Forest of the Pygmies(47)
"I would like to meet this famous Sombe," Kate said when the friends met to report what each of them had found out.
"And I would like to photograph his magic tricks," added Joel.
"Maybe they're not tricks," said Angie, shuddering. "Voodoo magic can be very dangerous."
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Their second, seemingly eternal, night in the large hut, the International Geographic party kept the torches lit despite the stench of burning resin and clouds of black smoke; at least that way they could see the cockroaches and rats. Kate was awake for hours, listening to every sound, waiting for Nadia and Alexander to show up. Since there were no guards at the open doorway, she could step outside to get a breath when the air in the building became unbearable. Angie joined her outside, and they sat down on the ground, shoulder to shoulder.
"I'm dying for a cigarette," Angie muttered.
"This is your chance to drop the habit. I did. It causes lung cancer," Kate warned her. "Want a swig of vodka?"
"And alcohol's not a vice, Kate." Angie laughed.
"Are you insinuating that I'm an alcoholic? You've got some nerve! I take a few sips from time to time to ease my bones. That's all."
"We have to get out of here, Kate."
"We can't go without my grandson and Nadia," the writer replied.
"How long are you prepared to wait for them? The boats are coming to pick us up day after tomorrow."
"They'll be back by then."
"And if they aren't?"
"In that case all of you can go, but I'm staying," Kate said.
"I won't leave you here alone, Kate."
"You will go with the others to get help. You'll have to get in touch with the people at International Geographic and with the American embassy. No one knows where we are."
"Our one hope is that Mushaha picked up one of the messages I sent by radio, but I wouldn't count on that," said Angie.
The two women sat in silence for a long time. Despite the circumstances, they were able to appreciate the beauty of the moonlit night. At that hour there were very few torches lit in the village except for those around the royal compound and the soldiers' barracks. They could hear the never-ceasing sounds of the jungle and smell the penetrating scent of wet earth. A few yards away was a parallel world of creatures that never saw sunlight and that were watching them from the shadows as they talked.
"Do you know what that 'well' is, Angie?" Kate asked.
"The one the missionaries mentioned in their letters?"
"It isn't what we think. It isn't really a well."
"No? What is it then?"
"It's a site of executions."
"What are you saying!" Angie exclaimed.
"Just what I told you, Angie. It's behind the royal compound, enclosed within a palisade. No one can go near it."
"Is it a cemetery, then?"
"No. It's a watering hole, a kind of pond filled with crocodiles."
Angie jumped to her feet, gasping for breath, with the feeling that a locomotive was charging through her breast. Kate's words reaffirmed the terror she had felt ever since her plane crash-landed on the beach and she knew she was trapped in this savage region. Hour by hour, day by day, she became more convinced that she was inescapably heading toward her death. She had always thought she would die in a plane crash until Má Bangesé, the fortune-teller in the market, had told her about the crocodiles. At first she hadn't taken the prophecy too seriously, but after a pair of nearly fatal encounters with the awesome amphibians, the idea had taken root in her mind and become an obsession. Kate guessed what her friend was thinking.
"Don't be superstitious, Angie. The fact that Kosongo keeps crocodiles doesn't mean you're going to be their supper."
"It's my destiny, Kate; I can't escape it."
"We're going to get out of here alive, Angie, I promise."
"You can't promise that because you can't make it happen. What else do you know?"
"They throw anyone who rebels against Kosongo and Mbembelé's authority into that hole," Kate explained. "I learned that from the Pygmy women. Their husbands have to hunt game to feed the crocs. They know everything that goes on in the village. They're slaves of the Bantus, they do all the heavy work, they go into all the huts, they hear all the conversations, they observe. They're locked up only at night—they're free to walk around during the day. No one pays any attention to them because they think they don't have human intelligence."
"Do you think that's how they killed the missionaries, and that's why there's no trace of them?" Angie shivered.
"Yes, but I can't prove it. That's why I haven't told Brother Fernando yet. Tomorrow I'll find out the real truth, and, if possible, I'm going to get a look at that crocodile pool," Kate confided. "We need to photograph it; it's an essential part of the story I'm planning to write for the magazine."
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The next day Kate again presented herself before Commandant Mbembelé to tell him that Angie Ninderera felt very honored by the king's attentions and was considering his proposition, but that she needed a few days to decide. She had promised her hand to a very powerful sorcerer in Botswana and, as everyone knew, it was very dangerous to betray a witch doctor, even from a distance.