Chapter 9
When the group arrived back at camp, Mike
and Solomon took the pole off of their shoulders and set the sack of dead
bonobos on the ground. Mike spoke in French and the Africans dispersed, save
for Madeleine who sat William down and brought him water. Solomon took another
man and went to clear an area for a heli-pad at a small landing on the edge of
the camp.
Roger led their captive to a tree and
tied him, checking the knots on his hands tied behind his back. He gave the man
some water by mouth and a chair to sit on. Mike stood watching with his gun at
hand, one eye on the surrounding forest, the other on the captive.
Celeste brought the machine gun from
Spencer, pulled the magazine out of it and gave it to Mike. She checked the
chamber for bullets, set the safety and placed the firearm on a table. Mike was impressed. This girl had been around
guns, and not just civilian ones.
Patty and Celeste returned to their tent
for a change of clothes. As they
stripped their wet clothes off. Patty, the more modest of the two, sat on her cot
and pulled her muddy pants off. She slipped out of her wet T-shirt and rummaged
through her pack for a dry one. Celeste stripped naked and walked across the
room, watching Patty as they hung their clothes up together on the centre pole.
Patty could sense Celeste watching her and she suddenly felt
uncomfortable. Patty felt the pull of a hundred
generations of heterosexual grandparents, all discouraging her from looking any
closer at the beautiful black woman.
Patty did not look up, but she could see Celeste’ naked feet, legs and
thighs as she walked back to her bunk. A warm pulse of erotic energy flowed
within her from being so close to Celeste’s damp body. Patty sat on her bed and pulled her dry pants
on. Celeste leaned against the pole in
the centre of the tent, towel-drying her messy wet hair. She was consciously
aroused as she watched the American girl stand up and shimmy her damp body into
her dry pants. Patty’s eyes met with
Celeste’s ever so briefly but she quickly looked away, shocked by the unabashed
nudity of the black woman. Soundlessly
Celeste stood there without a stitch on, her black body a tribute to everything
female. Just before Patty turned and walked out of the tent, she allowed her
eyes to scan Celeste’s body for one long breath-taking second. Celeste smiled
mischievously. Patty blushed as she walked out into the light.
It was late afternoon and the rain
clouds had cleared, leaving blue skies and warm humid air. Roger sat in the shade of a palm tree, keeping
an eye on the poacher. In the distance, the sound of a chopper started to
reverberate across the valley.
While waiting for the chopper to arrive,
Mike had laid William on a table and re-dressed his wound. The machete had
sliced deep into his flesh, severing tendons in his right palm. Now that the
initial shock was over and the adrenalin had worn off, he started to moan with
pain. Celeste reappeared in her dry clothes and helped with William while Mike
found a flare and threw it onto the makeshift heli-pad. The DRC government helicopter
appeared as a speck on the horizon, slowly growing as it came nearer. It flew a cautious circle over the camp, a
soldier peering over the sights of the Howitzer mounted on the port side door.
Mike stood in the open, signalling the helicopter to land on the heli-pad. He had to shield his face from the dust and
rocks which swept up violently in the wash of the chopper blades.
When the chopper had landed and cut its
engines, two Congolese soldiers jumped out, followed by a Commander and one
medic. The pilot stayed at his controls
while another soldier remained at the Howitzer, ready for trouble. Mike pointed towards the injured man and
helped carry the medic’s bags to William’s side.
Mike met the Commander and shook his
hand. They had met before under similar circumstances though never at the camp.
They walked into Mike’s hut where they could talk. Both soldiers took positions
at the door, one on the inside and one on the outside, machine guns at the
ready.
The men spoke briefly; the Commander
spoke enough English to carry a conversation, and then the captive was led in
for questioning. With a little bit of persuasion, he gave his name and said he
was only a porter. He denied poaching
but admitted to cutting William with the machete, in “self defense”. When he was asked if he had anything more to
say for himself, the man said that a young bonobo had been caught and was still
in their camp. He wanted it documented that he had volunteered the information.
Mike got excited and asked for the man to draw a map. The captive was given a paper and pencil and
he drew a rough map, describing an illegal logging site several kilometers
above them on the side of the mountain.
After a few questions, it became clear that the same creek which passed by
Camp Bonobo ran through the higher logging camp. The man was handcuffed and sat there while a
statement was taken from Solomon. Mike
told Roger to organize a search party to go retrieve the bonobo.
The Commander took photographs of the
dead bonobos and had them re-bagged and put in the helicopter.
The Commander spoke to Mike, “If you’d
like, we can take two of you and drop you off where he says that bonobo is. We
are going to have a look anyway to see if there are any more poachers camped up
there.”
“That would be great… we could use some
backup.”
The medic had started an IV on William
and administered an injection of morphine so he was doing much better. He was packaged on a stretcher and loaded
into the helicopter for transport to Kinshasa where he would receive surgery to
reattach his severed tendons.
Patty heard about the baby bonobo. “Can
I go too?” she asked Mike. He had planned on going with Roger himself.
“I don’t know if you are up for it.
There may be more shooting and the bonobo may already be dead, and what if
there’s a stack of dead bonobos smoking on a fire? Can you handle that?”
Patty turned white. He was right. What
was she doing out here anyway? Dodging bullets and machete wielding poachers.
She was confused. A hundred insecurities
flashed through her mind and just when she was about to agree with him, a
little voice spoke up. “No. I wouldn’t
ask if I couldn’t handle it. I won’t let you down.” It was, as Patty would
later describe, a turning point in her life.
Mike was surprised by the sudden determination
in Patty. “Okay.” He looked at his watch. “You and Roger go but you have to do exactly
what he says. Stay in touch by radio too
and if I tell you to get your ass out of there, you get out of there. Got it?”
“I’ve got it.” Patty swallowed. She saw
Roger changing into dry clothes where he had left his bag. They both grabbed
their backpacks and ran to the helicopter, ducking as its blades began to whirl.
