They all arrived together. It was Baba VaTata, Fatso and Rasta. I was already at Zororo Bar. They had another man with them. I had never seen him before. He was tall with a dark complexion than any of us. He looked like he spent a great deal of time outdoors. He wore a khaki shirt, khaki trousers and a sunny hat.
It was that time of the day that the bar was filling up. I had planned to go home early before Mai VaMaidei came back from the market. I was also expecting Uncle Peter who was coming from the countryside.
“This is John, he works at Wiltshire Farm,” Baba VaTata said. There was a bit of excitement about him which I was sure I was soon to know about.
Wiltshire Farm was a privately owned farm, located about thirty kilometres away from the location along the Old Mazowe Road.
“John here is saying there’s a lot of game on the farm, for a small fee he can allow us to hunt for game,” Fatso said. He too sounded excited.
“The farm is teeming with a lot of animals, kudus, springbok, warthogs and rabbits,” Rasta said. Everyone tried to convince me. It could have been better if John himself said something. So far he had said nothing.
“So this small fee, or money is not going to be paid to the owner of the farm?” I asked.
“No, no, no, we pay John. He will make sure that the coast is clear and we hunt for the animals,” Baba VaTata said.
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“I will take you where the animals are found on the farm, it will be easy for you,” John said, speaking for the first time. He had a small lisp.
“Do you hear that? There’s a lot of animals,” Baba VaTata said. He was too excited. I could understand him. The price of beef had gone up in recent weeks. This was a cheaper opportunity for everyone to stock up the freezers with game meat.
I had strong doubts, but I was absolutely fascinated about all this. The way it was said, made it all easy.
“And Saturday is a good day for hunting. Everyone takes an off in the afternoon, so there’ll be no one to catch you,” John said.
“Is this poaching guys?” I said. I had to ask this important question.
“You worry too much, there’s going to be no trouble,” Baba VaTata said.
“I like the meat, but one thing for sure, I don’t want to get in trouble with the law,” I said.
“There won’t be any trouble, otherwise John would have told us,” Baba VaTata said.
“I just want you all to be aware that, we risk serving jail time if we’re caught poaching. Poaching attracts not less than ten years in prison,” I said.
“We won’t get caught,” Baba VaTata said
“But, we’ll be breaking the law, even if we’re are not caught,” I said.
Everyone did not want to hear anything about the danger. They were all set for this hunting. Things did not always go according to plan. I had a premonition for disaster.
“So we can all go now. It’s getting dark and we must take advantage of the darkness,”. Baba VaTata said.
“What are we going to use for hunting?” Rasta asked.
“I’ll give you something to use, I have an old rifle, a 270 Winchester and it does not make much noise, you can also easily set traps, the animals are too easy to catch,” John said.
“I have a spear, it can also be useful,” Baba VaTata said. He had it all planned.
It all sounded too easy. John made it sound very uncomplicated. Sometimes, it was easier said than done. It made me wary of danger.
“We can go now,” Baba VaTata repeated. We all stood up, including John. We were going to use Baba VaTata’s car for the hunting trip.
It was dark by the time we left Zororo Bar. I should not have listened to everyone. I was too naïve. Trouble waited for us at the farm, but this is a story for next week.
*Onie Ndoro
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