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INDEX
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Smugglers, Missionaries and the Way Things Are
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"I once knew a man," I said, thinking back. Mind you, this man made quite an impression on me. And that was not because he used to be the biggest diamond smuggler in these parts. Nor was it because he was the first facetor I ever met. It wasn't even
because he taught me faceting eventually, among a few other things. It wasn't that at all.
Even today, when I clean between my teeth with the back-end of a matchstick, slowly, and I think of Destiny, I think of him. It is a peculiar thing, sitting like this with the African sun sinking away. Thinking of Destiny and Africa, I mean. It is the
kind of thing a man Needs matches for. Quite a few, if you are really after truth.
It is a lucky thing that I saw him in only his short pants, early on in our relationship. It placed things in perspective. After that, having myself travelled a few African miles, I paid the due attention when he explained things like fastening a fishing
line to the Tobacco Pouch you put the goods in. I did that because this man had the most scars that I have ever seen in my life. And I have seen a few here and there.
Now, there is a certain Apocryphal element in African Cartography, as everyone knows. And everyone knows that the best map to carry around is the kind that the Government cannot fold open when you suddenly have to, say, disappear over the horizon. That is
because you carry Your map in your head, disappearing over the Horizon. And while the Government and the Government's people normally do not bother too much with maps, it being Africa and all, they sometimes really want to know what lies over the Horizon.
Because they Really want to know what you are disappearing over the horizon With.
But When a man stands in his short pants, and you suddenly realise that you will need a piece of string a few meters long to correctly measure the length of all his scars, you frown and start cleaning your teeth if you are in Africa. Slowly, as I said.
Later on, you learn which half was the Mashona Terr's in the Rhodesian Bush war, and which explosion did what. What happened in which mine when. Africa is like that, moving a man to clean his teeth in the face of such luck. Or Destiny.
And as the sun disappears over the horizon, my thoughts move back to the time, like Destiny, that I saw my first Gemstones in Africa. It was after an Anti-Aids campaign, in Mozambique, in Zambezia. I helped move a truck from Maputo to the North of the
Country, carrying building suplies. Only took a week, with the Renamo trenches and all. It was that time towards the end of a Civil war that you can travel again. At times. See places you couldn't get to for twenty years. But every meter of the way you
feel the eyes watching you. Especially North of Dondo and the Zambezi. Because then you are entering Renamo's heartland. The obstacles and houses that used to be built on the Tarmac road had just been removed. That is the nice thing of Renamo territory --
the roads are still so good. Up North I mean. Because No one could use them the last 20 Years, or get to them. Because down South all roads had been destroyed or taken in by the Bush. It is just muddy tracks with dead vehicles and Russian armor eveywhere.
And landmines yes. With the maps prophesying about the past; what used to be where, somewhere in the past. Not that you really care, mapping in your head like that.
So I looked at the bare breasted women, at the children's astonishment at seeing a white men, and I didn't look at the bush. Could feel the men's eyes on me all the time. So you are real careful where you look and step, with the village lain landmines I
mean. There used to be a time for White explorers in Africa. But now it is better to walk only where a local Black is walking, track or no track. And never in front. Bodily functions makes you remember dead people you know.
It makes you think of life, feeling death brush your cheek like that, whispering names in your ear. Makarov Pistol cost $2.20 It was better the deeper you go. You still feel the eyes from veterans of a Thousand Ambushes on you, but by then people were
looking at you directly, the women as well. Curiosity. I just slid my tongue slowly over my teeth and kept radiating the experience and weariness of a Thousand Miles through mud and rivers and death. You look experienced, ignore them just enough, curse at
the rain and the mud and watch the youth at the corner of your peripheral vision's line of fire. Dead people you know.
And suddenly everyone realises that this one will be passing through, the tension lessens and the men appear. Someone comes up selling Casava -- Mandioca in Portuguese. Buy, leave the change, look around looking everyone in the eye with that one glance
jumping in the truck. And they keep looking after the truck a long time after we ducked over the Horizon. Bloody hell.
So I had helped build a bit of this East German Missionary-Doctor's house. That was what the building supplies were for. Place called Ile, north of Mocuba. Very very beautiful, friendly people. And one day I sit in the shade of this Huge huge Dolomite
koppie towering above us. Enjoying the scenery of the most beautiful place I know. Thinking about my future, and Destiny, the Medical Store I wanted to built. But mostly just thinking and sucking on life.
And up comes this fellow African, with Gemstones in his hand. My Portuguese being what it is, and Africa being Africa, we had an amicable conversation nevertheless. Didn't understand more than 20 Words of each other. But both of us had the attitude of
Africa. It was in the way we frowned, smiled, used our hands and nod our heads. We had an honourable understanding which beats from the heart. Of life and death, and the way things are.
So being African, I did not buy his Gemstones because I did not know Gemstones then. But I did know Africa and the African way of selling things that are not really what they are given out to be. And understanding just that peculiar situation, he smiled
in an understanding sort of way, and nodded his head. He himself had to pay many times for things that he does not know about or really care for. And what were not really what they were given out to be.
Like liberation, communism and recently democracy. And then I looked into his eyes, at the gemstones in his hand and started thinking about Destiny again.
It was to be some time before I was in the area again. For Gemstones I mean. But that was after I had learned more about life and the workings of a Raytech-Shaw's cheater knob. It opens a whole new world for you, faceting.
Especially with the
cheater knob and all. Life.
I read in my new Time magazine that the Government in Bosnia wanted the United States to pay for the landmine clearing operations, and pay a 100% tax on the clearers' salaries. It sort of made me feel close to the United States that. Having myself been
required to bribe a Government in order to help their people with medical suplies. But the Lord works in mysterious ways, and I have never regretted the valuable lessons He gave me. The Lord I mean, with me smuggling medical supplies.
Maybe the United States must try smuggling those landmines out. It will certainly be cheaper and work better.. And I see it done in Africa all the time. They must just be willing to pay cash on the barrel for mostly unexploded landmines, just outside the
Bosnian border. As I said, it happens all the time. But then again, it is mostly Poachers who buy them for the Zambian Elephants, and maybe the United States will object.
It came to be however, that whilst looking for some Gemstones, now that I knew what to look for, I came across an American Missionary. When I greeted him he said he was blessed and am I saved, all while brushing his hair and making it up in a Pony-tail. I
don't think he is the kind of American that the United States must use to smuggle Landmines out of Bosnia though. Not after he asked me by name every few minutes from the pulpit {while I was sitting on the front pew in his service} whether I was under
the conviction yet and wanted to be saved.
No, that is not the way to smuggle landmines. The offering maybe, come to think of it. But afterwards I spoke to the American for some time, and tried my best to save him a bit as well. Especially after he told me about the owner of a certain Garage in
Malawi who sabotaged his Vehicle for a week. I mean, a Missionary going to an Asian-Muslim garage for a service? He was lucky to get away after only One week, and with the parts they took out as well. But that made me worry for more than just his soul so
I warned him about African Asians, Muslims, landmines and Witchdoctors. And I didn't ask him any offering either.
It was just the very next day that those words came back to me. Someone must have been listening. For as I was getting a guide ready for a certain Gemstone part of Africa, where one does not enter with a Landrover, we got ourselves some problems with a
Witchdoctor.
It doesn't matter how much you know about landmines, or Witchdoctors for that matter, there comes a time when they hurt you indiscriminately, in spite of your experience and knowing better. And normally, you don't find out about them until it is too late.
So only my New guide ended up being "prayed" for by his "Pastor". I refused to go down on my knees, having been suckered into this fervent praying/blessing session by a lamentable Portuguese misunderstanding. But I could understand enough to back out fast
when he stopped praying to the Lord and called in the help of certain other spirits of his Ancestors. Mmmmmm.
Alas, me doing some praying on the side then, did not save our Gemstone Quest. We passed some very special places though. And I did see
some Gemstones. But mostly I learned a lot. Not that the going down rivers in tree trunk canoes was so new for me. Nor the Ivory and Arms offerings. Even when I ended up walking up to them Mountains on the Horizon, when We had used to the end the services
of an African bicycle, I did not think everything so strange. Calamities and misfortune have a way of happening in Africa. And like most other Africans I have had my fair share. It is the way things are. Gemstones do not come cheap, not if you have to do
most of the travelling yourself. It being that kind of territory you know, good for smuggling and making for false prophetic maps.
Even after I had been robbed of all my things, I did not think too much of it. I just kept hunting them Gemstones, clothes or no clothes, bag or no bag. I was a mite moved to murder though, after my Passport disappeared mysteriously. And when the rains
washed out my Malaria tablets I was unhappy. Had them dissolve right in my jacket pocket. But that was near the Shire river, after the Diarrhea. Gietergat ja.
I came out of the Bush, eventually. Even had me some stamps more than a hundred years old. Me and Carlos had decided to split up, at some crucial stage. We agreed to meet at his Wife with their daughter and the young baby twins, on a specific date. I had
to go through Nyassaland first, for a Gemcutter I had once heard of.
I Waited for Carlos for three days after our date of Rendezvous. His wife was paling with worry. I played with their Daughter, often then. Or sat reading a bit under a tree. Had some bad migraines, which I never get. All the while I sat within view of the
"Pastor's" house, where we had our blessing ceremony some weeks before. Only now did I find out what all the people going there went for. Quite a famous herbalist, Sangoma and Witchdoctor he. And on Sundays the ZCC Pastor, fervent congegation and
all.
I reassured his wife, knowing Africa and having seen the rains that side. The Witchdoctor Waved at me quite a few times during that period. In the end I had to go back to SA though, I didn't feel too well. So I left his wife my last money and
departed.
The Malaria only hit me really bad on the Border. But initially it goes again. So I was near a hospital when I got to that stage where your teeth rattle and you wish for death. Maybe it was just my malarial dreams, but it was like something was squeezing
the life out of me. Something that comes down over the generations. Malaria is like that, you know.
Alas, it was quite some time before I got to Carlos' home again. Only they didn't live there anymore. And all my enquiries couldn't reveal where his wife's family lived. Which she went to eventually. After he never came back with those Gemstones. The ones
I sent him to fetch.
I still share some Destiny with Gemstones, these days. Today was the longest day of the year. And now that it is the shortest night, I'm looking at some Gemstones. I use a match for that, as well. And it brings me great pleasure rolling Gems around with
the front end of a matchstick. It sort of make me think of Destiny that. And there is a glint in my eye, equalling the sparkle under the lamplight.
Then I lay a Gemstone on my palm, and radiate light in that way that pleases so much. And when I think of Destiny now, I think of my favourite Missionary message. About the Gems in the New Jerusalem. It makes me half-smile that, and when I look up, you
can see my eyes sparkle so much.
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Copyright, 1997 by Justice Malanot
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Justice Malanot travels through Africa making arrangements for the gemstones that are marketed through Gemaco (Gem Exporting and Marketing Company). He is due back from his current expedition in mid-December. Look
for more Justice Malanot stories in future issues.
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