a story from "It Ate My Sister"

by Mark Binder 

Episode 5 - "Some Ting is Wrong"

Our Story So Far...
After we arrived in Africa, I made a big mistake...

     Inside, the Tip Top Safari office looked worse than the outside. There were three-uncomfortable looking chairs in front of a spindly desk covered completely with the hulking shape of an unconscious man.

     "Oh, I'm sorry," Dad said. "We seem to be in the wrong place."

     Almost instantly the man's head popped up.  "No trouble at all!"

     The man was a large African fellow, with closely cropped hair, a brilliant white smile, and jagged scars on each cheek. His voice was incongruously soft and pleasant, with a distinctive British accent.

     "Are you the Doctor and the Family? I am Nyoka Smith. I have been waiting for you. I asked your hotel to call me when you checked out, but clearly you have found me. Well done."

     He stood up and we all stepped back. He was at least six foot five. He wore a sweat-covered David Bowie tee shirt, long khaki slacks, and black Doc Marten boots.

     Noticing that we all seemed startled, he held his arms wide, hands open, as if showing us that he had no weapons and we had nothing to fear.

     "I see that you are deceived by my appearance. Do not be. I am Zanzibarian by birth, English by education, Oxfordian by degree, and Tanzanian by inclination. I am also the best safari guide that you will find at the price you can afford."

     "Yes," my father said, still uncertain about how to proceed. "However my family and I are exploring other arrangements."

     Nyoka dropped down into his chair, which creaked precariously. "All right. Fine. I understand that Americans are often prejudiced against black people."

     "That's not it at all!" my father said, quickly.

     "No, certainly not," my mother said.

     "You're scary looking," I admitted.

     His face snapped toward me. His eyes focused on me. And then his mouth widened into a smile. "Honesty is a good thing, young fellow. You do need, however, to be careful what you say from time to time."

     "Look, I'm sorry," my father began.

     Nyoka waved his hand as if brushing away a fly. "Nonsense. I do understand. I will simply sell your tent camp reservations in the middle of the preserve to the next interested buyer. It is, as you know, high season and these sites are few, but I expect I shall still turn a profit and I will not have to ferry and pamper a gaggle of frightened tourists."

     "Stop it!" Ellen said, suddenly.

     We all turned to look at her. It was unusual for Ellen to say anything in front of strangers.

     "You are all being very childish," she said. "We are already days late. We have less than a week left before we have to fly back home. We don't have time to waste looking for another guide. Mr. Smith, do you promise not to rob or murder us?"

     Nyoka smiled again. "But of course. In fact, I will protect you from anyone who might try, with my life."

     "Dad, do you promise to relax and trust this man?"

     Dad hemmed and hawed. "I don't know."

     Ellen put her hands on her hips. "If you didn't want to have an adventure and meet new people then why did you drag us to Africa?"

     Mom looked at Dad. "She has a point, you know."

     Dad frowned, and then looked sheepish. "You're right," he told Ellen. Then he looked at the safari guide behind his desk. "You're right, too. I was allowing myself to be prejudiced by your appearance. I am sorry."

     Dad stuck out his right hand. Nyoka let it hang there for a moment, then grabbed it and began pumping.

     "Not at all," he said. "It is a rare quality to admit that you are wrong, to admit that you have been foolish, to admit that you have been a racist. I have spent years in the white world, and I do understand. It is difficult to overcome. But if I can do it, you can do it. Shall we go now?"

     Dad wasn't quite sure what to make of this, but he agreed. Behind the office, Nyoka had a brand new Range Rover with this amazing roof that rose up so you could look outside at the animals without getting out of the car. We went back to the hotel, collected our bags, and then we were officially on safari!

     While we bounced down a road out of town, I nudged Ellen in the ribs and whispered, "Ellen likes Nyoka."

     "Shut up or I'll drop a scorpion down your underpants," she hissed back.

     From the front, Nyoka called, "Scorpions are rarely fatal, young miss. I would recommend a black mambo snake. They are quite deadly, and their venom is terribly fast acting."

     Ellen shuddered.

     I grinned.

     Then, all of a sudden, I felt sick.

     "Pull over," I said.

     Dad's head shot around. "Do you see a lion? An elephant?"

     "It would not be unusual," Nyoka said, "to see a wildebeest so close to the town, but the lions tend to stay away.

     "Pull over!" I said. "Fast!"

     He pulled the car over to the side. I opened my door, and hurled my breakfast all over the dry African soil.

     "What's the matter?" Ellen nudged me. "Can't take a bumpy ride?"

     When I was done, Nyoka handed me a towel and a bottle of water. "You must drink so you do not become dehydrated."

     "I'm ok," I said.

     "What did you have for breakfast?" he asked. I told him. "I like Ting myself. Did you drink it from the bottle?"

     "No," I said. "A glass with ice."

     "Oh no!" my father said, smacking his forehead with his palm.

     Nyoka nodded. "I'm afraid so. Young sir, when you are advised not to drink the water, next time, do not also drink the ice."

Copyright 2008 by Mark Binder 
 All Rights Reserved

Next Episode: Conclusion