Evadeen Brickwood - Singing Lizards

Then the Corolla hummed up the long, black tar road to the vocational training centre, leaving the village behind.

I couldn’t help thinking that Claire had never even seen what I was seeing now. It felt odd somehow. I never wanted to live in Africa in the first place!

Soon we drove through the boom in front of the vocational training centre and we still hadn’t spoken a word about Claire.

What had I gotten myself into? I could tell that Tony was heartbroken and confused and all that. But it was just impossible to speak to him about Claire. The tender moment at the airport had passed. And he didn’t seem in a hurry at all to start with our investigation. Why was it so difficult for him?

Tony had to feel the same urgency to find out more. Why else was he still here? But I couldn’t get him to speak about my sister, never mind making some sort of a plan.

Maybe Tony was under some kind of spell. Don’t fall off the rocker, Bridget , I called myself to order. Things would fall into place. They just had to.

I did my best. Tried to be understanding, give him time. But I didn’t have time. I had come all this way from England for the sole purpose of helping him with the search. Just that he didn’t show any interest in searching. Here I was in a remote African village, virtually without support, ready to get started. And all I got were awkward silences.

I didn’t know Tony very well. Perhaps he’d throw me out, if I argued with him. And I hated confrontations anyway. But no way would I give up. So I had no choice, but to make the best of the situation.

I had to acclimatize. Literally. The dust the heat were getting to me, and now to top it all, the rains had started. The rain cooled the temperatures during the day, but never for long. And my ability to think clearly suffered considerably in this heat.

Mom promptly phoned on Friday and I was so glad to hear her crackly voice. At least she wanted to help me.

“Perhaps Claire has crossed the border into another country.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Mom,” I said cautiously.

“It’s worth following up on, though. The police should check their records.”

“Yes, Mom, I’ll look into it.” How could I explain to my mother how easy it was to cross the green border without leaving a trace?

“Good.” She sounded pleased.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“I love you, Mom.” I choked back homesick tears.

“I love you too, Bridget.” I heard my Mom swallow hard.

“Tell Dad I love him. Speak to you soon.”

I pulled myself together. It was awkward to become all emotional in a hotel lobby. People were listening.

“Bye, be safe,” Mom said slowly and waited, as if she didn’t want to let me go.

“Bye, Mom.” I hung up and was alone again amid all those bustling hotel guests.

The Botsalo country hotel boasted a large restaurant, a bar in the lobby and two pool tables. And on the counter resided the priceless telephone. On a Friday night, the Botsalo was the meeting place of the area.

Tony’s teacher friend, Neo Moletsane, came from a nearby town called Serowe. Neo was single and the two of them often spent the evenings at the Botsalo Hotel. The new school term hadn’t started yet and there wasn’t much to do. So I tagged along.

Neo Moletsane was a well-educated young man. He taught the bricklayers at the vocational training centre, while Tony was head of economics. He was a bit on the stocky side and always wore clean cotton shirts, never a t-shirt and never jeans. Tony told me that Neo was trust-worthy and knew why I had come to Botswana. That was a start.

The two of them played pool, had a meal, drank a lot of beer and chatted to the other patrons. I sat and read in one of the comfortable tub chairs in the lobby.

Hotel guests stayed at the rooms that were arranged around the swimming pool at the back and travelling salesmen often had stories to tell from other parts of the country. Nothing of use to me, but I listened politely.

For the sake of keeping up appearances, Tony introduced me generally as his visiting girlfriend from the UK. We had discussed that it would be better not to draw attention to the actual reason of my presence. I wondered how long it would take before the truth came out in this small community.

There were local girls at the hotel, often for two reasons: to meet a boyfriend or to find a boyfriend. Neo had said that with a sad expression. Most were from the village and lived in houses sponsored by their expat boyfriends.

On the main road halfway between Gaborone and Francistown, this was a convenient place for travellers to stop over. It took some getting used to the rough manners of men around here.

Other women were employed by the training centre and felt comfortable enough around the lekgoas. And then there were a few expatriate women like myself. Generally their area of interest revolved around gossip and G&Ts. I stuck with reading my books and the Government Gazette.

We often headed home along sandy back roads in the dark. I understood by now, why driving at night made people so nervous. One day, Tony had to come to a halt in front of two cows, resting in the warm sand.

After much hooting and yelling, the beasts heaved themselves out of their soft bedding and plodded away mooing reproachfully. On another occasion, the car skidded against a mud-covered rock and spun off into the spongy field. It took two wooden planks and a lot of elbow grease to get it back on the dirt road.

“If I hear the question ‘so when are you getting married?’ one more time, I’ll scream!” I complained to Tony as we headed back to the complex one night.

Tony drove slowly through the wet grey sand, deeply carved from small rivers that had formed during the last rainstorm. The headlights revealed random rocks and pebbles sticking out of the sand. One had to be hellishly careful.

“I know everybody wants to stick their noses into everybody else’s business,” said Tony. “They will have something else to gossip about, soon. Right now we are the bee’s knees when it comes to topics.”

Two mining prospectors had invited us to have dinner with them at the restaurant after a gin and tonic in the lobby. We were reluctant to accept, but they seemed starved for conversation, so we caved in. There were worse things than being invited for dinner.

The ‘Kingklip Thermidor’, the hotel’s specialty, had been fresh and tasty and the prospectors had ordered some wine.

“Remember when you went to the loo? The one guy actually told me to leave you and come with him to Orapa. Said he was making a lot of money at the diamond mine. Wanted to take good care of me,” I chuckled. “You should have seen his face when I told him off.”

Tony was quiet. Was he listening to me?

“When did that happen?” he asked in a worried tone.

“Well, when you went to the loo. He just took a chance, I guess.”

“I bet, he won’t offer himself again in a hurry.”

“I wasn’t really cruel to him. Just explained that money can’t buy love and that I would never leave you,” I said. “My sermon had him close to tears.”

“He probably remembered his wife and children in South Africa. And what a dog he is,” Tony said with contempt.

The car creaked along the sandy path. We reached a familiar fork in the road with a piece of trampled-down fence straight ahead.

“Yes, it was definitely worth a little white lie,” I giggled.

It had been one of the lighter moments. There were still these uncomfortable silences between us.

I just couldn’t understand Tony. For one thing, I wasn’t used to the slow pace and lack of urgency in general. I also felt that Tony had exaggerated his zeal to find out the truth about Claire. Or perhaps, I had misunderstood him. Perhaps I just wanted to think that he was as eager to solve the mystery of Claire’s disappearance.