The Khami River Legacy - from an African Wilderness to War in Iraq - an Adam Geard Story

The Khami River Legacy

PRELUDE

This is the story of Adam Geard, and it begins on a farm near the Khami River.

It’s a big piece of lonely land in the dry bushveld of western Matabeleland. To get there you have to leave the tar road and travel around three kilometres on a heavily corrugated dirt road. You can easily miss the entrance:  a narrow twin track with no signpost. The bush and trees which guard the entrance are always without colour and form because of the thick coating of white dust which boils out from the wheels of passing vehicles.

Once on this way you have to drive slowly because the grass between the tracks is thick and scrapes the chassis of your car. But soon you leave behind the dust-choked borders of the public road and enter into the grassland that forms the southern section of the property all the way to the buildings of the homestead some two kilometres distant.

Beyond the farm buildings the land is different. The sandy grassland gives way to a barren rocky surface with sparse coarse grass and many places where no grass or shrub grow at all. The land slopes downwards and then rises again to a mysterious tabletop hill which forms the northern boundary. It was said that many adders lived on the top of that hill and Adam never went there. In the middle distance is a smaller round hill with a thin grove of mopane trees on the crown.

There are secret places on that land. During the Matabeleland wars, a garrison was stationed on the property to defend the gold prospectors. You can find some evidence of their occupation amongst the dense bush. There is an embankment which was used as a stopper for a rifle range, a well, and some levelled ground where the natural vegetation did not grow back. In that place he found a rusted Martini-Henry rifle with a bullet in the chamber and the stock eaten away by white ants and wondered what story it could tell.

The gold miners dug their exploratory shafts and created homes for bats and owls and small predators, and those shafts provided a wealth of excitement and danger.

In winter the farm was dry and windy and harsh. Dust devils whipped through the yard and the mornings were cold with frost. The grass and bush turned so brown and dead it made you thirsty to look at it.

Eventually the fires came. Sometimes it was a slow creeping fire, sometimes a crackling ravaging burst of energy and destruction, the swallows and drongos wheeling and diving at the feast of insects.

They called October the suicide month: days of unrelenting heat and no relief from the threatening thunder clouds. Day after day the storm systems would build, filling the horizon from ground to forever with monster clouds. From their dark centre came bursts of light and noise. But no rain came until you could hardly bear it.

When those first rains finally fell, heavy drops thundering on the tin roof, you sat on the veranda and watched the trees being cleaned and the rivulets turning to small streams, and smelled the wonderful smell of clean, wet earth.

The dust was gone from the earth and soon green buds appeared on the burnt grass and you could see rabbits and duiker and steenbok grazing in the early morning. It was like winter had never been.

As a boy Adam spent every moment he could in the bush with his dogs and gun. He taught himself bush craft, taught himself to walk toe and heel when creeping up on prey, and taught himself to shoot really well, so well that he won most contests at school and the army.

He challenged himself in many ways, but nothing gave him more satisfaction than achieving the goals he set for himself with a gun. Some Sundays his mother would ask him to shoot a half dozen fat turtle doves for lunch and he would take only one .22 bullet for each dove.

The dogs were another favourite part of his life, although he could be irritated by the small dogs when they held him up by exploring rabbit holes or yapping at cracks in rocks when they could smell the big rock monitors. He loved the lead dog for its bravery. Once it took a strike meant for him from a puff adder. On another occasion it killed a male baboon, hitting it from behind before it could turn and shred him with those long canines.

Of course, he was becoming a loner. He could sit at a vantage point in the bush, with his dogs at his feet, for an hour at a time and be very content.

In the summer of 1983, when he was eight years old, Adam was returning from the bush when he heard gunfire. He did not understand it because only his father had another gun and his parents had gone to town. He crept closer and saw soldiers with red berets running out of the house where Josh, their headman, lived with his wife and two young children. They climbed into strange vehicles, the likes of which he had never seen before, and drove rapidly from the yard. Although frightened, he approached and entered the house. Inside he smelt the blood. The bodies were sprawled around the room. Cynthia and her daughter were on the bed, their unseeing eyes filled with horror. Somehow he got outside where he collapsed and was found by his parents. He remembered nothing and they were grateful, little realising the danger of allowing those frightening images to become embedded in his young mind.

That incident and that land were to shape his behaviour for decades to come.

AN AWFUL TRUTH  ||  Chapter One

The Geard family moved back to South Africa in 1988, defeated by Mugabe’s economic and racial discrimination against whites, and the ever-present memory of the brutal raid by the Fifth Brigade. They abandoned twenty years of hope and toil and dreams.

James Geard was a broken man, his bitterness bile in his heart. He was unemployed for almost three years and could not grasp that his outlook on life made him hard to live with and equally hard to employ, despite his extensive experience as an administrator. He became a hard drinker which fuelled his depression.

His wife, Martha, was, fortunately, a woman filled with optimism and kindness and she held the family together spiritually and then financially when she managed to land a good position in a private hospital.

Her two men, James, and their son, Adam, were lucky to have her in their lives. Eventually, her dedication and good cheer pulled her husband out of his depression and he started to take responsibility for his moods and indecision. It was like he came back from mourning the death of a deeply loved one.

James eventually got a job in logistics in a large manufacturing company and climbed back up the ladder to a decent position.

Adam knew instinctively that he could not add to his mother’s burden and he kept to himself his deep feeling of alienation in his new environment. He put more energy than he normally would have into school and being receptive to fellow pupils.

It paid off. Adam’s high school career was marked by good results, especially in those subjects which required cognitive skills. He became a successful athlete and excelled at rugby where he played centre for his school’s first team and represented Border Schools at Craven Week.

Adam’s success in the classroom and on the sportsfield helped most of his teachers overlook his independent spirit which sometimes expressed itself in anti-social behaviour and even disobedience. The teachers who did not have the self-confidence to engage with him complained about him and he, in turn, was dismissive of them.

James Geard had not had a good education, and remembered well the sacrifice he had had to make, spending many hours away from his family at night school to qualify himself. He was not going to have his son make the same mistake and he prevailed upon Adam to attend university, even if it was just to obtain a basic degree in subjects he enjoyed.

Chapter Two

Adam Geard took in his new surroundings with interest. He was in a crowd of excited first year students queuing for registration. They stood in a high-ceilinged passageway surrounding a quadrangle in which stood a tall three-tiered fountain. The buildings were a mixture of grey stone and white-painted plaster topped by red tiled roofs.

He was starting to realise that spending three years in this place might not be so bad after all.

What are you going to study?

The question was asked by the girl in front of him. He had been admiring her and was glad she made the opening.

I’m not sure. Do you know?

Oh yes. I’m going to become a lawyer. Don’t you have any idea?

Yes, I do. I’m going to study maths. I’m just not sure what goes with it and whether it will be a science or an arts degree.

She looked down to the name tag they had all been obliged to complete and wear during the registration process.

Do you really not know what you’re going to do, Adam? Or are you just stringing me along?

He was taken aback by her directness. He looked at her tag, the name Hayley Williams, the degree B.A. (Law), all in neat printing. His name tag had a question mark for the degree he aspired to.

She was waiting for his reply, her head cocked to the side, a smile on her pretty face.

It could be fun, stringing you along, but I think you’d be too smart for me.

She laughed.

Where are you from, Adam?

Are you always so quizzy?

I’m flirting with you. Didn’t you know?

He was delighted with her forwardness. His natural reserve was often an impediment to getting to know girls. She was making it easy for him.

The banter continued until the line split and he took the queue for science registration. He hoped to see her again soon.

He finally ended up seated at a registration desk for mathematics students. The name on the desk said Bert Sidinski, a tough-looking man in his early thirties. Adam thought he looked more like a fighter than an academic.

Why maths, Adam?

I enjoy the subject. I like solving puzzles, and I’m good at it.

I can see that from your matric results. But liking a subject at school and taking it further can be different things. What do you want to do with your maths degree?

Look I’m really not sure, Mr Sidinski. I need advice.

First advice. Call me Bert.

Adam found himself warming to the man and was prepared to share with him.

Okay, Bert. I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life. My father wanted me to do a degree, any degree. His advice was that I do something I enjoy and let time take care of the future.

That’s good advice. Many start here without a clear understanding of where they are going. I did. And many find the answer before they leave university. So let’s explore what you like. Apart from maths, what other main subjects do you think you want to study?

I’m curious about the earth. I grew up on a farm and I loved the land. Where that takes me I’m not sure. I considered agriculture before I came here but I don’t want to be a farmer, I just want to know about the earth.

That can lead you in a number of directions Adam. Botany, geology.

I’ve thought of both of those, and zoology. But do they fit in with a degree in maths?

There’s no problem with any of them, in theory. You’d end up doing a B.Sc majoring in maths and one of them. The problem might lie in the timetable because you want to do an unusual combination. Let’s check it out.

They found that Adam could do both geology and botany with mathematics, and there would be no problem carrying the subjects into the second and final years. Sidinski registered him and gave him his timetable and directions to get to the various classrooms and lecture halls.

When he emerged from the registration process the crowds had almost dissipated. As he was crossing the main quadrangle he noticed a group standing outside a room he took to be some form of common room. One of them called imperiously to him,

Hey you, come here!

He looked around hoping the call wasn’t for him but there was no-one close to him. He thought to ignore it but was uncertain in this new environment so made his way across the grass and stood before the man. The caller was a tall, well-built man with one of those faces which seemed constantly dissatisfied. Adam was to learn later that his name was Griffiths, and that he was the head of the Oppidans and a first team rugby forward.

Right now the man had a chance to grandstand. To Adam’s embarrassment, there were girls in the group witness to his discomfort.

What the hell are you doing walking across the grass?  Can’t you stuffing read?

Adam kept quiet. He had not seen the notice. He gazed in his steady way at the man.

Cheeky shit, hey? What’s your name? And call me sir when you answer.

You know my name because it is on this tag. I don’t want to cause trouble but I will not call you sir. If you have authority over me you can exercise it, but there are certain things I will not do.

The senior was thrown by Adam’s reply and by his calm demeanour. It was clear that he was not used to first year students standing up to him. It was not much fun if they failed to be afraid of him but there was also not much he could do about it. It was mostly bravado which, of course, Adam did not know.

Well, bugger off then. You’re lucky I’m a reasonable bloke.

Within days, the story of Adam standing up to Griffiths was common knowledge in his residence. It must have been leaked by one of the witnesses to the incident. Griffiths was mean and a bully and many would have enjoyed telling a story at his expense.

That first incident of independence was received favourably, and most admired his stand.

Chapter Three

Registration week was an orgy to the celebration of freedom. Most senior students only arrived in the second week, but enough came early to participate in the parties held during Fresher Week. Organised parties with bands were held in the Students’ Union and in the Great Hall.

There were also less-formal parties held in the bars in the men’s residences, and invitations were sent to the prettier girls. Many girls attended but usually only once, after they had witnessed the drunken and loutish behaviour with the drinking clubs leading the way in the excesses of poor taste.

None of this suited Adam. The lack of privacy in the residences was going to take some getting used to and was much heightened by the fervour of the partying. He had the example of his father’s heavy drinking to ensure it would never become a norm for him.

Adam was fortunate to have been placed in one of the newer residences situated on the hills behind the campus. Their parties and indoctrination rituals were modest compared to the drunken revelries in the traditional residences. Adam was subjected to only one attempt to have him drinking down-downs with the other first-years. He went along with it for a while and when he said he’d had enough they left him alone, probably cognisant of the Griffiths incident and his reputation as a tough competitor on the rugby field.

He went about the business of meeting his lecturers and getting his files and text books in order. He saw Hayley once during the week and they stopped in the passageway for a while, comparing experiences.

On the afternoon Adam’s res organised their welcome party, the drinking started in the common room before lunch. He didn’t attend.

In the early evening there was a knock on his door and he opened it. Hayley was standing there, standing under a down light in the gloomy passage, her hair shining like white gold. She was dressed in jeans and a red satin top and she looked a strange mixture of vulnerability and beauty.

He was embarrassed to be in rugby shorts with no shirt. She was not fazed and looked without guile at his strong shoulders and upper body.

Why aren’t you at the party?

It’s not my scene, Hayley.

Well, I only came to see you so what do we do now?

For a brief moment he wondered what kind of invitation that was, and then dismissed the illicit possibilities.

Give me a moment to change. I’ll meet you in the lobby and we can go down to the Students’ Union, or into town if you wish.

They walked down the poorly lit Prince Alfred Street and Hayley linked her arm through Adam’s and walked close to him. He could smell her shampoo and perfume and her closeness was intoxicating. He felt oh so lucky!

They went to the Students’ Union and sat on the verandah overlooking the rugby and hockey fields. It was a warm night with a light breeze.

I hear you’re quite a rugby player.

He was flattered that she had taken the trouble to find out these things about him, but embarrassed for the second time that night.

I’m not going to play rugby here.

She looked confused.

Why not?

It’s complicated. I enjoyed rugby, specially the physical side of it, but I’m not really a team person. It was hard to avoid that at school but I don’t reckon I need to do those things here.

You are a strange one, Adam Geard. Are there any other revelations you want to make?

Well, I find you pretty stunning so I’m obviously not gay. Can’t think of anything else.

She smiled.

Thank you, I’m glad you think that way.

Then she turned serious.

They’re going to give you real uphill about this rugby thing. I heard some of them talking about how good it was going to be to have a player of your talent in the team.

I’ll just have to ride that out. Luckily the res I’m in is not sports mad. What about you?  Does it bother you that I won’t play?

It’s kind of unsettling when people do something unexpected. I’m not much into sport. I run and do gym to keep fit but I’ve not done team sports since primary school. So I can’t comment. I’m more concerned with what they will think of you. I don’t want them thinking you’re odd.

A party of senior students came onto the verandah and it included Griffiths.

He looked furiously at Adam and seemed about to say something and then noticed Hayley and restrained himself.

She had seen his aborted intent.

Did you really refuse to answer Grifffith’s questions?

Where did you hear that?

Some of the girls were talking about it.

It’s no big deal, Hayley.  Anyone would have done it.

That’s not what I hear. They say he’s a terror. A real mean bully.

Well, look at him sitting over there.  He seems pretty normal to me.

Griffiths was watching them, a scowl on his face, his big frame leaning against the balustrade.

She giggled.

Ooh, he’s gonna get you.

The university’s small classes suited Adam’s temperament. As well as formal lectures, the university offered tutorials with smaller groups of students so that the matters dealt with in the lectures could be explored in depth. The system particularly favoured the less popular subjects where the tutorials comprised only three or four students.

Adam’s natural curiosity was easily satisfied in this environment and he was excited about the new things he was learning. Of the earth subjects he took in the first year, botany and geology, he much preferred the latter.

It was interesting that two such diverse subjects attracted him: geology from his love of the earth; and mathematics because of the individual, almost personal, challenge of the subject.

The tutorials and lessons were the one way to satisfy his curiosity. Doing research in the library was another, and he soon developed a pattern of work which he found very satisfying.

Adam and Hayley saw each other several times a week in the library. Their diverse subjects meant that they rarely crossed each other’s paths during the day. He found she was serious and studious about the subjects she was studying and he liked that. He was angered by the poor work ethic of many of the students.

In an unspoken way, both of them were satisfied to confine their social contact to the weekends.

Rugby season came, and with it Hayley’s prediction that he would be isolated and victimised. His easy integration into university hit a mountain. He had to keep reminding himself why he did not want to play rugby.

He felt that many of the things he had done at school were a form of forced integration and compromised his independence. He was damned if he was going to do those things if he had choice.

Rugby had been one of