to predict how they will respond to this incident.”
She had never known Christopher to say so much.
“What’s that noise?” she said, after a pause.
“That moaning sound, you mean?”
She nodded.
“It’s the whistling thorn.”
When she frowned, he added, “Come on, I’ll show you.” He waved to the guard, Aldwai, to show that he was making a move, and stepped over to some acacia bushes. He pointed. “Whistling thorn, Latin name Acacia drepanolobium. Look, see these spikes growing out of the branches? They are two to three inches long and very sharp. But look also at these bulbous bases.”
He pointed to a brown-red bulb about the size of a golf ball, also with a thorn growing out of it. “In themselves, these are quite succulent, but watch.” He pressed the narrow neck of the water bottle he was holding against one of the bulbs. After a very short delay, swarms of ants emerged from a series of holes in the skin of the bulbs.
“Ughh!” breathed Natalie.
“Yes,” said Christopher with a chuckle. “Whistling thorn is a perfect example of symbiosis—which is why the Maasai revere it so much. The plant allows these biting ants—and believe me they are biting ants—to live in its bulbs because when herbivores, giraffes especially, feed on the bulbs, in next to no time they get a mouthful of biting ants, and then they don’t come back. The thorn provides a home for the ants and the ants provide protection for the thorn.”
They watched as the ants disappeared back inside the bulbs.
“When the ants burrow into the bulbs, they make tiny holes in the skin. Then, when a wind gets up, the holes make a moaning sound. As the wind gets stronger, they then produce a higher-pitched whistle. Which is how they get their name, ‘Whistling Thorns.’”
He drank some water.
“Then there’s the fact that this thorn wood is very hard and resistant to termites. That makes it useful for spear handles, tool handles, and building. It makes good charcoal and its sap can be used as a gum. Very useful, whistling thorn.”
He poured water into the palm of his hand, then slapped it on the back of his neck. A cooling maneuver.
“Turn round,” he said.
She did as she was told and, again using his hand, Christopher slapped water on her neck.
“Mmm. Thank you,” she whispered. “What a treat.” Having Christopher do what he was doing reminded her that Mgina had failed to bring her shower water yesterday. In fact, she hadn’t seen her all day, now she thought of it. Not more trouble at home, she hoped.
“Jack will be here soon. Maybe he will be able to help out.”
“What do you mean? What does Jack have that you don’t?”
“He’s an honorary Maasai. He’s a bit older than me and when he was growing up, there were some Maasai boys in the camp and he and they became firm friends—he speaks Maasai as well as Swahili and as well as he speaks English. One of the boys he grew up with was Marongo, who is now head of the local village, Ndekei’s village. Jack used to stay with Marongo and his family, in their hut, and took part in a celebrated battle when another tribe tried to steal their cattle. That’s when they made him an honorary Maasai.” Christopher pointed to his own forehead. “Jack has a famous scar where he was hit by a lion cub. He was lucky not to be blinded.”
“Where is this hero now?”
“Nairobi. He’s always been more politically involved than either my mother or me. There’s a lot of pre-independence maneuvering going on, a lot of black–white tension, as you can imagine and he’s—look!” he cried. “Richard is waving. They seem to have found something.”
Natalie followed the line of Christopher’s outstretched arm. Sure enough, about a hundred yards away, Richard was waving, beckoning them.
Natalie set off towards him. Her own shirt was just as stained with sweat as everyone else’s.
Christopher went with her.
As they approached, they could see Russell and Daniel gently lowering an animal skull on to a sheet on the ground.
“This is just up your street, Natalie,” said Richard warmly. “Do you recognize it? I think it’s some sort of horse, or zebra.” He smiled.
She knelt down. Russell and Daniel crowded round. A cloud obscured the sun and, temporarily, the temperature eased.
“Richard, you’re right,” she breathed after a moment. What they had was almost half the skull of a horse-type creature, even containing a few teeth.
“I’ll have to check, back at camp,” she said