Chapter 2

Beach Feast

The traveling Abantu were well up the Indian Ocean coastal belt.

Gone were the steep ravines and rocky river crossings of the south.

Beaches were wide with soft sand, bordered by margins of grass covered bluffs that overlooked healthy savannah, mostly grass with scatterings of bush and trees.

***

Eku was thrilled by new and exotic beasts.

Different antelope than at home, from diminutive and slender oribi that bounced as though their slender legs were coiled springs; to the magnificent oryx, with spear-like horns, black-striped faces and big bodies.

Even more spectacular were the towering, spotted giraffes, the most amazing beasts Eku had ever seen; his new favorites.

Able to see them only from a distance, he yearned for the days he would become a hunter, like his father, free to explore and see such beasts up close.

Other beasts commonly spotted included elephants, zebras, buffalos, wildebeests, kudus, impalas, bushbucks, baboons, warthogs and bush pigs.

Eku was familiar with those.

As he was vervet monkeys, aardvarks and aardwolves, genets, meerkats, springhares and ground squirrels, pangolins and porcupines.

Occasionally, trailing the large human herd from a distance, jackals came looking for scraps, which inevitably meant the presence of lions, leopards and hyenas.

Predators, for the most part, knew to avoid Abantu; though, on occasion—especially being in a strange land—hunters killed an occasional hyena or lion, leaving the carcass in a specific location as an explicit warning: stay away if you want to live.

Being the only patch of green on a hill, the stand of marula stood out.

Mature trees had round canopies, dense with small branches of long, compound leaves. Plentiful in their homeland, the Abantu had not seen marula since leaving the southern shores; and yet, there was a small copse before Eku, atop a hill with a rocky spire, easily spotted from the beach.

Unreachable by elephants, the trees were laden with ripened, yellow fruit.

The people moved up an incline covered by bristle grass gone thin and yellow and brown, wind-blown, stripped of all but the clingiest seed tuft.

The earth was hard and dry beneath Eku’s toes.

The day was warm and clear and bright.

Yathi, walking beside him amidst the center of the procession, said, “Marula. So what? We eat marula fruit and marula nuts all the time?”

“The trees at the top of this hill came from the hands of our ancestors,” his mother, Shona said.

She walked ahead of them, with Krele, her younger sister, along with other mothers.

Luvu, one of the mothers, added, “Scouting parties who came here before us brought pouches of nuts to put in the ground to grow for future scouting parties.”

She pointed at the mature canopy ahead of them. “They have been growing for some time now. From the time when your grandfathers scouted. This is good, no?”

Yathi grimaced and stuck out his tongue. He disliked harvest; though, Eku typically looked forward to it.

The two walked amidst a parade of people, younger Abantu at center, adults at front and bringing up the rear.

Yathi was a robust, young male with a round nose and dimpled chin. He had the same, laza eyes as his father Lume, whose wide span of shoulders bespoke the adult Yathi would become.

Unless hungry, Yathi was eternally easy going and happy to follow Eku’s lead.

Astride Eku and Yathi were the brothers Gokuk and Dokuk, whose mother Luvu walked just ahead.

Gokuk was short and slight, the same age as Eku and Yathi, while Dokuk was tall, a cycle older than Yatyambo (and completely in love with her).

The brothers were different physically, but had identical, round faces: big ears, bright eyes, flat noses and toothy smiles.

All of the young males wore soft-pelted loincloths and carried seal skin sacks slung over a shoulder.

Most of the adults wore similar loincloths of softened skins shorn of hair; many of the adults also wore vests, brown and cured, wrapped over one or both shoulders and tied to the waist.

Everyone carried satchels, grass baskets or turtle shell bowls.

“I’m staying on the ground and watching for squirrels and springhares,” Dokuk announced, glancing at Eku to see if there was a reaction.

Eku, focused on keeping up with Dokuk’s long strides, kept his eyes to the front, face betraying nothing.

He and Dokuk, like many young males, had an unspoken competition of who had more prowess with a keri stick.

Dokuk, older and bigger, could throw much harder, but Eku, despite his youth, had already developed an uncanny precision when it came to bringing down live prey.

“I’m climbing,” Gokuk said, pointing at the patch of trees at the peak of the rise. “The big one in the middle looks like a jellyfish.”

Yathi groaned.

He didn’t like anything about harvest.

***

Unreachable by elephants, the marula grew full, rounded canopies with low, sprawling branches for opportunistic climbing.

The trees were clustered in the center of the hill.

A rocky spire of dark and striated sandstone rose at the edge of the peak, to the water side, surrounded by dark green bushes.

Other than the trees and rocks, the hill was carpeted by the worn yellowed grass. As the Abantu approached, a flock of tan parrots with orange beaks burst upward to coalesce and whisk away inland, immediately followed by another group of birds, rising from a different section.

Many of the Abantu cried out at the sight of a new and splendid species, shaped like a swift, with wings of light green and a breast and tail of lilac to lavender.

Lingering last were portly turacos, familiar to an Abantu.

The birds had stout wings stained with a splash of red and spiraled around the bushes at the base of the rocky spire before settling.

Once atop the hill, the Abantu were able to see past the trees and observe north. Ahead of them lay a continued stretch of gentle, low-rising bluffs.

Sandy shores created a yellowish margin between laza ocean and the extended coastline, where orange-brown rock outcroppings interrupted heavy green vegetation.

In the distance, beyond the beautiful beaches, a dramatic change awaited: the savannah the Abantu were following for so long was about to change.

Turning deep green, the outlying band of a tropical forest.

***

Approaching the marula, adults dispatched in an organized pattern.

The main group set up under a magnificent tree, branches heavy with round, yellow fruit.

Young people, excited at the prospect of climbing, nevertheless moved with the same practiced precision as the adults, knowing which plants had thorns or cutting edges, which bush to never brush up against because of insects, and most important, where to watch for dangerous beasts, large and small.

Hunters carrying ula-konto and wearing a necklace with the talon of a fish eagle, moved to the perimeter to stand in pairs and watch for danger.

Upon reaching the cleared, shaded area of the canopy, Gokuk happily ran for the largest marula, where the quick youths were already ascending the lower branches.

Dokuk eyed Eku for a moment, then spotted Odi, waving at him from amongst other young people, gathered in an area between the trees and the rocky spire—a likely place for springhares to burrow.

Odi and Dokuk were ikanabe and he ran off to join the others.

Eku and Yathi were considering where to get started when Inka separated from where the adults were arranging workstations.

“She is walking right at us,” Yathi exclaimed with obvious delight.

Intrigued, Eku and Yathi waited and stared.

Inka had only recently cut her hair. She was mated to Goagu, a stalwart hunter who all the young females admired, or so Eku heard.

Curious, Eku had an opportunity to ask Yat, “Is it because Goagu is a good hunter?”

But she only laughed at him and walked away.

Uncle Lume, who happened to be standing nearby at the time, said (somewhat mockingly, Eku thought), that Goagu being popular with the females had nothing to do with his hunting skills.

Inka was a captivating beauty, with large eyes and pouty lips.

Eku was enamored with the way she moved, graceful, like a long-legged wader, smooth and supple through knee-deep yellow grass, wearing a brown wrap of shorn skin and a scarf of black and white ferret.

Bracelets of rounded, white ostrich beads adorned each forearm.

Yathi, unabashed, stared with his mouth open.

“Hello Yathi,” she said with a knowing smile. “Hello Eku, good to see you at harvest.”

Even Inka’s voice was bewitching, sweet and full of flavors Eku couldn’t quite put his finger on; nevertheless, he frowned and said, “I am always at harvest.”

Inka giggled and Yathi let out a whimper, eyes going more vacant, smile broadening.

Still smiling, she added, “Yes I know silly. I was wondering if you might do something for me?”

When Inka pointed at the bushes where the turaco settled, Eku tried not to show the burst of excitement.

Inka was an adult and about to give him permission for a hunt!

Well, maybe not a real hunt, but Eku had a fantastic opportunity to use his keri stick for something other than a springhare or squirrel.

Not wanting to appear overeager, Eku put on his most serious look and asked, “The red feathers?”

Inka clicked yes, adding, “I will add the flesh to a stew tonight. Or slice it thin and let it cure for the first meal tomorrow. But the feathers, those are for something special.”

She winked, put a hand to the appealing curve of her hip and waited for Eku to respond.

Eku clicked respectfully while looking her in the eye and said, “Turaco are clever.”

“Yes, but the turaco here are not familiar with Abantu. See how the silly birds linger.”

Inka clicked softly and pointed again.

Eku had to admit that even the way she gestured with a single finger was somehow attractive.

He looked from her expressive eyes to her finger and the bushes, a short distance away, crowded with brightly colored birds.

“I will try for a throw,” Eku said, “But I might miss.”

“Yes, but I picked you for a reason. When something is meant to be, something happens.”

Eku smiled and clicked yes.

Inka gave him an affectionate pat on the head and walked gracefully back to where the adults organized the fruit husking.

Yathi, staring after, breathed, “How can she be so beautiful?”

“I do not know,” Eku said. “She just is.”

“You have to get one.”

“I might miss.”

“Well, if you do get one, make sure I am there when you give it to her.”

***

The tribe settled into a familiar routine.

Adults formed stations to the side of the main canopy.

First, a place to drop off the fruit to strip the outer skin.

Next, cut out the inner cores and toss them into grass baskets for later use, while slopping pulp into turtle shell basins for draining into bladders.

Finally, squeeze and twist the pulp to extract the last of the sugary nectar, setting out the stringy remains to dry and later carry as travel food.

Young people had the choice of climbing or gathering.

Deciding to stay on the ground, Eku took care of his share quickly, remaining bent over to snatch fruit off the ground, while keeping one eye upward.

Eku, Yathi and everyone else on the ground, engaged those climbing above with playful banter, the two sides hollering back and forth.

The climbers rained down a bounty while those on the ground dodged and gathered.

Eku emptied his full sack at the de-husk station, making sure he caught the eye of his mother as he did so.

Set down his empty sack where he could find it after and paced to the edge of the canopy, knowing he was running out of time.

Took a moment to observe the turaco, settled in tall bushes with waxy, ovate leaves of deep green, waiting for the humans to leave.

Were it not for the scarlet on their wings, the birds would blend perfectly; though, Eku knew that during lobo-yaka—the hot and rainy cycle—that same bush bloomed bright red flowers.

Depending on the type of harvest, aspiring hunters fiercely contested over permissible prey.

Springhares, being a prime example of small beasts valued for meat, skin and sinew, were always permissible.

Any other beasts an aspiring hunter might pursue during harvest—birds especially—required the permission of an adult.

When the tribe next harvested fantail that grew alongside freshwater ponds and streams (the long, flat leaves were ultra valuable for weaving mats and baskets, as well as making cordage), Eku looked forward to bringing his ula-konto, which would allow him to pursue water rats and giant frogs with legs thick as his forearm.

Eku’s favorite subject was to watch beasts.

Beasts of all kinds.

He liked to use his mind to study the individual parts: eyes, ears, snout, legs, feet and tail.

Understanding the way a beast behaved was critical.

A hunter needed to recognize the meaning behind any change in posture, whether a ripple of fur, the flick of a whisker or the ruffle of a single feather.

Eku knew how bodies worked.

Well, maybe not as expertly as his mother or Yat, but Eku paid attention.

Even at a young age, he already participated in waka-waka harvests.

Harvests often included butcherings. Usually fish and small beasts, such as springhare or bushpigs.

Larger beasts were taken by the hunters, typically antelope or seals, but occasionally Eku saw other beasts butchered, everything from baboons and buffalo, to leopards and lions, and even the occasional rogue male elephant, gone astray and taken down by the hunters out of necessity.

Eku knew of the many, important body parts.

And he knew that all beasts, even humans, share similar body parts.

He knew the different parts of the body worked together because of the mind.

The mind was inside the skull, which Eku and Yathi laughed about, because inside skulls were the brains they used to soften hides for loincloths.

The two of them couldn’t figure out why saying brains and loincloths together made them laugh, it just did.

But joking was set aside when it came to hunting.

Eku knew that to fool the beast, you had to fool the mind of the beast.

Stealth and patience were vital.

***

Eku looked over the feathered crowd, perched in ladder-like arrangements along thickly leafed branches.

Nothing but tall grass between where he stood and where the birds roosted.

Selected a plump target.

Vibrantly red wings.

Between Eku and his prey, a high pitched current flowed with the sounds of cicadas and body shakers.

When Eku was alone, by concentrating, he sometimes thought he could pick up the vibrations of waka-waka-waka wing rubbers and body shakers through the soft spots on his feet.

(At least when they got really loud.)

Tiuti explained that insects were part of Umawa’s vast hosting of beasts and plants, a living web enormous and complex.

Feet and skin, like the eyes, ears and nose, spoke the many hidden languages of Umawa.

While still on his mother’s teat, Kaleni and Krele began training Eku how to use those senses to navigate the world.

Eku learned at a very young age that a hunter’s greatest asset was to become ibe-bonakalio.

Invisible.

Birds were difficult prey, like antelope, watching individually in all directions and reacting as a group.

Eku moved from beneath the shade of the marula, continuing to bend over and reach, as though picking up fruit.

Not looking directly at the birds, he watched using the periphery of his vision, feet acting as a second set of eyes, toes poking through stems of tall grass to choose the next placement.

Bend over.

Extend the arm.

Step forward and slowly straighten.

Repeat.

The day was still young and Ulanga was high and bright.

Adults remained busy at the workstations; young people swarmed within and under the trees; hunters with ula-konto remained observant from the periphery.

Eku stood slightly hunched in the tall grass, a bit away from everyone else.

Warm and loose.

Already close enough for a long throw.

Plus, he was running out of time.

But, while turacos looked chubby, with pigeon-like bodies, those short and stout wings were very strong.

They flew quickly in short bursts.

A long throw would be a wasted effort.

Patience.

The grass tickled Eku’s stomach, but would not interfere.

That was good.

He just had to get closer.

Bend over.

Extend the arm.

Step forward and slowly straighten.

Repeat.

A long-winged fly fluttered gracefully by.

As though to make up, a clumsy flying beetle rammed itself into a grass shoot in front of Eku, frantically clinging as the stem tail-wagged back and forth.

Some of the birds adjusted their claws on the branches.

Eku knew his proximity was making them nervous.

Gripping Umawa with his toes, Eku slid the keri stick free.

Located the plump target at the end of a branch.

Slowly turned his head so both eyes could focus.

Dark upper body, purplish lower body, bright red wings, the pupil of the bird’s observing eye locked on his human form.

Eku adjusted the placement of fingers and thumb on the keri stick, making sure even the slight movement of his throwing hand remained behind his body.

Drew the arm back smoothly and turned his hips while shifting weight to the back foot and began a muscular chain of events that he had practiced waka-waka-waka times.

Pivoting hard, Eku shifted his weight forward while stepping, twisting the torso back around to add still more energy to the right arm as it whipped forward in a throwing motion.

The keri stick flew from his hand at a remarkable speed.

Spinning.

As always, there was a micro-instant netherworld between triumph and failure.

Turaco reacted like lightning, but the rapidly rotating stick caught the target flush as it leaped from the branch, the bird’s light and hollow bones caving under the impact so that death was instant, the body falling as the others exploded upward with beating wings, flashes of crimson and much screeching.

The commotion attracted the attention of all the young Abantu, but only a casual glance from the adults.

Eku moved quickly through the grass.

Found his keri stick and picked up the bird, holding the warm and soft body close to his side.

Dokuk and several others were instantly upon him; the tallest named Tuve, already with an adult's deep voice, demanded, “Who gave you permission?”

Tuve sidled up aggressively, but Eku held his ground and was grateful when Dokuk stepped to his side.

Stone faced, Eku snapped, “Inka.”

All of the males groaned in envy and immediately moved away, but Dokuk hesitated; smiled.

There was something about Eku that made it impossible to be jealous.

He slapped Eku’s shoulder with affection, clicked congratulations and followed after the others, still hopeful for one last throw at a springhare.

Eku watched him run off.

Dokuk was pleasant to the youngest tribe’s males, which was not always the case, especially when a child was about to become an adult, like Tuve.

Tuve did not like it when someone younger than him was picked for an extra hunting opportunity.

Especially a pretty female like Inka.

Eku fought down his exhilaration.

At moments like this, he could almost believe himself a hunter.

Put a hand to his chest and imagined the feel of a fish eagle talon, but then shook his head, irritated, knowing he still had so much to learn.

And it would help if he could grow bigger, like Yathi did without even trying.

Eku looked under the marula canopy and saw Goguk amongst other young people descending from the branches.

The adults were finished skinning fruit and extracting the cores and now focused on separating pulp from sweet nectar.

Harvest was almost done.

Eku noted where Inka was working and went to get Yathi.

***

All of the Abantu came down the hill carrying something.

Eku carried a bladder of nectar over his shoulder and his satchel, crammed full of cores.

Burly Yathi lugged a turtle shell bowl packed with stringy pulp.

The rich rewards of harvest were evenly dispersed and the tribe began the day’s march.

Eku and Yathi paced stride for stride, a travois handle over each inside shoulder.

Being young, the netting of supplies hung between the poles wasn’t heavy and pulling while hiking along the beach would only leave them extra hungry.

The tribe walked easily across beachside plains, the ground firm and dry, as only thin bladed grasses were able to find purchase in the gritty mix of soil that ran alongside Uwama.

The heels of the travois hissed through the sand and Eku felt strong, exhilarated by his success at harvest.

How fortunate that Inka picked him!

Eku reminded himself to keep practicing with a keri stick—and now with the ula-konto!

Krele, coming up from behind, increased her pace to join Eku, who noted that his mother had folded skins in a carrying pack over her shoulders, which probably should have gone into the travois that he and Yathi were pulling.

Krele saw Eku smiling, despite the labor.

Clicked, though she already had his attention and said, “Must have been a good throw.”

Eku’s smile broadened.

“I knew the turaco had only one direction to rise from the branch, so I threw where it would leap.”

“You made Inka happy. The feathers are bright red. Very beautiful, like she is, yes?”

Yathi moaned loudly and said, “Inka is sooo beautiful.”

Eku said nothing, but the darkening wave across his face was all too apparent.

Krele grinned, but turned away to hide it, knowing her sweet child didn’t understand why he blushed; though, Eku would soon enough.

The entire tribe walked as one group, something that rarely happened.

Eku was thrilled to see everyone together, especially his father, but wondered: the more experienced hunters normally advanced ahead, to establish a safe path.

Why weren’t they doing that now?

***

The Abantu hiked across one beautiful beach after another through the remainder of the day and part of the next, to arrive at a sanded promontory that curled into Uwama, almost like an eagle talon, Eku thought.

The long swath of bleached sand ended at a barrier of mangroves.

Eku was startled by the sharp contrast: smooth and yellow beach ending abruptly at a solid green barrier set atop dark roots jammed into the water like interwoven fingers.

The Abantu would replenish here.

Prepare for the next stage of the pilgrimage.

The people set up camp in the central area of the long and wide beach, well above the line of high tide.

At this stage of sika-yaka, rain was rare; thus, the encampment was kept modest: just a few shelters using poles and skins. Many young couples opted to simply cluster bed mats and supplies around fire pits.

Once the perimeter was established, children like Eku and Yathi immediately gathered driftwood.

Hunters buried bladders of nectar in the hot sand and disappeared into the forest, to later return with duiker.

While camp was kept simple, the mothers and benzi-kusela were preparing for a feast.

Cores gathered from the marula were crushed to grind and mix with nectar to make delicious and hearty sweet cakes.

Melon nuts were seasoned and spread across grass mats to bake under Ulanga.

Eku and Yathi participated in the harvest of turtles and any available ubhak-unda, a phrase the Abantu used for the many kinds of fresh and saltwater shellfish they enjoyed eating.

At one end of the beach, the young people moved delicately across slippery stones strewn with seaweed, using cutters to scrape mussels free from the rocks.

At the other end of the beach, they waded and swam amongst the mangroves and rooted out oysters.

***

Young Abantu were obligated to keep up with the never-ending gathering of layit-umlilo, which meant fuel for fire.

With every available piece of driftwood snatched up during the arrangement of camp, the young people looked elsewhere.

Away from the water, Eku and Yathi got their first look at the jungle, which ran alongside the promontory opposite the water and intersected with the mangroves further down the beach.

Where the sand ended, a mountain of green rose. The jungle was a new and intimidating kind of forest. Equally as dense as mangroves, but towering much higher.

The lower boughs of the great trees drooped in a weeping pattern to touch the sand, while equally dense branches rose in successive layers to a tremendous height.

Eku had never seen such a labyrinth of branches and vines, a great green wall that portrayed the same solidity as a mountain rising from Umawa.

“I do not want to go in there,” Yathi said.

As though expelled in disgust from the vibrant growth lay a fringe of dead branches, stripped of bark and whitened, piled along the strip of shade between jungle and sand.

Eku and Yathi—all of the young people, hurriedly dragged heaps of the potent fuel back to camp to where a bonfire was taking form, just beyond the reach of high tide.

The friendly beach and water seemed the alter ego to what lay behind them.

While the jungle’s dark and forbidding barrier invoked danger, Uwama expanded endlessly, inspiring the mind to sail away on Ulayo’s adventurous breath.

Calm at the moment, the salted water was a brilliant shade of laza and green that stretched to the beginning and end of the world.

Yathi asked, “Why are we burning those?”

The bonfire pile was a bird's nest of branches and debris, already grown taller than an adult. Tossed into the mish-mash were the long poles and heavy skins the tribe was using for shelters and travois.

Perplexed, Eku said, “I do not know.”

//

He looked around for Yat or his mother, but there were many people on the beach; in fact, at the moment, Eku guessed the entire tribe was currently scattered about camp, noting that the more experienced hunters who accompanied his father while scouting, were also enjoying a time of leisure on the sand.

The few shelters that had been erected were clustered at the center.

Adults and children mingled in familial groups.

Eku heaved his supply of branches onto the bonfire pile and took another look around.

The food preparation area lay in the direction of the mangroves.

Large fire pits were dug into the sand, filled with layit-umlilo and ringed by rocks or logs.

Duiker carcasses skewered on poles were hoisted into position to fully drain, the lower legs and heads already removed; though, the bodies remained with fur on until just before roasting.

Triangular trestles were erected, already hung with thin strips of meat and sinew in preparation for curing.

Past the food prep area, Eku found Yat, walking along the damp waterline with her female friends Tar and Maz, three poofs catching Ulayo’s breath to swing over their jungle-side shoulders.

Yat would know why they were burning their supplies, but she was too far away to holler with so many people around; besides, she would probably tease him for not knowing.

Eku waited for Yathi to heave his sticks onto the top of the pile and said, “Maybe we are going to make new skins and poles?”

Yathi stepped away from the bonfire pile and looked at Eku.

Glanced up and down the beach as Eku just had, while moving both hands in a circular pattern, as though to indicate what was all around, saying, “This is sika-yaka, you know? We should be cold without skins. But here, we are not. This place is nice.”

Startled, Eku realized how correct Yathi was.

They were comfortable on the beach wearing only loincloths, even at night; whereas, were they at home during this stage of the cycle?

Eku guessed that Ulayo’s breath would feel chilly.

And definitely, once Ulanga disappeared and darkness fell?

The air grew very cold, keeping even the hardiest wearing skins during the day and sleeping inside shelters through the night.

“I do not want to go in there,” Yathi repeated.

Eku saw he was still looking at the jungle. Took a step closer to his ikanabe and they shared a mutual look of distrust before looking at the forbidding wall of green.

“We must,” Eku said. “It is part of our journey to the land of legend.”

“I know. But I like it here. We can go swimming whenever we want. This is almost like home, you know? I hope you are right and we stay here and make new poles and skins.”

Eku said nothing.

How different things have become?

And not just the birds and beasts, but the shape and texture of Umawa and even the strength of Ulanga’s fire.

What would they encounter in a jungle?

***

Despite repeated protests from Yathi, fasting was strictly enforced through the tribe’s final, full day at the beautiful beach.

Eku and Yathi began daily chores by following Lume and other izik-kosa into the mangroves.

Adults used knives and axes to shear away thick branches, which were cut to a manageable length and passed to Eku and Yathi, who waded or swam back and forth to izik-kosa waiting on the sand, who then used the ultra-sharp blades of carving knives to strip the outer bark, then meticulously peeled away a layer of yellowish, inner bark, which was stuffed into turtle shell bowls and mixed with greasy clay, fine ashe from the fire pits and water from Uwama.

The turtle shell bowls were covered with leaves and left to bake under Ulanga’s hot gaze for the remainder of the day.

Returning across the beach, Eku saw the entire encampment was busy.

Many of the young adults focused on food preparation and cooking, while an equal number worked on special outfits.

Awls and three-holed bone tools were in high demand for sewing and weaving cordage.

The adults wove strings of plant fiber to make cordage and repair fancy robes of feathers, while others decorated vests with ostrich beads and feathers, while still others crafted masks to fit over the face.

When Ulanga fled below the jungle wall, day turned to dusk.

Fire was added to the bonfire pile, having grown to the height of three adults standing on top of each other, wide at the base and tapered at the top, a pyramidal tribute squatting before Uwama.

In addition to a vast amount of highly potent, dry wood, all refuse from camp was added, including old skins, bed mats, bones and a variety of waste and scraps.

The young people watched impatiently as waka-waka small fires curled individual paths across the mounded mish-mash.

Gray and then black smoke coiled and thickened.

By the time flames began to lick the darkening sky, billowing smoke was seized by Ulaya to begin rolling down the beach between water and sand, a tumbling black cloud that sent Eku and Yathi racing along with waka-waka young people.

Eku and Yathi giggled while trying to keep up with the rapidly extending arm of smoke.

Finally, yanked upward by Ulayo, the smoke faded above Uwama into the gray sky and the young people came to a stop.

“Maybe we are making new storm clouds,” Yathi said looking upward, the two of them breathing heavily.

They turned with the others to hoof it back to a bonfire, now roaring.

The potent layit-umlilo was fully ablaze, yellow tongues tearing into the black with joy and fury.

Like everyone, Eku and Yathi were forced to stand at a good distance, due to the heat.

Once the bonfire settled into an enormous, glowing mound of orange, the pale face of Yanga had risen over the dark-slated backdrop of Uwama.

Yanga always follows the path set by his father, Tiuti explained to Eku.

The curious, high-pitched voice of the old master often echoed in his mind.

“When Yanga first rises, he is especially large, but shrinks and brightens as he moves higher, but that is only because of the way our eyes can deceive us,” Tiuti told him.

Tonight, Yanga’s face was round and nearly full, which for an Abantu, meant high tides and good health.

Behind him, Eku knew, was the impenetrable black of the jungle, while before him, Yanga reflected off the impenetrable black of Uwama’s salted water.

We are in the middle, Eku thought, where life is.

That was what the elders said: where Uwama and Umawa meet together to give life to the world.

Adults brought forth drums of hollowed logs and bound skin.

Time for the feast!

Steady drumming roused the young adults into rhythmic bouncing.

Despite being ravenously hungry, the young people were too excited to wait for food.

Eku and Yathi were at the center of a horde of youth that tore about the encampment periphery.

Behind them, the bonfire was a yellow beacon with groups of adults milling about.

Yanga bright above.

The sand cool and crisp.

Eku and Yathi sprinted madly about in games of tag and chase.

Once enough excess energy was burned off, the young people splashed into the cool of Uwama before returning to the bonfire.

***

Yat, Tar and Maz danced joyously with other young females.

Their hair was loose and combed down backs and shoulders, rising and falling to the steady cadence of the drummers.

Shakers in each hand, the young and agile dancers added a cha-ching to the thud of the percussion, a nice effect, or at least Eku thought so; as did the waka-waka young males who orbited the females like moths to a flame.

Dokuk, Odi and Tuve were amongst those gawking at the dancers from the periphery.

Until she cut her hair, an Abantu female only danced with other females.

When the drumming stopped, so did the dancing and a great shouting arose.

Food was ready!

A true feast, as good as they ever had on the southern shores.

There were piles of sweet cakes garnished with sweet berries.

Roasted duiker.

Heaps of mussels, oysters, clams and exotic ubhak-unda.

Juicy figs and plums.

The people used grass mats or melon-shell bowls and settled anywhere on the sand where there was space.

After repeated visits, fully gorged, Eku and Yathi staggered over to Krele and Shona, already planted on grass mats in front of the bonfire.

A number of mats were now arranged around the bonfire.

The exclusive, half-circle seating area was for the mothers, whose non-adult children were allowed to sit with them. Yat sat next to Krele and Shona. Eku saw Maz and Tar with their mothers, along with Dokuk, Goguk, who sat with Luvu.

Eku clicked softly at Yat, who made a face at him, but moved her butt so that Eku and Yathi could squeeze in.

As more and more people settled into seated positions around the glowing coals, Ulayo blew a sudden breath, sending sparks zig-zagging through the air in the direction the young people chased the smoke.

Eku spotted his father pacing in the shadows along the smooth sand next to the water.

Kaleni’s head was bent as he paced purposefully back and forth. Fists clenched.

Though he could see such detail from a distance, Eku knew his lips were drawn tight as he muttered to himself.

Concentrating.

Using his mind to remember and rehearse.

Kaleni was to perform a song from the land of legend.

Songs are a vital part of Abantu culture.

Songs were the way the Abantu told stories.

How they shared their history.

Songs were the way an Abantu mother introduced a child to harvest.

And because there are many kinds of harvests, there were many songs for harvest.

As well songs for hunting and for most any daily task.

Songs were for joyous occasions, such as births and when a female cut her hair.

And songs were especially valued for when the Abantu shared communal grief, as during periods of mourning.

Kaleni looked impressive, with a loincloth of spotted genet and a thick leopard belt around the waist.

He walked between where the tribe was gathered and the bonfire and there were murmurs of greeting and expressions of admiration.

As always, Eku noted with tremendous pride the four curved talons that hung pale against the sweaty muscles of his father’s chest.

The full claw of a fish eagle.

An extraordinary honor.

The highest a hunter can attain.

Kaleni stood between the crowd and the coals.

Nervous and hot.

And Eku knew why his father was nervous.

Kaleni would bravely face down a charging lion, but singing?

While there was certainly no doubt that Eku’s father was the greatest hunter, he was not a particularly good singer.

Not that Eku was either.

Yat and Yathi, on the other hand?

They were very good singers, like his mother.

Actually, Eku found that most mothers were good at singing songs … For some reason.

But Eku also knew—as did any Abantu—that for songs that told stories, the beauty of one’s voice did not matter.

Only the enthusiasm with which a story was told.

Kaleni leaped and gestured with extravagance, so that sweat sprayed as he told of the hunters’ struggles through fetid swamp lands, when suddenly, they were face to face with the largest water buffalo they had ever seen.

Water buffalo are notoriously angry and the crowd murmured with apprehensive comradery.

Encouraged, Kaleni jumped and gestured, bellowing out how the beast was two or even three the size of a buffalo found in their homeland!

The body was simply enormous!

There was much clicking and even some “oohs” and “ahhs”, which helped  Kaleni’s confidence.

Kaleni sang out that the mighty buffalo was as long as an elephant, with a magnificent spread of horns!

Eliciting much more clicking and “oohing” and “ahhing”, Kaleni sang how the horns started thick as an adult’s waist and spread wide before curving forward to taper to a sharp point.

He sang how the elephant-sized buffalo unexpectedly retreated from their group, snorting loudly, lowering the massive horns dangerously, but backing steadily away, as though considering the hunters a threat, despite their diminutive size.

Eku could not help but wonder what would make such a formidable beast behave in such a manner?

Kaleni finished and there was much clicking and clapping.

The drummers resumed pounding and the adults brought forth bladders of fermented nectar.

The feasting and dancing continued.

***

When the adults suddenly vacated the bonfire, young people seized the opportunity.

Odi and Tuve took up the drumming and many dashed about gathering shakers.

All of the young people danced madly.

When Yat, Tar and Maz danced next to the drummers, Odi and Tuve pounded faster and faster while the young people tried to keep up.

When they at least collapsed to the sand in sweating laughter, the adults were returning.

Females came first, wearing beautiful robes of feathers that cascaded down like the many leaflets of a giant palm leaf.

Robes of spectacular flamingo, white and pink feathers. Robes of yellow, laza and ocher from storks and herons. Some robes were highlighted with the accent feathers from parakeets, including yellow and orange, red and green.

Yathi squealed with excitement, pointing a finger so that Eku could check out Inka, who wore a spectacular robe of pink flamingo, with a cap of scarlet turaco feathers framing her head.

Eku felt proud.

He watched Inka dance and felt a kind of longing.

Her moves were graceful, reminding Eku of … Not a real bird or a cat but … Something similar.

Sensual and breathtakingly beautiful.

The males returned, wearing leopard or genet loincloths and belts.

Others wore masks decorated to look ferocious, like lions, leopards, elephants and water buffalo.

The drummers began pounding and shakers raised a cicada-like rattle.

The adults formed alternating lines and circled the fire in opposing directions.

Bouncing to the drums.

The young Abantu joined in.

The drumming and shakers grew louder and faster and soon everyone, even Tiuti, danced madly.

Interwoven lines of movement.

Females in feathered robes like great birds, the males leaping like cats.

Eku and Yathi fit themselves into a line and circled the fire, hollering and laughing, switching from one line and one direction to the other.

To the horror of the young Abantu, males began tearing off their masks and painstakingly cured pelts, heaving them onto the hot coals to burst into flames.

Adult females stripped next, removing their beautiful robes, some lovingly maintained for generations.

The dry feathers explode into showers of sparks.

Eku and Yathi—all of the young people, moved away, stunned by the behavior of the adults.

The drumming and dancing began again, with great fervor.

Yathi and Eku stood together along the periphery, with the tribe’s young people.

Watching the adults.

All naked, moving vigorously so that sweat sprayed from their bodies.

Eku saw Inka one last time, still looking so graceful, wearing only the halo of red feathers, lithe body glistening in the firelight.

The erection under his loincloth was in a painful state, but neither he or Yathi could look away.

The fresh flames died down.

Adults paired off and disappeared to dark areas of the beach.

The young people brought forth bed mats to arrange themselves around the smoldering fire.

Magic had entered Eku’s world.

The magic of beachside song and dance.

And because he was here, at this place, at this moment, Eku knew that future Abantu would feast and sing songs about them being here.

Someday.

He fell into a deep sleep.

Awoke and shuffled through rows of slumbering bodies to pee where Uwama kissed the sand.

Looked up to see Yanga had followed his father behind the dark jungle, leaving a spread of stars bright enough to purple the sky.

The sound of Uwama’s caress soothed and encouraged more sleep.

Eku paced from the water back to his bed mat, warm between Yat and Yathi.

The fire was a mound of glowing embers from which ripples of Abantu slept all around.

Eku’s last thought before the surf lulled him back to sleep was there are no more travois to pull.