Chapter 3

Jungle

Eku woke up excited to start the new day, as always.

The sky was empty and dark; neither Ulanga nor Yanga showed their faces, encouraging the eyes to close again.

But that irrepressible voice whispered to Eku.

Go.

Explore.

Be a hunter.

Opened his eyes to gaze into the empty slate above.

Turned his head side to side. Yat and Yathi breathed deeply, all around a tangle of arms and torsos and legs. Intermittent snorers blended with the splash and thump of Uwama’s caress.

Bird calls wafted from the jungle and Eku stood, instantly shivering away from the warmth of Yat and Yathi.

Figured he could take care of his bed mat later and tread carefully through rows of people cuddled together.

Vigorously rubbed the palms of his hands against his upper arms and chest to coax his body warmer, while looking around.

Ulanga lurked below Uwama, but his coming added a glow to the center of the horizon, enough to show choppy, dull gray water intersecting with a flat beach, pale and featureless.

Eku wandered through the feast area, past blackened cooking pits, enjoying the feel of chilled sand under the toes.

Always crisp and fresh to start the day.

His young body quickly warmed and he felt a surge of energy and fought down the urge to run down the beach. Just for fun.

Eku knew better.

Running in a strange place was a good—or more likely bad—way to invite unwanted attention from a curious predator, such as a leopard, silly enough to have ventured close to watch the humans.

Hunters scouted the area, of course, but predators were nosy and always on the move.

Eku eyed the jungle, a good distance away; not really worried, but the Abantu practiced caution and safety protocol above all, even one as adventurous as Eku.

He paced through an army of crawling crabs that poked through the litter of fruit rinds, empty bladders, bones and varied scraps.

Those crabs would bid a hasty retreat for the water as soon as Ulanga cast light enough for sharp-eyed seagulls.

And the day was quickly brightening.

Eku glanced over a shoulder, past waka-waka sleeping bodies and saw couples wandering the beach in the opposite direction.

Tiuti was not amongst them … Probably sleeping off the effects of the fermented juice, as most of the other adults.

Before Eku, in the direction of the mangroves, the sand spread wide and empty, turning light brown as Ulanga’s yellow eye peeked over.

Eku dashed into the water up to his ankles and lifted his loincloth to pee.

Splashed back to the darkened margin of sand and strolled away from the encampment.

Ulayo’s breath was steady with a briny scent, the sky cloudless and pale, like the ivory of an elephant tusk with a sheen of laza.

The people had cleared the area of all driftwood or dried seaweed and the pristine beach stretched flat to the mangroves.

 Waka-waka birds used the open area as a throughway.

Brown pelicans flew close enough overhead for Eku to hear the individual wingbeats, like quick gasps of air.

Looked up to watch the big bodies pass directly over, enormous orange gulars the same color as their tucked feet, necks pulled back, pointing the big beak straight into the breath of Ulayo, flapping three or four strokes to rise and then glide, slowly sinking.

And repeat.

White egrets, with narrow, yellow beaks raced past single file in the opposite direction, in staggered formation, riding Ulayo’s breath with their wings held on a plane, Eku’s keen eyes noting how the elbows revealed constant adjustments.

Sandpipers, ivory and v-shaped sped by at knee level, the black feathers at the tips of the wings almost, but never touching the sand.

Tiuti said that birds, with their wings and tails and feathers, touch and move the breath of Ulayo, the same way an Abantu touches and feels the water of Uwama when swimming, but with our hands and feet and skin.

Tiuti was a constant voice in Eku’s mind.

Reminding him that because the air was light, Umawa only allowed feathered birds to fly; whereas, Uwama’s water was heavy; thus, only strong beasts like fish and turtles and seals could swim.

Which of course, was why being an Abantu was so special.

Being an Abantu meant you were blessed to receive from both Uwama and Umawa.

Still, Eku thought, it would be exhilarating to be a bird.

If he had to be something other than an Abantu, of course.

Maybe a leopard or an elephant?

No.

Impressive, but no.

But a bird might be good.

The flying part, especially.

But if he had to be a bird, Eku wouldn’t be a silly squawking seabird, he would be a fish eagle—but still with his own mind and thoughts, of course.

He followed a group of gulls streaming low across the beach and saw people.

At first, Eku thought his mind was playing tricks.

As though materialized from the green-shadowed wall of mangroves at the end of the beach, he counted seven vertical figures, Ulanga casting shadows long.

Maybe some of the tallest Abantu wandered away from camp last night and were only now returning?

No.

Those people were not Abantu.

Seven males approached at a leisurely pace, wearing simple loincloths that only covered the genital area.

Too far to see their features, Eku could tell they were different, as all of them had hair cut like a melon husk bowl evenly around their head, the hair on top thick and long, tied in a ponytail that stuck straight up.

They carried long spears, but nothing else.

Now Eku did run—straight back to camp.

***

“Strange Abantu,” Eku cried at a full sprint.

“Abantu are coming who are not Abantu-Uwama,” he bellowed at the first awake adult he saw, which luckily was Nibamaz, a stalwart hunter and ikanabe to his father, which made Nibamaz more like an uncle.

Having just woken, Nibamaz crouched on his haunches, away from the sleeping people, in front of a fire pit used for the feast preparation, poking through the ashes, hoping to find hot coals underneath.

He wore only a well-worn loincloth and a high, leopard-skin belt around the waist. Knives and axes hung from holsters sewn into the belt.

As a hunter, he wore no jewelry other than the necklace: a strap of cordage with a pendant that held one or more talons of the fish eagle.

Nibamaz, like Eku’s father, had all four talons, a revered accomplishment.

Eku felt fortunate to have been born to his father, who, with Nibamaz, was considered by the elders to be the most capable hunting ikanabe in memory.

Kaleni and Nibamaz were ibe-bonakalio in all environments and masters of their weapons. All of the best, young hunters now trained under their keen eyes and guidance.

And, of course, Kaleni and Nibamaz would forever be enshrined in song as the scouts who led the Abantu and Mantel to the land of legend.

When Nibamaz saw Eku running full speed, he quickly stood, holding out a hand in a way to show all was well.

“We are expecting visitors, Eku. That would be the Abantu-Mantel.”

“People of the forest!?” he shouted, digging heels into the sand for a skidding halt.

The word mantel was used for the forests north of the coast, where the southern plateau rose to mountains, and where the Abantu sheltered through the chilliest part of sika-yaka.

Smiling at Eku’s excitement, Nibamaz said, “Mantel means to their language what Abantu means to us. They are here to guide us.”

He motioned in the direction of the approaching strangers and added, “They know this land, Eku. This is where they live. Your father and I and other Abantu have met them at this beach before. During the long journeys we made. They are our friends.”

He crouched back to his haunches to toss sticks onto the coals he unearthed.

Still breathing hard from the run, Eku blurted, “They are very tall!”

Nibamaz only laughed and Eku didn’t understand why. At first.

Shortly after the Mantel entered camp, he recognized his mistake, realizing his eyes had played tricks on him: the Mantel were barely taller than he was; in fact, the tallest was still shorter than Eku’s father, who was average height for an Abantu.

***

The Mantel of the forest, like the Abantu of the ocean, survived the terrible times by maintaining a stable population across a sheltered plain.

Their homeland was a mosaic of forested streams and ponds, wedged between inhospitable river deltas to the north and south, and mangrove forests buttressing the ocean to the east.

While exploring up the coast from the south, the Abantu hunters travelled through the land of the Mantel.

The meetings were friendly.

The Mantel language shared root words with the Abantu language and over the next generations, strong friendships developed amongst the exploring hunters.

Hunters from each tribe began joining forces to send scouting parties further up the coast.

The co-discovery of the land of legend had the Mantel eager to join the Abantu to establish a foothold in the new region.

The plan was for the two groups to unite at the Limpopo River, the first of several, formidable rivers the people would forge in their inexorable push north.

***

Looking at where the mangroves merged with dark forest caused Eku trepidation.

One could only imagine the beasts that stalked and slithered within the dark confines of those towering trees.

While on the beach, the green wall had become a barrier of safety, separating the friendly beach world from … Whatever waited within.

And when left to the imagination of a young Abantu?

The jungle inspired many scary beasts, real and imagined.

Eku reminded himself of what father said about unproven truths and superstitions.

Trust what Umawa offers your mind.

And always—pay attention!

Eku and Yathi stood near the center of the tribe, gathered at the end of the beach, a triangular area where sand, jungle and mangroves collided.

The people were organized into three groups; each group would include at least one of the Mantel as a guide.

The lead group was only select hunters, all of whom wore two or more talons of the fish eagle. They were led by Kaleni and Nibamaz. A Mantel named Umthi would escort them.

Yat told Eku she heard their father talk of Umthi many times, a revered Mantel hunter; someone who knew this land like no one else.

Kaleni, Nibamaz and Umthi would chart the path that everyone else followed.

The second group also included hunters, all capable, but young and wearing only a single talon. That group included Kozik, Yathi’s older brother.

The last group was by far the largest and included everyone else.

“This is strange, with no more travois,” Eku said.

“For sure,” Yathi replied, fidgeting, trying to see past the people standing all around.

Eku wore a springhair loincloth, keri stick dangling. A well-worn, sealskin vest was draped over his shoulders, wrapped around the waist and tied with cordage to stay snug against the body.

His bed mat was rolled tight and attached to the sealskin satchel, which hung down his back.

Eku proudly held his ula-konto vertically, haft currently resting on the sand, a wrap of hide secured over the pointy end.

Yathi was similarly equipped, but did not carry a spear.

Adults wore full sacks across their backs. Axes, knives, keri sticks and other tools hung from loincloths or from cordage straps tied around the waist or over the shoulders.

Yathi, who often gestured with his hands when excited or nervous, began moving both.

“I do not want to go in there,” he said, something he had been saying with more frequency until this very moment.

Motioned with two hands toward the trees, looming so tall.

Eku peered over the heads of the adults.

A menacing green wall, for sure.

“It is safe,” he said for Yathi’s sake, sounding more confident than he felt.

“I know,” Yathi said, “But I do not like it.”

Eku felt pride when scattered calls and clicking accompanied the first departure.

As the lead hunters disappeared into the green, people shouted for good fortune.

A strong voice rose above all the others to cry, isipo-kee!, in a manner that invoked help from the ancestors.

***

The Abantu speak in a tonal language, where the same word has multiple meanings.

Clicks were used as simple words.

Clicks were mostly made using the tongue against the roof of the mouth.

High-pitched snaps generally meant something positive, such as yes or agreement.

A dull click meant something bad or disagreement or simply no.

The meaning of clicks could depend on the circumstances and was often customized between friends and siblings to mean almost anything.

Eku and Yathi shuffled closer to where their mothers stood, Yat, Tar and Maz amongst them.

The young females wore loincloths of soft springhare, but no vests. Their hair was coiled and netted on top of their heads. Each had a good-sized satchel strapped to her back.

Eku noted the axe made by his uncle, hanging from Maz’s loincloth.

He liked Maz.

While checking out the new ax, Eku happened to notice Maz had rather nice looking thighs.

Wondered why such a thought never occurred to him before.

He checked on Yathi again, still looking nervously where Krele stood with Shona, talking with Doagu, Yathi’s older sister.

Doagu was raised in the same laba-ini as Yat, but was now mated to Iti, a young hunter who would be with Kozik in the next group to enter the jungle.

Doagu wore a vest of soft seal skin; a satchel hung over her back. She had on a cap with spirals of ostrich beads for decoration, a clever design that Eku thought made her look like she still had hair. Her loincloth was small and triangular and a thick belt of ferret wound around the hips below a belly that jutted out below the vest.

Doagu’s legs were long, like Kozik’s; she was one of the tribe’s tallest females.

And she was very pregnant.

“Maybe we should stay here,” Yathi said, still looking at his sister. “Maybe for the rest of sika-yaka. I like this beach.”

“For sure,” Eku said; though now that his father and the lead hunters were gone, he couldn’t wait to get started.

Feeling her little brother’s gaze, Doago pointed her laza eyes toward Yathi and Eku. Smiled and winked encouragement.

Everyone knew Yathi preferred the open spaces of the coastline, which made sense, as Lume loved to sing songs about their ancestors being an island people.

Eku prodded Yathi in the arm and pointed where the second group of hunters was about to set forth.

Each young hunter had a full backpack of supplies and wore a belt with holsters of axes and knives.

All of the hunters carried ula-konto and many had a second spear attached to their backpack.

Kozik stood with Ingwabi, his ikanabe.

Kozik had the brown eyes of his mother, Shona and resembled her in bearing and contenance; whereas, Yathi and Doagu favored their father.

Yathi tossed a wave at Doago while muttering to Eku, “I do not want to see any snakes.”

“We follow the same path as everyone else,” Eku said. “We will be safe.”

Yathi stuck out his lower lip and used both hands to indicate his sister and brother.

“I am glad we are in the last group, with Doagu and our mothers and the izik-kosa. I do not want to be a hunter, like Kozik.”

Looked at Eku apologetically, adding, “Like you do.”

Eku slapped Yathi’s sturdy shoulder and clicked not to worry, saying, “My father and Nibamaz were here before. And Juka and Lopi and some of the other hunters.”

“I am scared because we are leaving Uwama.”

“We do that all the time.”

“I know, but this is different.”

Eku looked at Yathi and asked, “You have a bad feeling?”

Yathi stuck out his lower lip, shrugged and said, “Maybe I just like this beach. It’s nice and safe. We could stay here longer.”

***

The group in which Eku and Yathi would march included all of the children and mothers.

Lume and the izik-kosa brought up the tail of the parade, some of them carrying the hunters’ javelins, others carrying equally formidable, tree-felling axes rested over a shoulder.

Eku spotted Dokuk and Odi, winding through the crowd, Goguk trailing.

Dokuk grinned at Eku, while Odi and Goguk looked nervous, similar to Yathi.

Odi, nearly as tall as Dokuk, wore his prized sealskin vest, as always. He painstakingly decorated the softened pelt using ostrich shell beads and pieces of bright shells. A black and white striped genet tail hung along the spine and squirrel tails dangled from the waistline.

Odi was occasionally teased by other males his age, but it was affectionate teasing, as no one dared take it too far because that would mean answering to Dokuk.

Eku found Odi interesting, despite—or perhaps because of—his reflective quietness.

Like Yathi, Odi did not aspire to be a hunter.

Hunters only hunted in pairs or teams of pairs.

Many ikanabe became hunters together, and were thus paired together as hunters.

Hunters who were not joined by their childhood ikanabe, were paired with a hunter of a similar background.

Because neither Yathi nor Odi desired to be hunters, Eku knew that both he and Dokuk would require a hunting partner.

Thus, if Eku and Dokuk became hunters at the same time?

Well, then he and Dokuk could be partners … Possibly even great hunting partners, similar to his father and Nibamaz.

Eku could not help but idolize Dokuk (all of the young males did).

And while Eku knew that Dokuk was practically an adult, for some time now, Eku could not help but overhear the comments made by other hunters of his remarkable abilities at such a young age.

Eku could not help but imagine a scenario where he and Dokuk would be paired as hunters.

Dokuk puffed out his chest to act brave and said, mostly for the sake of Goguk and Yathi, “The five of us will march together. Do not be afraid! The jungle is like a forest, but with more trees and bigger.”

Yat, having spotted Dokuk’s approach, slipped past the mothers and Doagu, with Tar and Maz trailing.

They came up behind Dokuk and Yat said, “This is much more difficult than the forests at home. There are lots of swamps and many snakes.”

Goguk and Yathi clicked their disgust and Yat smirked.

Eku thought it miraculous how she and the other young females fit all that hair into netted buns atop their heads.

Yat sidled closer to Dokuk, who suddenly looked silly, instead of brave.

“This land is scary,” Yathi said. “I do not want to go in there.”

“For sure,” Yat replied. “But I was teasing. The jungle is safe as long as we are careful.

“Do not be silly. You know our father has been here before. And Nibimaz and Juka and Lopi. I heard them talk of the Mantel many times.

“The Mantel know this forest. They live here and will guide us safely. We will travel with them in the jungle for a few days, and then there will be forest more like at home. And more savannah.”

As always, Eku was impressed by Yat (even though she drove him crazy) and asked, “Are we going where the Mantel live?”

Yat clicked yes and said, “After we cross a great river, we will be in the part of Umawa the Mantel call home. Father says it is very nice. Lots of freshwater and good food.

“We will travel through their land and some of them will be coming to live with us in the land of legend.”

***

Foreboding thoughts were all but forgotten once the hard work of hiking through the dense jungle forest began.

Eku marveled at the size of the trees, three or four times the width of those in the forested regions of home—trees he once thought of as large!

Unlike the other trees Eku saw growing on land, giant jungle tree roots started well above the ground, gripping into Umawa like the talons of a monstrous eagle to support a mountainous trunk of roughly textured, dark gray bark.

Wide as an elephant at the base, each bundle of giant, claw-like roots thrust a massive trunk upward to separate into giant branches that soared to a canopy so dense only the small specks of Ulanga glimmered through; even the brightest of days, instantly turned twilight.

The air was rank with a scent not unlike seaweed washed on the beach to cook under Ulanga’s hot gaze.

And the noise!

Something Eku did not expect.

A cacophony of birds, but loudest of all—monkeys!

With no baboons, the jungle must be a monkey’s paradise, Eku thought.

A troop greeted them as soon as they were awash in the green, racing along mid-level branches to screech at the trespassers.

Similar in body shape to the brown and gray vervet monkeys found across the Abantu homeland, but larger. The legs and arms were solid black; whereas, the rest of the fur was stippled with white, suggesting a hue of laza.

Eku noted small, yellowish eyes set close over a snout shorter than a baboon’s.

Their furry cheeks puffed out like a squirrel’s when overloaded, giving them, he thought, a permanent look of indignant surprise.

Obviously, they did not appreciate the intrusion.

Screaming and throwing sticks and even pieces of excrement.

Yathi laughed, shouting, “Those monkeys are worse than Yat when she gets angry.”

“I heard that!” came Yat’s voice from somewhere out of the greenery ahead.

Yathi brought a hand to his mouth, eyes widening.

Dokuk, watching out of the corner of his eye, smirked. He would gain favor by telling Yat of Yathi’s reaction later.

***

Green, Eku thought.

And birds.

At least the sounds of birds.

Sightings were rare.

Because of all the green.

Green green green.

Eku soon realized there were surreptitious glimpses of color.

One just had to pay attention!

Slender, light green vines wreathed with clusters of orange, star-shaped flowers appeared draped across the mid-level canopy.

And were gone.

Passing beneath dark green vines thick as his finger, Eku spotted conical flowers of lavender, but when he turned for a second look, it was as though they disappeared.

Into the green.

Large vines, thick as his arm, grew like small trees, rising from the snarls of tree roots to disappear into a solid mass of leafage.

The thickest vines sprouted branches like slender arms that ended with spread fingers tipped by tiny white flowers, often swarming with blood red ants the Mantel warned the Abantu to never touch.

The tumult of bird noise rose and fell.

Songs and calls.

To pass the time, Eku tried to distinguish the different calls emerging from the multi-textured ceiling of green.

Songs were chirps and melodious notes, sometimes short, sometimes long and complex.

Calls between mated pairs featured sweet whistles and conversant croaks.

Squabbling rivals exchanged harsh shrieks and abrasive rattles.

Eku and Yathi especially enjoyed the short marches through dense patches of giant ferns.

The people filed through no more than two or three astride, Eku and Yathi holding out their hands so their fingers brushed across the symmetrically distinct fronds that lined the tunnel walls.

Wherever one of the great trees recently fell, the tribe circumvented impenetrable bamboo, the culms so closely-packed that not even a tiny child could squeeze through.

The ground was strange.

Eku did not like the clay-like mud squeezing between his toes.

With so many feet treading before him, it was impossible to avoid the squishy muck.

Thick roots criss-crossed in every direction, either rough and grippy like old bones, or smooth and slippery, like an exposed shell.

Insects hovered and buzzed, particularly mosquitoes that Eku found larger and more aggressive than at home.

The first time the tribe stopped, bladders with a thick liquid were passed around, the liquid being the result of the mangrove bark mix cooked on the beach.

Eku and Yathi slapped paste on each other, not minding the rank smell because the bugs instantly disappeared.

Progress was a difficult, slow plod through endless vegetation, with an occasional, unavoidable slog through swamp, where they used spears and ax handles to pull each other through the muck.

The swamp portions were disgusting and filled with leeches, but there was always a narrow, clear running stream near the middle to pluck off the leeches and get clean, the water delicious and refreshing, where only a handbreadth away, it became fetid, choked with weeds and algae.

Above all else, the first day in the jungle was exhausting.

When the lead hunters found an area flat and dry enough, the tribe stopped and cut away brush to make camp.

***

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, the constant twilight of day fell into an absolute black the Abantu were not familiar or comfortable with.

But the noise?

Eku was astonished at a dramatic increase in sound.

Expecting the opposite; instead, the jungle turned up the volume at night.

From every direction, insects came forth to wage warfare with a barrage of chirping and buzzing, accompanied by waves of clicking and whining. Adding significantly to the chorus were the endless variety of tree frogs, featuring endless sessions of grunting and whistling, as well as frenzied competitions between croakers and squeakers.

Darkness was so complete that movement within camp would not be possible without fires.

After a meal of leftover cakes, dried fruit and jerked meat from the beach feast, Yat, Eku and Yathi lay side by side, mashed together, even though it was warm and sticky.

Eku lay on his back and held a hand to his face, but couldn’t see fingers.

The noise of the jungle was a visceral, ambient hum.

Using stomach muscles, Eku pulled himself to a seated position to see the glow of the nearest fire.

“I do not like the jungle,” Yathi said out of the black beside him. “It smells. I want to go swimming. There are too many bugs and too many vines. I keep thinking the roots are snakes. And I itch. I do not like this paste all over my body.”

“Think about something else,” Eku said, settling back down.

“It is too loud in here.”

“Uwama was this loud. Sometimes.”

“Those were waves. Or a storm. And we were home. We should have made shelters.”

Yat said from the other side of Eku, “It would not have been worth the effort. There are no small trees or water grasses or palm leaves.”

She grunted in the black, shifting her position so her paste-covered butt knocked Eku in the thigh and added, “Father said the swampy part is only one or two nights. He said the Mantel know the way. This is the difficult part.”

“We should go around the swampy parts,” Yathi grumbled.

Eku clicked agreement and Yat said, “It would take much more time. And it is not bad now.

“The Mantel told father that during lobo-yaka, we would have had to travel much further inland.”

Yat, always stern, but always positive, added, “We will not be in the difficult part of the forest for long.”

Penetrating the cacophony came the wail of an infant, a gut-wrenching yowl, shockingly different from the background noise.

Yat gasped and cried out, “Was that a baby?”

Krele, seated nearby and talking with adults around a small fire, clicked in a soothing way and said, “Yatyambo, nothing to worry over.

“In this forest, there is a monkey that cries like an Abantu baby.”

“It is how they call each other,” Kaleni said from out of the black. “They have very large eyes and only come out at night.”

“It sounds like a baby,” Yat said, still worried.

“I know,” Krele said. “But it is only a monkey.”

***

Midway through their second day in the jungle came a welcome change in terrain.

The giant swamp trees were replaced by trees similar in stature, but with smooth, light gray bark.

The ground was drier and thus felt more firm, the trees growing more widely spaced, with trunks that rose cleanly from the soil.

The lower limbs were still enormous, stretching upward to branch again and again, until innumerable smaller branches formed a dense network that blotted out the sky.

There was far less underbrush and the beasts were different, as well.

Monkeys had vanished, but within the lattice of small branches the movement of waka-waka birds was common.

Eku spotted green and yellow parakeets that had spectacular red tails; always in pairs, the beautiful birds sat on opposite limbs, sliding their claws to mimic their counterpart’s sideways shuffle.

Giant ferns were everywhere, as well as an unending litter of dead branches.

Anything on the ground was covered by moss or lichen, creating a dizzying carpet of green and laza, reminding Eku of the way seaweed and lichens spread across tidal pools.

Passage remained difficult, but a welcome tradeoff after the wetness and density of a swampy jungle.

Having grown curious while thinking of what Yat said about the Mantel before they entered the jungle, Eku wanted to get a closer look.

“This part is easier,” he said to Yathi. “We should try to get up front. To see the Mantel scouts.”

Yathi, typically game for anything, clicked agreement.

As long as the tribe did not cross dangerous territory, the young people were not obligated to remain in the middle of the pack.

Children could migrate up and down the length of the line, as the adults often did.

The area was safe of large predators and the parade stretched long, people evenly dispersed.

Eku and Yathi scampered across roots and jumped moss covered logs.

They passed beneath gigantic, moss covered limbs where flocks of shrikes of bright yellow, green and black repeated three syllables endlessly back and forth, increasing their tempo each time a group of humans passed below.

Getting close to the front, Eku almost paused when he spotted the irreplaceable honeyguide.

Gray-brown honeyguides had orange beaks shaped like a small hawk. They ate beeswax and bee larva and would guide an observant hunter to a treasure trove of honey.

Honey was a prized resource, not just for the obvious tastiness, but healers like his mother used it for poultices for treating wounds.

He asked Yathi if he saw the bird, but Yathi was focused on the people in front of them and said no.

Eku glanced back, hoping to spot his mother or Yat, but saw only young Abantu adults in pairs.

He would be sure to tell his mother about the sighting later.

“We are getting close,” Yathi said.

Indeed, Eku saw that he and Yathi were almost at the head of their column.

Yathi stuck his chest out, feeling important.

Eku imagined he was a scout, joining the tip of the spear.

There were just a few paired adults remaining between Eku and Yathi and three Mantel scouts.

Eku could hear them talking.

It was strange to hear human voices speaking, but not speaking Abantu.

There were three males, wearing simple loincloths that only covered the front with a flap of hide, stripped of fur.

A bone knife lay against each hip and they carried excellent spears, though, made only of wood.

Eku wondered where they found the saplings to produce such excellent length and straightness.

With a little more heftiness, they would serve well as the haft for a javelin.

He observed how they carried the weapons; where they placed their hands; how the killing end, seared black for hardening, was kept pointed low at the path in front of them.

Snakes are the beasts to worry about in this place, Eku knew.

The two groups of hunters ahead of their own cleared a path safe and well trodden, so there was little work to do for the Mantel leading Eku’s group; nevertheless, he was impressed how they remained alert and balanced, keeping heads on a plane as they looked around.

Their compact forms were nimble and efficient.

The Mantel were brown, like Eku, but their skin seemed to offer a hint of red.

The hair on their heads was black and thick and straight, not spiraled or curled like an Abantu; pulled into a tight bunch at the top of their heads and held together by woven bands of fiber.

When they reached the edge of yet another swampy area, the Mantel paused and the Abantu adults close behind also halted.

Eku and Yathi moved as close to the front as they dared.

The entire parade came to a stop.

A patch of giant ferns lay ahead.

Two of the Mantel paced forward while the other waited.

Eku watched the remaining Mantel scout.

He stood comfortably, haft of the spear on the trampled, mossy path, held in his hand vertically at the side, the blackened end rising a head taller than his own.

The Mantel scout had hooded eyes and a friendly demeanor and joked with the closest Abantu adults not to worry about vubu, only a few small wenya.

Eku did not know what vubu meant, but wenya was the word both tribes used for crocodile.

The investigating Mantel returned and the main group continued.

To pass the second night in the jungle, the people found a slight rise and cut undergrowth to make camp, clearing any vegetation on the ground and moving branches and sticks to the perimeter.

Layit-umlilo was gathered and fire pits arranged to burn through the night.

During the day’s march, hunters procured fowl, forest antelope and other small animals to roast, supplementing a dwindling supply of dried nuts and fruit.

With full bellies, Eku, Yathi and Goguk sat with Dokuk and Odi, cross-legged on bed mats, lathered in protective paste, talking in darkness over jungle noise that only seemed slightly less loud than the night before.

Being young, they were at the heart of encampment.

All around were the outlines of adult heads and shoulders, the orange glow of fire pits identifying the camp’s periphery.

The dissonant, but comforting hum of humans clicking and talking came from all directions.

Eku asked Dokuk if he knew what vubu meant.

“I heard that word,” he said. “It is a Mantel word. Father said it is like a giant hagu with great tusks for teeth. They live in rivers and ponds.”

“Ir-hamka,” Yathi muttered, the Abantu word for monster.

Dokuk said, “Yes. Mother said the Mantel fear vubu more than anything. Even more than snakes and wenya and leopards. So we must watch for their trails, which is not hard to do because they are so large.

“They stay in the water during the day and come out to feed at night.”

Eku asked, “Are they predators or plant eaters?”

“They are plant eaters, but the bulls have teeth as long as my arm and are bigger than a buffalo. Only an elephant is bigger than a vubu, they say. And always, the vubu are waka-waka angry!”

***

The Abantu left the convoluted growth of the jungle behind the next day.

The canopy thinned and the giant trees went away.

Eku and Yathi hiked down a path cut through a barrier of bush that bordered a floodplain, littered with boulders and clumps of matted grass islands from which the short trunked palms grew.

Beyond a narrow riverway, the land rose abruptly.

A crag faced them from across the water, carved from limestone, shades of brown and red and ocher exposing ancient timelines intersected by jagged spires of granite.

The river did not flow swiftly or rise past Eku’s waist and the people joined hands and marched single file across a rocky bottom.

With Yathi behind him, Eku followed Yat, Tar and Maz around the big boulders that cluttered the opposite shoreline.

Single file, they clambered around and over rocks and hiked down a short and narrow path cut by the hunters through the fringe of brush that grew between the river and rock face.

For people accustomed to the rocky southern coast, the crag was a fun climb. The cliff was vertical for only a short distance and the rough texture offered many secure finger and toe holds.

The rock was warm to the grip and Eku paused several times to enjoy excellent views up and down the river.

Once atop the crag, Eku found they were at the top of a dome-like hillock, mostly rock with scatterings of grass, with an unobstructed view of what lay ahead.

He and Yathi pushed past the Yat to see a landscape that diverged sharply; as though Umawa declared the river and the sudden rise of land as a line of demarcation for what came next.

Yathi said, “This looks a lot better than the jungle.”

“For sure,” Eku replied.

Before them spread groves of broadleaf canopies that mushroomed wider than tall, but allowed enough light through for a carpet of foxtail grasses, the beginning of a healthy savannah and forest mix that nurtured an astonishing variety of plant eaters.

The people enthusiastically marched on.

Short and chunky duikers offered Eku a quick glimpse of their fat hindquarters before diving headfirst into thick bushes.

Herds of impala, similar to home, but with different horns and color patterns watched the humans warily from a distance.

Slender gazelles, with white underbellies and butts overlayed by a stripe of black, allowed the tribe to parade near, then—as though waiting for a chance to show off—bound through the trees, elegant, yet powerful, seeming to float away.

Water bucks watched curiously while sitting under hardwood boughs, the leaves browned and yellowed, chewing their cud and looking regal with scythe-like horns, big round ears and long, expressive faces painted symmetrically in white, black and brown.

Such a menagerie of hooved prey was sure to attract hyenas, lions and leopards; though, with the movement of so many humans, all predators instinctively remained unseen.

The tribe enjoyed a terrain more familiar to the forests they frequented on the southern shores and the young people became playful.

Energetic and curious.

Singing flowed up and down the parade.

The boisterousness only grew until young people began venturing too far outside of the path set by the hunters.

The Mantel quickly passed word down the line that in forests such as this, there were snakes big enough to hang from a tree and snatch a wayward human right off the ground.

Once word of the snakes spread, Eku and Yathi—all of the young people—remained dutifully in the center of the parade until the next river crossing, which would be far more difficult than the last.

***

The Limpopo River basin spans nearly a half-million square kilometers of southeastern Africa, the source of the river flowing northward and rapidly expanding in volume before turning east, toward the coast.

Where the continent begins to swell eastward, the river turns south, completing a near half circle to reach the ocean, spreading into a vast delta of cypress swamps and mangrove forests the Abantu were forced to circumvent.

Having journeyed far enough inland to get past the southern half of the delta, the main body of the Limpopo remained between the tribe and the Mantel homeland.

***

//

The pilgrimage upon which the Abantu and Mantel embarked was planned over the course of multiple cycles.

Some of the elders went as far as to say this journey was in the making for generations.

To get across the river, the Mantel established a transition site, a small village set upon a high riverbank surrounded by mature, riverine forest.

The camp area was cleared of lower branches and the hard-packed ground felt good under the toes.

Eku admired stilted huts with sloped roofs layered with palm fans dried to a khaki color.

Peering ahead, past tree trunks with flaky blackened bark, he saw the most enormous river ever, the opposite shore a dark green seam, inbetween, a vast, dark span that flowed steadily.

Even a strong Abantu would be swept far downstream before making it across.

Yathi breathed. “That is a big river.”

Equally impressed, Eku said, “For sure. And it is only sika-yaka!”

The riverside village was small, with only a pair of huts and a fire pit next to a food preparation area.

The camp was soon very crowded and almost entirely Abantu.

The few Mantel Eku saw were adults, males and females, all wearing the same, simple loincloths, hair tied in similar, vertical ponytails; but then, two small and naked and agile children leaped down from a elevated hut floor to scamper around Eku and Yathi, laughing in similar high pitches as weaved through camp, in and out of the tall strangers.

Figuring why not try the same idea, Eku and Yathi worked their way along the tide of people milling about a small area, soon finding Dokuk, Odi and Goguk.

Dokuk led them single file through the crowd, past the fire pit and through pruned trees for a closer look at the river.

The village perched on a flattened bank well above the water. The drop to the water was a steep wall of rocky earth, over which the lower limbs of trees extended, making Eku want to climb out on one so that he could stand over the water.

Eku had seen deep rivers emptying into Uwama, but they were placid in their approach.

The mass of moving fluid before him was like nothing he had seen, as though part of Umawa turned soil into water to harness the power of Uwama.

“Where did all the water come from,” Goguk exclaimed.

“From mountains and forests inland,” Dokuk said.

“We should not cross,” Yathi stated. “We will be carried downstream if we try to swim.”

Frowning, Eku knew Yathi was right.

The younger males had seen plenty of powerful, swift moving rivers, but rarely anything wider than a good throw of a rock would carry.

The river before them was spectacularly wide, the water dark and deep, racing inexorably forward, drawn by Uwama’s command to return to her womb.

Not a single boulder protruded across the center channel.

Eku clicked agreement and Goguk echoed, “We should go somewhere else.”

Yat came from behind to poke Dokuk in the ribs, causing an involuntary squeak that made him embarrassed; though, everyone laughed, including Dokuk.

“Go see the boats,” she said.

She grinned at Eku and smirked at Yathi, adding, “Uncle Lume fell in the water. When he saw the boats he got so excited he fell down the embankment into the water.

“He fell again trying to get in one. He looked silly.”

Eku asked, “Isiga-ubhak-wila?”

Yat clicked no.

Her hair, just released from its netted bonds, spilled around her shoulders and down her back.

She pointed with the bone comb in her hand, in the direction upstream and said, “Go over there and get in line. Where everyone else is standing.”

***

Dokuk and Odi led Eku, Yathi and Goguk through more of the Mantel camp, to where people stood shoulder to shoulder, shuffling along an area of the embankment that fell steeply to the water.

The young males followed the line of people to a small inlet, where waka-waka Abantu gawked and pointed downward.

Something out of sight, in the water.

Yathi began to bounce, trying to see.

At home on the southern shores, the Abantu pursued shellfish that grew in deeper waters.

They built floating platforms called isiga-ubhak-wila, using logs and stout, sealskin bladders filled with air for buoyancy.

The rafts were anchored using lines with heavy stones to serve as the platforms from which they dove to collect oysters, cockles, sea cucumbers and scallops.

Eku followed Dokuk and Odi along the top of the embankment until their turn came.

The inlet was rounded like a bowl, a nicely hollowed out area with gentle slopes for easy access to the water, where five, gigantic and hollow logs floated side by side, attached to ropes and lined up diagonally from the tug of the current.

“Ipyane,” Yathi said reverently.

“For sure,” Eku said, knowing ipyane was the word Yathi’s father Lume used when singing songs about his ancestors and the boats they crafted.

Eku and Yathi instantly recognized the purpose of the massive logs, tapered at each end, the inside hollowed to create room for people to sit.

Shaped to taper at either end like a fish head, such a craft would slide easily across the top of water, rather than simply bob along, like isiga-ubhak-wila.

“What kind of giant tree was this,” Eku asked.

“I do not know,” Dokuk said.

“The Mantel must be good at carving,” Eku said. “Those trees were once very large. And straight!”

***

Crossing the river was arduous, but well planned and began at first light the following morning.

The five dugouts were put to steady use, each with two rowers and room for passengers and belongings in between.

Though it took the entire day, everyone was transported safely across.

When his turn came, Eku followed Yat down the slope of the inlet into knee-deep water, where one of the giant logs floated.

Yat climbed into the back in front of the rear rower, with Eku in front of her.

The rough wood bottom was painful for his behind, but there was little to do about that, as satchels and bed mats and other belongings were immediately crammed in front of him.

Kaleni and Krele came aboard and to Eku’s delight, Tiuti followed.

The dugout hung low and Eku put hands over roughened edges to feel the warm water.

The Mantel rowers guided them expertly out of the inlet, using short, sturdy poles with rounded, carved paddles.

As soon as they moved into the river, the shakiness Eku felt when climbing aboard the giant log disappeared.

The ride became magical.

Yat and Eku clicked excitedly back and forth, marveling at the new sensation of gliding across the top of the water.

“Eku maybe this is like flying,” Yat shouted, much louder than necessary, as she was seated directly behind Eku, but excited.

Eku shouted back, “Or gliding along the surface like a seal or a fast fish!”

In front of them, Tiuti laughed like a child, holding his long arms out as though he were a bird.

The Mantel dugouts flowed smoothly, angled slightly against the current to maintain direction.

Everyone was disappointed the ride didn't last longer.