Night Of Knives Part 35

"Is that so. How about Uganda?"

"Uganda?"

"I'm going to go back to Uganda." Veronica was not certain of this until this moment. "I'm going back to Kampala. I'm going to start a school. A nursing college. I bet I could work something out where you could come with me."

"I don't know anything about Uganda."

"It's a good place. Or it can be. There's hope there, anyways, definitely. And I'm sure I can scare up enough money to start up a school. I bet the US government will be willing to help. And anyways a certain notoriety never hurt any fundraising. Heck, I can sell my story to the British tabloids. Whatever. It won't be easy, I'll need help, but after this last month, you know what, I bet it'll seem like a piece of cake."

After a moment Lovemore says thoughtfully, "Pygmies."

Veronica blinks, caught off guard. "What?"

"That's what I know of Uganda. There are pygmies there. I've heard they know the jungle as the San know the desert."

"Yes, I guess so."

He says, "I would like to see them."

She smiles. "Well. I think that can be arranged. Is it a deal?"

"Yes."

They shake hands very seriously.

"You don't want to go back to America?" Lovemore asks. "In Zimbabwe there is nothing for me. There is no hope. But I thought there was everything in America."

Veronica hesitates. She imagines going back home, back to a world of shopping malls, freeway traffic, Internet dating, air conditioning, office jobs, mortgage payments and parking meters. The idea repulses her. If she goes back the rest of her life will seem hollow and plastic, a vacant shadow.

How ironic that Africa is called the dark continent. Even the sun here is so much brighter.

"Not for me," Veronica says thoughtfully. "Not any more. I think what I want is here."

Epilogue.

"There you go," Veronica says. "Home sweet shipping container. But you can't beat the view."

"You certainly can't," Tom says, amazed. "That's the b.l.o.o.d.y Nile down there, isn't it?"

"It is indeed. You can swim in it, there's a trail that goes down, but watch the currents. There's a Cla.s.s Five rapid around the bend."

"Worse than the one you went through at the mine?" Judy asks.

Veronica chuckles. "I don't know and I have no desire to find out."

"And this is your school?" The British woman looks around at the cleared half-acre plot surrounded by thick greenery. A dozen metal shipping containers surround a single one-story wooden building. A Land Cruiser and a Pajero are parked by the red dirt road that leads south to Jinja proper.

"Welcome to the Jinja School for Nurses," Veronica says. "You wouldn't believe how much cheaper it is to have a shipping container delivered than a cla.s.sroom built, and really, they're almost as good. One real building for headquarters, five cla.s.srooms, three students' quarters, one staff quarters, the ablution block next to the well there, one for storage, and our house," she points out in turn. "We've got thirteen students enrolled already, but only four staying here, handy for you, leaves one container free as a guest house. Five of them actually live in Kampala and commute here every day, ninety minutes each way. They get Sundays off but you'll see them all tomorrow."

"You've built all this one year," Judy says, impressed. "No, less, it was one year today we were rescued, and I gather it you were quite busy foiling dastardly plots for the first month of that!"

Veronica smiles sheepishly as Tom and Judy laugh.

"We were so sorry to hear about Jacob," Judy says, suddenly serious. "And such a pity about Susan too. So hard to believe."

Veronica can't find it in herself to feel any sympathy for Susan. "More of a pity about Dr. Murray. You know he came back to Africa after he was acquitted? He's in Nairobi now? It was all his plan, I think. And Strick only got ten years. They let him plea bargain so he wouldn't tell secrets in public. They both should have gotten death."

A brief, awkward silence falls.

"But what you've done here," Tom says, looking around, "it's b.l.o.o.d.y amazing, it really is. Can't have been easy."

"It's a lot of work," Veronica sighs. "There's so much left to do. The well isn't up to much, we need to start piping water up from the river, but for that we need more power, and the solar panels barely keep us going. Jinja has good reliable power, there's a hydro station just south where the Nile meets Lake Victoria, but you wouldn't believe the hoops you have to jump through to get connected. Then the Internet, we've got it over a mobile-phone card right now, it works but it's so slow, almost useless for cla.s.ses, we have to get a satellite dish. And we want to paint all the containers with different murals, start a garden, get more medical equipment, we've got barely enough, get more teachers, we've only got two right now, so I'm teaching cla.s.ses even though I haven't practiced in eight years, the students keep catching me making embarra.s.sing mistakes, and of course fundraising, we've gotten some good publicity but we still spend half the time not knowing where our next shilling is coming from, and then the government wants to tax tax us " She stops. Tom and Judy are laughing again. "What?" us " She stops. Tom and Judy are laughing again. "What?"

"It's just all so familiar," Judy manages. "You sound just like we did when we were starting the business."

"b.o.l.l.o.c.ks," Tom says cheerfully. "She sounds like we did just last week. It's good to be busy, isn't it?"

Veronica blinks, a little surprised, she hasn't really had time to think about it. "I suppose it is. But listen, drop your bags off, take a shower, it's a solar heater so the water's really only warm in the day, we'll go down to the river and have a beer, then after lunch we'll take you into Jinja, it's a lovely little town, much nicer than Kampala."

"That sounds like a cunning plan." Tom picks up their bags.

"To the honeymoon suite, husband!" Judy orders.

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l," he mutters with mock frustration. "I knew I shouldn't have married you."

"Too late now, innit? Get those bags inside, husband. Chop chop!"

They disappear chuckling into the shipping container.

Veronica walks over to the ablution block. "Is the shower working again?" she calls out.

Rukungu appears in the door. "Yes."

Both his voice and his face are devoid of all expression. Veronica pauses. She doesn't know what to do about Rukungu. Since Lydia's death he has seemed more automaton than man. She feels guilty for making him work, the more so since he works like a horse without complaint. But it's probably best for him to keep busy. "Maybe you could start digging out the garden, then?"

She expects an dull yes, but Rukungu hesitates, looks thoughtful.

"What is it?" she asks hopefully. This is more life than he's shown in weeks.

"The place you chose for the garden," he says eventually. "It is not a good place. The soil is bad. The sun is wrong."

"Well yes, maybe so. I'm not a farmer. Where do you think?"

He glances to the southeast corner of their property.

"Wherever you think is best," she says. "Were you a farmer?"

"When I was young," Rukungu says quietly.

He walks away to the southeast. Veronica watches as he kneels and begins to dig with his hands, crumble the dirt between his fingers, inspect the soil. She still knows very little about Rukungu's past; she hasn't wanted to ask, and he hasn't wanted to tell. Maybe one day.

She enters the ablution block to wash her hands, and catches sight of herself in the mirror above the sink. She sees lines on her face around the corners of her mouth, the beginnings of wrinkles. Well, at least they're smile lines. There are far worse fates. She of all people ought to know.

Veronica walks outside and sees a familiar figure appear on one of the several bushtrails that lead onto their property. He holds a bulging jute sack. She jogs up to him and kisses him.

"You're back already," Lovemore says, smiling. He reaches down, picks her up, continues with Veronica in his arms.

"Did they have everything?" she asks.

He nods to the sack dangling beneath her. "Pineapples, pocho pocho, and Mrs. Katumba's hot sauce. I don't know why you want to serve this to our guests, we can get chicken or beef in Jinja "

"Oh, they'll get a kick out of it," she rea.s.sures him. "Trust me."

As Lovemore carries back towards their home, Veronica looks around at their land, at their school, tries to imagine it through Tom and Judy's eyes, as if she is seeing it for the first time. She is not disappointed.

"I like this," she says thoughtfully. "This is a good place. I like it here. I like who I am here. Do you know what I mean?"

He nods.

"Good. Then let's stay forever."

Lovemore raises his eyebrows. "Forever is a long time."

Veronica smiles. "We'll see," she says. "We'll just see."

From the same author on Feedbooks Beasts of New York: A children's book for grown-ups (2007) (2007) An urban fantasy about the wildlife of New York City, starring a squirrel protagonist who has to find his way from exile in Staten Island back to his home in Central Park.

http://www.beastsofnewyork.com/