Indaba, My Children: African Tribal History, Legends, Customs And Religious Beliefs. Vusamazulu Credo Mutwa

Indaba, My Children: African Tribal History, Legends, Customs And Religious Beliefs - Vusamazulu Credo Mutwa


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was no way of reaching her

      And Marimba sang out in utter despair;

      ‘Oh beautiful star of the human race!

      Oh mother of countless men—

      Is there nothing we can do to help?

      Lo! here we stand as helpless as

      A dove in the mouth of a civet cat!

      Our only wish is to be by your side—

      What is there you can advise us to do?’

      ‘You can do nothing, my loyal children,’

      Her voice carried faintly across the flood;

      ‘My only wish is to be left alone,

      As I wish to die in peace.’

      ‘Mother of Nations,’ cried Marimba,

      ‘Is it thus that you sacrifice your life?

      Is it thus that the beloved Amarava

      Turns her back on her destitute children?’

      Instead of hearing Amarava’s reply,

      They all heard a frightening splash—

      Some distance upstream a mighty Monster

      Had entered the water in a cloud of spray.

      Marimba immediately plunged in as well

      And tried to reach the mudbank first,

      But the current was much stronger than her courage

      And swept her helplessly downstream.

      Twice she tried and twice she failed,

      And in an alternative desperate attempt

      At frightening the monster away

      Zumangwe ordered his men to launch

      A hail of sling-stones across the water.

      All their efforts, with spears and arrows included

      And another brave and nearly successful attempt

      On the part of Marimba to reach her through the flood—

      Were futile and they could only helplessly witness

      The most horrible scene they had ever experienced.

      * * *

      Amarava had noticed the Monster

      And in blind terror she summoned all her strength;

      With a shriek she plunged into the water,

      But was equally promptly snatched up by the Monster.

      ‘Release her, you vilest reincarnation of Evil,’

      Marimba now shouted in utter despair—

      And then to everyone’s breathless surprise

      The scaly Monster calmly turned and spoke:

      ‘Poor ignorant, foolish human creatures—

      How terribly sentimental you are!

      It is for your own good and safety that I remove

      This Thing which you knew as Amarava!

      The Monster spoke with infinite tenderness;

      ‘You are blindly loyal to the outward form—

      To superficial appearance alone;

      When will your clouded brains appreciate

      That things are not what they appear to be!

      That there is more to anything than meets the eye!’

      ‘Aieeee!’ cried Marimba, the only one

      Who still had power of speech,

      ‘Do you mean to tell us that Amarava

      Is not what she appears to be!’

      ‘Yebo,’ replied the Monster that Walks,

      To which Marimba lost control of herself;

      ‘Haiee! not only are you a monster

      As foul as the cesspools of hell

      But the father of all lies as well!’

      ‘Human female – I speak only the truth—

      This creature you know as Amarava

      Is a reincarnation at the same time

      Of the Fire Bride, or Rebel Goddess,

      Who has been evading the Great Spirit

      For many millions of years!’

      Even as Marimba listened and looked,

      The limp and naked from of Amarava

      Was slowly changing in the Monster’s clutches;

      Her red skin turned to the colour of gold

      With the polished brightness of that metal.

      Now she had an udder of five breasts—

      Ruby tipped and standing out—

      Like anthills on a desolate plain;

      And her eyes, once so soft and clear,

      Had the greeny hardness of emeralds.

      Her hands had acquired a sixth finger,

      And all her fingers flourished

      Razor-sharp diamond claws.

      A lion’s tail sprang from her backside

      Which curled and uncurled

      Like a whip of living gold!

      A flaming forked tongue protruded

      And licked her pig-iron lips.

      ‘Behold her! Look well upon her,’

      Cried the Monster, holding her up,

      ‘Behold the foul creature who not only deceived you,

      But Ma, the First Goddess as well.

      Look upon the thing you knew as Amarava

      And for which you were prepared to sacrifice your lives!

      See the one you adored as Amarava,

      In whom is now reincarnated

      Watamaraka, the Spirit of Evil!’

      Before the Monster and its captive

      Vanished in a flash of unearthly flame,

      Marimba saw the sneer of contempt

      On the once beloved Amarava’s face;

      ‘I shall return one day and avenge myself

      On all living things – I shall . . .’

      Night had fallen by the time Zumangwe

      And his followers reached the gate of their new village—

      The first village in the country which in future years

      Acquired the name of Tanga-Nyika.

      He had ordered all those who had witnessed events

      Never to repeat what they had seen—

      They all agreed to abide by the make-belief

      That the search for Amarava had failed.

      The secret of Amarava’s identity

      Went with these men to their grave.

      Zumangwe


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