Chapter 4

Giant Pigs and Flying Monkeys

Flopping feet first over the side of the dugout, Eku landed in another shallow inlet.

Leaned his belly against the rough edge of the craft he just departed and hefted his seal skin satchel and ula-konto, while Yat did the same with her belongings.

Together, they followed their parents and Tiuti through knee-deep water, trudging up a sloped, muddy bank.

Eku and Yat clicked to each other in mutual admiration at the sight of a more established village.

Similar to the encampment on the other side of the river, but larger and with more Mantel. A lot more.

Arranged similar to the opposite side; only here, a much greater area of undergrowth was cleared, all of the lower branches chopped away.

The ground was hard packed dirt and smoothed from waka-waka feet.

Fire pits were ringed by rocks and seating logs.

Lean-to frames of tree limbs were hung with duiker, stretched and drying.

At the center of the camp was an impressive array of above-ground shelters.

Using tree trunks as both support columns and stilts for flooring.

Eku had never seen structures built in such a manner.

He clicked and pointed and Yat exclaimed, “They are above the ground!”

Using the tree columns as support, the flooring of each hut was roughly aligned with Eku’s waist. He and Yat leaned and peered past the many standing bodies to see the flooring was made of bamboo, tied tightly to create a solid platform, well clear of the ground.

A simple hop up for a human, but inaccessible to crawling beasts.

Above the flooring, leaving enough height to stand, bamboo poles were attached to the same mooring trees to act as risers and rafters in support of the roofing, which appeared to be primarily palm leaves.

The huts were occupied by Mantel young people, huddled inside and watching in wonder the horde of strangers that swarmed across their little village in greater numbers throughout the day.

Yat and Eku waded into the thick of the crowded camp, Yathi emerging to excitedly say, “Waka-waka Mantel live here.”

“For sure,” Eku said, though the Abantu already outnumbered the forest people with more still arriving.

Yat, Eku and Yathi carried their belongings through the throng of people until they found Tar and Maz, along with Sisi and Kat, younger females of Eku and Yathi’s age, and from the same laba-ini.

The young people gathered shoulder to shoulder, familial adults all around, including Luvu with Dokuk and Goguk.

Eku looked for his father, but no doubt he and Nibamaz were already exploring the land around them.

Spotted his mother and aunt Shona with uncle Lume and relaxed.

Marvelled how the pilgrimage continued to change.

Now he was standing in a strange village, next to the largest river ever, having magically floated in the belly of a floating log!

Eku looked around, growing more excited.

To one side of hs group were the Mantel huts, with the young people still staring his way.

Before Eku, between where he stood and the river, a large fire pit filled with black and gray ashes. Frameworks and tools for cooking stood to one side of the pit.

Outside the area of standing people, opposite the water was only dense forest.

No doubt where his father was investigating.

Not jungle thick, but thick enough with tall trees and vines.

Eku looked at the young Mantel again.

Then at the river and then the young people again.

Found it hard to focus on any one thing.

There were so many people crowded together.

The young people remained closely packed.

Eku again eyed the nearby huts.

It was hard to tell how many structures there were, exactly, as different huts shared the same trees for walls and roofing.

Orange-bellied parrots and green pigeons strutting excitedly across the roofing, no doubt impressed by all the commotion.

One of the Mantel children suddenly jumped down.

Others followed, until waka-waka young Mantel clustered together, all staring at Eku’s group.

The Mantel shuffled closer as a unit and then stopped.

Two groups of young people.

Nervous, but curious.

No one has ever seen someone from a different tribe.

“What should we do,” Yathi said.

“I do not know,” Eku answered.

“They do not speak our language,” Yat said.

One of the Mantel stepped forward.

The smallest, by far.

A female, younger than Eku, wearing only a dainty loincloth.

Her ostrich shell bracelets stood out against her dark skin and her hair poked straight up, tied in place by a spiraling string and decorated with small, bright red feathers.

She approached in short, cautious steps.

Stopped to stare at Yat, who quickly grew uncomfortable.

Eku instinctively took a step toward his sister, but then the little Mantel female smiled in an adorable way and bent at the waist.

Half bent over, she turned her head and looked at Yat, while reaching with one hand to touch her vertically-oriented ponytail.

Straightened and looked at Yat expectantly.

Yat, always so stern, smiled beautifully, took a step forward, bent at the waist and turned her head so her coily plume flopped over the side.

The young Mantel female giggled and stepped up to tentatively touch her hair and immediately several of the other Mantel came forward to touch Yat’s hair.

And just like that, everyone was smiling and chattering at each other.

Eku saw a young Mantel male with the same, narrow eyes as the Mantel scouts who had led them through the jungle; he caught Eku’s gaze and when Eku waved, the young Mantel grinned and waved back.

Soon, all of the young people were mingling and though it was awkward at first, the tribes shared enough common words to stumble through often hilarious communication.

Eku approached the Mantel youth with the hooded eyes and learned his name was Kolo and that his family would be joining the Abantu on their journey to the land of legend.

Kolo had red dots painted on his cheeks and the ribbon holding his hair in a ponytail was an orange color Eku had never seen.

When Kolo gasped and pointed and stuttered words Eku could not know, he followed the direction of Kolo’s finger to Tiuti, towering over the Mantel scouts he was holding court with.

Though Eku had no idea of the exact wording, he was fairly certain Kolo had just said: “That is the tallest and most ancient person I have ever seen!”

***

With such a crowded camp, there was little opportunity to rest and the two tribes bonded over fire pits and a steady supply of fresh food through the night.

At first light, the combined parade of Abantu and Mantel charted a course north.

Eku, Yathi, Goguk and Kolo officially became a foursome.

Kolo was a talented guide and impressed the young Abantu with his knowledge of the forest.

After a few days of hiking through bountiful lands, the tribe stopped to rest through the midday heat.

Kolo, having told his new friends of a special location here, promised a surprise.

Young people were rarely tired and therefore always restless.

All four were up for an adventure and slipped away from the encampment.

Kolo led Eku, Yathi and Goguk over a knoll and into a glen of trees with lush, broad leaves and patches of giant fern, where they spied forest elephants foraging in a wooded meadow.

The elephants were barely half the size of their savannah-living relatives.

“The tusks are waka-waka shorter,” Eku said, watching a baby no larger than a warthog.

The four peered down from the top of a ravine, a safe distance.

Kolo said, “I did not know forest elephants were small, at first.

“When I was little, I saw elephants from the savannah for the first time and thought it was a different kind of beast. They are so much larger with such long tusks, I did not even think they were elephants.”

Eku, Yathi and Goguk stared blankly.

Mantel words were still part guesswork.

When Kolo repeated what he said, adding hand gestures and facial expressions, Yathi chuckled and said, “Ir-hamka.”

***

The tribe never hurried, but made steady progress.

The younger members intermingled daily and the languages of the tribes quickly became intertwined.

Eku’s quartet, hardened from constant travel, continued to have energy to burn, even after the day’s hiking.

Kolo, hoping for another chance to impress his new-found friends with success similar to the forest elephants, caught part of what some of the Abantu and Mantel hunters were talking about.

Not understanding exactly what they said, but thinking he had heard enough, he told Eku, Yathi and Goguk to be ready for another adventure.

The present encampment sprawled along the bottom of a shallow ravine created by a small stream.

A natural barrier of exposed rock that once caused water to collect into a deep pool, was now filled with sediment and nearly the same level as the ravine floor, now an opportune spot for lean-to shelters of saplings, branches and water fans.

While the adults dug fire pits and prepared food, young people gathered layit-umlilo for the fires, which here was fast and easy, with dried sticks all around as mature hardwoods shed a daily supply of dead and dried limbs.

Layit-umlilo could mean other burnable things, such as dried palm fronds, tree bark, stacks of dried water reeds, or even mounds of dried elephant dung.

Basically, layit-umlilo meant anything available as fuel for fire.

As soon as chores were finished, Kolo led Eku, Yathi and Goguk up the ravine and away from the encampment.

The forest was heavily foraged; after all, even small elephants eat like elephants.

A clear understory made for easy walking below the trees and through patches of foxtail grass that only grew to Eku’s waist.

Cresting the ravine, the sounds of camp faded.

“This is far,” Goguk said.

Yathi clicked agreement.

“It is safe,” Kolo said. “We see hagu here. Maybe. I heard my father and the hunters talking. This is the forest they like. Yes?”

Eku looked perplexed and said, “There have been hagu since we arrived at the jungle.”

Hagu was the word the Abantu used for pigs, in general.

Bushpigs, which were small, were called hagu-unda; whereas, warthogs, much bigger, were called hagu-okwe.

Eku had told Kolo many times how his people trapped and ate bushpig—hagu-unda.

He also told Kolo that when he practiced throwing his ula-konto, the target he most often conjured in his mind was a bushpig.

Unfortunately, Kolo had never seen a bushpig or any kind of hagu, for that matter.

He only knew what Eku had told him.

And what he thought the hunters said.

Therefore, the young Mantel could not have known that while living in a forest had a shrinking effect on elephants, it had an opposite effect on pigs.

The foursome began moving down the opposite side of the ravine.

Moved gingerly down a steep incline, having to duck below downward sweeping branches to arrive at a more level clearing, where the grass and earth were torn about.

The sweeping branches continued along either side of the clearing, as the incline remained steep enough for well-fed elephants to avoid.

The digging in front of them was recent, but not too recent.

Eku could tell because the exposed sod was powdered from losing moisture.

Nevertheless, his mind was on high alert.

Automatically taking note of all his senses.

Before them, past the clearing with the disrupted earth, was a gully that ran parallel to the ravine where they left the tribe.

No water flowed through the gully before them for some time and a dense thicket had built up to an impenetrable mass of boxthorn and brush.

Kolo moved ahead of Eku into the open area to gesture at the torn up ground.

Turned to look at Eku.

“They were here. Yes?”

He stood in clumps of sod that had been ripped from the earth.

Offered Eku a questioning look, still hoping to impress his friend.

Eku studied the ground, disrupted as though by a human with a digger or keri stick.

Said with a voice sharper than intended, “What did this?”

“Hagu.” Kolo said quickly.

He seemed suddenly unsure and asked, “With their tusks?”

Eku knelt to the ground to trace his fingers around a two-hoof print the same shape as a bushpig of the southern shore, but larger.

Much larger.

Bent his head and stuck his nose in the print and inhaled the scent of hoof musk—also different from the bushpigs he was familiar with.

Noted tufts of fur with a hint of red and quickly stood, looking at Kolo with concern.

Bushpigs were small and ran from humans, who liked to eat them.

They had small tusks that could not disrupt the ground in such a fashion.

And they definitely did not have reddish fur.

“We are safe?” Kolo asked, sensing doubt.

Picking up Eku’s growing concern, Yathi and Goguk clicked rapidly.

Eku clicked sharp to mean, pay attention!

Kolo became visibly upset.

He only wanted to impress his friends.

Of all the Abantu, Kolo was most impressed with Eku, who was now looking in all directions, warily.

Eku was always so thoughtful.

And clever like no one else he had ever known.

Eku had been so thrilled by the forest elephants, Kolo was only hoping for a similar reaction with the hagu.

He watched as Eku looked around.

The forest was quiet. Mostly.

Eku took a step away from the others and tried to hear the sounds of their encampment on the other side of the ravine.

But … The whistle and chatter of parakeets … The screech of a fruit bat … The whirring and buzzing of insects.

Kolo, feeling a need to do something, kept watching Eku apprehensively.

Finally, misunderstanding the situation completely, he held hands to his mouth and made a squealing noise as his companions looked at him in alarm.

Eku immediately checked the proximity of the closest climbing tree.

Found a good escape route just as Kolo made the squealing noise again.

The bramble patch at the bottom of the gully shook violently and leaves fell to the ground.

While appearing to be solid from the outside, the patch of thistle was actually spacious and hollow on the inside, a nice, snoozing area for a herd of giant forest pigs.

While Kolo’s silly squeal would not cause such a powerful pig to even flicker an eye during snooze time, this particular moment, coincidently—and unfortunately for the four young males—happened to be exactly when the pigs were awake and waiting for an excuse to get started on the evenings’ foraging.

The lead beasts burst from the bramble and Eku, Yathi, Goguk and Kolo shrieked in terror.

A wave of large bodies surged toward them, tusks arced from gaping mouths like horns.

Darkly reddish bodies.

Pale fur covered a protracted face and snout, giving them a menacing, mask-like appearance made even more terrifying by long and tufted ears that flailed out behind the vicious tusks.

The drove of giant forest pigs thundered up the gully.

Eku clicked as he spun for the tree already implanted in his mind; Yathi instinctively followed.

Kolo reacted nearly as quickly and Goguk followed him into another set of branches.

All four were spectacularly good tree climbers and in a scant two or three heartbeats, managed to pull themselves out of range of the initial wave of slashing tusks.

Eku, like the others, hung upside down, clinging to his branch in horror.

Turned his neck to stare down at a tumultuous horde of thick spines, rampaging barely an arm’s length below, the pigs squealing in rage or excitement or maybe just for fun.

The sharp and tangy scent of musk, fresh earth and shit filled his nostrils.

Eku pulled himself over the branch and draped his body into a secure position, trying to quell the trembles of fear.

Checked on Yathi and the others, all watching from similar, safe havens.

Looking at the mass of flesh passing below, Eku ran a finger along his thigh to the lump of the scar and remembered the terrible feeling of the stingray’s spine piercing flesh.

This would have been so much worse.

“Always know what is around you,” his father told him, again and again. “Never stop using your eyes, ears and nose to inform your mind.”

The beasts pounded out of sight as quickly as they appeared, but the young males remained aloft until the thumping and rustling of their passage faded.

“I am sorry,” Kolo said immediately, once they dropped to the ground. “I have never seen such beasts. I did not know they were so large.”

“Those are not bushpigs,” Yathi said.

Gokuk still looked frightened and said, “They came out of the thicket so fast.”

“I am sorry,” Kolo repeated.

Goguk’s face was pale and his lower lip trembled, but he swallowed and bravely said, “We will keep this a secret.”

Kolo looked fearful and Gokuk managed a laugh.

“I will not even tell an adult what happened,” he said. “But I will tell Dokuk. He will be jealous not to have seen such fearsome hagu.”

“They stink,” Yathi said. “We should go back.”

“For sure,” Eku said, already moving up the hill.

With darkness approaching, the four quickly cleared the top of the ravine and hurried down the other side, back to the encampment.

***

The forest in which the Mantel thrived was once a vast area of sand dunes built up over millennia along an ancient coastline.

Deep time blanketed the dunes with soil and vegetation and the gently rolling hills now accommodated a fertile network of freshwater streams and ponds.

Three days of steady hiking brought the Abantu to a land with which the Mantel were more familiar.

Supplies low, they stopped at a large and well stocked pond to replenish.

The tribe marched along the waterline to where the bank rose to a flat and dry shoreside.

The Mantel watched in awe as the Abantu cleared tough undergrowth and small trees with astonishing speed.

Mantel craftsmen made excellent knives of bone and wood, but there was little quartzite in forested regions, and no other rock that was good for knapping and flaking; thus, the Mantel rarely developed tools for chopping tough wood.

The Abantu made elegant knives of isipo-gazi and rugged axes of quartzite.

Through apprenticeship and training, an izik-kosa learned to knap and flake different stones to specific purposes: extended, killing blades for the javelins; narrow blades for the ula-konto; assorted, smaller blades for knives and sewing tools; as well as other types of ultra-hard tools used for drilling holes, splitting bone, scraping mussels from rock, removing fur from skin or digging in the earth.

While still young, Tiuti recognized the cutting edge as only a part of a tool or weapon and spent a lifetime improving the craft of the izik-kosa, inventing new ways to carve wood and grind bone, using either and sometimes both to craft handles that perfectly fit a blade to its purpose.

The Mantle hooted with pleasure when the Abantu used their long knives and axes to cut away brush in a fraction of the time it would have taken them with their own tools.

Numerous wenya lined the shoreline, but when the horde of two-leggeds arrived, the beasts slithered into the water; however, a single, mighty beast refused to budge.

The people stopped working.

Everyone gathered.

Eku and Yathi agreed it was the largest wenya ever.

A living and breathing ir-hamka!

The massive beast sprawled dark and armored across the dirt and scattered leaves of the shoreline.

Eku guessed a length of at least three adults lying head to foot.

Thick in the middle, but despite such bulk and weight, would maneuver quickly on powerful legs with clawed feet spread wide.

The massive tail was plated with waka-waka scales arranged like dark blades.

Rows of fangs were exposed by the half-open mouth.

Hissing angrily.

Infuriated by the unusual activity.

Eku knew that such a beast could not conceive of giving way.

No doubt well aware that only a serious danger would inspire the mass exodus of his smaller brethren.

Though as of yet, the danger had not exposed itself to the weak eyes of the undisputed ruler of this pond.

Whatever it was, once exposed, the wenya would offer a predictable response—wrath.

“Those teeth are longer than my fingers,” Yathi breathed, leaning his shoulder into Eku.

The two remained wrapped behind the fat trunk of a tree, as close as they were allowed.

Watching in awe from a safe distance with all the others.

Eku knew that such jaws would snap the spine of a lion.

Such a giant wenya would simply drag a full grown buffalo into deeper water and drown it.

The wenya hissed loud, a sound like Ulayo at her angriest.

Twitching a tail that would fracture legs.

The people watched an epic confrontation.

Eku felt pride and fear as his father and Nibamaz led a group of Abantu hunters down the shoreline, all of them carrying javelins.

The hunters split into groups and surrounded the beast.

Despite such size, the wenya quickly turned one way and then another.

Giant claws slung great gobs of mud and the mighty tail flailed with terrifying violence to keep the hunters at bay.

But the hunters were in no hurry.

Eku recognized the tactics.

The wenya was huge and powerful, but only had two eyes at one end of a very long body.

Humans could dance around like this all day.

The huge wenya could not and quickly tired.

The hunters danced closer.

While the head and back and tail were covered by impenetrable armor, there were vulnerable spots.

The hunters split into groups on either side.

Attacked with precision and speed.

Diminutive compared to such a mighty beast, they clicked back and forth and struck from one direction and then the other, two-handed javelin thrusts with their full body weight behind, stabbing deep into soft spots near the leg joints and belly.

The wenya snapped its enormous jaws with incredible speed and power, lunging first in one direction, then the other.

Thrashing the huge tail in a way that made Eku think of trees toppling.

The people cried out at the awesome spectacle.

But the Abantu hunters confused the beast.

One hunter always jumped into its tunnel of vision as a distraction, while the others circled and clicked for opportunities to deliver deep stabs.

The wenya lunged one way and the hunters struck from another.

The beast whirled about, flailing its tail, sending dirt and mud flying, the hunters managing to skip out of range while maintaining a relentless attack.

Blood gushing, the wenya lurched for the shallows, its mighty tail sending mud and water flying until suddenly, blood oozing over the foamy water, the beast flipped over to expose the pale belly.

Dying before it could reach deeper water.

Eku and Yathi charged forward to be first amongst waka-waka people to pull the giant carcass back to shore.

***

The next morning, Eku rose early, as always.

Crept from his rounded familial shelter of saplings and brush.

Ulanga remained low in the sky, obscured behind the hill on the opposite side of the pond.

Trampled leaves and twigs were pleasant under his feet as he moved toward the food preparation area, in front of the water.

Dark cone shapes emerged against the early shimmer of the pond.

Teepees made of long sticks and covered by leaves were smoke traps above racks of thinly sliced flesh, curing above the coals overnight.

Fire pits left uncovered were reduced to mounds of pale ash; though, white smoke still wafted upward, like the tentacles of an upside down jellyfish.

Eku paced to the edge of the water, ula-konto held low at his side, wary of any wenya silly enough to return where there were so many Abantu.

There were none.

Moved along the shoreline, leaving the encampment behind, following shadow rather than light.

His movements became slow, in line with his breathing.

The quiet of morning was the best time to practice ibe-bonakalio.

His father and Tiuti said ibe-bonakalio was really just a place to seek something not attainable.

Which Eku thought did not make sense.

But he understood enough to know that when a hunter enters the bush, he always seeks ibe-bonakalio.

To become invisible.

Tiuti liked to say the true ibe-bonakalio was where Umawa and Uwama met, not as rivals, as the world sees them, but as the two were when truly together—two mighty powers that make life possible.

Kaleni taught Eku how to become unseen in the bush.

Each movement was deliberate.

Always precise.

He placed his body only in shadow.

Discerned every stalk of grass.

Checking every leaf.

Observed each crawling insect.

A hunter captured what was vital from a variety of inputs so concentration must never wane.

“The world and your mind, they are separate,” Kaleni told him. “One you can control. The other you cannot. Learn to control your mind to best understand what Uwama has to offer.”

Eku separated individual sounds from the cacophony.

Took note of where cricket and cicada song came from … Where they did not.

Bird calls were common chatter or squabbles or the warning of a four-legged predator.

Or the reaction to a strange, two-legged beast prowling below.

The continued, soft cooing of doves in the branches above Eku’s head told him he was ibe-bonakalio.

Well, at least to the birds.

Human noses, being weak, needed assistance and Eku used his eyes to put his head where it was best to capture scents: fresh dung, fresh urine, the fresh musk a plant eater’s hoof left in the mud.

On the northern end of the camp, the bank leveled and the water was shallow, bristled with water grass, dotted with white flowered lily pads.

Shoreside trees were sparsely covered with yellowed and browned leaves, but dense with dark, ovoid buds.

Eku gracefully wound around thick trunks, stepping on roots.

Moved with serpentine grace below whitened boughs with many small twigs and tiny red buds that radiated out along the shoreside.

The harsh cry of a grey ibis burst the silence.

The cries of such birds carried far and signaled an alert hunter that water was near.

Eku crept across damp leaves and spotted the elegant, dark body hunched over in a stalking pose with the long beak ready.

Prowling the muddy shore in front of a stand of swamp grass, which, being sika-yaka, lacked thistles and had gone pale brown.

The abrasive call of the ibis countered the musical chatter of a yellow canary flock, flitting about the pond-side branches.

Forced to move away from the shoreline because of mud, Eku walked upright through mature forest, then re-approached shore to peer through branches with small, oval leaves.

Before him, in ankle-deep water: two contrasting storks.

Presently immobile.

No doubt tolerating each others' presence because they sought different prey.

The closer bird stood on stately, pink legs and had wings of white feathers with a touch of rose. A knife-like yellow beak led to dark eyes that missed nothing.

The second stork was of a similar size and shape, but with black wings and a white breast. An extended beak of banded orange and black matched the same pattern on its long and thin legs.

Eku fervently wished he could use his ula-konto.

His chances for a successful throw were excellent.

He could present the feathers to his mother or Yat.

The meat was always useful for stew.

And such legs were brilliant for sinew; though, it would be delicate to remove and would require the talent of an izik-kosa.

The feet and skull were desired decorations … But only if they were in a real village.

Besides, until Eku wore an eagle talon, hunting such birds remained the decision of an adult.

Not that that mattered anyway now, because both birds were aware that something hovered nearby, as each profile offered an eye focused on Eku’s location.

The slightest move and they would be gone.

Eku whispered, “Their minds suspect that I am here, but their eyes do not see.”

He faded into the shadows and continued.

Crept under the drooping branches of silver willow to see yellow billed ducks, feathers brown with white-tips, scooting in and out of the grass and lily pads.

Found their soft quacking comforting.

Per usual, the monkeys made their presence known, rustling through the trees next to the water, hooting softly back and forth.

But even the monkeys did not want to be too noisy this early.

Eku settled into a crouch in the tall grass with a clear view of the pond.

A kingfisher shot across beams of sunlight slanted over the opposite treeline, defending its territory from the ducks with a barrage of high-pitched, insect-like chirps, laza wings a furious blur, the bird’s aggression belying its stature.

The ducks drifted slowly the other way.

Pleasing Eku came the melodic call of the fish eagle.

A hand went to his chest when he looked at the oval of laza above the pond.

A circling pair.

White crown, throat and tail, everything else dark brown, except the wicked beak and massive, curved talons of yellow.

Eku giggled in his mind at the diminutive songbird, chasing after the pair.

A fish eagle only killed what was necessary.

Hunting only for itself and its mate and the single offspring they would rear at the start of lobo-yaka.

So they let the little birds chase them; after all, they were simply guarding their territory or trying to impress a mate.

To turn and attack would be … Beneath the fish eagle.

Spellbound, Eku watched the huge birds turn gracefully, when suddenly, one of the eagles plummeted.

Powerful wings accelerated the raptor down and across the water, slashing the surface to emerge with a plump catfish wriggling helplessly in a curled claw, screeching as it headed for the shoreline canopy, its mate gliding behind.

***

For the Abantu, such a large body of freshwater was a treasure and the tribe enjoyed a few days of replenishing.

Later that first morning, Eku sat with Yathi, uncle Lume and several other izik-kosa, cutting rigid and straight shoots of bamboo to equal lengths, then using willow shoots as weaving to craft funnel-shaped traps, baited and set along the shore at nightfall, sure to be full of catfish the next day.

In the meantime, adults and children prowled the shoreline, casting lines with fishbone hooks, baited with frogs or insects.

Mounds of tilapia grew alongside the carcass of the monstrous wenya, already getting butchered by the mothers and benzi-kusela.

Hunters disappeared into the forest and returned with impala.

While waka-waka fire pits were dug, the young people scavenged the area for layit-umlilo.

Once all of the fire pits had beds of glowing coals and stacks of fuel in reserve it was time for harvest.

Yat gathered Eku and Yathi and they joined a large group at the same grassy end of the lake Eku explored that morning.

Chagrined he had not noticed earlier, he now saw bushes of sek-unda grew in a patch near where he saw the splendid waders.

The large, grooved fruits sprouted from the nodes of each branch grown from the main shoot.

Sek-unda was a phrase used to designate a variety of fruit and plant parts the Abantu were always eager to feast upon.

When green, this particular sek-unda was bitter and inedible, but once ripened and red, became tasty, especially after boiling.

Eku pinched the stems of ripe fruit and filled his satchel, which he dumped into a communal basket.

He and Yathi joined Dokuk, Goguk and Kolo wading through shallows, pulling up clumps of thick sedge grass and using a sharp cutter to remove the corms growing underneath.

Finally, all of the Abantu pulled watercress to fill bushels.

The people headed back to camp under a full load.

Despite a long and busy day, Eku and Yathi remained awake well into the night as the tribe enjoyed its first full feast together.

***

The next morning, Eku exited his familial shelter and toured the center of camp.

The conical smokers grew wisps of smoke and offered smells of curing wenya and impala.

Eku moved along the water, past shelters and sleeping people to the same area of shoreside he had visited the morning before, only to find Tiuti and one of the Mantel already there.

Eku recognized the Mantel as Umthi, the scout who led the lead group with his father and Nibamaz.

Tiuti stood at the edge of shore, in a grassy area trampled from yesterday’s harvest.

Excitedly beckoned Eku with one hand, while pointing at Umthi, who stood knee deep in lily pads, a strange device held before him: a stick the thickness of a spear, but bent into a bow by a taut string tied to either end.

Eku approached silently to stop next to Tiuiti, fascinated by whatever the Mantel hunter was doing.

Umthi clenched the device at its bowed center, where there appeared to be a handle wrapped in hide or sinew or maybe both, while his other hand held a tiny spear, long and reed thin.

Voice barely a whisper, Tiuti said, “Watch carefully Eku, this is a most wondrous device!”

Eku did his best to follow the motions of the Mantel hunter.

Umthi stood still, then moved with practiced precision.

Raised the bowed stick horizontal and laid the tiny spear across the handle so that it rested against his clenched hand.

Deftly moved his fingers in a way to attach the butt end of the tiny spear to the string and drew his hand and the tiny spear back, increasing the curve of the bowed stick to a half circle.

Umthi leaned forward and shifted the device vertically.

Appeared to sight down the length of the tiny spear and released the string.

Eku was astonished when the string and bowed stick snapped back to position and sent the tiny spear flying faster than the eye could follow to pierce the water with a distinct plunking.

Tiuti yelped and raised his arms and looked at Eku, “Wonderful, yes?”

With a wide grin, Eku could only nod and watch in amazement as Umthi stepped forward to retrieve the tiny spear, smiling as he lifted it from the water with a fat catfish wriggling from the end.

“The Mantel use this weapon for fish and ducks,” Tiuti said. “They are not accurate from a distance, but very effective along the shoreline.”

“It flew so fast,” Eku said.

Umthi waded to shore, raised the stringed bow in one hand, the other with the tiny spear and catfish, now gone limp.

“Guka-hombe,” he said.

***

The tribe never hurried, but progressed steadily.

The Mantel, like the Abantu, sent forth only their strongest and healthiest adults; those who did have children, none were younger than Kolo, who was the same age as Eku.

Moving comfortably and well-fed through broadleaf forest, the tribe reached the farthest part of the Mantel home range, where the current trees began to mingle with the tallest bamboo the Abantu had ever seen.

While making camp, Kolo told his new friends that he had a special treat for them to sneak away and see first thing in the morning.

“Not as dangerous as last time,” he said, still sounding apologetic. “Mantel do this many times.”

“What is it,” Goguk begged.

Kolo shook his head.

“You have to tell us something,” Yathi implored.

Kolo smiled slyly and said, “I take you where the monkeys fly.”

The following morning, Kolo, Eku, Yathi, Goguk, Dokuk and Yat—Goguk having told Dokuk what they were doing (and then Dokuk secretly invited Yat to come along)—slipped into the towering bamboo, moving cautiously, the canopy well above their heads, growth so dense that nothing else grew at ground level.

The culms were barely far enough apart for slender humans to wind their way through.

The dirt was soft, but prickly from a carpet of the fallen slender leaves.

Exiting the bamboo, the young Abantu were awed by the return of giant jungle trees; though, not quite as enormous or thickly canopied as those of the swamplands.

Some of Ulanga’s first fire filtered through.

Still, the canopy was an unfathomable tangle of branches and leaves.

Bird calls came from every direction: sly whistles, cheerful chirps and harsh screeches.

The six young people came to a stop.

Magnificent greenery all around.

“This is a good spot,” Kolo said, peering upward.

“Do they look like the laza monkeys?” Eku asked, nervous.

“No. These are special monkeys.”

The Abantu instinctively moved closer, shoulders and elbows touching, heads tilted up, staring uneasily through a tangle of vines and branches, the early morning moisture collecting so that water droplets shine as they drop through narrow beams of Ulanga’s early fire.

Dokuk and Eku carried ula-konto and shuffled slightly forward of the others when there was movement amongst the thickly leafed branches.

A deep sounding hoot and then another.

Glimpses of black and white.

“They have long hair,” Yat exclaimed. “Like a black and white weasel, but with such long arms and long legs!”

“I hope they are not angry all the time, like the laza ones,” Yathi said, peering uneasily upward.

“No,” Kolo said. “Flying monkeys like to have fun.”

The monkeys crept downward, almost like crabs, Eku thought, face first, toward the humans.

Excited to observe an entirely new creature, he nevertheless watched with caution.

They were larger than a baboon.

With long and narrow bodies with black faces and dark eyes.

In sharp contrast, thick white hair fell from prolonged arms and legs, making Eku think they were like an enormous spider with the coloring of a zebra.

More monkeys crept lower.

From different trees, two monkeys launched spectacular leaps across the mid canopy, passing each other close enough to touch, the white fur on their limbs flying out like wings as they soared between opposing trunks.

The Abantu murmured in amazement.

Eku had never seen monkeys leap so far.

Built for the trees like a gazelle was for the savannah.

Kolo cupped hands to mouth and made a hooting sound, Dokuk and Yat simultaneously imploring, “What?”

“They like to put on a show.”

All six began hooting and the monkeys instantly reacted, using all four limbs to elastically propel themselves.

The monkeys made no vocal sounds and moved quickly through the branches to find the proper launch point and set sail.

The slap of their palms on a thick branch was like a clap.

The smaller branches rustled.

When several monkeys flew and landed at the same time, the rustlings sounded like gentle rain.

The young Abantu hooted louder and waka-waka monkeys descended to the lower canopy, thrilling the young Abantu with unmatched leaping prowess.

The monkeys spun around branches.

Leaped and twisted with unmatched acrobatic excellence.

Eku had never seen such power combined with agility.

Suddenly, as one, the monkeys scampered back to the upper reaches of the trees, vanishing within a verdant vacuum.

“Are they gone?” Gokuk asked, sounding disappointed.

“No, this is the good part,” Kolo said.

A black and white monkey came plummeting out of the greenery, screaming shrilly, descending at a terrifying speed toward the youths, Yathi and Gokuk shrieking; all of them, but Kolo throwing up their arms in defense.

But even in complete freefall, the monkey easily snatched a branch, swinging low to almost touch the top of Kolo’s head, before the branch sprang upward, the monkey catapulting back into the mid-level canopy.

Everyone began hooting with even more enthusiasm and it was raining monkeys: slender, graceful black figures with long white fur flying like wings, performing death-defying plummets, somehow always able to grab the perfectly sized branch to swing close to the laughing Abantu before slingshotting back up.

That night, Eku dreamt of flying monkeys.