destroyed by AIDS,” Johan told them. “Some villages, they had no adults left in them. The survivors used rocks to cover the dead, in order to keep the animals away.”
“Why the fences though?”
“Some say they are to make certain the dead do not walk,” Johan said with more than a touch of the dramatic.
Eric’s wife Nancy, sprawled in the back seat with their luggage, pushed a wayward hank of damp red hair out of her face and rolled her eyes.
“Do they believe in zombies here?” she asked eagerly.
Eric shook his head. His wife thought horror movies began with
Night of the Living Dead
and ended with
The Walking Dead
. Personally he was sick to death—
hah
—of the current zombie craze. He’d take
Sharknado
or an invasion of sparkly vampires any day.
“The South Africans have the Tokoloshe,” Johan said. “They are not quite zombies, but something created by shamans to take vengeance on those who might offend them. These creatures supposedly rape women and bite off the toes of sleeping people.”
Nancy laughed. “So wear shoes to bed, right?”
“According to legend,” Johan continued, “the only way to keep the Tokoloshe away at night is to put a brick beneath each leg of one’s bed. Anyone else in the house, however, is shit out of luck.”
They drove a few more minutes in companionable silence, Eric and Nancy drinking liberal amounts of water to combat the heat of more than 30 degrees centigrade. A mile or so down the road, Johan broke the silence.
“So you two are volunteering at the game park?”
Eric nodded. “We’ll be working primarily at the cheetah conservation research center.”
Johan nodded wisely. “Ah, for the Cat Lady.”
“You know her?” Nancy leaned forward between the two front seats.
“Oh, yes,” Johan said. “If you work for her, you will have less trouble with Debswana security. Everyone at the mine knows the Cat Lady.”
“Is the security that strict?”
“Oh, yes,” Johan said again. “Remember that you are dealing with the richest diamond mine in Botswana. There is more than one reason they surround themselves with a game park.”
“Anything else we should know?” Nancy asked.
Johan pursed his lips thoughtfully.
“The phrase ‘just now’ means ‘I will do it later.’ And ‘now now’ means ‘I will get to it right now.’ He fell silent long enough to swerve around a small but fierce dust devil speeding across the road, then continued, “And remember that superstitions are very real to the people here.” He reached out a hand and tapped Eric’s blue-framed sunglasses. “These? They may scare some people. That could be good though. You will keep them off guard.”
Another hour passed in relative silence. Nancy dozed in the back and Eric watched the passing scenery while Johan drove. The landscape was relentlessly flat. Most of the towns they passed seemed to be abandoned.
Nancy woke up long enough to say, “I really need to pee.”
Johan and Eric exchanged looks in a moment of male solidarity.
“Hon, I don’t think we’re gonna find any rest stops along the way.”
Nancy shrugged. “Just find me something I can duck behind so I don’t offend the donkeys.”
“That I can do,” Johan said. “A few more miles and there is another village. It’s one of the dead ones, so no one will bother you.”
One of the dead ones.
There was a phrase made for nightmares.
* * *
True to his word, Johan pulled off the road next to a small village consisting of clay huts topped with cone-shaped thatch roofs. No one stirred as the 4X4 came to a halt next to a cemetery with the same fenced in graves. It stretched back a few hundred feet, the back obscured by a couple of baobab trees.
Nancy hopped out of the back seat, wilting visibly as the full strength of the African sun beat down on her head. She reached back inside and grabbed her Aussie hat, then disappeared between two of the huts to do her business.
Eric opened the passenger door
“Why the fences though?”
“Some say they are to make certain the dead do not walk,” Johan said with more than a touch of the dramatic.
Eric’s wife Nancy, sprawled in the back seat with their luggage, pushed a wayward hank of damp red hair out of her face and rolled her eyes.
“Do they believe in zombies here?” she asked eagerly.
Eric shook his head. His wife thought horror movies began with
Night of the Living Dead
and ended with
The Walking Dead
. Personally he was sick to death—
hah
—of the current zombie craze. He’d take
Sharknado
or an invasion of sparkly vampires any day.
“The South Africans have the Tokoloshe,” Johan said. “They are not quite zombies, but something created by shamans to take vengeance on those who might offend them. These creatures supposedly rape women and bite off the toes of sleeping people.”
Nancy laughed. “So wear shoes to bed, right?”
“According to legend,” Johan continued, “the only way to keep the Tokoloshe away at night is to put a brick beneath each leg of one’s bed. Anyone else in the house, however, is shit out of luck.”
They drove a few more minutes in companionable silence, Eric and Nancy drinking liberal amounts of water to combat the heat of more than 30 degrees centigrade. A mile or so down the road, Johan broke the silence.
“So you two are volunteering at the game park?”
Eric nodded. “We’ll be working primarily at the cheetah conservation research center.”
Johan nodded wisely. “Ah, for the Cat Lady.”
“You know her?” Nancy leaned forward between the two front seats.
“Oh, yes,” Johan said. “If you work for her, you will have less trouble with Debswana security. Everyone at the mine knows the Cat Lady.”
“Is the security that strict?”
“Oh, yes,” Johan said again. “Remember that you are dealing with the richest diamond mine in Botswana. There is more than one reason they surround themselves with a game park.”
“Anything else we should know?” Nancy asked.
Johan pursed his lips thoughtfully.
“The phrase ‘just now’ means ‘I will do it later.’ And ‘now now’ means ‘I will get to it right now.’ He fell silent long enough to swerve around a small but fierce dust devil speeding across the road, then continued, “And remember that superstitions are very real to the people here.” He reached out a hand and tapped Eric’s blue-framed sunglasses. “These? They may scare some people. That could be good though. You will keep them off guard.”
Another hour passed in relative silence. Nancy dozed in the back and Eric watched the passing scenery while Johan drove. The landscape was relentlessly flat. Most of the towns they passed seemed to be abandoned.
Nancy woke up long enough to say, “I really need to pee.”
Johan and Eric exchanged looks in a moment of male solidarity.
“Hon, I don’t think we’re gonna find any rest stops along the way.”
Nancy shrugged. “Just find me something I can duck behind so I don’t offend the donkeys.”
“That I can do,” Johan said. “A few more miles and there is another village. It’s one of the dead ones, so no one will bother you.”
One of the dead ones.
There was a phrase made for nightmares.
* * *
True to his word, Johan pulled off the road next to a small village consisting of clay huts topped with cone-shaped thatch roofs. No one stirred as the 4X4 came to a halt next to a cemetery with the same fenced in graves. It stretched back a few hundred feet, the back obscured by a couple of baobab trees.
Nancy hopped out of the back seat, wilting visibly as the full strength of the African sun beat down on her head. She reached back inside and grabbed her Aussie hat, then disappeared between two of the huts to do her business.
Eric opened the passenger door
Similar Books
