Deerfield Unvisited (eBook)

The Farewell

My name is Forrest Melstone. My father, Perry Melstone, died in his hotel room at Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe. I would like to say it was a peaceful death but it was anything but that. With his failing organs he was probably in a lot of pain and death did not come easy.

When I heard about his passing I was staying about forty miles south of Victoria Falls near a Chinese-run clinic where my brother Paul was recovering from a life-threatening case of what they called Monkey Fever. He worked for the Cincinnati Zoo and had come to Africa with several other zoo employees to rescue wounded and/or sick animals at a vet clinic near Hwange Park, Zimbabwe. Before reaching the site, Paul became very ill and had to be hospitalized at a primitive hospital near Hwange. His zoo peers were having trouble dealing with both shipping animals to Ohio and taking care of a sick companion. They found this Chinese clinic near Victoria Falls that they felt would take better care of my brother. Because the clinic had dealt with Monkey Fever victims before, the zoo staff felt comfortable leaving Paul alone and going back to Cincinnati and accompanying the crated animals on a cargo plane.

The idea was for some of the staff to immediately return to Zimbabwe to take care of my brother. It didn’t happen for one reason or another. So, I offered to go over from my home in Bozeman, Montana, and take one of my dad’s retired doctors, Greg Ames, from nearby Billings to Zimbabwe to see if we could nurse Paul back to health. Unfortunately, while driving a rental car near Hwange, Dr. Ames and I got lost and ended up in a small village where we were arrested on a trumped-up charge of trespassing and poaching. The so-called militia there kept us in a “holding room” for days and took our phones so we couldn’t communicate with the world.

Little did I know that my father had found out about my brother and me and decided to come over and help get us home. My father had brought over thousands of dollars in cash as he had heard of the Zimbabwe style of doing business. Never was I more surprised than when they opened the door of my holding room and there was my dad greeting me with open arms. I am still in awe of him. He had bought our release and the three of us were soon loaded in his rental car heading for the clinic south of Victoria Falls. Dad had gotten directions from the Cincinnati Zoo staff that he shared with the driver. We were surprised that the clinic was only a few hours from the Hwange village. We found Paul recovering very slowly. Dad felt he needed to go back to his hotel room in Victoria Falls and leave Dr. Ames and me with Paul. He left us a wad of his cash to pay off medical bills. A few days later, being at peace with the world, Dad simply passed from it. A nurse brought us the news as were visiting Paul in his room.

A few days later, Paul was feeling much better with the help of Dr. Ames so we decided to pay some of his bills which, in Zimbabwe, was paying for his release. Dr. Ames helped me load Paul in a car and we drove up to the hotel in Victoria Falls where Dad had been staying and got a nice large room. Dr. Ames was a treasure. He not only watched over Paul while I would run errands but was able to diagnose and treat his needs. Paul seemed to make constant improvement being with us. I retrieved Father’s belongings from the front desk, including the ashes of his beloved collie, Doodie, which Dad had brought with him from Oregon. Dad had requested to be cremated so I requested it be done before I could get to Victoria Falls. I got directions to the faded yellow building that served as a crematory, picked up his ashes and some death certificates, and paid for the cremation expenses. Paul and I then started making plans for a small memorial service. It was Dad’s wish that we place the ashes of himself and Doodie in the water above the falls and they be allowed to sail over the cascading water and into the Zambezi River.

As the two of us were trying to decide how best to proceed with the logistics of releasing ashes over a steep waterfall, Dr. Ames brought to the room a large wooden toy boat that he bought at one of the native kiosks near the visitor’s center. It was about three feet long and two feet wide.

Paul and I stared. “What the hell are you going to do with that?” I asked, with Paul nodding an agreeing concern.

“Got the ashes handy?” the doc asked.

I handed him the wooden box with Dad’s ashes and the purple cloth-covered box containing Doodie. He slipped both boxes neatly into the boat.

“Now, I just need something to tie them in,” he said. He dug in his suitcase for a roll of surgical tape and some boot shoe laces. “Amazing your dad would think to bring Doodie’s ashes,” Dr. Ames mused. “He must have expected to reach his demise over here.”

My brother and I continued to watch with mixed emotions as the doctor tied and taped the boxes to the small crossbeam on the boat.

“Uh… Are you thinking of sending them over the falls in style?” I asked.

“You bet,” Ames replied. “They won’t last too long but maybe long enough to hit the bottom.”

“I like it!” chimed in Paul, who was usually quiet. “It’ll give them a great ride.”

“Done like a true surgeon!” I complimented.

“Now, I need a long dowel for a mast,” the doc said, rising and wiping his hands.

We looked at each other trying to figure what would work.

“What about those sticks the national flags are attached to?” suggested Paul.

“Not long enough,” replied Ames. “We want you to see it.”

The doc and I left to scour the outside neighborhood for something. We ended up getting a long stick shed by a nearby tree that Ames carefully trimmed and then tied and taped to the boat. He put a bright yellow flag on top that he made from one of Dad’s shirts.

“Maybe you guys will be able to see this . . . we’ll see.”

We put the boat in an inconspicuous corner of our room and made plans for a small service for Dad the next morning. Having a service planned was a relief because we could now make arrangements for getting home. We contacted several of the tour groups around our hotel to see if we would be able to join them in a journey by bus to South Africa. We were a little discouraged because of the nature of the available buses. They would not be comfortable for Paul and the lack of air conditioning could be dangerous to his health. We also called Paul’s cohorts at the Cincinnati Zoo for some ideas. I gave them a short summary of Paul’s condition. Due to Paul’s health, they suggested taking the train to Johannesburg where we could catch a plane to New York. They offered to pay for two of our fares to Johannesburg and two flights to New York. Because both Dr. Ames and I needed to get to other places, two of the zoo employees agreed to meet us in New York where they would accompany Paul to Cincinnati. Dr. Ames was interested in getting back to his home in Billings, Montana. Ordinarily I would have flown back to my home in Bozeman, Montana, but I thought I should go on out to Oregon and settle some of my father’s affairs.

I put in a call to the railroad and made three reservations. I hung up with a sigh of relief that we had a plan.

“We’ll pack after the service tomorrow,” I smiled. “We’re getting out of here day after tomorrow on the train.”

“What kind of trip is it?” asked Ames.

“It leaves Sunday and gets into Johannesburg Wednesday morning so we’ll be on board for three nights. It’s a thousand-mile trip. Several meals come with the ticket. I got a deluxe room. Hopefully it’ll somehow sleep three and Paul should be more comfortable.”

“Well, I pray I won’t have to spend the whole trip in bed. Sounds like a vacation,” Paul quipped.

“It’s expensive but Dad left plenty of cash lying around and the zoo will reimburse us in New York,” I said.

I hit the phone again making plane reservations to New York from Johannesburg. It seemed to take forever giving the agent all the information. Again, it was very expensive but I had the cash. We couldn’t catch a flight until the day after we arrived in Johannesburg but that would give us breathing time in case something went wrong. I gave them the FAX number of the hotel so they could send the confirmation there.

“Okay, I have reservations for Thursday to New York,” I said, turning around to face the boys.

“Now let’s plan for tomorrow.”

“I’ve been mulling this through,” said Ames. “I think what I’d like to do is go to the other side of the gorge with the boat and put it in the river just a mile or so from the falls. I’ll try to put it in on the side where people swim. The river is shallow there and it won’t float so fast. I’ll chase it on foot to the falls and get as close as I can. You guys can watch from the Zimbabwe side at the observation deck. You’ll kind of know where to look.”

“There’s probably not much chance of us actually seeing the boat,” I lamented. “That’s a huge waterfall with lots of water but it sounds like a plan.”

“I’m for it,” agreed Paul with a raspy voice. “Then when you get back to this side, Doc, we can share a few memories of our dad.”

“And my longtime patient,” added Ames.

“All right, it’s a plan,” I said. “Ames, you go over to the Zambia side at eight-thirty and put the boat in at eight fifty-five. We’ll be at the observation deck at...