Chapter 2

Don’s Airfield, North West Province, South Africa. 05:00 (UCT/GMT +2)

From near Pretoria, Gauteng Province, in the east, the Magaliesberg Mountain range extends for one hundred and thirty kilometres to near Rustenburg, and the Vaal River flows along the North West Province’s southern border, separating it from the Free State Province.

The North West Province is a prime game-viewing destination and home to the well-known Madikwe Game Reserve. Parts of the UNESCO World Heritage sites, like the world’s largest meteorite impact crater, the Vredefort Dome, as well as the Cradle of Humankind, fall within the reaches of the province.

Farming consists of sheep, cattle, and crop-growing. Specifically, maize, sunflower, tobacco, cotton, and different citrus varieties.

Don and Dave’s airport is of growing importance in the North West Province. It caters to the fly-in safari tourists, and so a couple of overnight chalets were expertly hidden in the bushveld vegetation along the north road at the airfield, one of which I occupied.

With the sun not yet above the horizon, I rolled out of bed. Despite the lateness of going to bed last night, I felt chirpy and rested. It must have been the smog-free country air of this part of the North West Province, also known as the “Platinum Province” due to the rich deposits of platinum. North West also produces gold, diamonds, and uranium.

With the five-star accommodation comes all sorts of creature comforts, like real hundred percent pure Arabic coffee, which I was enjoying on the little patio of the log cabin, while waiting on the sun to show its face.

I was presently surprised to see five zebras trot around the cabin to graze on the far side of the road. So that is why there’s a fence along the north side of the runway: to keep the wildlife off the runway. Makes sense, doesn’t it?

A blue double-cab 4 × 4 Ford Ranger bakkie drove up, kicking up dust in its wake, and stopped just short of the zebras. Lucy, Dave’s girlfriend and Lisa, Dave’s wife, got out, both dressed like game rangers, wardens, or field guides in khaki-coloured multi-pocketed long pants, matching khaki shirts and lightweight canvas hiking boots. Both had their hair in ponytails hanging down their backs. Lucy was blond, and Lisa was your standard brown-haired, brown-eyed girl, else they could have been twins.

“Morning, Ronny. Breakfast at Don’s place,” Lisa greeted.

“Morning ladies. I better get a move on then, don’t I?” I greeted back.

“Don’s place is on the other side of that hill, over on the south side, so leave the four-wheeler and come drive with us,” Lucy invited, swinging her left arm in the air in the general direction of the hill. “The rest of the gang will show up shortly.”

“Great! I’m ready, so we can go,” and I got up from the patio chair I was sitting on.

“Yeah, just drop that coffee mug in the kitchenette sink, the cleaning staff will take care of everything,” Lisa said.

“Jeez, that’s not necessary, I can take care of stuff while I’m here, even make my own bed.” I said and went inside, placed the coffee mug in the kitchen sink and went back out again.

“A man with principles! Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you. Now let’s go. Breakfast is getting cold,” Lucy tossed over her shoulder and got back into the bakkie. Lisa followed. I just shrugged and climbed into the back seat.

“Nice four-by you got here,” I observed as I closed the door.

“I love my bakkie, she’s nice.” Lisa shyly said and pulled away.

The zebras stood still and watchful, munching on their mouthfuls of the short grass from next to the dirt road. One lost interest in the humans and bent his neck down, grabbing another mouthful of grass.

Lisa spun the bakkie around and off we went, scooting along the tree-lined dirt road towards the airport.

“Sorry that the farmhouse is full, else you could have bunked there as well,” Lisa said.

“No probs! The log cabin’s nice and cosy. Very modern, I must say.”

“Yeah, the tourists that come out on an ‘African Safari’ can be picky sometimes, but we humour them,” Giggle. Lucy replied. “If they give us too much crap, we just smile and screw them a bit on the bill!”

“Lucy!” Lisa admonished.

“True, Lucy, Lisa. Don’t take nonsense from them. Some of them tourists can be downright awkward. And the best is that the ones that complain are the ones that aren’t used to these luxury things anyway,” I commented, looking out the side window at an old DC-3, or a C-47 with faded paint standing next to a workshop building, one radial engine missing.

“Now you hit the nail on the head,” Lisa said, rolling her eyes, “I remember a guy once told his wife in German, while I was in the room, that the bedding was rather flimsy, and the coffee was second best. I told him that we could get him better coffee, like single origin single farm coffee, but it will cost him an extra two hundred Euro! He did not expect me to understand or speak German. Well, the bedding, and the coffee stayed, and his wife nearly whacked him on the head.” We all laughed.

“The best tippers are the Americans,” Lucy said. “One guy once gave me a hundred-dollar tip for just showing him how to get to the local store!”

“Well, with your looks, I would have given you two hundred dollars,” I said, smiling.

“Not that it would get you any more favours!” Giggle. “But thanks for the compliment.”

By this time, we were at Don’s house, a two-story dwelling in a Spanish, or Mediterranean style that stood under some tall trees. Some of the outbuildings echoed that style, and I thought that I was transported back to Mexico or Southern California.

As I stepped out of the bakkie, I noticed some cattle grazing in a meadow and about seven horses in a fenced-in corral next to impressive-looking stables. A flock of chickens were pecking and scratching around under some trees to the side of the house, and it looks like the ducks had invaded the pool on the other side of the house. Well, this is a farm, what else do you expect, Ronny? But this is serene. One day when I am all grown up, I would like something like this.

“Come up the stairs. Breakfast is in the dining room,” Lisa invited. At that moment Don, Laura, Tracy, and Mai-Loan came out the front door and down the steps.

“Welcome to my run-down old rigidity paddy, Ronny. Make yourself at home,” Don greeted with extended hand.

I just smiled. Run-down old rigidity paddy, indeed! It looked more kept up than many other farm houses I’ve come across. Then I replied, “Mornin’ y’all! Mighty fine spread you have ‘ere!” and said in my best southern drawl.

Don grinned and Tracy and Mai-Loan giggled.

“Eh ... Ronny, this is Africa, not Mexico, Southern California, Georgia, Louisiana, or for heaven’s sake, Alabama! But a nice try. Olivia would love it; she’s an Alabama girl.”

Breakfast was delicious and filling, a good old traditional farmhouse breakfast: grilled “Boerewors”; grilled tomato; two eggs sunny-side up; toast with real butter; bacon; hash-browns; and coffee by the litre. Man, this felt good.

The dining room table was large. I counted twenty chairs around the table, and it felt empty with just thirteen of us seated. The seating arrangement surprised me, with Don’s clan clustered together, Dave’s clan together, Ash and Angie alone together on the far side, and Roxy and Darya seated one on each side of me. Angie had a smirk on her face but said nothing and just flashed a look over at Nadia.

“We can’t leave you completely out in the cold, now, can we?” Roxy commented, as Darya placed a plate of food before me on the table.

Talk round the table was relaxed and mostly about Don’s farm and local farming techniques. Laura cared for the horses and ran a riding school. Mai-Loan tried to raise beef, therefore the hundred odd cattle in the meadow were hers. Tracy had the chicken farming thing going and has now expanded into ducks.

Don was not into farming and left the running of the enterprises to the girls, mostly giving financial advice here and there. But together with Dave, Lucy, Olivia, and Leah, he ran the airfreight business.

It came to light that Lucy owned the airfreight business, with the rest having shares in it. Lisa, besides being a vet and running her riding school, was managing the “transit hotel” for the “African Safari Tourists.” Life seems to be good for these families.

Ash was evasive, but I deduced that he was a little tied up in the “security enterprise,” together with Angie. To me, it seemed that Ash was a link between the actual head of the “security business” and us. That Ash was the de facto leader was not to be disputed, but there was someone else lurking in the shadows. Or so I thought.

My previous, long, long ago instructor, Lorie, was caught up in the security business as well. She seemed quiet this morning, and a little impatient, looking at her watch every five minutes. Why, I was to learn later that day; something to do with a certain Major TC and his squad, or was it just the Major?

With breakfast over, Don, Dave, Ash, and I went out to sit on the patio. Ash led off the conversation.

“Ronny, now that you’ve spent a few days with us, what do you think of the outfit?” he casually asked. Don took out his smoking pipe, shifted in his seat to a more comfortable position, and lit it. A blue cloud of sweet, scented smoke billowed out and dispersed in the slight breeze.

“Well, so far everything has been a whirl, and everyone seems to be competent, professional, friendly, and open-minded,” I said. “A bunch of perfectionists with a sense of humour and understanding.”

“Well, that’s the first time I heard us being described as that!” Dave said and chuckled. “A bunch of certifiable loonies, would be a better description.”

“I would not say that, as I count myself as part of this conglomerate, and maybe not get myself fired, before I even get started,” I answered, electing chuckles from the three men around the patio table.

“Well, we strive to be humble,” Don chuckled.

“Okay, question:” I responded. “I take it all the pilots will be going, taking the birds to wherever we are going, but what of the other members, and the stores, and what do we do about ground crew?”

“All will be revealed in time, but just to cure your line of thinking. The ground crew is already in place and awaiting our arrival in Kismayo, Somalia. The rest of the personnel that can’t fit in the birds will be flown there courtesy of Angels Express Logistics.” Dave explained. “All that we will be needing will be flown in. That might take two or three trips. We’ll see.”

“Oh, sounds fair, and who is this ‘Angels Express Logistics’ when they are at home? Can they be trusted?”

Don and Dave laughed out loud and Ash smiled. “Too many questions, but yes, they can be trusted. Little Lucy, that blond girlie running around here? Well the little rascal is the majority shareholder in the company. Seeing that Leah and Olivia will be tied up in having fun with the Mirages, Dave and I will be flying the big bird with all your paraphernalia,” Don explained.

“Big bird?” I dare to ask.

“Lockheed LM-100J Super Hercules. She’s hidden away in one of the new hangars. You’ll meet her later,” Dave said. “We bought her as an L-100-30, then upgraded her to LM-100J specifications. New engines, Rolls-Royce AE 2100D3 and sixfive-bladed composite props if you did not know them. Sorry the Puma is not here, she’s on the company ship somewhere in the South Atlantic, looking for penguin eggs or something,” Ash chuckled.

Astounding! Super Hercules, Mirages, and a ship with a Super Puma. What else do these people have? I just shook my head. Do not underestimate this group! I felt honoured to be called part of the team.

“Did Ash discuss your salary with you?” Don asked, ever the accountant and money-wise guy, pulling deeply on his pipe and looking at me.

“Yeah, he did mention some figure...”

“And are you happy with it?” Dave asked.

“Yes, I am happy. Beats police pay hands down any day!”

“Good, after this tiff is over, you can come make something on the side by flying the Herc, PC-12s and the PC-24. How good is your cargo slinging and long lining if I may ask?”

I was getting a little lost. These guys have other nice toys that I did not dream of. Yes, at the SAPS we had a PC-12, but they speak of more than one, and a PC-24 jet. Man! Here I must stay.

“Well, I flew Oryx helicopters in the SAAF, but that was long ago. I’m not current, and maybe a little rusty.”

“Well, there’s two MD530Fs in the other hangar. We use them mostly for private flying, or for some game-viewing, but the occasional cargo slinging ops do pop around from time to time,” Don interjected, giving Dave a quick glance.

“I flew the MD500E at SAPS.”

“Then you won’t find the 530F much different. Yip, now you just need a girlfriend, and you will be set.” Don chuckled.

“Yeah...” I sighed and gazed out over the low grassland meadow where Mai-Loan’s cattle were grazing. But first I must survive Somalia ... Will this dream last?

We were still relaxing on Don’s patio when Roxy and Darya came out the house, followed closely by Nadia. Roxy came and stood behind the chair I was sitting on and placed her hands on the chair back. She stood so close to the back of the chair that I could smell her perfume. Darya went and flopped down on Ash’s lap.

“Rox and I want to go into town, can we borrow your car, Dad? Please...?” she chirped.

“What you need in town?” Ash asked. Don and Dave looked on amused.

“Shopping for unmentionable essential girlie stuff...” She said, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Okay, but don’t take all morning,” he instructed, and took out his car keys and tossed them over to Roxy. “Let Roxy drive, I still don’t trust you to drive on the correct side of the road around here.”

“DAD! I’ve got my international driver’s license!” she exclaimed, getting off Ash’s lap. Then she bent over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Dad. We’ll be back soon.”

With that, the two girls skipped off the patio, giggling. Nadia spoke up.

“Well, with the two hormone-enraged ‘teens’ out of the picture, maybe Ronny and I can get down to business. Come on, Ronny. Time to go see how good you can shoot,” and she winked, then shook her head to flick the ginger-red hair over on to her back.

“Oh brother! Let the humiliation begin,” I muttered as I got up. Ash, Don, and Dave chuckled.

“Well, look at the bright side, you may emerge shooting better than what you say you do...” Dave chuckled.

I followed Nadia off the patio, around the house to a small fleet of quadbikes parked at the side of the house. She had a small knapsack with her, which she dropped into the carrier box at the back of one of the quads.

“Hop on! We’ll just use this one,” She instructed. I got on to the back of the quad bike seat and Nadia climbed on in front. She wiggled herself in a comfortable position and started the bike. “Now hold on to me,” Giggle. I put my arms around her, just holding her, and not too tight.

The engine revved and with a slight jolt we set off down a two-track dirt road lined with trees on both sides. Nadia expertly drove the quad, kicking up dirt and dust as we went.

City of Mogadishu, Somalia. 11:40, East Africa Time (UTC/GMT +3)

The days were already longer but still getting hotter on the north side of the equator as the Northern Hemisphere approaches summer. Already the June sun was beating down, scorching the earth.

Fuelled from the sea breeze out of the azure-blue Indian Ocean to the east, dust devils jumped up across the dusty streets of Mogadishu, where scantily clad children wandered aimlessly in search of something to eat.

A mild day, with a slight far off hazy fog over the Indian Ocean greeted Father Lorenzo Romano as he exited the partially destroyed Cathedral of the Roman Catholic Diocese of Mogadishu. He cast a casual eye towards the tent encampment that sprung up in the grounds of the once great cathedral. The stark contrast of the tent encampment stood out against the new shops and businesses around it.