Khaki Fever will make you tear with laughter

LINDSAY Norman has made a foray into the world of adult fiction with the highly entertaining Khaki Fever. 

Published last month, it tells the story of Alexandra (Alex) Carnell-Ellis, a petite game guide who doesn't suffer fools. In fact, Alex has no filter — and even less impulse control. She says exactly what she thinks without batting an eyelid, inevitably getting herself into trouble. 

Two lines into the story and already you know the book is going to be a comedy riot, just by reading Alex’s self-deprecating descriptions of herself.  “...I’m not exactly what people expect in a guide when they go on a safari, even when it takes place in a glorified zoo.” 

Describing how tiny she is (especially in comparison to Magnus, her beefy colleague) Alex says “even though I never stop eating, I’m a bit on the skinny side.” It doesn't help that she has to sit on a cushion when she drives the Land Cruiser. 

Unfortunately the group she takes on a drive is not exactly smart, and when she points this out and is told to apologise, she responds exactly how she shouldn't, “I’ll burn in hell before I apologise to a moronic bully.” 

Less than three months on the job and with seven complaints against her name, she doesn't exactly endear herself to Antoinette, her boss. For instance when asked by a guest where hippos lay their eggs, Alex told her it was under a termite mound. And so, fired from The Plains for being rude to the guests, she returns home to her family’s farm in Constantia. 

Soon she lands a job at a zhoosh game reserve but causes controversy, as usual, when the Alex that arrives is not the man they expected. Despite her sharp tongue and sharper talent for getting into trouble, Alex finds romance albeit with a big dollop of trouble. 

The book is pure rock and roll. Every page is filled with excitement and I read it in one sitting. It’s easy to give away the entire story because every page is filled with gems. While the tone is light and irreverent, Norman also weaves in sharp observations about workplace politics, marital issues, sibling relationships and gender expectations.

Lindsay Norman’s way with words is indicative of her three decades in the publishing world in various guises, from editor to writer and everything in between. She also heads up  WordWise, a company that offers various courses and services. 

Khaki Fever is outrageous, laugh-out-loud funny, and will make you snort. It  should come with a warning if you are prone to drinking tea while reading.  If you are looking for razor-sharp dialogue, mayhem at work or a gutsy heroine, this book ticks all the boxes. It retails for R310 and can be found at all good bookshops. 

Here is an extract from the book

‘You must check this new oke, Knut,’ said game guide Marietjie, walking in. ‘He’s got so many tattoos it looks like someone sommer klapped him with a wet Rapport. Look, he’s coming in now with his wife.’

Tall, blonde and massively well built, Knut looked like a Viking, but in terms of his personality he was more like a golden retriever because he was so friendly and enthusiastic. Tattoos of dragons, tigers, foxes and roses covered his body-builder arms like sleeves, culminating in a pretty spectacular rendition of a sleeping snake coiled a couple of times around his neck. Ursula was small and sturdy, with rosy cheeks and startlingly light blue eyes that twinkled with excitement.

Both were dressed in brand-new safari gear, and it was obvious Yamihle Game Lodge in Mpumalanga wasn’t the first lodge they’d visited on their trip because Knut’s hat band was decorated with porcupine quills, guinea-fowl feathers and a dried seed pod. By now the other guests had gathered outside on the deck for lunch and Knut caused a lot of excitement when he and Ursula joined them. I noticed Shamilla surreptitiously pushing up her boobs and Simangele leaning sideways off her chair towards her handbag, emerging with fresh lipstick on her lips.

It can be tricky when a new couple joins an established group of guests like this one, but Knut and Ursula slotted in immediately, and before lunch was even over, they were all swapping numbers and showing each other pictures of their children. Only Yamihle owner Legend Fletcher and head guide Kwanele Chamane joined them for lunch, and before I left the bar area I observed them for a bit, thinking what a good team they made with guests because they really seemed to enjoy talking to people.

I wondered if I was maybe getting a little better at it, and then decided it was too soon to tell. We all set off again in the afternoon. It had hardly cooled down, so the bush was still quiet, but luckily the lions were still feeding, so Knut and Ursula could see them and take about a thousand photographs and videos, according to Marietjie.

Kwanele and I decided to avoid the lions and drove another route with Shamilla’s kids Julia and Mikey. We all gathered at the waterhole for drinks, and by the evening, the sky was at its most dramatic as it displayed the dark purple clouds of the gathering storm. There was nothing to see.

The waterhole sat still and abandoned as the animals had gone deep into the bush. The mosquitos were out in full force, though, and attacked us with a feeding frenzy that eventually became too uncomfortable, and we headed back early to the lodge. Dinner was served inside as the wind had picked up by then, the slight breeze of the evening breaking into discordant and random squalls.

The mood at the table was slightly subdued, with some of the guests looking nervously out of the bifold doors at the ominous but very beautiful sky lit up by both the full moon and jagged snaps of lightning, followed by rumbles of thunder that appeared to be steadily getting closer.

Knut and Ursula, on the other hand, were delighted. Knut kept on leaping up and going outside with his selfie stick and making videos. ‘He makes the documentary for the YouTube,’ explained Ursula. ‘It is the same verever ve go.’

‘I suggest you have nightcaps in your rooms tonight,’ said Legend once everyone had finished dessert. ‘We’re going to get a ton of rain very shortly.’

We’d all been back in our quarters for about half an hour when Legend’s prediction proved to be spot on. White sheets of rain hurtled relentlessly down from the skies, deafening and monotonous.

When I’d told Kwanele earlier that I was scared of storms it was actually a massive understatement. They reduce me to a gibbering mess. The white flash that snaps and then you wait for the thunder. I couldn’t even count to one before the thunder, which meant of course that the lightning was right on top of us.

And then my very worst fear came true. The lightning struck the roof of my chalet. For a moment I thought I had died. The glass in the windows shattered and the lights blew. Sobbing and sweating with fear, I grabbed Jackson and pulled him under my bed with me.

A few minutes later there was a loud thumping on my door and then it opened. It was Kwanele. ‘Alex!’ he shouted. ‘Are you okay?’

‘No. Yes.’ It came out as a whimper.

‘Where are you?’ He flashed a torch around the room.

‘Under the bed.’

‘Come out. It’s safe, I promise. I’ll stay with you.’

‘No, um, I think I’ll stay here for a bit. You know, until it’s over. And … and I think Jackson feels safer under the bed.’

Actually, my dog hadn’t flinched once. There was a brief silence, and then Kwanele crawled under the bed and lay down next to me, taking my hand. I hadn’t held someone’s hand for as long as I could remember and, in that moment, I briefly forgot about the storm because it struck me that I didn’t instinctively snatch it away. Instead, my hand relaxed in his, and then I gripped it hard as lightning lit up the room followed by a violent roll of thunder.

‘Do you think Julia and Mikey are okay?’ I asked, feeling a bit ashamed I’d only thought of the children now.

‘Julia will be completely terrified.’

‘I’m sure they’re fine,’ he said.

‘Legend said they must stay in Gavin and Shamilla’s room tonight. Mikey’s probably loving the storm.’

I flinched at another explosion of thunder and turned my face into his shoulder.

‘Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks!’ said Kwanele in a deep and dramatic voice, and in spite of my fear I managed a shaky laugh.

'‘Your matric setwork?’ I said.

‘Yes,’ he replied and then, as the thunder rumbled again, he shouted, ‘You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, um, couriers to … something-cleaving thunderbolts!’

‘Oak-cleaving!’ I said. ‘I also did it in matric. I loved it but I always thought everything was Cordelia’s fault. Basically, if she had just made more of an effort to tell King Lear how much she loved him then everything would have been totally fine. I mean, how can you tell someone that you really love that you love them no more and no less than what you’re expected to?’

‘So, Act One. The end?’ he said laughing. ‘Exactly. Where did you go to school?’

‘Nhlaralumi High in Komatipoort, which is where I met Legend. He got expelled from his private school in Joburg, his third expulsion I think, so his parents sent him to Nhlaralumi. He was the only white boy in the school. He had a fairly tough time at first, but being Legend, he made sure no one noticed the colour of his skin after a few weeks. We became good friends, and I spent every weekend on this concession with him and his parents. That’s how I got to love the bush.’

‘Listen, it’s not raining so hard,’ he continued. ‘Do we still need to stay here? My legs are getting stiff.’

I realised I was still holding tightly onto his hand. Embarrassed, I let it go.