of a campfire reduced to smoldering embers, and the faint smell of animal hide and dung.

Right where I left off yesterday , Henry thought.

Shooting pain sparked out in all directions from his lower back, complaining of his accommodations on the hard ground with nothing but a thin polyurethane sleep mat to provide cushioning. He groaned a little as he tried to shift his position, but the pain only intensified. He knew he would have to get up and move around soon, or the pain would only get worse. But for now, he just sat there, trying to ignore the pain and hoping that it would eventually go away.

I’m getting too old for this shit .

He had been around for half a century and while most people were polite saying that fifty was not old, he knew better. It was the wear and tear on his body that made him feel old. In a charming retort, Henry would always say that he was a ‘high-mileage model.’ There was no question that his body was beaten up. Worn down to the bone, in a very literal sense. His ankles, knees, and hips were racked with arthritis and he was missing most of the cartilage in his lower body. His back was a mess with so many problems that he was under the care of three of the best specialists in the world. The best they could offer was different variations of masking the pain. He would have to live with it for the rest of his life.

Waking up and getting moving in the morning was especially hard, and worse when it was cold outside. Henry struggled to climb out from under his lean-to tent, his muscles stiff and his joints aching. Standing upright was always full of sharp pains and groans. He placed his hands on the back of his hips as he stretched out, a relatively loud series of cracking always accompanied his stretches. He took a deep breath of the cool air, trying to clear his head and wake himself up. It was going to be a long day.

My youthful indiscretions have caught up with me , he thought.

Henry stood just under six feet tall. He had broad shoulders that he used to his every advantage, especially when something needed to be carried or lifted. His skin was a dark chocolate brown from being out in the east African sun all day. He rarely smiled but on the odd occasion he did, it was kind. He tried hard to keep a gentle demeanor, but sometimes, his temper of his youth reared up and ruined any chance of diplomacy or tact. Lately, he tried hard to be steady, dependable, and ready to help others. This was his version of being born again. Leaving all vestiges of his past behind him and concentrating on his new role in life. A conservationist and amateur photographer.

A pair of high-powered binoculars were dangling on one of the lean-to branches that served as poles. He put them up to his eyes and scanned the area for the elephants he was assigned. He concentrated his search on the watering hole about 500 meters from his position. He focused the lenses and found a small cluster of trees in the general direction of the water source. After a slow and detailed search, he caught sight of the elephant herd he’d been tracking.

There you are! Herd number 14 . Right where you’re supposed to be , he thought to himself.

The elephants would spend some of the morning drinking and covering themselves with mud to help keep themselves cool. The African sun in the summer would blister most human skin around midday. Elephants managed their heat by hydrating, submerging themselves in water, and caking thick mud over themselves. In about an hour, they would begin moving south. African elephants usually migrated toward permanent water sources during the dry months between June and November. Henry determined a week ago, at the beginning of June, that this herd was heading south to the Ewaso Nyiro River, some 150 kilometers from their current location south of Baragoi, Kenya.

I have time for some breakfast, he thought after he heard his stomach rumble. 

He reached into his travel pack and pulled out his Aeropress. The ingenious lightweight single serve device was similar in function to a French press but it looked like a gigantic syringe with a coffee filter on the open end. He prepared his coffee cup, pulled out the bag of grounds from his field pack and grabbed the stick he used as a poker. He placed a few small branches from his wood pile onto the hot embers, and stoked them with the poker. A few strong exhales later, four flames leapt out from under the felled branches. He filled a metal camping kettle with water from the Australian bladder hanging up on a nearby Acacia tree, then unfolded his cooking grate and placed it over the now blazing fire.

Coffee and granola , he thought hungrily.

He reached into his field pack and pulled out a granola bar. He was so hungry, he devoured the bar in less than a minute. Hot food would have to wait until he was back at base. He learned long ago to travel as light as possible when tracking elephants. He also learned never to carry perishables and never ever carry meats, cheeses, or eggs. No matter how well packaged and sealed, the wild animals of the savanna would sniff them out and make it, and you, a meal. Birds and insects may be attracted to the granola but Henry was more concerned with carnivores, specifically the ones with large teeth.

Henry was a newcomer to the elephant conservation movement. He showed up to Save the Elephants of Africa Society (SEAS) four months ago and immediately impressed Amaju, the director, who was new to the conservationist arena. SEAS was a small outfit and a relative newcomer to the conservation sphere. They were part of a large conglomerate of conservancies and support centers that were pockmarked all over the continent. SEAS was located near a small town in Northwest Kenya and since there were already five large elephant conservancies in Kenya, SEAS was often forgotten about. There was a very small staff that operated on a shoestring budget. They were resourceful, upbeat, and dedicated.

Everyone at SEAS, at one point or another, asked about Henry’s excellent elephant tracking skills. Henry kept his past a secret and demurred each question away. His most common answer was something along the lines of ‘it just comes naturally’ or ‘just luck.’ His managers and colleagues did not press but Amaju was unconvinced that it was a natural ability or just luck. Tracking elephants required detailed knowledge of the animals and their behavior. But even he left the backstory alone. He was just happy that someone with Henry’s talent volunteered. He was quickly referred to as their best elephant tracker.

Henry dished a scoop of coffee grounds into the Aeropress, placing the coffee filter and locking mesh cap side on top of his coffee cup. He then poured the hot water in the open end and waited a few seconds before inserting the plunger portion into the Aeropress. A minute later, he pushed the plunger down and the black, caffeinated sludge dripped into his camping cup. He immediately slurped down the rich, thick liquid and allowed the caffeine to flow into his system. He felt better after eating a hearty breakfast and drinking strong coffee. 

Looking through the binoculars again, he spotted the matriarch, the alpha female who he named Lucy. She was large and strong. Even the largest bull in the herd was smaller than Lucy. She had medium sized tusks but they were also longer than the average female elephant tusks. There was no wonder that her herd was unusually large at over fifteen members. She was slowly walking around the herd, flapping her ears slowly. He could not make out the rest of the body language at this distance but Henry was sure Lucy was signaling the herd that it was time to move. As they started to move slowly away from the watering hole, he made a hasty count of how many were in the herd. There were sixteen total. Ten of them were cows, including Lucy, and there were six young bulls. He made some quick notes in his book and sprung into action. He rapidly packed up his ‘hotel’ and ‘restaurant.’ He would need to be on the move in under ten minutes if he was going to keep pace with Herd 14 as they moved south. Henry would stop at the watering hole and fill a few gallons of water for the next stop where he would filter and boil it.

No time to get dysentery out here , he thought.

He walked over to his truck, a well used and old 1980 Land Rover Series III. It had no top or doors and the windshield was folded flat on the hood. It was a faded tan color and was caked with years of mud, dust, rust, and general neglect. In the small cargo area behind the seats was two large cases and a vehicle emergency kit. One of the cases was a solar charger and battery system that kept all of his electronics charged up. His electronics included a satellite phone, which he powered up for his daily check in with SEAS, flashlights, camera batteries, the charging cradle for his perimeter motion sensor system, and the batteries for a cheap drone system which occupied the other large case in the cargo area. He hated the thought of using drones because, in his mind, it was a sign of a weak tracker. A sign of someone that could not read the earth and relied on eyes in the sky to find a group of pachyderms.

Besides, drones are really loud and they scare the animals, he thought.

His phone beeped that it was ready. He pressed and held the first speed dial button and after a few clicks, Darien Laurent at SEAS Operations answered

Morning, Darien. It’s Hartman. Beginning movement south from water source ‘Baragoi South’ with herd 14, he said.

Morning, Henry. Understood. Be careful out there, she replied back.

He liked Darien Laurent. She was capable, organized, smart, and passionate about helping animals. She was French-Canadian and came to Africa four years ago in search of conservation organizations that were as passionate as she was.

Henry’s systematic reports to base helped map herd movements in the northern part of Kenya which in turn helped inform the local governments where to allocate wildlife resources. On this particular stint, he was assigned herd 14 but Henry also had a secondary job that he and Amaju discussed and agreed to experiment with. He would take high quality, fun pictures and videos of the elephants for the SEAS social media account. He would curate a series of pictures and upload them in the hopes that viewers would donate money to the organization. He was a devoted advocate of elephant conservation and was happy to be of service.

I need to start taking some pictures of this migration. 14’s on the move. I’ll have to push hard to catch up to them, he strategized. 

He was just starting his journey with the herd and he liked to take pictures all throughout the trip. Nature proved to be both predictable and unpredictable. He tried to capture the best and worst of the elephant’s lives and broadcast it out into the world.

The more beautiful the pictures available for people’s consumption, the higher the awareness of the precarious situation of elephants in Africa. Sadly, what these amazing animals contended with every day was out of the public consciousness. Most people were completely unaware of the African ecosystems. They were always shocked to find out that the most dangerous predators in Africa were humans.

That’s why I’m here. I’m going to protect these creatures to the best of my ability , he thought, realizing his jaw was firmly set in a show of determination.

Trackers like Henry were assigned herds by SEAS Operations. This was the second herd he was assigned to since he started and except for the size of the herd, it was unremarkable. Amaju and SEAS emphasized that trackers should be unbiased and unattached to the herds for their safety and the safety of the herd. This was one area that Henry and Amaju did not agree. Henry argued that personalizing the animals would create a following on social media and generate more donations. Amaju was adamant that Henry and all SEAS trackers maintain a distance from the elephants but understood that Henry was not going to accept the mandate.

Amaju had a point and Henry understood. If a pack of hyenas isolated a new elephant calf and for some unexplained reason, the herd did not come charging to its defense, the agency did not want trackers to intervene. They might get killed in the process. 

Henry was unable to detach himself emotionally from the herd. He fell in love with the last herd during the second week, after he learned the elephants' personalities. He named them and chronicled their stories in his journal. Herd 14 was his first attempt at telling the elephant’s stories in pictures to the world. He loved being out on the ground with the animals and it made him happy to personalize his work. He knew he was going against SEAS policy. He knew Amaju would be upset that he was emotionally invested in the elephants but Henry did not care.

I’m following my heart. That’s all, justifying his actions to himself.

He inserted the well worn key into the ignition and turned the battery on. A dull orange light illuminated in the rudimentary cluster of gauges. It was the diesel glow plug light. The glow plugs in each cylinder heated up the combustion chambers ensuring the vehicle would start when cranked.

The light extinguished and Henry pushed the starter button. A few undulating whines emanated from under the hood and after a few seconds, a loud clatter announced the ancient four cylinder diesel started.

With no time to waste, he drove his open top Rover hard through the pockmarked and rutted terrain after the herd. There were no vehicle trails, for the most part. The rattly diesel in the fifty year old off-roader was loud and the noise carried great distances over the savanna. As he worked his way south, the denser vegetation would attenuate some of the sound but it was still very loud.

A quieter vehicle would be useful, he groaned to himself as he worked the steering wheel, clutch, and gearshift.

The people he worked for described him as ‘tougher than shoe leather’ but they would think otherwise if they knew the level or pain in his arms and back from maneuvering the old fashioned vehicle. He drove far to the west of the herd. The sun was in his eyes but he would still be able to spot them. The herd was moving very slowly over the last few days, at around a kilometer per hour, but he still had to hustle to get close enough for some pictures while keeping himself upwind.

He drove up a small mound and stopped. He cut the engine and walked from to the edge of the mound which was a decent vantage point to spot the herd. Squinting across the prairie toward the southeast, he could see a small dust could. At this distance, he figured that it was 14. Even a slow moving elephant herd kicked up a lot of dust that could be easily seen. He grasped his spotter scope that was always in one of his shirt pockets and brought the high-powered monocular device up to his eye. Closing the other eye, he focused on the dust cloud. He saw Lucy right away. Out front, leading the herd. She was a large one, bigger than most older females, with two beautiful large tusks that were just past halfway down her trunk.

Her tusks are much larger than most other females , he thought with admiration.

The reticle in the spotter scope, the tusks, and the smells of his environs brought a flashback memory into his consciousness. Henry turned his head away, squeezing both eyes shut. He willed the painful memory to leave his mind, clenching his jaw tight. The shame and sadness in his chest felt like a balloon being inflated rapidly. He shook his head but the memory lingered. 

Dammit, go away. Go away! Henry screamed in his head.

After a few demands and rapid shakes of his head. The flashback receded back into the forbidden memory halls of his mind. Henry deeply exhaled as his mind was freed. He focused and brought the monocle back up to his eye. Spotting Lucy was easy and he began counting the others in the herd. There were still sixteen. One of the cows was near the rear of the herd, moving awkwardly.

Is she pregnant? Henry asked himself rhetorically.

He switched to his binoculars and zoomed in as far as they would go. The cow came into view and he studied her. She was not a big female but her back was sagging in the middle and the shadows on her midsection suggested her belly was extremely distended. The