HONEY HUNTING EXPEDITION

HONEY HUNTING EXPEDITION(PHILIP BARYARUHA) It is said fortune ‘’favours the brave’’ But, there is nothing brave about visiting an angry African bee. It can be a formidable foe. Especially with the assistance of its stinging brothers, furious workmates and noisy sisters. I would say fortune favours the reckless.

I and our new worker Bernard had developed a liking for each. A friendship that willingly treaded on the edge of destructiveness, utter recklessness to absolute craze. I wouldn’t suggest madness for the sake of the dear reader.

Bernard had a unique understanding of nature. Right from the black goat that preferred banana peelings to grass, through to our small puppy that looked skinny after loosing it’s teeth, to ‘Bihogo’ [long horned bull] that had few trusted friends apart from Bernard and any cow in heat. He could climb a tree to get to a kites nest without effort, bravely hold the tail of an irritated dog, stupidly put his hand in a cobras hole, lie down and trick a crested crane into thinking he had gone, then call its chicks only for Bernard to raise and catch them. I grew fond of the guy. As kids of our age were watching cartoons and films, we were busy creating films of our own.

One day in the absence of my parents, Bernard came up with one of his mighty ideas. He suggested I join him on a honey hunting adventure. He had this master plan where we would get dry banana leaves, a small sauce pan, a panga and a match box. Then I would put on my small shoes since the route was thorny. Wanting to be part of the strategy, I suggested he make use of my fathers’ heavy gum boots. Bernard never mentioned the ability of the bee to sting. He assured me bees don’t see at night. That we were definitely going to find them sleeping. We made all our preparation and waited for the cover of darkness.

With the night in full motion, Bernard woke me from my slumber. Picking my brothers’ jacket that never fitted me in the first place, I was off through the window since I never wanted to wake any one up. We were fully but strangely armed with all the required weaponry to attack the enemy combatants.

A tall green savannah grass decorated the landscape. The moon at it’s brightest dominated the sky as the stars smiled at our innocence. Apart from the old dog that always played a part in our mischief, the moon and the stars were our only prominent company. Passing the fox lair, we treaded ahead with Bernard carrying the bundle of banana leaves on his head. We passed by the white aunt hill where previously we had harvested some mushroom. Turning, Bernard saw a tree stump with another tree behind it. Being the coward he was, he thought he was coming face to face with a ghost. Without warning he threw his luggage down and was off. I and the dog were startled, we hadn’t seen anything. We followed on our heels too. It took some convincing for the poor guy to accept to continue on, the mission unaccomplished. But on condition that I was going to walk in front of him and that he would be giving me direction on which routes to take.

Apart from the buzz that reminded us we were being closely watched by mosquitoes, we continued without further incident until we reached the tree that housed our target. Bernard expertly cleared the grass below and slowly climbed the tree as if taking care not to wake up the residents. A frightened lizard rushed through his legs causing a stir as an owl dashed into flight. Meanwhile the old dog looked on passively. Like a soldier on duty, I was standing by. Well armed with a match box next to the bundle of dry banana leaves. Meanwhile Bernard was busy cutting into the tree. Every night cry of the panga seemed to expose our presence to both visible and invisible players of the night. Every chop was met by an echo of disagreement. I never ceased to feel we were insulting the bees and Mother Nature wasn’t happy about it.

Then suddenly Bernard commanded ‘fire’. I struck a match and foolishly set the whole bundle of banana leaves on fire instead of one at a time. Bernard had not realized my folly for he was engaged by the small individuals whose peace he had disrupted. The banana leaves simply burnt out and without fire, one has no chance with angry African bees. I was stung once by these fellows who were zooming around everything in vicinity at the speed of a rocket. I didn’t need a second calling, I took off. Seeing me bend around the corner, Bernard the coward thought I had seen a monster. In a second he dashed passed me. I followed him at break neck speed. On hearing my feet behind, Bernard increased the pace. I followed. It turned into a sprint as the crickets cheered us on with Bernard in the lead. It’s amazing how he never threw the small saucepan with two honey combs in it.

With hardly any breath left, we crossed over from the animal part of the farm at a modern rally pace through the banana plantation. And at night when you run, you tend to hear feet following. We were convinced someone was out to get us. Maybe the guardian of nature who wanted us in our beds.

After loosing the panga and throwing away my fathers’ gumboots, we made it home. The warmth and comfort of the house caressed us into our blankets. We were soon off into the world of dreams. The next day we managed to recover my fathers’ gum boots. The rusty panga was found over a month later by the old herdsman. I and Bernard have lost touch. As for our other misadventures, it’s a story for another day.