Indaba, My Children: African Tribal History, Legends, Customs And Religious Beliefs. Vusamazulu Credo Mutwa
cry of pain and Kahawa whirled, his stone-headed mace gripped tightly and at the ready. Then he saw the scratch and the blood and a strange intense feeling he could not identify swept through the valleys of his soul.
‘Maie agwe!’ he cried; ‘you are hurt, mother!’
‘It is nothing, Oh my son. It is nothing but a scratch from a thorn-bush.’
‘Sit down and rest, mother.’
‘I am not tired, my child; we can still go on.’
‘Mother, sit down,’ commanded Kahawa fiercely.
‘You are a true son of your father,’ said the surprised woman with a weak smile as she sat down on a boulder. ‘But you must not use force all the time, son; force destroys him who uses it.’
‘Mother, force is good when used to defend or protect things that one holds dear, and to defend you I am prepared to use all the force in the world.’
‘My son, you must never concentrate all your love on one thing or one person. You must learn to extend your love to the world in general, because you are part of it and the world is part of you.’
‘I hear you, Oh mother,’ said Kahawa softly.
‘And above all, you must try and be a good husband to the two girls I gave you for wives, my son. They are always complaining that you come home with a terrible temper – you refuse to touch them and criticise the food they cook for you.’
‘But mother,’ protested Kahawa, ‘I did not want to get married in the first place. I have no time for women. Besides, those two you gave me are the worst you could find. The first one, Lozana, is a frightened bore who chatters like a jungle monkey from dawn to dusk without pause, and the second, Lukiko, is a fat stupid idiot who not only reminds one of a lost buffalo stuck in the mud, but smells like one too, and has the brains of one . . .’
‘My son!’ cried the mother. ‘What words are these? What horrible things are these that you are talking? It is your duty to beget children to carry your father’s name on to generations to come and your personal feelings must never interfere with that duty. Whether you love your wives or not is beside the point. Now, Kahawa, I want to see either or both your wives pregnant in two months’ time . . . and I shall tolerate no further back-talk from you!’
‘Oh mother, I have far better things to do in life than begetting noisy bawling babies.’
Marimba was about to make a heated reply when she was interrupted by the sudden appearance from behind a boulder of Kahawa’s friend, Mpushu the Cunning. Mpushu was sweating profusely from his hard climb up the hill. He threw himself on his knees and crossed his arms in front of his fat face in salutation to Marimba. Then he lifted his fish-like face and said to Kahawa: ‘I have been down to the strange beasts, Oh Eagle of Marimba, and I have found out something that is a great surprise. The beasts are not only harmless but they are so docile that you can actually pull the ears of some of the females and they will follow you.’
‘What strange beasts are you talking about, Oh Mpushu?’ asked the puzzled Marimba.
‘Come with me, Oh Mother; come and see,’ Kahawa urged.
Puzzled, Marimba followed her son and his friend farther into the rocky hills of the north-east. They climbed over a hill and halfway down the other side they stopped. ‘Look, mother, look down there in the valley.’
Marimba followed her son’s pointing arm and her eyes met the strangest sight she had ever seen. The valley below was full of the strangest animals. These animals were like buffalo but a shade smaller and, unlike the buffaloes which are all the same colour, these animals ranged in colour from black to dark brown, from red to white. Many of them were either brown-and-white, black-and-white, or had brown bodies and white bellies. All had horns that were totally unlike anything Marimba had seen before.
‘What are they, my son?’
‘I do not know for sure, mother, but from what I gathered from the survivors of the people who brought them here, they are known as tame animals, mother.’
‘Tame animals? They look dangerous enough to me.’
‘They are quite docile, mother, and there is something about them one does not find amongst wild beasts.’
‘How did you find them, my son?’
‘Mpushu and I had been out on a hunt, mother. We saw these strange animals from where we are standing now. At first we thought they were a kind of antelope and we decided to hunt them. But, strangely, they did not run when they saw us, neither did they charge us as buffaloes would. Then Mpushu noticed that there were people with the strange creatures and we went down to investigate. We found that all but one of these people were lying in the tall grass and dying of some sort of epidemic. We saw that there were ten men and three women, and all the men were either dead or dying fast, and that of the women, one was still alive. And she does not seem to be suffering from the malady at all.’
‘Whence come these people, my son?’
‘I do not know, mother. The surviving woman is too frightened of us to talk clearly. But when she does talk, it is a pleasure to listen.’
The surviving woman was hardly more than a girl, a pretty little thing with rather prominent front teeth, and with a skin that was as black as pure ebony. She wore her hair plaited into numerous tiny plaits that hung down her forehead and down her back. She wore an ankle-length skirt of leopard skin and a necklace of strange shining beads and sea shells. Broad bracelets of bronze blazed upon her arms and forearms. She looked up as Marimba came and stood facing her. Under the curious gaze of the immortal woman the strange girl lowered her eyes selfconsciously.
‘Tell me, child,’ said Marimba at last, ‘where do you come from?’
It took some time for the strange girl to answer. ‘From Nuba . . . we come . . .’
‘Where is Nuba?’
‘Away – far, far, far.’
‘What are those animals you have brought with you?’
‘Meat animals – we eat. Also milk – we drink.’
‘You eat the meat of those animals, and drink their milk?’
‘So – so we do.’
Then Kahawa asked the girl what had killed those people with whom she had been. In her strange halting way she explained that her father and his servants, and her mother, had eaten mushrooms cooked and served by the other female servant, who had also eaten some. The girl had been saved by the fact that at the time of the eating she had been suffering from a bad headache and had no appetite at all.
Marimba asked the girl what her father had been doing so far away from his native land. Her answer shocked Kahawa and brought tears into the eyes of Marimba. The girl said it was a belief among their people that if one travelled southward long enough one will eventually reach the Land of Peace. Her father had been a priest in their native land and a firm believer in this myth. He had taken all his wealth and wife, daughter and servants and had set out southwards in search of the Land of Peace.
Abruptly the little stranger girl threw herself into the arms of Marimba and begged for protection, as she now had no parents. It was customary in their land for orphans to be adopted, even by complete strangers, and would Marimba please adopt her and protect her? As for the cattle, would Marimba please take them?
As Kahawa and Mpushu rounded up the two thousand beasts and drove them towards the High Village of the Wakambi, Marimba asked the girl what her name was and the girl answered: ‘Rarati . . . it is this one . . . my name . . . respected Ma-Rimba.’
‘Rarati,’ said the princess Marimba, ‘your name shall never be forgotten. Future generations