Blood Diamond Chapter 8

Preparation took most of the night. In the company of the ten initiates – young men of nearly twenty – and following their example, Daniel bathed in cold water, rubbed himself dry with fragrant bark from a local tree, then massaged his skin and muscles with animal fat until his arms, legs and torso gleamed in the firelight. He bowed with them as they put themselves through the chants and imprecations of their mysterious beliefs, and sat staring with them long into the orange wood fire, each alone with their thoughts.

The next morning, as the rim of the land turned crimson with the rising sun, Daniel was presented with his own spear – it was almost the length of him, with a metal head honed to a slicing sharpness against the flinty rocks. He gathered with the initiates beside the glowing coals of the night fire. With surprisingly little fanfare or to-do, accompanied by only a single aide, the King emerged from his dwelling and stood among them, dressed as they were in simple loin-cloth, and with his body supple and gleaming under the rubbed animal fat.

It was the first time Daniel had seen him so close, and he was impressed again by the King’s height and the sleek, aquiline features of his face – so obviously different from the features of ordinary black men and white men alike. He carried a spear, as they did, but also, strung on a length of leather over his back, a drum made from cow-hide stretched tight across a wooden frame. He looked upon Daniel, nodded slightly, and said something that Daniel took to mean, “Welcome”.

Then they hefted their spears and, falling in single file behind the king – Daniel took up the very last position – they trooped out of the camp and into the blue and grey silence of the early-morning bush. 
Spirits were high for the first hour’s walking. There was no laughter or chatter, but the party walked with an easy gait and light hearts, looking around with the appreciation of men enjoying an adventure and a change of routine. The sun rose and turned the land progressively green around them, and they enjoyed the feel of the orange and yellow early-morning rays.

After an hour or so, the mood rapidly changed. The King paused, and all paused behind him. He stood upright and sniffed at the air. He examined the surrounding trees, and pointed a silent spear at a freshly-broken branch, the wood still green and sap still dripping, at the height of a man’s head. They went on, but their tread was slower now, more cautious. The young men scanned the undergrowth and trees with a greater sense of apprehension. Nerves became more stretched with each pace. Daniel kept glancing anxiously over his shoulder, unable to throw off the creeping fear that he was being followed, shadowed by some vast, murderous creature that might at any moment reach out and pluck him away from the group, so sudden and savage that he would not even have time to scream aloud. But of course, there was nothing there.

The band of hunters passed through the scrubland and into a large forest with an overhanging bower of interlocking branches, and leaves so dense no sunlight fell on the ground beneath their feet. It was a dim, green gloom into which they walked and, with each pace, Daniel felt the beating of his heart grow harder. Nor was he the only one to feel that way – he could see it in the tense bodies of his companions. The King held up a hand for pause. He crouched a little and peered into the verdant dimness, staring at some distant spot between the trunks of the trees. He made another hand movement and the hunters fanned out around him. He made a gesture to the left, and five of the initiates padded out in that direction, as silently as human feet could carry them over the crackling carpet of twigs and dried leaves. Another gesture and the remaining five circled in single file to the right.

Only Daniel remained with the King. They began to step forward, softly and with care. The King tested the wind and seemed satisfied that it came from before them. As they trod slowly into the underworld of that forest, Daniel thought he heard a sound from ahead. It was a cracking, pulling, breaking sound, the sound of wood splintering and leaves being shaken.

The King stopped again and Daniel crouched with him behind the screen of a low bush. The King pointed, and Daniel had to stare for several seconds before he could make out what he was staring at. Then the breath caught in his throat. Dappled grey and black, almost melting into the under-shadows of the forest, was the giant figure of the dalovu. It was using its enormous, snake-like trunk to strip great branches from a high tree, pulling them off with the casual strength of four men, breaking them like kindling and stuffing them into its mouth.

The King looked left and right and slightly lifted his spear. From either side of the great beast, from behind similar bushes, a slight movement revealed the hiding positions of the two bands of initiates. The creature seemed to catch some wind of the movement, or perhaps some bestial sense intuited the presence of enemy. It stopped its feeding and lifted the tip of its trunk as though to sniff at the wind. Its vast ears fanned forward as though to listen for danger. Slowly, slowly, the King lifted his spear. The metal tip rose above the bush, rose in the dim underworld light. It stopped. The forest held its breath. With a jerk of the arm, the King brought it crashing down. As the metal head fell, so with a great roaring and yelling of Annuba war-cries – the songs they had learnt since they were children in their mothers’ arms - the initiates came surging from the green undergrowth, spears flashing.

Copyright Rannulph Moore

A PDF download of Blood Diamond is available in our shop.

Ranulph Moore describes himself as an explorer, who became a writer to purge himself of the adventures that were crowding his life. He says he has seen it all, in a life spent observing the lives of others.
He will travel anywhere – as long as he can make a decent cup of tea and launder a linen jacket. He describes Africa as one of his great loves. He has spent time in every country on the continent.
If he can’t find a good champagne, he has been known to resort to gin. He has homes in Paris, Jura and Cape Town. At present, he lives in Madagascar, where he is researching his latest book.
Read an interview with Rannulph Moore.