Chapter 17: Allaice's story

I translated her rather odd phrasing when I typed this report.

"When I was young I was rich and attractive enough to be part of the 'in crowd'. I had a carefree life and went to the best schools and in the winter holidays, enjoyed skiing at the best resorts and in summer, sailing and partying at Cannes and other playgrounds of the rich along the coast of southern France. By the time I was eighteen I'd had many boyfriends and sex with one or more of them was no big deal. In many ways I used my body to get what I wanted from them. They paid for me to stay with them in the best hotels, went sailing on grandiose yachts and got invited to private parties on a large motorboat in a secluded bay; parties that were synonyms for an orgies. I enjoyed being fucked, whether it was a lad younger than me, or someone old enough to be my grandfather. In a way I was a kind of prostitute although I never actually accepted money for sex, I was given presents and taken to places I would not otherwise had access to."

"Would you like to come sailing with me on Lake Nyasa?" Pierre asked. I won't give their full names even though they are dead now. The invitation was to Cherie and me while we were on a luxury yacht and five other young men were taking turns to screw us. At that time I had no idea where Lake Nyasa was and Pierre just said, "It's in the middle of Africa."

"Sounds like fun, I've never been to Africa but I've had a few black men." That shocked Cherie but she agreed to go as well. Three weeks later four of us flew to Lilongwe and hired a car and drove to Senga a small town on Lake Nyasa. Here we met Rikard and Marlené who owned the yacht. It wasn't as big as some that I've sailed on but it was a goodly size and plenty big enough for the six of us especially as we planned sharing the sleeping berths. We partied that night and swapped partners a few times so it was late the next morning when we hoisted the sails and headed towards the northern end of the lake. There was a good breeze and we bowled along at a good pace for several hours but in the late afternoon the wind died and we crept along at a snails pace. It was all peaceful and I was laid out on the cabin top catching the last rays of the sun, when we heard this motor boat speeding towards us. Before we realised anything untoward was happening a burst of automatic gunfire put a row of holes through the mainsail. The motorboat cut its engine and two black men with guns stood up and pointed them at us.

"Fucking Pirates!" Rikard swore. They boarded our boat and herded us all into the bow where one kept a gun trained on us while two more ransacked the cabin, a fourth stayed in their boat. Anything they thought valuable or portable was put into sacks and tossed into the motorboat. It didn't seem to take them long and then the men were forced into the cabin and locked down there. Rikard protested and was knocked to the deck with a rifle butt before they almost threw him down into the cabin. The others went quietly after one had pointed his gun at Cherie's chest. It didn't take a Sherlock Holmes to deduce what they planned to do with three bikini clad ladies. They made us take off what little we had on and throw them in the water. We'd have given them what they wanted without too much of a problem except that we were also afraid of contracting AIDS but no, they wanted it the rough way and forcibly grabbed our tits and arses and bent us over the railing. I felt a cock being pushed into my dry cunt and tried to accommodate him but to him it didn't matter. He just plunged on and raped me as hard as he could.

When he pulled out, the one in the motorboat called to them and I was thrown down to him. Without being told I bent over the engine casing and readied myself. I hoped that would make him hurt me less and the sperm inside me would act as a lubricant. He didn't take long and when he saw the men trying to break out of the cabin, he climbed on the yacht. I took the opportunity to slip quietly into the water and dive as deeply as I could. The boats glided on and it seemed a while before my absence was noticed. By then it was virtually dark but I could see the lights of the boats and I doubted if they would see me if I didn't splash around. Slowly I swam towards the Malawi shore. It all went very quiet and then there was some shouts and screams before the motorboat's engine roared into life and the craft headed towards the Tanzanian coast. A few minutes later there was an almighty explosion and the yacht became a ball of flame. I doubted if anyone could have survived and by then I was a good quarter of a mile from it. Within a minute the flames were gone and peace descended once more. I called and called but there was no reply. I knew I was alone, tired, naked and still a long way from the shore.

"Just take it easy Allaice," I said to myself, "You'll either make it or you won't. Either way you are in God's hands."

"You obviously made it," Roger commented. We were all appalled and enthralled by her story.

"Yes but I was a long way from being safe. It was a long tiring swim but eventually I crawled on to dry land and just curled up in a tight ball on pebbly ground, shivering in the cold air until the first glimmer of dawn allowed me to see what was around me. I had indeed been fortunate in my unwitting choice of a landing place. It was a small bay surrounded by forest and steep hillsides. A hundred yards either way and I would not have found a place to climb ashore. Tired, sore and very depressed over what happened and the probable death of my friends I stumbled to my feet and tried to make my way along the shoreline. In bare feet it was a painful process and I really had no idea which way would take me to the nearest habitation. In the end I decided to head sort of northwest mainly because I hadn't seem more than a few huts as we sailed along in the afternoon. Mind you I hadn't been paying much attention to the landscape but I knew we were pretty close to the northern end of the lake when the pirates came and thought there might be a settlement near the entrance to the Songwe River. I had no idea how far away that was.

At the end of the little bay I came to an area of scrub, steep but walkable except that I got badly scratched from the thorn bushes. In many places they were head high and my stumbling gait caused me to brush against them. In only a few yards, I was covered with scratches that dripped blood. The sun rose and it became hot and in an hour or so I was terribly thirsty and hungry. In that time I doubted if I had walked a mile and my feet were sore and bleeding and my body looked like I had been scourged with a bramble twigs. Once more the animal track I was tentatively following led back to the shore but from there I could see no way forward. Probably it was a place where animals came to drink. I collapsed under a tree and cried at my hopeless situation. I'd almost given up any hope of survival and wished that I had died a quick death with my companions instead of a slow death by starvation. There was plenty of water but I doubted that it would be clean although I'd already swallowed a lot during my swim. I took a little in my mouth and spat it out again. I didn't have the energy to go on especially as it meant retracing my steps through the thorny scrub. Tiredness and depression overcame me and I closed my eyes and dozed for a while but was awoken by the 'Putt-putt' of a small motorboat engine. Standing up I waved and then wondered if I had done the right thing. In the boat a huge black man stood up too and I had visions of being raped again. For once I did the right thing. The man was JeanPaul or J'npeloe to give him his real name although no one here uses it any more. I must have passed out because I next remember being lifted carefully into the boat and sipping some flavoured water. He held me in his lap until we arrived at a landing place and I was taken in a cablecar. The next thing I remember was being in hospital with JeanPaul alongside my bed. You should have seen his face and how he looked blank when I spoke to him in French! He replied in English but he spoke kindly and told me his name and when I couldn't get my tongue around it I gave him the French version. Gently he held my hand and I tried my school english with a few words of my own language mixed in and found he could understand it. When I asked he told me I was in Tumali. That was quite a shock. I knew a bit about the ways of the people here from talking with Marlené the night before and Rikard had jokingly suggested that I might like to be one of the women here and be fucked day and night by any man who could get an erection and be permanently pregnant. Such was the misconception he had of the place. I also knew that once in the country, it wasn't easy to get out, as you have found Ellie."