The phone dropped from the chief of service’s hand, which rose and rested on his head, trying to disbelieve what he had heard, sweat crawling down his spine and face. He rang his secretary.
“ send Ambe up, now.” He barked and dropped the phone, scrubbing his hair with his left fingers. Ambe was the chief of vehicle maintenance of the bureau, the one responsible for the state of the vehicles and he decided which ones were to leave and when. But there was a bigger problem, one that could jeopardize the chief of service’s position and even the firm.
Ambe was soon seated in front of his boss who looked far away and beaten making him Ambe nervous and anxious. His boss had asked to his surprise if any of the fire fighting vehicles were ready. Then there must be a fire Ambe had thought. Was his boss thinking of some magic to happen, for the cars to be filled in seconds and driven mad from the garage where they presently were?
“ All the vehicles are at the garage either on repair, repaint or out of sight.”
Out of sight you say, his boss thought.
“There has been nothing to do for the past months and the vehicles also needed repair and repaint. As you know the vehicles are at Tom Clay’s. The tanks are empty and need refill before we can…….” He stopped when he sensed that his boss was not listening any more. What he had been saying added to the pain of his boss. He had been thinking of rushing to the garage and throwing two of the vehicles towards the JATZEN property. But now the tanks are empty. If there was anyone to be fired, here was someone who merited it, Ambe. But what was he to do when he had agreed with Ambe to send the vehicles to the garage for repairs and repaint. But who will listen to him when he had been foolish and unspeculative as the head of a fire fighters bureau to send all the vehicles of his fire fighting bureau for renovation at once. He had been poor in judgment and speculation, something he had to have. He would be fired and even locked up. At the moment they were speaking, the JATZEN property was burning, the fire spreading. The chief of service sighed at the thought and picked the phone. He turned it ambidextrously in his hands before letting it drop, undecided on what to say or how to begin when he had Mr. Paulson on the line. Mr. Paulson would file a complain to his superiors and to even to the courts, a grave case. And his firm will pay very high for damages. He shuddered at the thought. No he would meet Mr. Paulson and speak with him, explain the problem. There was only a Fire Fighting Bureau in town and that was the one wherein he presently worked as the Chief of service. So Mr. Paulson would be helpless. That would be the last of the firm. They had paid high taxes to secure their place in town, enjoying the monopoly. The two extension bureaus were fed by the head bureau which had sent all the had to the garage. The English man will kill him with a smile on his face. He trembled at the disgrace, acres or even hectares of land burnt to ash…along with animals because his Bureau was irresponsible. He prayed that the affected area should not be great or some miracle put it out. At that moment his phone rang. It felt like blades cutting deep into his ears, knocking hard the ear drums. He watched it ring while Ambe stared at him wide eyed as if he was a thief being searched for by the police. Instead of reaching for the phone, the chief of service rushed for the door saying over his shoulders:
“Come with me quick else we shall rot in prison.”

THE SIXTEENTH HOUR    
February 11 14 HOURS 45

The white pot-bellied tourist alighted from his jeep in a run and urinated inches from his Michelin tires, cursing the sudden urge. A frightened squirrel, abandoning its nut in time, leaped into its hole. A good day at the park the tourist thought grinning at the little clouds of dust his urine raised at a hole to which he directed his urine on the dry and dusty earth. He pulled at what remained of his well filtered Benson cigarette before throwing it away without stamping it out. He never looked at where it landed for he was engrossed in watching a family of lion cubs playing in the hot Hamarttan sun; while he watched fascinated, he leisurely exhaled the smoke through his nostrils. Better be inside the Jeep when near cubs or lions or any wild animal, he remembered the warning of the park guide, and climbed behind the wheel of his jeep. He mopped his sweating forehead with his dyed handkerchief before backing off in clouds of dust for another part of the park………

A squirrel peeped from its hole and scanned the area like a pair of periscopes before emerging into the afternoon sun. No predators, a good time to gather nuts…... But one thing was not right. The squirrel turned and stared at the entrance of the hole which was wet like someone just poured water into it; it contrasted the dry and dusty surroundings. The squirrel stood on its legs and raised its head before squinting furtively around to be sure there was safety. Its thick and dusty tail came to rest on a smoking cigarette filter while the squirrel hungrily cracked a nut and slowly chewed its contents, taking time to enjoy every piece of it. The tail began to smoke, being fed by the glowing particles of the cigarette filter, the squirrel engrossed in its meal. The tail still smoking…

When the squirrel felt the hot sensation on its tail, it was already too late. There was an ignition and the tail caught fire. The rodent was filled with fear and soon began running wild around the park shrieking in pain, feeding the dry underbrush in the middle of the dry season with fire……

♣♣♣♣♣♣

February 11 16 HOURS 23
His leg crossed on the table, Mr. Paulson sipped from his glass and continued flipping through the newspaper. What was he even searching for? He sighed. Sports. Where the hell was sports on this paper? He often bought a paper because he wanted to read sports. He had sent his errand boy for a paper but failed to warn against a newspaper that contained only political news. He hated that. All those government propaganda and falsehood in the papers, he was hardly foolish to give an ear. No wonder why his children always carried a bitter face when he came home. He would zap from their Disney Channel or Mangas to Supersports or Infosports or any sports channel. He wanted a paper that contained sports. Sports. He flipped through the paper and soon saw what he wanted. Good, but the paper gave a mere squeeze for sports. He cursed. Before he settled to read, his door was loudly knocked from outside. He stiffened. Someone wants to knock down my door. Must be the blacks. He quickly read the first line and wanted to decide against the heavy knocker at the door when the knocks were repeated, this time louder.
“ Yes..yes..come in!” he barked ready to query the impoliteness.
Before the words come in escaped his mouth, the door flung open and the Head of the Park Guards rushed in sweating, a handkerchief about to be planted on his face. Paulson thought the head guard was about to wipe off his face.
“Yes,” he decided against his decision to scowl but maintained his conceited nonchalance. The guards always mean to remove doors from their hinges. No time to shout at him. The head of the guards looked like someone about to say the world had come to an end, so this may be too important for a bad prelude. He usually felt uneasy shouting at these blacks even when they were at fault. This was their country. He would better shut up and enjoy his stay as the director of JATZEN DOS ANDROS Park. He feigned distraction as his slowly head bent over the papers poised in his thick hands. Too much good feeding. The bastard should not think I am giving him all the attention. These blacks.
“Good day sir….good day.” He was sweating to the dislike of Mr. Paulson. These blacks smell when they sweat. After a black left his office, he usually put on the fan to drive off the smell they left.
“ What is even bad about the day.” Mr. Paulson scowled behind his newspaper. Let the bastard be through with it so that he could have the peace and solitude to read through the Champions League developments. He already felt itchy. Fuck, the guard was beginning to smell of smoke. Mr. Paulson twitched his nostrils in disgust.
“ There is some…..some bad news sir,” at the mention of bad news Mr. Paulson lowered his newspaper and asked puzzled, ”What bad news Mr. Abongwa?”
“The park sir…..” the confusion in the guards eyes was replaced by fear, “Half the park is on fire….”

February 11 16 HOURS 25

The chief of service of The Fire Fighters Bureau was busy reading the monthly report of the activities of his bureau when the phone rang. No fire event during the past month and months. Not bad. The phone rang again but he picked it up only after the third ring:
“Chief of service of the fires fighting bureau speaking,” he knew that the person on the line must be an important person to have direct access to his office by phone.
“ yes . this is the director of JATZEN DOS ANDROS park…..”
“Good day Mr. Pauls….” The s died on his lips when the director began to speak in a rush.
“there is a fire incident at this moment at the park...”
“ what?” a fire..?”
“ there is no minute to spare.”
“ Jesus.” The chief of service felt like to urinate.
“Thanks for your concern. The park is dying, come quickly..” Mr. Paulson dropped.
The phone dropped from the chief of service’s hand, which rose and rested on his head, trying to disbelieve what he had heard, sweat crawling down his spine and face. He rang his secretary.
“ send Ambe up, now.” He barked and dropped the phone, scrubbing his hair with his left fingers. Ambe was the chief of vehicle maintenance of the bureau, the one responsible for the state of the vehicles and he decided which ones were to leave and when. But there was a bigger problem, one that could jeopardize the chief of service’s position and even the firm.
Ambe was soon seated in front of his boss who looked far away and beaten making him Ambe nervous and anxious. His boss had asked to his surprise if any of the fire fighting vehicles were ready. Then there must be a fire Ambe had thought. Was his boss thinking of some magic to happen, for the cars to be filled in seconds and driven mad from the garage where they presently were?
“ All the vehicles are at the garage either on repair, repaint or out of sight.”
Out of sight you say, his boss thought.
“There has been nothing to do for the past months and the vehicles also needed repair and repaint. As you know the vehicles are at Tom Clay’s. The tanks are empty and need refill before we can…….” He stopped when he sensed that his boss was not listening any more. What he had been saying added to the pain of his boss. He had been thinking of rushing to the garage and throwing two of the vehicles towards the JATZEN property. But now the tanks are empty. If there was anyone to be fired, here was someone who merited it, Ambe. But what was he to do when he had agreed with Ambe to send the vehicles to the garage for repairs and repaint. But who will listen to him when he had been foolish and unspeculative as the head of a fire fighters bureau to send all the vehicles of his fire fighting bureau for renovation at once. He had been poor in judgment and speculation, something he had to have. He would be fired and even locked up. At the moment they were speaking, the JATZEN property was burning, the fire spreading. The chief of service sighed at the thought and picked the phone. He turned it ambidextrously in his hands before letting it drop, undecided on what to say or how to begin when he had Mr. Paulson on the line. Mr. Paulson would file a complain to his superiors and to even to the courts, a grave case. And his firm will pay very high for damages. He shuddered at the thought. No he would meet Mr. Paulson and speak with him, explain the problem. There was only a Fire Fighting Bureau in town and that was the one wherein he presently worked as the Chief of service. So Mr. Paulson would be helpless. That would be the last of the firm. They had paid high taxes to secure their place in town, enjoying the monopoly. The two extension bureaus were fed by the head bureau which had sent all the had to the garage. The English man will kill him with a smile on his face. He trembled at the disgrace, acres or even hectares of land burnt to ash…along with animals because his Bureau was irresponsible. He prayed that the affected area should not be great or some miracle put it out. At that moment his phone rang. It felt like blades cutting deep into his ears, knocking hard the ear drums. He watched it ring while Ambe stared at him wide eyed as if he was a thief being searched for by the police. Instead of reaching for the phone, the chief of service rushed for the door saying over his shoulders:
“Come with me quick else we shall rot in prison.”

♣♣♣♣♣♣

February 11 16 HOURS 20

Tourists streamed out of the JATZEN DOS ALONSO park escaping the ravaging fire that could not be mitigated by the confused guards who bumped into one another trying to quell the fire that seemed to eat through the flesh and skeleton of the Park they were paid to secure. They could but watch helpless, no fire fighting firm at their aid. They tried using buckets of water to free some areas but it soon seemed like being at hell with a cup of water. The heat was unbearable and the shrieks of trapped animals deafening. The fire was eating the park in a circle, catching everything in its centre.
The fire had consumed hectares of land and killed many animals in under two hours.
A Mercedes car with the registration number 6137 cruised into the park behind thick clouds of dust and halted, tires shrieking in front of the offices.
The doors were thrown open immediately and two men jumped down. The stood and watched in horror at the escaping tourists and the fire that was destroying the park acres away. Nobody recognized him, not even the guards who watched him with fear in their eyes. His was greater than theirs, he thought. The smoke that escaped the burning park filled the air and stank the eyes. If not for a breeze that changed the course of the smoke, it would’ve been unbearable. He cursed at many white tourists who stood on high grounds filming the fire opt taking shots, while others watched with pity.
He saw a child of about six tugging her mother’s skirt and crying up to her;
“Mama, will my young lions be killed too?”
And her mother replied; “No Juslia, they will be alright. They ain’t gonna die.” The chief of service saw that they women was lying to please her daughter who had taken a fancy in some lion cubs she feared would be killed in the fire. They woman was on the verge of tears ,standing and staring at the ravaging fire. He cursed at her mendacity. All the animals will be killed…God..
The chief of service nearly wept when he smelled burning flesh, burnt animals and heard the cries of others faraway, either trapped or crying for a loss. Even if the fire fighters come now, they would do nothing but save the soil from being burnt too.
“Let’s go.” He ordered Ambe and the climbed the steps towards the office of the Director of the Park Mr. Paulson. Reaching the secretariat they turned in time to watch a CNTV vehicle drive into the grounds. A television vehicle, his lips mumbled. My end is near. He watched as a cameraman climbed down from the vehicle followed by a young man with a book in his hand, the journalist.

♣♣♣♣♣♣

February 11 16 HOURS 41

Mr. Paulson refused to go out and watch what was happening. He instead paced his office, frustrated. Where were the damn fire fighters.. where were they? Jesus. He went to his windows and again threw open the shutters to watch the unbelievable spectacle. Nothing beat him more that the shrieks of the animals that were trapped; the weeping animals, the dying animals. The stench of burning flesh hit his nostrils and he hit the shutters close, cursing in frustration. Who was the arsonist and why? Who wanted his down fall?
He knew of no antecedent. They would say he had been careless. That the JATZEN DOS ALONSO park had perished under his irresponsible care. He had been alleged for many crimes he had committed but had always refuted these allegations. Now they would be just. They would be correct. What would he say when hundreds of animals were dead. Animals worth hundreds of millions of U.S Dollars. What if elephants were killed. He dropped into his chair. An elephant had cost the park twenty five million dollars. That is impoverishing. He looked into a mirror on his table and nearly disbelieved his image. His face was as red as a tomato and his eyes blood shot. It was more wrinkled than ever. He had aged twice in a day. A bad luck. Damn the face. This fire would be the end of his stay in Africa, it had burnt along with him, he in its flame screaming and no one hearing him despite the crowd that stood and stared, flabbergasted. He always came back to the failure of the fires fighting bureau; they were those that had flung him in to the flames. He will deal with them. Had they respected his call, it wouldn’t have been this serious. There wouldn’t have been a calamitous fire. He would reciprocate their kindness.
H precariously threw his palms to his ears trying to shield them from the skin crawling shrieks, roars of pain form the imprisoned and tortured animals. His phone rang as if in terror, summoning his spirit to greater fear, its griiiiiing nearly blending with the excruciating shrieks from the Park. He seized it. His secretary.
“Yes,” the color of his face changed from the frustrating red to pink as he listened. He cursed under his breathe while he adjusted his tie.
“What does he want?” he howled, chewing his lips.
“Send him in.” he dropped the phone like it bore a dose of curse and stared in to space.

♣♣♣♣♣♣

February 11 16 HOURS 42

The journalists moved through the crowd asking for eyewitness report. Others were preparing to go live while others jotted down and directed their cameramen what to film. Most of the tourists and visitors were hysterical when they spoke. Some burst into tears while others refused to say a thing. One journalist was already live:
“…behind me is the worst thing that can happen to a park and the worst ever to happen in the history of the JATZEN estate. There are soaring fires that reach heights of over thirty meters and destroyed dozens of hectares of land trapping hundreds of animals which now cry out in pain, helpless…….the question is where is the Fire Fighters Bureau? At this moment they are they are still not here….and the park authorities are getting worried. These are eye witnesses…… ‘Never witnessed something like this…’
‘Heard of fires but never witnessed one till today…’
‘I was taking shots at a family of cheetahs when I saw leaping flames ….. and I rushed…’
‘This is hatred against wildlife….the arsonist must go unpunished.’
“ At this moment hundreds of animals remain trapped and allegedly dying while everyone can only hear their cries helpless. Nothing can be done except to pray for these animals. For HTV news I am Yuven Walters at JATZEN DOS ALONSO Park…”

Six animals emerged from the thick smoke and firs into safety, to the surprise of the tourists, visitors, journalists, cameramen and the Park staff stood. First emerged two limping lion cubs. Their fur was half burnt and wrinkled lines of blood oozed from the bodies. Some park guards rushed to the aid of the cubs. Behind them came a deer, skipping in fright and shrieking, its tail burnt leaving just a black cord hanging. There was pain in its eyes as well as a melancholy that was soon transferred to the witnesses.
“The iron fence of the park has been destroyed by the fire,” a park guard announced, “that is why these animals are here. No need to panic.”
The journalists were growing excited while they reported the escape of the animals on their television stations which immediately fed the public live with the fire saga at the JATZEN property. Behind the deer came a mole to the laughter of the audience. It ran into the crowd and a guard was just about to pick it up when it happened. Two lions, a lion and a lioness presumably the parents of the cubs rushed from the thick fumes, roaring. The stopped and stared at the crowd exposing their incisors. Everything stood still for some seconds before the stampede….everyone fleeing for his life.. the angry lions bent on the attack.

♣♣♣♣♣♣
February 11 16 HOURS 42

The chief of service and Ambe lingered at the corridor before the latter took the doorknob in his sweating and trembling hands. He breathed hard before opening the door. Mr. Paulson was sitting diagonal to the door, his head in his hands, one eye open and peering through his fingers at them. It gave the chief of service the creeps. It would’ve been better if the Director had been seated and staring at them with both eyes. He hated and feared the posture. It was too suggestive and intimidating to his liking.
The director rose without greeting and went to the window. He threw it open. Faraway were leaping flames and the noise of crackles of burning conjugated by dull shrieks the timorous guests recognized as the calls and cries of animals in pain
“Hundreds of millions of Dollars gone down the drain, wildlife species threatened,” the director began in a sunken voice. “how does your firm feel now Mr. Françoise after having betrayed the confidence of its consumers, the public?”
“That is why we came…..” the chief of service began? but the raised hand of the Director told him to be silent.
“Hope you wrote your resignation before coming here, prepared for what awaits you.” The chief of service listened helpless. An itch in his shoes climbing up his right leg. The director got up and walked awkwardly to the fridge.
“What do you drink Mr. Françoise?” the director asked in a soft voice. The chief of service was gripped by a minute of aphonia. A drink at this time? He wanted to say he was not thirsty but the voice refused to come. Only an inaudible squeak escaped his throat. He at last gestured for anything and settled back in his chair groaning. Ambe ordered a bottle of Guinness Smooth as if he had come for a drink and nothing else. When all settled the director raised his drink forcing them to click bottles and said:
“to the health of the fire fighters firm and the disaster of JATZEN DOS SANTOS.” And he drank as if he had just blessed the drinks, like a priest having invoke the presence of Christ at a communion. Ambe drank, staring at his boss in wonder. The chief of service felt that Ambe would soon seize his drink by the time he Ambe had drunk the last drop of his. He refused to taste his drink, let Ambe finish and claim it. This was getting too far. He had come here for serious business and not for a party. The drink even felt awkward in front of him. Like a deaf and dumb man with a mobile phone.
The chief of service took pains to explain the problem to the amusement of the Director. His expression bore the impression that he was very happy with the confession.
“ Do you know what Mr. Françoise,” the Director said when the chief of service was through. The phone rang punctuating the tensed atmosphere in Mr. Paulson’s office. He picked the up the receiver although he was not so pleased with the interruption.
“Excuse me, my secretary.” He excused himself, grinning.
He listened to the voice on the phone.
“how many came out alive?” he listened.
“okay I will be there in a jiffy.” He dropped the receiver and whistled through clenched teeth. “where was I before the call. Okay I was asking you if you knew what would be happening next. Do you know?”
“No Sir,” the chief of service groaned in his throat, staring at the red face of Mr. Paulson, the reddest he had ever seen in a human being. His face was longer and dangerous. The director took a sip from his glass.
“Hope many people don’t miss your firm.”

♣♣♣♣♣♣

February 11 16 HOURS 50
The police was just arriving in their truck when the lions began picking up pace behind the fleeing crowd. Many fell in the struggle to escape. A white lady in a rose gown tripped and fell and was trampled. She never got up. The police truck stopped and policemen stood on the seats to watched undecided on what to do. They had come to keep the people safe and restore order in the Park but were being greeted by lions. Were they dangerous? They watched their commander telling them what to do if the lions became dangerous.
The lions paced behind the fleeing crowd and stopped at the trampled lady who was screaming for help. The male left the female and followed the crowd at a trot. The lioness stood over the weak lady and peered at the policemen its eyes scrutinizing their weapons.. Their guns were raised at the ready. In a flash it dropped its huge head and ripped open the lady’s skull with its incisors. The lion had been too clever for the policemen.
“Fire!!!” came the command immediately from the truck.
Bullets tore through the air and were buried in the dusty bodies of the lions.
The male roared, blood oozing form its huge body. It became very angry and chased the crowd with great ferocity, bringing down a guard. He was decapitated with one blow from the angry lion. More bullets, the crackling filling the advancing dusk with fear. The lioness stood, over its victims having tore open the stomach of the lady, exposing her red entrails. It walked a few awkward steps before tumbling near the corpse. The male gagged in pain, its huge pores scraping the earth, having been shot in the throat before falling to its death.

The two lions dead, the policemen dropped from their truck and gathered around the victims sighing for the loss. Others kept the crowd away. It was a horrible sight. They produced a winding sheet and the corpses soon disappeared form sight. The crowd stood yards away and watched in sorrow, relatives of the victims screaming and raising consternation that mingled with the already tense air. Others began taking pictures while the journalists continued reporting excitedly. No matter thought of another attack. They knew it was all over.

And while they watched the policemen, the real thing lurked in the smoke….

The bullets of the policemen were already spent before the real thing began. It all began with roars, louder and more frightening than those of the dead lions. And emerging from the smoke with hate and blood lust were lions and staggering tigers out for vengeance along with a fuming and blood thirsty stampede of animals that had survived the chaos…….

February 11 16 HOURS 53
Mr. Paulson, director of the JATZEN DOS ALONSO Park redder and feverish strolled out of the secretariat corridor followed by a nervous and psychologically reduced Mr. François, chief of service of the Fire Fighters firm and Ambe seemingly half nonchalant his chief of maintenance were descending the steps that led to the grounds from the secretariat when they heard the sound of stampede in the thick smoke rising from the burnt areas of the park. It had covered a great perimeter of the park and visibility was three meters. The zoological area was lost in the smoke making the Director to moan in frustration. The sound was getting louder like the sound made by a herd of frightened cattle. He looked around and his gaze came to rest on the consternated crowd meters away. He grinned at the journalists, how are they coping with the smoke?
They could barely see some policemen busy wrapping up some bodies. Mr. Paulson had not been told how they had died. Stretched in the dust in pools of blood were two dead lions. Two dead lions, millions of US Dollars. The sight struck him. Something was not right All he wanted to see were the animals that had survived the fires. There might have been an attack and the results were these deaths, then the fence was destroyed by the fire. He peered at the chief of service who seemed lost at what he was watching. The Director sat on the steps in frustration to the surprise of his guest who were disturbed at what could be in his mind. He knew the lawsuit that would be filed against the park. They would pay dearly for the death of the white. He knew what had happened. No one needed to tell him, that is why he gestured away a Park guard who was obviously running up to bore him with the story of the attack. He heard the sound of the running animals louder this time; animals that would bring him joy. His instincts were warning him against something. Like the noise he was hearing was announcing danger. He was still undecided when a stampede of animals emerge from the smoke. he did not have time to sort out the animals. There were all wild and at this time not friendly from the way they ran. There crowd that had gathered near the exit of the Park scattered in fear, everyone fleeing.
He heard running steps behind him and turned in time to see the chief of service and Ambe running up the steps, heading for the safety of the offices.
No time to waste he thought getting up and taking the steps three at a time. None of the three men ever reached the safety of the offices. They were seized by four cheetahs who took no time to end the cries of their preys through torture. The men felt every pain in their doom.

“…..and with their huge arms and infatigable sinews the animals scattered the crowd like plums and ripped open the bodies of their victims. Everyone was a victims . No policeman ever escaped, not a soul…..and the park was colored with blood that lived to tell the story of the massacre of February 11 16 Hours. ANIMALS avenging the death of the families and loved one lost in a fire started by man. All through the night the vengeance lasted. The bones of the hundred of dead animals burning to embers and ash fueling the hate of their living brothers against man…”

“ Smoke from vegetation fires contribute a major source to important trace of gases and aerosol particles that greatly influence the composition and functioning of the atmosphere and impacts the human health and security. Recent advances in the space-based observation of open vegetation fires provide the potential for great innovation in quantifying fire emissions and other effects. New sensors and retrieval techniques open novel opportunities to derive more accurate information on fire occurrence, Behavior, Severity and impacts. At the same time? Fire and atmospheric modeling capabilities have greatly improved on scales from chemical reactions to global long-range transport.”

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