Boomtown (20 page)
“Hey, don't look at me!” I said. “We have to keep doing things the old-fashioned way.”
Sarah wanted to stay and clean the room again, but there was still too much to see. We headed back to the elevator. The doors closed, and we descended two more levels to the main floor.
“What next?”
“We have two more things to see,” Samora said. “First, the conservatory.”
She led us down a hall and around a corner to the back of the house.
“You may want to put on one of those rain slickers hanging on the hooks or grab an umbrella from the stand. It gets pretty wet in here.”
We put on the bright yellow coats, and I held an umbrella for Janice and Holly. In front of us were two solid oak doors intricately carved with snakes and lizards and birds and lions and trees. Samora pushed them open and took us into a small lobby. We crowded inside; she closed the first doors and then opened two more.
What we saw on the other side is hard to describe. We were hit with a blast of warm, moist air. Then our senses were assaulted with sights and sounds and smells. It was almost like that scene from
The Wizard of Oz
when Dorothy steps out of her black-and- white world into a full-color tropical paradise. I half-expected to see Munchkins popping up out of the bushes.
The glass roof soared ninety feet over our heads and was big enough to enclose at least an acre. Ahead of us, paths wound their way through the forest of palms, banana plants, lemon trees, limes, oranges, date palms, coconuts, and lychee nut trees. There were mangos, ylang-ylang, plumeria, orchids, and tulips. There were banyan, bamboo, and baobab trees tangled in vines and ferns and flowers and fragrances. Exotic birds nested in the branches. Spider monkeys and lemurs played tag in the trees. Butterflies of every color and description flitted through the air and bees sipped on the nectar of every flower. The temperature was a humid eighty-five degrees, and a steady drip-drip-drip of misty rainwater fell from the ceiling and from every limb and leaf. We could hear the rush of a river from around the bend over the chirping of the parrots and peacocks and finches and flamingos.
“Can we go see, Dad?” asked Jonny.
“Is it okay?” I asked our guide.
She smiled and waved her hand. “Go on. See what you can find. Have fun!”
The three older kids ran off down the path while Janice, Holly, and I took a seat on a nearby bench tucked under-neath a canopy of broad palm leaves. Janice retrieved a bottle of formula from her purse and began to feed Holly, who soon fell asleep. I took off my coat and leaned back to enjoy the perfect weather. I could hear the laughter and yells of the kids in the distance.
“How did all of this get here?” I asked Samora.
“Among other things, my great-grandfather was interested in horticulture and zoology,” she explained. “His collection started with a small greenhouse with orchids and roses, but his wife, my great-grandmother, missed the flowers from her native land of South Africa. So he had bulbs and cuttings shipped here from the Cape, anything and every-thing she wanted. He built a bigger greenhouse and cultivated agapanthus, antholyza, and belladonna lilies. Then came the Cape Town honeysuckle, gladiolus, grenadilla, and hibiscus, iris, pelargonium, and plumbago. Once he got started, he couldn't stop. He added birds and monkeys and snakes and frogs and fish. The collection became so large he finally had to build this conservatory to hold all the plants and animals.”
We sat for a while longer until Samora stood up and said, “Come along. Let's go see what your children have discovered.”
Janice cradled Holly while we walked along under the umbrella. We passed through a thick grove of bamboo, and then we could see the large pond with a waterfall cascading down the side of rocks piled high and covered in moss and flowers and vines. The pool was filled with bright fish of every type and description. Up above, on the rocks, we saw Ruth and Sarah laughing and pointing. With a whoop, Jonny flew over our heads and up, out, and over the pond. He was sitting in a chair that was suspended from a cable hooked to the ceiling. It looked a little like one of those swinging chairs at a carnival.
“Look at me! Woohoo!” Jonny yelled as he swung wide over the pond.
“What is he
doing
?” I said, worried.
“Don't worry,” Samora assured us. “The entire system is tested and safe. I used to swing on it when I was a girl. Come down the path over here, and we'll go up and see.”
The path wandered around to the left, across a small bridge, and up the far side of the rocky cliff. We climbed the steps until we reached a flat, cement platform with guardrails to keep people away from the swing as it came and went. In the middle of the open space was a launcher. It consisted of an open-ended receiving unit that captured the swing by its “tail” and a steel ball on a tether that hung down from the base of the seat. We got there just as Sarah came swinging around. The tethered ball was neatly caught in the receiver.
“You see,” said Samora, “the tail has a steel ball on the end that is caught as the swing comes around. As soon as it enters the unit, the brakes are applied and the rider is pulled to a gentle stop. Once it's in the station, the swing is anchored in place. It's all perfectly safe.”
We watched as Jonny unhooked the seatbelt and climbed down. Then Ruth took her turn in the swing.
Jonny waited until she was ready. “You pull on this launcher knob and blast her! Watch this, Dad!”
He yanked on the knob. The system retracted a few feet, and with a blast of steam, Ruth and the swing were launched over the pond in a wide arc out and around and back to the platform.
“The system adjusts for the weight of the rider and com-pensates to bring the swing back to this exact point,” Samora explained. “If you look up there at the center point of the roof, you can see where the cable is connected. That's the guidance system. It works every time.”
Ruth came swinging onto the platform. “Dad! You've got to try this!”
“Oh, no you don't!” Janice said, handing me the baby.
“It's
my
turn!”
I was perfectly content to stand back and watch Janice as she was launched like a rocket over the pond. She screamed and laughed as she circled around and was caught by the launcher.
“Pull it again, Jonny!” and off she went a second time.
They continued to take turns over and over again. They kept urging me to try itâbut after all, someone had to hold the baby. Pretty soon, I felt my stomach grumbling. I looked at my watch and realized we'd already been in the museum for more than three hours. Lunch had come and gone. We had been having too much fun to notice.
“Look at the time. The kids are probably starving. We should probably go.”
But Samora said, “You can't go yet. You haven't seen the best partâthe great room. Please stay. We can have the kitchen make some lunch for us.”
“Please, Dad? Please, please,
please
?” Sarah urged.
Janice agreed and we went down the stairs, along the path, out through another set of doors, and into the kitchen. We enjoyed watching our soup and sandwiches travel down the conveyer. Janice and I had iced tea. The kids had lemonade. Holly finished her bottle and fell asleep again.
Then Samora said, “Wait until you see what's next.”
F
rom the kitchen, we heard excited voices in the hallway. Since we'd just finished our lunch, we stood up and went out to see. It was a group of about ten children, ages eight to ten years old, carrying instrument casesâviolins, cellos, French horns, and so forth. Another graceful woman, almost Samora's twin, led them along the passage.
“My sister, Palesa,” Samora said, “taking her class to the music room. My great-grandfather was an accomplished musicianâdid I mention that? He taught all of his children and grandchildren. We've maintained the tradition and hold regular music classes here in the museum. These children are here to practice for the Spring Fever Festival coming up after the winter thaw. Do any of you play instruments?”
“I can play the flute,” Sarah said.
“I play the kazoo,” Jonny added.
“I toot a little on the harmonica,” I offered.
“That's excellent. You could all play with the Flute Kazoo Harmonica Band in the Fourth of July parade. They're always looking for new people.”
After the group moved on, Samora took us down the hall, back through the main entry area, and toward the center of the house. We stopped in front of a large pair of glass doors. The words
Great Room
were etched in careful scrollwork lettering in the glass, surrounded by drawings of prehistoric animals and birds, fossils, hieroglyphs, gears, motors, flying machines, and more.
Samora said, “Through these doors are displayed some of Mfana's greatest inventionsâand, to be perfectly hon-est, some of his worstâalong with collections of historical documents, books, city records and archives, photographs, paintings, and drawings. The most unusual is probably the exhibit dedicated to fossils and dinosaurs. And we also have a surprise for the kids.”
“A surprise? What is it? Can I see it
now
?” Sarah insisted, pulling on Samora's sleeve.
“If I show it to you now, it won't be a surprise,” Samora chuckled. “You'll see, soon enough. Come on inside.”
Samora unlocked the door with a silver key and we walked into an empty, windowless room. It was cavernous, as large as a gymnasium and two stories high. The floor was a highly polished oak hardwood. The walls were painted soft beige. Four impressive crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Otherwise, the room was bare from corner to corner.
“There's nothing in here!” Jonny complained.
Samora pointed to a control panel much like the others we'd seen around the house.
“You think so? Four knobs to choose from. Pick which-ever you like.”
The knobs were labeled DINOSAURS, INVENTIONS, HALL OF RECORDS, and the fourth was blank. There was no discussion. All three reached for the knob that said DINOSAURS.
We gasped when the smooth wooden floor erupted. Like a garden in fast-motion, display cases and exhibit platforms grew up out of the floor. Panels slid open in the walls to reveal maps and photographs and drawings and diagrams. The empty room transformed into a complete museum full of fossils and dinosaur skeletons and ancient pottery and artifacts. There was even a miniature landscape map showing the locations of rivers and mountains and lakes and the sites of various archeological digs.
“The dinosaur exhibit is stored in Basement Level One,” Samora explained. “When the actuator is pulled, steam drives the hydraulic lifts and the displays are pushed up into the room. Pull it again and they'll be lowered back down into their designated storage areas. Through a coordinated system of shuffling and positioning, exhibits from each of the four levels can occupy this same space here in the great room. The same goes for the displays in the walls and ceiling.”