Elephant Song - Smith Wilbur (книги бесплатно без онлайн txt) 📗

he asked in Swahili, with a childlike directness, and Chetti Singh chuckled and handed him a-tin of Uphill Rhodesian.

Pirri unscrewed the lid.  He scooped out a loose ball of yellow tobacco and wadded it under his top lip and hummed with pleasure.  He is not as small as I thought he would be, Cheng remarked as he studied him.  Or as dark.  He is not a full-blooded Bambuti, Chetti Singh explained.  His father was a Hita, or so it is said.  Can he hunt?

Cheng asked dubiously.  Can he kill an elephant?  Chetti Singh laughed.

He is the greatest hunter of all his tribe, but that is not all.  He has other virtues, not possessed by his brethren, by reason of his mixed blood.

What are they?  Cheng wanted to know.

He understands the value of money, Chetti Singh explained.  Wealth and property mean nothing to the other Bambuti, but Pirri is different. He is civilised enough to know the meaning of greed.  Pirri was listening to them.  Not understanding the English words, his head turned to each of them as they spoke, and he sucked his wad of tobacco.

He was dressed only in a brief loincloth of bark cloth, his bow standing up behind his shoulder and his machete in a wooden scabbard at his waist.  Abruptly he interrupted their discussion of him.  Who is this wazungu?  he asked in Swahili, indicating Cheng with his woolly bearded chin.  He is a famous chief, and rich, Chetti Singh assured him, and Pirri strode across the clearing on muscular legs with bulging calves and looked up at Cheng curiously.  His skin has the malaria colour and his eyes are the eyes of the mamba, he announced without guile.  Cheng understood just enough Swahili to bristle.  He may know greed, but he does not know respect.  It is the Bambuti way, Chetti Singh tried to placate him.  They are like children; they say whatever comes into their heads.  Ask him about the elephant, Cheng instructed, and Chetti Singh changed his tone of voice and smiled ingratiatingly at Pirri.  I have come to ask you about elephant, he said, and Pirri scratched his crotch, taking a large handful of the contents of his loin-cloth and joggling it thoughtfully.

Ah, elephant he said vaguely.  What do I know about elephant?  You are the greatest hunter of all the Bambuti, Chetti Singh pointed out.

Nothing moves in the forest but Pirri knows of it.  That is true, Pirri agreed, and studied Cheng reflectively.  I like the bracelet on this rich wazungu's wrist, he said.  Before we talk of elephant he should give me a gift.  He wants your watch, Chetti Singh told Cheng.

I understood!  Cheng snapped.  He is impertinent.  What would a savage do with a gold Rolex?  He would probably sell it to one of the truck-drivers for one hundredth of its value, Chetti Singh replied, enjoying Cheng's anger and frustration.  Tell him I will not be blackmailed.  I will not give him my watch, Cheng stated flatly, and Chetti Singh shrugged.  I will tell him, he agreed, but that will mean no gift for your honourable father.  Cheng hesitated and then unclipped the gold bracelet from his wrist and handed it to the pygmy.  Pirri cooed with pleasure and held the wristwatch in both hands, turning it so that the small diamonds around the dial sparkled.  It is pretty, he giggled.

So pretty that suddenly I remember about the elephant in the forest.

Tell me about the elephant, Chetti Singh invited.  There were thirty elephant cows and calves in the forest near Gondola, Pirri said.  And two large bulls with long white teeth.  How long?  Chetti Singh demanded, and Cheng who had followed the conversation thus far leaned forward eagerly.

One elephant is larger than the other.  His teeth are this long, said Pirri, and unslung his bow from his shoulder and held it above his head and stood on tiptoe.  This long, he repeated.  As high as I can reach with my bow, from the tip of the tooth to the lip, but not counting the part concealed in the skull.  How thick?  Cheng asked in atrocious Swahili, his voice coarse with lust, and Pirri turned to him and halfcircled his own waist with his dainty childlike hands.  This thick, he said.  As thick as I am.  That is a great elephant, Chetti Singh murmured with disbelief, and Pirri bridled.  He is the greatest of all elephants and I have seen him with my own eyes.  I, Pirri, say this thing and it is true.  I want you to kill this elephant and bring me his tusks, Chetti Singh said softly, and Pirri shook his head.  This elephant is no longer at Gondola.  When the machines of yellow iron came into the forest, he ran from their smoke and noise.  He has gone into the sacred heartland where no man may hunt.  It is decreed by the Mother and the Father.  I cannot kill this elephant in the heartland.

I will pay you a great deal for the teeth of this elephant, Chetti Singh whispered seductively, but Pirri shook his head firmly.  Offer him a thousand dollars, Cheng said in English, but Chetti Singh frowned at him.

Leave this to me, he cautioned.  We don't want to ruin the trade with impatience.  He turned back to Pirri and said in Swahili, I will give you ten bolts of pretty cloth which the women love, and fifty handfuls of glass beads, enough to make a thousand virgins spread their thighs for you.  Pirri shook his head.  It is the sacred heartland, he said.

The Mother and the Father will be angry if I hunt there.  in addition to the cloth and beads, I will give you twenty iron axe-heads and ten fine knives with blades as long as your hand.  Pirri wriggled his whole body like a puppy.  It is against law and custom.  My tribe will hate me and drive me out.  I will give you twenty bottles of gin, Chetti Singh said.

And as much tobacco as you can lift from the ground.  Pirri massaged his crotch frantically and rolled his eyes.  As much tobacco as I can carry!

His voice was hoarse.  I cannot do it.  They will call out the Molimo.

They will bring down the curse of the Mother and Father.  And I will give you a hundred silver Maria Theresa dollars.  Chetti Singh reached into the pocket of his bush jacket and brought out a handful of silver coins.  He juggled them in one hand, jingling them together and making them sparkle in the sunlight.

For a long moment Pirri stared at them hungrily.  Then he let out a shrill yelp and sprang in the air and drew his machete.

Chetti Singh and Cheng stepped back nervously, expecting him to attack them, but instead, Pirri whirled and, with the blade held high above his head, rushed at the wall of the forest and swung a hissing stroke at the first bush.  Shouting with anger and temptation, he hacked and slashed at the forest growth.

Leaves and twigs flew, and branches were sliced through.  Slabs of bark and white wood rained down from the bleeding trunks under his onslaught.

At last Pirri stopped and rested on his blade, his muscular chest heaving, sweat pouring down his face and dripping into his beard, sobbing with exertion and self-loathing.  Then he straightened up and came back to where Chetti Singh stood and said, I will kill this elephant for you, and bring you his teeth.  then you will give me all those things you promised me, not forgetting the tobacco.  Chetti Singh drove the Landrover back along the rudimentary forest track.  it took almost an hour for them to reach the main corduroy roadway on which the convict gangs were working, and over which the great ore-carriers and the logging trucks rumbled and roared.

As they left the overgrown logging track and joined the heavy flow of traffic towards Sengi-Sengi, Chetti Singh turned to grin at the man beside him.  That takes care of the gift for your father.  Now we must apply all our ingenuity and brains to a little gift for me, the head of Doctor Daniel Armstrong on a silver platter, with an apple in his mouth.