‘I want you to see with your own eyes. To use your common sense and grasp how important it is for the Zambezi Valley to be populated. Our brothers will produce a surplus here that can be exported.’
‘You’re making it sound like we’re doing the world a favour by dumping our people here. I think we’re treading the same path that imperialists have always trodden. Put the screws on the colonies, and transfer the profits to us. New markets for our products, a way of giving capitalism more staying power. Ya Ru, that’s the truth behind all your fancy words. I know we’re building a new Ministry of Finance for Mozambique. We call it a gift, but I see it as a bribe. I’ve also heard that the Chinese foremen beat the natives when they didn’t work hard enough. Naturally, it was all hushed up. But I feel ashamed when I hear things like that. And I’m frightened. I don’t believe you, Ya Ru.’
‘You’re starting to get old, Hong Qiu. Like all old people you’re frightened of anything new. You suspect conspiracies against old ideals wherever you turn. You think that you’re standing up for the right way when in fact you’ve started to become the thing you are more afraid of than anything else. A conservative, a reactionary.’
Hong Qiu leaned forward quickly and slapped his face. Ya Ru jerked back and stared at her in surprise.
‘Now you’ve gone too far. I will not allow you to insult me. We can discuss things, disagree. But I’m not having you hit me.’
Ya Ru stood up without another word and disappeared into the darkness. Nobody else seemed to have noticed what happened. Hong Qiu already regretted her reaction. She ought to have had enough patience and verbal skills to continue to try and convince Ya Ru that he was wrong.
Ya Ru did not return. Hong Qiu went to her tent. Kerosene lamps illuminated the area outside as well as inside. Her mosquito net was already in place, and her bed prepared for the night.
Hong Qiu sat outside the tent. It was a sultry evening. Ya Ru’s tent was empty. She knew he would get revenge for the slap she had given him. But that didn’t scare her. She could understand and accept that he was angry at his sister hitting him. When she next saw him she would apologise immediately.
Her tent was so far away from the fire that the sounds of nature were much clearer than the mumble of voices and conversations. The light breeze carried with it the smell of salt, wet sand and something else she couldn’t pin down.
Hong Qiu slept fitfully and was awake for much of the night. The sounds of darkness were foreign to her, penetrated her dreams and dragged her to the surface. When the sun rose over the horizon she was already up and dressed.
Ya Ru suddenly appeared in front of her. He smiled.
‘We are both early birds,’ he said. ‘Neither of us has the patience to sleep any longer than is absolutely necessary.’
‘I’m sorry I hit you.’
Ya Ru shrugged and pointed at a green-painted jeep on the road next to the tent.
‘That’s for you,’ he said. ‘A driver will take you to a place only half a dozen miles from here. When you get there you’ll see the remarkable drama that takes place at every watering hole as dawn breaks. For a short while beasts of prey and their potential victims observe a truce while they are drinking.’
A black man was standing beside the jeep.
‘His name’s Arturo,’ said Ya Ru. ‘He’s a trusted driver who also speaks English.’
‘Many thanks for your consideration,’ said Hong Qiu. ‘But we need to talk.’
Ya Ru brushed aside her last comment. ‘We can do that later. The African dawn doesn’t last long. There’s coffee and some breakfast in a basket.’
Hong Qiu realised that Ya Ru was trying to make peace. What had happened the day before must not come between them. She went over to the jeep, greeted the driver, who was a thin, middle-aged man, and sat down in the back of the open vehicle. The road winding its way into the bush was almost non-existent, just a faint track in the dry earth. She fended off thorny branches from the low trees that lined the track.
When they came to the watering hole, Arturo parked near the edge of a steep drop down to the river below and handed Hong Qiu a pair of binoculars. Several hyenas and buffalo were drinking, and Arturo pointed out a herd of elephants. The grey, lumbering animals were approaching the watering hole almost as if they were walking straight out of the sun.
Hong Qiu had the feeling that this was what the world must have looked like at the beginning of time. Animals had come and gone here for countless generations.
Arturo served her a cup of coffee without speaking. The elephants were coming closer now, dust whirling round their enormous bodies.
Then the silence was broken.
Arturo was the first to die. The bullet hit him in the forehead and split his head in two. Hong Qiu had no time to gather what was happening before she was also hit by a bullet that smashed her jaw, was deflected downward and broke her spine. The loud bangs made the animals raise their heads for a moment and listen. Then they resumed drinking.
Ya Ru and Liu Xan approached the jeep, used their combined strength to overturn it and sent it tumbling down the steep slope. Liu Xan drenched it with a drum of petrol, stepped to one side, then threw a burning box of matches at the vehicle, which burst into flames with a roar. The animals ran away from the watering hole at high speed.
Ya Ru was waiting in the back seat of their own jeep. His bodyguard settled down behind the wheel and prepared to start the engine. Ya Ru hit him hard on the back of the head with a steel rod. He kept on hitting until Liu Xan no longer moved, then pushed the bodyguard’s corpse into the fire, which was still burning with full force.
Ya Ru drove the jeep into the thick vegetation and waited. After half an hour he returned to the camp and raised the alarm concerning an accident that had happened at the watering hole. The jeep had tumbled over the edge of the cliff and rolled down into the watering hole, where it had caught fire. His sister and the driver had both been killed. When Liu Xan tried to rescue them, he had also been engulfed by the flames.
Everybody who saw Ya Ru that day commented on how upset he was. But at the same time people were impressed by his self-control. He had insisted that the accident should not be allowed to interfere with their important work. Minister of Trade Ke gave his condolences to Ya Ru, and the negotiations continued as planned.
The bodies were taken away in black plastic bags and cremated in Harare. Nothing was written in the newspapers about the incident, neither in Mozambique nor in Zimbabwe. Arturo’s family, who lived in the town of Xai-Xai in the south of Mozambique, was awarded a pension after his death. It gave all six of his children the possibility of studying, and his wife Emilda was able to buy a new house and a car.
When Ya Ru travelled back to Beijing with the rest of the delegation, he had with him two urns containing ashes. On one of the first evenings home, he went out onto his huge terrace high above the city and let the ashes drift away into the darkness.
He was already beginning to miss his sister and the conversations they used to have. But he also knew that what he had done had been absolutely essential.
Ma Li lamented what had happened in a state of silent dismay. But deep down, she never did believe the story about the car accident.
31
On the table was a white orchid. Ya Ru stroked a finger over the soft petals.
It was an early morning, a month after returning from Africa. In front of him on the table were the plans for a house he had decided to build on the edge of the beach outside the town of Quelimane in Mozambique. As a bonus to the big deals agreed to by the two countries, for an advantageous price Ya Ru had been able to buy a large area of unspoiled beach. In the long term he intended to build an exclusive tourist resort for wealthy Chinese, increasingly large numbers of whom would be venturing out into the world.