Bums on Seats (14 page)

“Thank you,” Veronica replied for both of them. “What good timing there is here!”

CHAPTER 16

The Boeing came to rest on a broad concrete parking bay. The terminal buildings of Kumbi Airport were 300 yards distant. A number of vehicles approached. Six baggage handlers, on a purpose-built truck, started to transfer suitcases down a chute. Three single-decker buses drew up in close formation, broadside on to the aircraft. Two limousines parked a discreet distance to the side. An army Range Rover drew in next to them. Rebecca Khalanga, came personally for Simon and Veronica.

“Good morning, I hope you had a pleasant flight.”

“Rebecca, it was lovely,” replied Veronica for them both.

Simon felt ‘novel’ would have been a more appropriate judgment from him. But then, unlike Veronica, he’d only just qualified for membership of the ‘6-mile-high’ club.

Before they stepped into brilliant sunshine and descended the long steps to the ground, Simon handed the Cabin Manager a picture-postcard of Zombek he’d quickly scribbled to Janet, his landlady. The girl promised to post it straight away. The message said, ‘Just landed and am about to find out if Africa is always producing some novelty. Simon.’ That quote might get her head scratching, he thought. Simon was about to head off to the nearest bus when a military man strode forward.

“Mr McGuire, Mrs Hamlyn, welcome to Zombek. I’m Captain Mark Kwame of the Army Education Corps. I’m your escort to your hotel and later for your appointment with the Minister for Education.” He was a well-spoken, striking-looking young giant, dressed in immaculate army summer drills complete with holstered revolver at the waist. They shook hands and he led them to the Range Rover.

“May I have your passports a moment, please?” he asked.

He passed them to a man at the door of the vehicle. The man looked at them briefly, reached in his briefcase and then stamped and returned them. Uncharacteristically, for those who inspect passports the world over, he smiled before turning on his heel and leaving. They stepped up into the Range Rover and set off for the hotel.

So began three days of VIP treatment for the two informal ambassadors of education. At 11.00 am, Mark Kwame came to the hotel for them. Simon, who had no idea of the formal itinerary intended, was intrigued to see what would follow. He’d used the time to make a formal list of the ground he intended to cover. Veronica, on the other hand, felt disgruntled. The Zombekians had arranged accommodation in a first-class hotel. She’d hoped for a joint two-bedroom-with-lounge suite. She’d actually got a VIP bedroom next door to Simon’s. That wouldn’t be half so convenient, she thought. She wondered if she dare ask for a better arrangement. They boarded the Range Rover en route to the Ministry of Education.

The Minister, Joshua Aiddo, proved to be a charming, but very business-like, man of around fifty. Over welcoming coffee, he advised that he’d been educated in England. He led them into smalltalk demonstrating a current knowledge of British political affairs.

After ten minutes he asked Simon, “And how is my nephew Luke Nweewe? You’re one of his tutors, I understand.” This brought them round, more or less naturally, to the purpose of their visit to Zombek.

Veronica switched into her ‘control of the universe’ mode.

“Our university is delighted to be involved with you in this venture. It’s an honour to be invited. However, you will understand, our Board of Governors wishes to verify that we are all speaking of the same achievement standards.” She took a breath and continued, “This is for the sake of educational excellence in general and Zombek in particular.” She took another breath. It was a mistake. He was much too experienced a politician to give her three opportunities and, in any case, he already found her tiresome. He didn’t even fancy her. Each of his three wives would be much superior in bed, he thought. He cut in.

“We’re entirely at one on this, Mrs Hamlyn; may I call you Veronica? We’ve given considerable thought as to how you might maximise the benefit of your valuable journey to us. I’m sure you will be pleased with our plan. There is much ground to cover. We have two teachers’ training colleges that specialise in preparing tutors to deliver A Level studies. One is about 200 miles north of here. The other is 100 miles west of that one. We have a number of sixth form colleges, of course, already delivering A Level tuition to hundreds of students. Two of those sixth form colleges are here in the south of Zombek.

“What is needed, I suggest, is a visit by you to both teachers’ training colleges and a visit to, say, two sixth form colleges. You will of course have access to academic records in all cases.” He paused and sat back.

Simon said, “I agree that what you suggest lets us put a finger right on the pulse of Zombekian higher education, so to speak. But isn’t it rather an ambitious tour programme for just three days?”

“It would be Mr McGuire, Simon, if you both saw everything. That’s why we propose that you divide the task between you.” Veronica frowned and made as if to speak, but he carried straight on. “If you think about it, your interests in this matter differ. You, as Admissions Tutor, Simon, would find great advantage in meeting and assessing a cross-section of final-year A Level students. Veronica, as Academic Registrar, on the other hand, has the vital task of assuring the academic accreditation of our syllabi and examination process. That’s absolutely crucial.” He sat back and waited.

Veronica sounded uncharacteristically unsure. ‘But how would I reach these colleges and with whom could I discuss matters, to consolidate so to speak, at the end of each day?”

“Oh, of course, I didn’t say, did I? Forgive me. Captain Mark Kwame of our Army Education Corps would be your personal driver and escort throughout. You’ve already met him of course. He’s a very bright young man. Got a First at Cambridge you know. Has a very bright future.” Veronica looked thoughtful, briefly, but wasn’t done yet.

“How long would it take to reach the first college? Won’t valuable time be consumed in travel?” Time, she thought, that she could be spending with Simon.

“Not long at all,” assured the Minister. “Our ‘A’ roads are very good. Your vehicles would have priority on the road in any case. Captain Kwame and yourself would be in a Range Rover. Your army escort vehicle would precede you and clear the way if necessary.”

Simon, who was beginning to know Veronica, sensed her suppressed thrill at the imagined spectacle of her small convoy, armed to the teeth, hurtling purposefully through the bush to some educational outpost. He looked at the Minister, realised he must have first-class briefs on them both, and wondered at the content of his.

The Minister spoke again, a little more crisply now; he was running late on a crucifying work schedule. I suggest you travel shortly, Mrs Hamlyn, so as to arrive tonight at the first college, ready for tomorrow. Then you can move on tomorrow night, ready for the next day, and return here in the afternoon for a meeting with my Deputy and a number of Head Teachers. Simon in the meantime can discuss and commence his itinerary with my PPS. All right? Good.”

The meeting concluded ten minutes later. Simon stayed in the building, but moved on to a further meeting. Veronica departed for the hotel and her luggage.

“Would you call me Mark? We shall be seeing much of each other for a while.” They were cruising the dual carriageway about a hundred miles north of the capital and making very good time. Their escort vehicle, an open-top Jeep, preceded them. It contained two burly squaddies dressed in army fatigues and armed with machine pistols.

“Thank you, I’m Veronica, please.” She looked sideways at the Zombekian. He was noticeably larger than most of his countrymen, but had similar features. They weren’t black-black, she thought, but medium brown. His dark hair was wavy, rather than tight curled. He had wide-set eyes and a fairly prominent nose. His ready grin revealed white teeth. And his lips, though generous, tended towards a European fullness, rather than what she thought might be typical African.

“I’m sorry if I’ve not chatted much up to now, Veronica. I’ve concentrated on shifting us quickly, to shorten your journey time. This dual carriageway soon comes down to a two-way, three lane road, for the rest of the way. If we run into any trouble, our escort vehicle will clear the way.”

“What sort of trouble, Mark?” She looked slightly apprehensive, but a little excited.

“Oh” he smiled. “Traffic holdups, rather than hold-up men! Mind you, we deal quickly and effectively with criminals in this country. In any case, in addition to our escort, you and I are well equipped.” He passed her a small key and pointed to her door panel. She turned the lock and hinged it down. In a set of brackets there was a large calibre revolver and a box of shells for it. “Can you use a handgun?”

“I certainly can!” she positively sparkled. “I’ve been on a couple of small-arms weekend courses with friends.” He’d been briefed on that, but never let on.

“I’ve got a machine-pistol in my door. And, of course, we have my sidearm, Veronica. But I doubt we shall need them.” In fact he would have been astounded if he did. He’d never needed to fire any weapon outside of a practice range. Still, the hint of military-type action had brought a shine to her eyes.

A few times during the remainder of the journey they caught up with collections of vehicles going in their direction. Each time, the driver of their escort Jeep had set flashing lights going, kept his hand firmly on the hooter and roared, with them in close convoy, up the outside lane. Mark noted that, on those occasions, Veronica rested her hand purposefully on the weapons-locker handle. For her part, she was beginning to think the Minister of Education’s plan was very sensible. But then, he’d always thought she would.

A couple of hours later they turned through the college gates. The Principal, Dr Boteng, met them at the steps to the buildings.

“Hello Mrs Hamlyn, Captain Kwame, I’m Catherine Boteng, the Principal here. Thank you for coming to us. I’m pleased to meet you.”

“What a beautiful location, Dr Boteng. So many bushes and flowers and birds.” Veronica responded.

“Thanks, we’re very fortunate, Mrs Hamlyn. There is great emphasis on living in harmony with the land in Zombek. We have the services of four full-time gardeners here. The bees follow the flowers and the birds follow the bees. I’m convinced it’s all very much to the advantage of my Student Teachers. It’s a peaceful haven with few distractions from our main purpose.”

“How many students do you have at any one time?”

“Nominally, one hundred. But let’s save all this for over dinner. These are your rooms in our little guest wing.” She opened two adjacent doors in a short corridor. Veronica’s room was large, air-conditioned, attractive and comfortable. It had a fully equipped en suite to one side. She assumed Mark Kwame’s was the same.

Back in the corridor, the Principal said, “See you at six forty-five for dinner at seven. Down the corridor, turn left, then second door on the right. We dress informally.”

The Captain did not reappear to hear these words.

Veronica unpacked then stripped down to her underwear and flopped on the very large bed. How luxurious after what had already been a long day. She wondered what Simon was doing. He had been rather splendid in the airplane, hadn’t he? Pity he wasn’t here now, though. Her mind gave a little jump to the side and she speculated momentarily about Mark Kwame. Then she dozed off briefly. When she opened her eyes it was 6.15 and shower time.

*************

The two women met for drinks and established a first name relationship. Dinner, shortly after, was self service. Veronica chose Chicken Salad and Sweet Potato with a pungent and colourful dressing. At the dinner table, they were joined by two senior members of the teaching staff, one male and one female. Mark did not reappear.

“Where is Captain Kwame eating?”

“Oh, he was called to an army base, twenty miles down the road, Veronica. His Colonel wanted some urgent information, apparently.”

Veronica felt a twinge of disappointment. She pushed it aside and asked, “Tell me about your college, please.”

“Well, we were established ten years ago. I was appointed Principal at that time. We’re fortunate to have strong political backing from an enlightened Government. Initially we aimed to produce teachers capable of delivering the GCSE syllabus. Five years ago we moved on to specialise in tuition in A Level studies. Since then we’ve done that to the exclusion of all else.” Catherine Boteng paused.

“What about your students – the teachers?”

“They are all graduates. Currently there are a hundred and two of them, of whom forty-eight are male. Out of the total, I believe about eighty-five have some classroom experience. I usually look for this. But, if we have an Honours graduate in Maths or Science apply, we may well fast track him or her to direct entry, Veronica.”

Their male companion at the table, Paul Aiddo, joined the conversation. “I specialise in Maths. I can tell you that in Zombek, organisations compete hard for Maths graduates. From what I hear, though, that seems to be almost a universal situation, Veronica.”

“You’re right as far as England is concerned. Maths graduates are attracted to the big finance houses, by the salaries. Then Industry and the Civil Service compete for some. Teaching, regrettably, gets the small residue. What is your professional discipline?” Veronica continued, drawing in their young female companion diner.

Agnes Queshi said, “I read History at your Bristol University. I specialise in teaching the delivery of English Studies here, though.”

“What a coincidence. I read History at Bristol, though I’d obviously been and gone before your time, Agnes.”

Veronica enjoyed the continuing dinner and company. The question and answer session was very helpful. The Zombekians were knowledgeable, enthusiastic, friendly and seemed entirely open with information. She began to be impressed. In a small sitting room an hour later, over coffee, her personal batteries started to run down. She suppressed a yawn.

The Principal said, “I’ve arranged for you to observe a typical teaching session tomorrow morning. And then I thought you might like to sit in on a small tutorial group arranged by Agnes for some of her students. After which you and I can lunch. Then it will be time for you to be on your way to our sister college. Paul and Agnes here have arranged copies of their entire annual syllabi for you to take back with you to examine at leisure.”