The Serengeti Plane

Prologue: The Mongoose and the Balaclava Thursday, 10th August, 2009: somewhere on the Serengeti Plain, Tanzania; just after brunch. At the end of a dirt track lay a new spit-polished wooden hanger with a gleaming control tower and a small but densely packed passenger room. Here the passengers waited for the much-anticipated news of their departure. The heat was both stifling and malign. Then, a fast-waddling penguin clutching his unsettled sombrero came into view. He was seemingly accompanied by a hurrying fox who was seen to be often stumbling as he grasped his flight plans in his right paw. The fox came into the passengers’ view from the east of the terminal. They watched as the two collectively torpedoed towards the dormant aircraft, which beset the spectacle from the passengers’ waiting room, where the customers of this flight stood, waiting, queuing, and sweating in the African heat. Large pools of perspiration gathered at the base of the larger species while the smaller ones panted vigorously. This was not the only thing to contend with: well-drilled mosquito squadrons endlessly dive-bombed the passengers like Luftwaffe pilots. As for the passengers individually, the flamingo wasn’t amused; the parrot was in a flap; and the giraffe was depressed –for she was the only one who could witness what wasn’t happening on the runway, periodically raising her head above the parapet like a wannabe tyrant of the Greek past. Meanwhile, a vibrant coloured crocodile told an anecdote: the lioness blushed with embarrassment – a rosy hue, much like the flamingo’s feathers, permeated her stony face – while the predators snarled with uncontainable bemusement. The zebra, in contrast, blended in with his new surroundings – and the chameleon oddly didn’t. During this whole ordeal at the new airport, the elephant was the only passenger not needing to be reacquainted with his lost luggage. It reminded the Head Steward of the calamitous start at Heathrow’s Terminal 5. The gazelle stood at the back of the line awaiting the confines of a flying nightmare full of his natural hunters (though he did the best he could to hide his identity). All around the airport roamed predatory human journalists hunting in packs, forever ready to ambush and succour any misadventure. All were eager to get a quote for their various broadsheets and tabloids. The stewards stood at the door in between the passengers and the plane (which spanned one hundred and fifty feet – crocodile feet, of course). Ten minutes before, the anxious stewards received a call informing them that the academics of the flight were not going to make the journey due to their lecture on climate change running over in Nairobi. There, behind a dull-grey plastic panelled help desk, they waited for the Captain to inform them that they could begin the procedure for boarding. As they waited, the terminal lights flickered; a bungling empty luggage carousel jolted; and a nefarious-looking, greasy, sneaky little jackal selling fake IDs and passports was ominously probed by ‘special’ constables posted to the new airport for a very particular reason. The flyers-to-be were still waiting to begin their respective journeys with only the announcer’s plum Zimbabwean-English apologies to fill the motionless vacuum. ‘Passengers waiting for flight 4609 bound for London, England, are informed that the departure of this flight is unfortunately delayed. We apologise for the inconvenience. Please stand by for further announcements. Thank you.’ The reverberating crackling then died, leaving only an air of frustrated silence. The silence, however, was temporary. ‘Delay?’ A malevolent and scathing voice cried out. ‘The plane is outside for Christ’s sake! I can see it on the runway! There is only one bloody flight out of here – and this is the first! How can there be a delay?’ For all the hostility and violence in the voice of this particular passenger, his angst cooled immediately, like the negative of a wet photograph, as the announcement soundtrack was summoned into the acrimonious atmosphere. A ‘bing bong’ noise ricocheted around the waiting room as the intercom awoke once more to smite the spirits of the beleaguered. ‘This flight is delayed due to the absence of the luggage and cargo. Thank you.’ The update was as uninformed as it was unwelcome. The succinct proclamation was on the cusp of causing a ruckus. Moments after the announcement, both obstacles to the aircraft’s scheduled departure arrived, much to the appeasement of all. A sizable trailer, slowly towed by a beefy rhino named Poncho, housed the luggage of all the passengers. Noteworthy, perhaps, were the two muscular doves assigned with the task of transporting what seemed to be a prisoner in the centre of the trailer – clearly the reason for the increased security at the airport. This was the special cargo the Captain and the airline had been waiting for. The Captain and the Head Steward met about the aircraft to conduct their final checks of the cabin and to start with the loading of the luggage. That’s when they noticed a fleet and darkened mongoose leaving through the rear of the aircraft, his tail betraying his identity despite the mysterious hooded accouchement that disguised his head. ‘That was a little odd,’ said the Captain. ‘Ja, I vould say zo. Vearing a balaclava in zhis heat! It’s a bit excessive for zhis time in ze morning, ja? And it veally didn’t go vith ze sneakers he vas vearing.’ But nothing more was thought of it. ‘Hey, Poncho,’ the Captain called out. ‘Can you give me and the Head Steward a hoof with this suitcase? It weighs a tonne! Someone must have packed bricks in it!’ Poncho begrudgingly gave the heavy and stubborn piece of luggage the final push using his powerful head, forcing it to careen up the ramp and leaving the Captain and Head Steward in awe of his strength. Finally, the prisoner was transferred from the trailer to the plane; the dove escorts dismissed, the rear hatch was then sealed from the inside. After the checks had been completed, the Captain retired to his cockpit where the penguin had been since he clambered into the aircraft. Meanwhile, the Head Steward returned to the passengers’ waiting room and began to usher the animals aboard the flight as he checked their tickets and passports. Everything was in order. Book One: Take-off Chapter 1: Outfoxed The Captain of the aircraft, an intelligent varnish coloured fox by the name of Dickie, extended his left paw towards the control panel and flicked the switch of the internal communication system. The light beneath the switch read ‘ON’ in bright green lettering; its colour similar to the flesh of an avocado. Then the Captain began his announcements. ‘Good morning, mammals, birds and aquatic creatures. This is your Captain speaking. I’d like to welcome you aboard the Serengeti Plane, bound for London, England. Firstly, I would like to give you my apologies for the delayed departure. It is, after all, the migration season, not to mention a maiden flight you have boarded. I am confident you will appreciate that it’s not always “plane sailing”, and there are often a few hiccups. Furthermore, I’ll take this opportunity to introduce you to my renowned Co-pilot, “High Flyer”, but a penguin none the less. Finally, the wind is blowing strongly across the Plain, so expect a little turbulence above. This will be nothing new to all you frequent flyers, but for those of you who don’t have wings, there is nothing to worry about. You are in the capable paws (and fins) of experienced pilots. We are now almost ready for take-off, so if you would fasten your seat belts, we can begin our ascent after our final checks have been completed. On behalf of myself, the crew, and the Serengeti Airlines, I hope you enjoy your flight with us today. Thank you.’ The Captain then gave the same announcement in Swahili, reading from a script provided by the Tanzanian government.