What Happens at Uwindaji Lodge....

He touched the button above his head to summon the flight attendant, but instead of the shapely brunette who had served his first drink, a slightly tubby male attendant answered his call. Ronny ordered another scotch and wished for the good old days when he and his father traveled together in their private plane, always with gorgeous stewardesses.

The male attendant wasn’t worth looking at, but he did like the look of the young woman sitting in the window seat across the aisle. She was absent-mindedly twisting a strand of her shoulder-length brown hair while she looked out the window. A travel brochure lay on the tray table before her. He recognized it.

“Excuse me, Miss. Do you plan to stay at the Uwindaji Safari Lodge?”

She turned her head toward him. “Yes.”

“What a coincidence! Me, too! Do you mind if I join you?” Ronny asked, but before she had time even to respond, he had made himself comfortable in the seat beside her. “I’m Ronny, and your name is—?”

“Evelyn.”

The male attendant reappeared. “A white wine for the lady,” Ronny said, without asking.

“Of course,” said the attendant, and scurried toward the galley.

Ronny indicated her brochure. “So, you like to hunt big game?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never done it before.”

“You’ll love it, I promise!” said Ronny. “It’s a feeling you’ll never forget.”

She shifted in her seat but didn’t respond.

“You seem unsure of yourself,” he said. “I understand. You’ve spent a huge amount of money and you’re afraid you might not bring back a trophy. Don’t worry. The way they do it at the lodge, your kill is absolutely guaranteed, or else you get your money back.”

“It’s not the money,” she said, as she tucked the brochure into the seat pocket before her. “I’m trying to honor my late husband’s last request. He always wanted us to go hunting together in Africa. When he was diagnosed with lung cancer, he made me promise I’d try it. I’m not sure I’ll enjoy shooting animals. I’ve never killed anything other than flies and mosquitos.”

“I think your husband would be proud of you,” said Ronny. “Believe me, you’ll be amazed at how powerful you feel when you’ve got that big gun in your hands. Excitement builds! Your heart beats faster! It’s primal.”

She smiled. “If you say so.”

She was pretty enough, and with a gorgeous figure. She was apparently newly widowed, and Ronny thought she might be vulnerable. He had a wife and two kids in Los Angeles, but you know what they say: “What happens at Uwindaji Lodge stays at Uwindalj Lodge.”

“Have you made your decision?” he asked.

“My decision? About what?”

“At Uwindaji, they guarantee that you’ll bring down the species of your choice. Have you decided what you want?”

“Some of the animals are very expensive,” she said, and looking pensive, asked, “Tell me, have you ever killed a lion?”

Ronny grinned. This was his opportunity to impress. “Of course! In fact, I bagged my first one at age thirteen, at Uwindaji Lodge! You should see the trophy room in my Las Vegas house. I’ve got three lion heads and one entire mount. I’ve also got two Bengal tigers. You can have anything you want at Uwindaji Lodge.” He reached over to place his hand on hers. “Anything.” 

Ronny felt her subtle recoil, immediately realized he’d moved in for the kill too soon and took his hand away. He’d learned from his father that there is a point in any deal where one must pause to allow the opposite party to regain their sense of equilibrium if one was going to bring the negotiation to a successful conclusion. Sometimes, to get what you want, you have to pretend to lower your sights.

“So, what are you going to go for?” he pressed. “I don’t think you’d choose a lion. As a first-time hunter, you’d probably want to start small. I’m thinking—a warthog!”

She giggled. “A warthog?”

“Not pretty enough for you? How about an impala?”

She said, “Something a bit more dangerous, I think.”

“I get it,” he said. “You want me to guess which animal you’ve chosen!”

She shrugged.

“I enjoy a challenge,” he said. “Let me think about it.”

“Which animal have you chosen to hunt?” she asked.

“You'll see,” Ronny said, as the captain announced their descent into Bushveld International Airport.

After they passed through customs, they were met by Mosi, a driver from the lodge. Inside the Land Rover, Ronny and Evelyn shared a bottle of champagne during the two-hour drive to the guarded gates of Uwindaji. By then, Evelyn was famished and a bit inebriated. Ronny thought this was a good sign. After dining together, they were met by the lodge director, who advised them about the schedule.

“Tomorrow morning, after breakfast, Mosi will take you to the bush to meet your prey. You’ll be outfitted with your rifles, and then—”

“The hunt!” said Ronny, grinning. He turned toward Evelyn. She was smiling and friendly, but still a bit guarded. He decided to wait until tomorrow before beginning to apply his seduction moves. She’d be much more receptive, still flying high after her first kill. He decided to keep the conversation going.

“Let’s have another drink, and I’ll guess which game you’ve chosen for tomorrow. Is it bigger than a breadbox?”

She giggled. “Yes.”

“Does it have claws?”

“No.”

“How much did you pay?”

“A lot.”

“I suppose that’s a stupid question,” he said. “What would be expensive for you is probably peanuts to me.”

After several more glasses of wine, the game of twenty questions ended when Ronny announced, “I know what you chose! It’s a predator, not too dangerous, not too big, prettier than a warthog but not by much, and not terribly expensive. You chose a spotted hyena!”

“I must offer a toast to your brilliance! That’s a good guess!” She raised her wine glass to him, then took a long quaff. “What was the most expensive game you’ve ever shot?” she asked.

He leaned toward her and whispered. “I’ve got a Giant Panda in my trophy room at home. I had to go all the way to China to bag it!”

“A panda? I’m sure that’s a protected species! How could you even get it back to the United States?”

He smiled and pulled his passport from his jacket pocket. He opened it to the identification page and showed it to her. “I’m sure you recognize my last name. If you’ve got money, power, and connections, anything is possible.”

Evelyn smiled.

The next morning after breakfast Mosi took the couple for a dusty drive through the bush to a plain, dotted with huge thorn trees. They entered a fenced-in area with a guard station, and after several more miles arrived at a small white building under one of the trees. An African wearing a khaki uniform rose from his chair on the porch to greet them. He introduced himself as Jabari, and invited them inside, where a selection of large guns was laid out on a wooden table.

“I’ll take a .404 Jeffery, Jabari, “said Ronny, lifting a heavy rifle.

Evelyn began to pick up a smaller gun, but Ronny stopped her. “That’s the wrong bore size. If you want a nice mount, you can’t use that. It’ll blow the head off your hyena.” He turned to Jabari. “I think a .416 Rigby will be sufficient for the lady.”

Jabari nodded and offered a different rifle to Evelyn.

She hefted it and smiled. “You were right, Ronny! I feel more powerful!”

Jabari directed them around to the back of the building, where rows of kennel-like structures stood. The cages contained different animals—gnus, lions, kudus, wildebeests, and cheetahs. Most of the creatures looked old or sick, but the animal at the end of the row was magnificent. The huge silverback gorilla sat in the dust and glared at them with ferocious eyes.

“What a fabulous specimen, Jabari!” said Ronny. “He’ll do just fine!”

The seething gorilla suddenly jumped up and lunged at the visitors, bellowing, and shaking the bars of his cage. Evelyn squealed with fright, dropped her gun, and ducked behind Ronny.

He laughed. “He can’t hurt you. He’s caged.”

“But after you let him out to hunt him, won’t you be afraid?” asked Evelyn. “He seems very dangerous!”

Ronny smirked. “Let him out? Don’t be crazy, Evelyn! Look at the size of him! Jabari, how much does he weigh?”

“About 215 kilograms, Bwana,” said the hunting guide.

“You plan to shoot an animal in captivity?” Evelyn asked. “Is that fair?” 

That gave Ronny pause. Had she just attacked his manhood?

“Nothing in life is fair, my dear,” he said. “A gorilla is a very dangerous animal, and I’m not an idiot! Now, let’s go to see your hyena, Evelyn.”

“I’m sorry, Bwana,” said Jabari. “No hyena.” He pointed to an empty kennel with the door hanging open. “It escaped.”

“It escaped?” said Ronny. He stepped into the cage to examine newly broken earth at the rear of the cage. “It dug its way out under the fencing? Why the hell don’t you have concrete floors in these cells? This is ridiculous! The lady chose her animal! I insist that you offer her something better than a hyena, for the same price!”

“Certainly, Bwana,” said Jabari. He swung the cage door closed, the latch falling into place with a loud “click.”

Ronny spun around to see Jabari securing the latch with a padlock. “What the hell are you doing, Jabari?” He grabbed the cage gate and shook it violently. “Let me out this instant!”

Evelyn cocked and shouldered her rifle. She aimed it at Ronny’s chest and peered down the sight.

“Evelyn, is this a joke?” Ronny asked, but he knew it wasn’t. He looked at Jabari with pleading eyes. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Jabari smiled. “What can I say, Bwana? The lady paid to shoot a jackass.”