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Thursday 3rd OctoberWe all gathered in the tiny telephone room while Boggo phoned Rambo to ask for guidance. When Rambo heard about us being beaten up by the Sad Six he didn’t laugh like we thought he would. In fact he started screaming at Boggo and calling us all a bunch of fags and a disgrace to the Crazy Eight. Rambo ordered Fatty and Boggo to seize joint control of the dormitory and immediately take revenge on the Sad Six. He then said something strange. He told Boggo to tell the rest of us to answer truthfully should anyone ask us about Eve. Not sure what’s going on but Rambo’s definitely up to something. Mad Dog called five minutes later and abused us for being dominated by the Sad Six. He reckons he’s missing school except for work, chapel, prep and Sparerib. He then said he wanted to speak to Runt. I found Runt hanging around the urinal and dragged him into the phone room and handed him the receiver. Within thirty seconds Runt was crying and saying, ‘Please don’t, Mad Dog, please don’t!’ It’s amazing that Mad Dog can terrify first years from a thousand kilometres away. It’s also a bit embarrassing that we can’t do it ourselves. Boggo and Fatty psyched us up for a vicious return attack on the Sad Six. Fatty explained the whole thing through, but unfortunately Vern didn’t realize that it was just a rehearsal and charged into the first year dormitory screaming like a madman. When he realized nobody was behind him he stopped dead and his hand shot onto his head. He then screamed loudly and galloped back into our dormitory, dived onto his bed and pulled the duvet over his head. Fatty and Boggo agreed that the element of surprise was gone and we’d have to save the brutal attack on the Sad Six for next term. Friday 4th October After breakfast Simon was hauled into The Glock’s office. He came out ten minutes later and said that The Glock wanted to see me. My internal organs did a 360 and my leg started shaking again. I didn’t have a clue what I had done wrong this time but my brain had clearly decided that this was the end for me. The Glock has now hung the wildebeest head on his office wall. I bet he tells parents he shot it himself. It would definitely sound better than saying that he’d expelled the hunter who killed it and then stole his trophy! Thank God I wasn’t in trouble. In fact it turns out that Sparerib could be in trouble. THE GLOCK’S QUESTIONS Do you feel that Mr Wilson victimized Rambo? Has Mr Wilson ever encouraged you to incriminate Rambo unjustly? Do you believe Rambo was unfairly placed on final warning? Did Rambo have a non-platonic relationship with Mrs Wilson? Would you be willing to swear to this before God in a court of law? I said Yes five times. Then I told The Glock that Gecko had caught Rambo and Eve last year having sex in the cricket pavilion. The Glock went blood red and his eyes bulged. He mopped his brow with a white handkerchief and said, ‘Well, in that case, er… send in Gecko immediately.’ I reminded the bumbling psychopath that Gecko was dead. The Glock didn’t seem too fazed and said, ‘Oh, all right, well, send in Blackadder. He’s still alive, is he?’ I nodded and went off to find Vern. Vern refused to speak to The Glock and climbed into his trunk and pulled the lid down over his head. We tried to persuade him to come out but he was convinced The Glock was going to cane him again. I was getting a bit desperate because no doubt The Glock was fuming in his office and tapping his watch and perhaps even looking around for his big cane. Eventually, with the help of Fatty and Boggo, we carried Vern and his trunk down the stairs and all the way to The Glock’s study. We left Vern in his trunk outside the door in the passageway and told The Glock’s secretary to tell him that Vern Blackadder was waiting for him outside his office but inside an army trunk. Mom phoned for a Milton catch-up. Thankfully, I think she feels that her point has been well and truly made and apart from the odd sniping comment it looks like she’s forgiven me for bringing shame on the family. Much to my father’s relief the booze ban at home has been lifted and Mom even allowed Dad to book us a three-night holiday in the game reserve so that we can all unwind after what she said had been ‘a traumatic month’. Sunday 6th October (one month since the big bust) MILTONS’ UMFOLOZI GAME RESERVE ADVENTURE 09:00 Milton departure. 09:25 Dad did a dangerous U-turn on the freeway near Umhlanga Rocks because he’d forgotten the meat in the freezer. He blamed Mom for not reminding him. 10:00 Just as well we returned home because Dad had also left his bird books, torch, cheque book, potjie pot, penknife, map of Zululand and the Peaceful Sleep behind. 10:20 Dad led a loud chorus of We All Live in a Yellow Submarine as we roared down Broadway and veered onto the freeway. Unfortunately, none of us knew anymore than the first line so after repeating it about five times the sing-song ran out of steam and Dad turned on the A programme on the radio instead. 13:30 Dad shat all over the security guard at the Umfolozi gate because the road from Mtubatuba was full of potholes (most of which Dad succeeded in hitting). The security guard didn’t really seem to know what was cracking and kept saying, ‘Okay, okay’ and then ‘All right, all right.’ Eventually, Dad gave up and returned to the car in a sulk. 13:40 Before driving into the reserve my father gave us a long lecture about how we were now entering the animals’ world and that the only things we should leave behind were our footprints. 13:45 Our first animal sighting was a large troop of baboons sitting in the middle of the road. Dad got so excited that he wound down the window and made loud baboon noises to try and get the apes to do something interesting. The baboons didn’t look very impressed and carried on with their daily chores of looking for ticks and sleeping on the road. Dad threw a handful of peanuts out the window to try and encourage some funny baboon action – they ignored Dad and his peanuts. I asked Dad if calling, feeding and scaring baboons was not against the rules. He snapped back, ‘Oh, so now you’re an authority on rules, hey?’ I sat back in my seat, stared out the window and said nothing. We arrived at Mpila camp which is stationed on top of a steep hill. Dad says that if the blacks come to power the first thing they’ll do is destoy the game reserves, kill all the game, and turn the place into Ethiopia. He crunched his empty beer can on his forehead and told us to enjoy the natural beauty while it’s still around. He then spotted a crow sitting on a dead branch and shot it with an imaginary gun. We took an afternoon drive around the Sontuli loop. According to my father the Sontuli loop is the best game viewing section in the world. The loop runs along the Black Umfolozi River and Dad kept showing us where the great floods of ’87 had reached up to. We didn’t see any predators – unless you count a sleeping leguaan. ANIMALS SPOTTED BY MILTONS Impala Nyala Kudu (a male with huge horns, which Dad also shot with his imaginary rifle) Wildebeest (made me think of Mad Dog and Rambo) White rhino Giraffe Baboons Monkeys (Mom had a giggling fit because of their bright blue balls) Leguaan (sleeping, maybe dead) Fish eagle Vulture Warthog Dad told us stories late into the night about his days growing up on the farm in Namibia. Most of them involved meetings with leopards, lynxes and deadly snakes. I sipped on my Coke, watched the fire and thought that it must have been cool to be growing up in the 1950s. Monday 7th October Still no predators. Dad stormed into the camp office and asked the game ranger where he was hiding his lions. The game ranger thought Dad was joking and grinned at us without answering. When we left the office Dad told me that Afrikaners are a very strange race of people, especially those with moustaches. The best spotting of the day was a huge owl sitting on a telephone wire in the camp. At last we saw a hyena. Unfortunately, it was charging into the bush with a roll of Milton boerewors in its mouth. Dad charged after the animal with a Castle Lager in one hand and his braai tongs in the other. He shouted ‘Voetsek!’ at the fleeing scavenger but it was too late and half our dinner was gone. Date: 2015-12-17; view: 594
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