Chapter 5

Rivers and Plains

Beyond the land of the giant bamboo, the Abantu encountered a more familiar mix of forest and savannah.

Eku and Yathi trod along a parade of people through yellow grass as tall as they were, but listless and stripped of bristles.

The trees were broad-leaf hardwoods with canopies like upside down funnels, the leaves long and flat and browned and rustling dryly, like waka-waka people made hurried whisperings each time Ulayo breathed.

The soil was arid and sek-umthi appeared in circular patches amidst rock croppings of crumbled sandstone.

The Abantu never lingered in lands low on water.

Sek-umthi were large and sturdy bushes, each branch ending with a symmetrically pleasing bundle of round leaves, the leaflets radiating outward like the fingers of a hand.

During lobo-yaka, sek-umthi sprouted beautiful and smelly white flowers, which matured into dates deadly for humans if eaten, but attracting droves of bushpigs, which found them irresistible.

Kaleni taught Eku how to use the dates to set snares that never failed to capture a fat and succulent meal.

He wondered if seeing sek-umthi meant that actual bushpigs would make a welcome reappearance.

But so far they have not.

At least there were plenty of other beasts for the hunters to trap and keep their bellies full.

Patches of the ever-resilient boxthorn were present, like sek-umthi, always green, even through sika-yaka.

The boxthorn in this region of savannah grew in plots sizeable enough to force the tribe to make roundabout detours.

Eku thought that a version of boxthorn must inhabit every land, but at least the thorny bushes always attracted other plants and small trees, which drew beasts to forage.

Beasts similar to bushpigs, also good to eat.

The Abantu said embi-kulunge, when cleverness turned something bad into something good or, depending on the inflection, when a lack of cleverness did the reverse.

Eku clicked and said what he was thinking to Yathi, “Boxthorn and poisonous dates. Embi-kulunge.”

“Another one of those silly life things,” Yathi grumbled. “We hiked enough today. We should stay at the next camp for more than one night.”

“We will stop at the next place with water,” Eku predicted, not really caring if he was right, but knowing Yathi liked to keep things positive.

The tribe would stop when the mothers said it was time to stop.

***

The tribe did stop soon at the next obstacle, but only briefly.

Another river had to be crossed, but this one pushed far less volume of water than the previous.

Layered hedges of papyrus and river grass safeguarded the shoreline, but after following a path cut by the hunters, Eku found a riverbed wide, but mostly dry.

At this stage of sika-yaka, the outer parts of the riverbed were sedimentary dirt and exposed rock, but a steady current still flowed past large boulders scattered along the deepest, center part of the channel.

After regrouping for a brief rest and a refill of bladders, the tribe marched upstream to find a suitable place to cross.

Eku, Yathi, Goguk and Kolo paced across mud that had turned hard with small and smooth pebbles that massaged their feet.

The width of the center channel eventually widened and grew shallow and the current became gentle enough for everyone to wade safely.

Across the river the land swelled higher and the treeline blocked whatever came after.

Heading up an incline of grass, Eku and Yathi were able to look down the river they just crossed, to a widened area, where they saw vubu for the first time.

Large bodies lounged in a mud pool, all but submerged, oblong and brown with a glow of pink.

Eku could hear low-pitched grunts in the distance, reminding him of both seals and buffalos.

“They look like a bunch of giant turds,” Yathi said.

“Wait until you see them up close,” Kolo responded. “Vubu are ferocious. Never go to the water if vubu there. Vubu kill everything that comes to their pond. Even wenya.”

***

Over the ridgeline the land became drier, transitioning from forest and savannah to woodlands featuring subtropical grasses and clusters of bush, with the usual battery of boxthorn and small trees.

The lakes and ponds that spoiled the Abantu throughout the Mantel homeland were replaced by streams, some only a trickle at this part of the cycle, but enough to support stands of fig trees and soseji-umthi.

Soseji-umthi grew in a spreading pattern with enormous crowns that currently offered a spectacular display of flowers.

Hanging from the branches of a mature tree were waka-waka long stems, more like vines, currently engulfed by maroon flowers that hung in long and magnificent panicles.

The individual flowers were the size of Eku’s hand and speckled the enormous trees with color and littered the ground below the canopy with piles of petals, food that both antelope and baboon enjoyed.

When the rains of loko-yaka began, the flowers matured into oblong fruits that grew to the length of a person’s arm; enthusiastically feasted upon by elephants, who sometimes tore the trees apart to get at the enormous pods.

While trees were not directly useful for an Abantu, they provided the opportunity to trap beasts, either drawn to the flowers during sika-yaka or the gourd-like fruit during lobo-yaka.

Fig trees were another staple of the Abantu diet, yielding splendid fruit throughout each cycle, not just good tasting, but long lasting and thus, excellent travel food.

The Abantu’s progress remained steady.

As a nomadic people, they were marvelously prepared for a journey.

The latest part of the pilgrimage though, was the longest many of them had been away from Uwama.

The Abantu yearned for her presence.

Felt a need for her caress, almost as they would a real mother, their entire lives until now comforted by her embrace.

Many songs praised Uwama’s riches.

The people could never forget how Uwama nourished their ancestors through the terrible times.

Even during the chilliest part of sika-yaka, when a tribe sheltered amongst the inland hills, an Abantu was never truly lost, a popular verse ingrained upon every child:

Like children to a mother

Water returns to Uwama

She calls to her children

And water follows

If you are lost

follow her children home

And you will find home

***

In order to circumvent a vast and treacherous estuary of brackish wetlands, mangrove forests and constantly shifting sandbars of silt fed by the confluence of two rivers, the tribe marched deeper into a strange land.

The parade of people moved through stands of mopane trees, the leaves withered and yellowed, but clustered with plump brown seed pods that forbade a future of plenty.

When the rains came, the mopane would burst with two-sided leaves shaped like butterflies, eventually crawling with colorful caterpillars that once fattened, were a delicacy to be feasted upon.

Currently, the ground was littered by dried grass and clumps of brown leaves the same as those in the trees.

Bare patches of Umawa showed reddish dirt.

Travel remained pleasant and uneventful; though, some of the Mantel maintained a deepset fear of the land where the two rivers merged.

Yat told Eku more than once that the Mantel were prone to superstition.

He walked with Yathi to one side, Goguk and Kolo on the other, the four of them abreast, satchels and bed mats strapped to their backs.

Eku carried his ula-konto loose at the side, horizontal, a hooded sheath over the barbed end.

Knowing Kolo was a good source of information, Eku asked what his people knew of the land where the two rivers merged.

Kolo carried a long and straight stick he hacked from a sapling and mimicked Eku’s manner of holding his ula-konto.

Eku smiled, hoping that maybe Kolo might want to become a hunter.

He took note of his backpack.

The Mantel made clever packs from shorn skin that used cordage to hang tight, but comfortably against the shoulders and back, allowing them to maneuver more easily through areas of forest.

Kolo shifted his pack as he walked and leaned to look past Goguk and said, “No Mantel has been there for a very long time, but there are … I think it is what you call legends?”

He seemed ready to say more, but hesitated.

Waved his non-spear hand in the direction they were walking in a vague way and said, “It is isipo.”

Eku said, “We say isipo-kee! when we talk of our ancestors. Is your isipo like a song? Or a legend?”

Unsure of the nuances, Kolo shrugged and said, “Isipo are passed from father and mother to children. All of the Mantel villages have their own isipo.

“But there are some isipo that all villages share.

“Even when families visit from villages far apart, the words are spoken the same way.

“Like your singing but … More like talking.”

Eku asked, “So you have isipo for the two rivers?”

Kolo nodded enough for his ponytail to sway. He moved his stick/spear in a swinging motion, again indicating the direction they were heading.

“The ancestors say to stay away from the land of the two rivers. Never go there.”

Goguk piped in, “Why are the two rivers dangerous?”

Kolo put on a look of mock fear and said, “The land beyond the two rivers belongs to the yolumkono!”

He grinned, but there was something about the tone of his voice that made Eku quickly ask, “What does that word mean?”

Ahead of them, Tayat, Kolo’s mother, walked with Krele and Shona and other mothers.

Eku liked Tayat’s ponytail, tied thick and straight for a hands’ length, before loosening into braids that cascaded down, kind of like flower petals.

Tayat was extremely quiet, to the point that Eku wondered where Kolo got his gregarious nature.

His mother rarely said a word, but typical of a mother, had ears like a bat and abruptly turned and made a shushing sound at Kolo.

After a moment, Eku caught Kolo’s eye and gave him a questioning look.

He motioned for Eku to lag a bit and when the adults were out of earshot said, “Yolumkono are part human and part beast.”

Eku looked thoughtful for a moment, then concerned and asked, “A beast like a lion or a monkey or a plant eater?”

“I do not know. But they are ferocious.”

“Like a lion then?”

“Yes. A lion. Something terrible.”

***

The original contact between the Abantu and Mantel led to a friendship that only grew over generations.

The combined abilities of the two tribes allowed them to explore further up the coastline; though, at first, the Mantel refused to venture north of the giant bamboo.

Once the Abantu hunters traveled to the lands beyond the bamboo and returned very much alive, enough of the Mantel were convinced that the isipo was wrong.

Or perhaps the mysterious yolumkono did not survive the terrible times.

The Abantu scouts assured the Mantel that the land was nevertheless dangerous.

Bountiful, but deadly.

During their first exploratory move north of the giant bamboo, the Abantu hunters encountered the monstrous water buffalo.

And other menacing creatures.

Of particular concern was a new kind of baboon, or a creature like a baboon, but at least twice the size of a normal baboon, ranging in highly mobile bands the scouts were careful to avoid.

And there had been sounds one night.

Sounds the hunters did not want to put into a song, but were obligated to tell.

Cries such as a helpless victim made when trapped by a predator and used as a plaything before death.

Sounds made all the more haunting because the victim sounded human.

***

Eku loved being on the pilgrimage.

Every day brought an adventure.

The tribe traveled at a comfortable pace for two or three days, setting up simple, temporary camps, always next to freshwater, where they remained one night or more, depending on the need or opportunity to replenish.

Traditionally, both the Mantel and Abantu followed a chain of command that extended from the elders downward.

All critical decisions were made by elders; though now, with the exception of Tiuti, there were no elders.

Settled into the administrative role were the mothers.

Sisters Krele and Shona, along with Luvu and Nyama, remained a unified voice, always followed by the enough of the other Abantu and Mantel mothers to maintain firm control over when to establish camp, where and what to harvest, how long to rest and how much to resupply before continuing.

Whenever the hunters went into the bush, they first checked with the mothers, who said which meat would be appropriate, but more importantly, the body parts most in need.

Whether a particular skin or sinew, marrow for essential oils, the ideal bones for awls, scrapers and other tools; as well as other essentials, such as brains for curing hides and bladders to carry water.

“We are the elephants now,” Eku overheard Krele tell Shona, who laughed.

Eku figured that was fine by him.

Elephant parades were led by matriarchs, who guided the great beasts unerringly from food source to watering hole.

His aunt Shona was older and taller than Krele.

Stronger physically, which Eku figured made sense, seeing that she had to lay with Yathi’s father Lume, who was like a water buffalo at a small pond.

Shona was fast approaching the highly esteemed status of isipo-bomi, a tribute placed upon a female blessed enough to raise multiple offspring to adulthood.

Yathi had hair around his penis and under his arms, so he was becoming an adult.

Eku checked every day, but he was lagging in that department.

Yathi had Kozik and Doagu; whereas, it was just Eku and Yatyambo.

Eku’s mother was a bit shorter than average and slender, but famous for her quickness; at one time, being the fastest amongst all the young females, faster even than most of the males.

And more clever than all of them.

Kaleni, though, was fast and clever enough to eventually catch her.

Krele’s first child, a son, was born at a time the tribe was going through an unusual drought and constantly moving.

Circumstances were rigorous.

The baby did not survive birth.

As the Abantu say, when something is meant to be, something happens.

Devastated, Krele and Kaleni mourned.

Later, while inland during sika-yaka, Krele became pregnant with Yatyambo, who was born just days after Shona gave birth to Doagu; thus, they shared the same laba-ini.

Yat was a healthy baby and soon everyone was talking about her being the most capable Abantu of her age, just as her mother had been.

When hearing such tales about his sister, Eku—who revered his mother—was horrified and needed to verify such an outrageous claim with an adult he trusted.

“Yes,” his uncle Lume had told him, while nodding his big head, “Yatyambo and your mother are very much alike. For sure.”

Eku walked away muttering.

Such a thing could not be true.

He loved Yat, of course, but she had a wicked temper and a sharp tongue.

Krele never got flustered.

She was always two steps ahead of everyone else, her thoughts making up for what she used to do with her feet.

While his father was certainly the greatest hunter, quite matter-of-factly, Eku considered his mother the most capable Abantu there was.

But then again, Yat was a very fast runner….

***

The Abantu reached a truly vast floodplain created by the confluence of the two rivers.

Fortunately, at this stage of the dry cycle, the ground was dry and firm and the people moved pleasantly through orchards of palm trees.

These particular palms being packed with dense clusters of edible dates.

The tribe took frequent breaks, stopping to cut through the thicketed margins of grass surrounding each cluster, then climbing into the short trees to pull down ribbons of vines pearled with oval brown fruits.

Eku and Yathi used the pointy ends of scoopers to expertly cut through the hard exterior to get at the delicious and soft core.

Yathi soon consumed so much of the sweet fruit, he began stopping to squat too frequently, forcing Shona to cut him off for a day.

Eku marveled that not once had he missed the sealskin vest he normally wore during sika-yaka.

The weather remained warm and food was plentiful.

He walked amidst a long parade with Yathi and Kolo, per usual, with Dokuk, Odi and Goguk just to the side.

As they made their way through grassy clusters of the small palm trees, Yathi grumpily asked if anyone had something interesting to eat.

Eku swung his sealskin satchel from back to front and felt around inside.

Pulled out a parcel of wrapped leaves.

Peeled away a leaf for a smell and said, “Wenya. Greasy and smoky, but should be good.”

Grateful, Yathi took the parcel and unwrapped the leaves to find the jerked meat.

Gave a smell, which seemed satisfactory and tried a bite.

Yat came up from behind, just in time to catch Yathi's jaw at work.

“Aunt Shona said you have to stop eating that,” she scolded.

Her hair was wrapped in a narrow plume with feathers as decoration, the plume bouncing off her full back sack, the feathers fluttering as she walked.

“Not palm fruit,” Yathi said.

Dangled the strip of the jerked meat so she could see and added, “Smoked wenya.”

Yat’s pretty face contorted as she exclaimed, “Smoked wenya is disgusting!”

“I know. I do not like it either.”

Aghast, Yat snapped, “Why are you eating it?”

“I like chewing.”

Yat looked on in feigned horror as Yathi tore off a stringy chunk and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

Nodded and seemed satisfied as he said, “The sour taste goes away and then you can just chew it.”

Sternly, Yat said, “You are silly.”

“Chewing helps me to not think about walking.”

Yat seemed prepared for another critique, but paused to consider Yathi’s words.

Clicked in a positive way and went to move on, but not before shooting a sly grin at Dokuk that left him with his heart racing.

Yathi continued to chew contentedly, though, when he caught a look from Eku, who mimicked Yat when she looked stern, they burst into laughter.

***

The Abantu had penetrated far enough inland to bypass where the two rivers combined.

While the rivers converged downstream to form an enormous waterway it was only briefly.

The hunters knew that the river fractured during its approach to Uwama, breaking into distributary channels and eventually an enormous estuary infested by wenya.

A gentle rain fell as Eku and Yathi followed the parade through trampled river grass and palm trees to reach the first river, which was the smaller of the two and currently fordable by foot.

The narrow band of land that appeared between the waterways when water levels were low became a kind of dreamscape during sika-yaka.

A carpet of dark green finger grass interspersed by towering white palm trunks.

No other plants grew here.

Eku guessed that during lobo-yaka, his feet would be under water.

The ground was flat as far as the eye could see, covered by the fur-like grass and the tallest, nakedest tree trunks he had ever seen, topped by circular clusters of green fronds.

“They look like giant white grass with flowers at the top that somehow turned into giant palm trees,” Yathi said.

Eku, liking the comparison, said “For sure.”

At first, everyone was mesmerized by the landscape, but soon, yelps along the parade alerted everyone to watch their step.

A detritus of shed palm leaves littered the otherwise wonderfully soft grass.

The leaves did not look large as part of the round crowns at the top of such a tall tree, but on the ground, the leaves were gigantic.

Their desiccated remains left midribs still intact and armed with spines, now dry and brittle and painful to step on, even for their toughened feet.

Tiuti and some of the mothers were forced to wear skins on their feet for protection.

When the tribe reached the second river, the opposite shore was but a smudge on the horizon.

With no boats prepared in advance, this would be their most serious challenge yet.

Making the choice of the route more delicate, there were waka-waka pregnancies, several of whom, including Yathi’s sister Doagu, would soon give birth.

Unfortunately, a river such as the one before them was likely to harbor nasty beasts that would make entering the water much too dangerous for a female with an advanced pregnancy.

They would have to cross without entering the water.

The tribe set up a temporary camp amidst a steady rain, while Kaleni and Umthi led the lead hunters upstream to look for a better location to cross.

The land was soon squishy and muddy underfoot.

Eku and Yathi worked their arms to weariness, transporting bundles of cut river grass to where the adults were building rounded shelters.

The next day was equally busy, the hunters returning from upriver and the tribe moved again, to where the land started to rise and the giant palm trees transitioned to riverine forest.

A more permanent camp was established, once again using an infinite supply of river reeds to weave rounded huts.

Once camp was established, they prepared for the river crossing.

***

Bored and looking for something to do, Eku, Yathi, Gokuk and Kolo wandered the shore of the river.

Eku saw Dokuk heading in another direction, toward the part of the encampment closer to the beginning of the giant palm trees and felt a pang of jealousy.

Dokuk and Tuve carried ula-kontos, while the younger, aspiring hunters trailing them carried wooden spears or keri sticks.

Eku fervently wished he could go and practice with them.

When everyone practiced together they had contests and it was fun.

But then, Eku always wanted to practice.

Some of the time he did other things, as neither Yathi or Goguk aspired to be hunters.

The new camp sprawled between the river and the beginning of the forest, while further downstream spread wide fields of grass and the giant palms.

All grass and brush accumulated during the clearing of the area lay heaped in mounded piles that marked the perimeter of the encampment.

Because the area was heavily populated by leopards, the rounded shelters of water reeds were all in the middle, organized in loose rows.

Fire pits were always smoldering.

Upriver from where the people settled, the land rose gradually to forest a shallow ridgeline forced the river to briefly narrow before expanding in width again in front of the encampment.

Before them, the river spread wide, but much of the main channel was shallow and dotted with islands, some just rocks and grass, others with copse of trees.

Eku spied Tiuti, standing a bit upriver from the encampment, along a shore of silt, looking upriver, along the ridgeline.

“We should see what Tiuti is thinking about,” Eku said. “Find out what he is doing.”

Goguk said, “Tiuti scares me.”

“He just ignores you, like most people,” Yathi said.

“He is ancient and wise,” Kolo said with admiration.

“Tiuti is just busy with his thoughts,” Eku said.

“He is scary,” Goguk repeated.

Yathi chuckled and said, “When Tiuti works with the izik-kosa, he laughs when my father tells dirty jokes.”

He clicked and grinned at Eku, who grinned back.

“Come on,” Eku said and started forward, confident the others would follow.

Tiuti wore his usual, shorn-skin loincloth with a knife and holster tied snugly against his thigh.

A soft wrap was tied over a shoulder and wound around the torso to tie at the waist.

He had placed himself in the three-sided area of land, with the river expanding in width to his right, and the encampment on the opposite side.

Before him was a ridgeline and the first trees.

The trees had thick trunks that grew perfectly straight before branching to bushy crowns.

Deep in thought, a smile lifted the corners of his normally stern mouth at the approach of the tribe’s youngest males.

Eku called, “Izik-ikiz Tiuti. Why do you stare so?”

Tiuti motioned them closer.

When they got close, he gestured at the nearby hillock.

Eku saw a solid wall of vegetation, in front of which the pale trunks of the outermost trees stood out as though they were the first, pale pillars to support a vast ceiling of green.

Tiuti said, “Today the Mantel carve a tree into what we call ipyane-isiga, such as those that carried us across the previous river.”

Yathi, comfortable around Tiuti excitedly said, “Ipyane! Like we rode across on?”

Tiuti actually chuckled, which resulted in Goguk and Kolo unexpectedly grinning.

“Yes,” Tiuti said. “From a single tree. Or perhaps two.”

He gazed thoughtfully at Eku, before adding, “You should come. All of you. See what the Mantel can teach us.”

***

Later that day, the entire tribe knew of the big event.

A host of people moved to the upriver side of the encampment to the edge of the forest, Eku and Yathi making sure they were at the forefront, to be sure and see all the action.

Amongst the Mantel there was a group of experienced dugout makers, who previously selected two trees, suitably close to the water, growing on an incline so the base of the trunks naturally curved before growing straight up for a sufficient height.

Curious, Eku watched as the entire Mantel tribe gathered around the two trees.

An animated conversation began, but only in the Mantel language.

“What are they doing,” Yathi kept repeating.

Because the Mantel talked fast and many at the same time, Eku had no idea, but watched closely.

Sometimes voices were raised.

There was a lot of gesticulating.

Arguing, no doubt, but with a ritualistic feel, as though the entire population had to be involved in choosing the same trees recommended by the boat makers in the first place.

“Maybe that is like one of their tribal councils,” Eku guessed.

Yathi clicked positively, liking the idea.

The Mantel crowd broke into smaller groups and everyone seemed quite pleased.

By now the entire Abantu tribe had wandered over, curious to see how the forest people made the amazing crafts they would use to cross the river, the same as they had used to cross the previous.

Several Mantel began chopping away at the base of the two trees, while others set up work platforms at the base of the incline, closer to the water.

They brought forth stones for sharpening.

Eku focused on those wielding the axes.

The outer layer of bark and wood was soft and though the trees were very broad, they quickly cut to a hand's depth all the way around each.

A pair of Mantel then worked at each tree, chopping a wedge into the sides that faced the incline, where they wanted them to fall.

The sharp thwack of rock on wood echoed constantly.

The forest folk had excellent axes, having located enough quartzite to knap quality, adze-shaped heads, which they bound and glued to a short haft.

The axes were effective for hacking away chunks of wood, but really, no more than a well balanced club with a cutting edge.

While the Mantel would do the boat carving, the Abantu begged for the honor to finish cutting down the trees.

Once the wedges were cut far enough into each trunk, the Mantel were happy to relinquish the brute labor that followed.

The Abantu also made axes with heads of quartzite, as there was no need to waste precious isipo-igazi on tools used for such blunt force chopping.

But, where the Mantel struggled to find knappable stone, the izik-kosa had a wealth of quarries across the southern shores, where they learned to use vices and hammers and chisels to better groove and shape the knapped heads.

Tiuti had even invented a drill of isipo-igazi to bore holes through quartzite, by far the most effective way to attach a large blade to a long handle.

The Abantu loved a contest and the hunters challenged the izik-kosa over who could cut down a tree first.

Teams were selected.

Yathi grinned ear to ear when his big brother Kozik stepped forward with Ingwabi.

Kozik and Ingwabi were ikanabe.

Kozik was one of the tallest in the tribe with broad shoulders and powerful legs.

Ingwabi was the eldest child of Nibamaz and supremely capable, like his father.

Teaming up to attack the other tree were Azik and Kizma, also ikabane and two of the tribe’s strongest izik-kosa.

Dokuk leaned over Eku and Yathi’s shoulders to whisper, “Azik and Kizma do not have a chance.”

The young hunters swung necklaces with a single talon around their backs.

The izik-kosa did the same with their pendants of carved wood and bone.

The contest began and wood chips flew.

The members of each team took turns whacking away at their respective tree.

Though the izik-kosa were more familiar with an ax and applied more precise cuts, they soon fell behind due to the sheer might of Kozik.

It was clear the izik-kosa were overmatched, when a shout came from the back of the crowd.

“Out of the way,” a stern voice commanded.

The contest momentarily halted as Lume lumbered through the crowd like a bull elephant making its way to a watering hole.

Yathi’s father was known for two things: being Tiuti’s most highly skilled izik-kosa, and for his size.

Lume loved to eat.

A lot.

Yathi’s father’s belly was legendary across the southern shores.

And such a belly might have been cumbersome, were it not set between boulder-like shoulders and tree trunk legs.

Even Lume’s hands were large, like seal flippers, fingers thick and powerful from a lifetime of working rock and bone.

“My turn,” he said to Azik and Kizma.

In Lume’s hands was a magnificent, tree-felling ax.

A splendidly straight and smooth hardwood shaft with a wedge-shaped head.

The ax head was wide, thick on one side; beautifully knapped to taper gradually to a knife-sharp edge.

The thick head of the ax had a hole drilled through the center and resin-glue and sinew was wrapped and heated to permanently melt stone to haft.

A truly fearsome and magnificent weapon.

But Kozik only grinned.

He and Ingwabi had cut much further into their tree.

Said confidently to his father, “You cannot catch up.”

“We shall see,” Lume answered.

The contest began again with great fervor and the crowd began rhythmically clapping and shouting.

Kozik and Ingwabi were young and strong and took turns attacking their tree.

Everyone knew it would fall shortly.

In Lume’s massive hands, the beautifully crafted ax was something to behold.

His huge belly bounced and roiled and wood chips flew in chunks.

The crowd murmured in amazement, then began cheering loudly as Lume firmly anchored his feet and whirled the ax faster.

Eku could not believe the sound the ax head made when striking the tree, a sound with a visceral edge, as though the air itself was shocked by the impact of each blow.

Kozik and Ingwabi each took frantic turns, their young muscles striated and straining, but normally placid Lume was now possessed by a demon, the ax spinning over his head, first from one direction than the other, wood chunks flying in all directions, slivers plastered against his shaking belly.

In no time, Lume surpassed the hunters and soon the tree groaned and creaked and after a last, wicked blow, fell downward, the crash drowned by the roar of the crowd.

Shortly after, Kozik delivered a final blow to the hunters' tree and the crowd cheered again.

Sweating profusely and covered with slivers of wood, Lume hugged his powerful, but still young son and pulled him toward the river.

“I’m going with them,” Yathi shouted and tore off to squeeze himself between his big brother and giant father, the three of them leading a large group for a swim.

Eku grinned up at Tiuti, the two of them having stayed to watch the boat carvers.

Eku watched in fascination as the Mantle attacked each tree, stripping bark and smoothing knots.

Other izik-kosa grabbed their own tree-felling axes and took turns chopping through the thick trunk where the first branches began.

After the brush was cleared, each end of the giant log was chopped and scraped to a tapered point.

A crowd gathered once more to push and roll the big logs down the remainder of the incline to the platforms by the water, where the more precise carving would take place.

Eku noted the tools the Mantel used for the precision carving were modified to fit Abantu blades of isipo-gazi.

He spent the following days with the old master, the two of them learning everything they could about how the dugouts took proper form.

***

This is a good night, Eku thought.

Darkness fell some time ago, but the entire tribe was awake and about, everyone excited for the next day and the crossing of the river.

The air was warm, but clear, more like early lobo-yaka, before the rains began.

Eku sat with Yathi, Kolo and Goguk at the edge of the river on a flat rock, wearing only loincloths, feet dangled so toes almost touched the water.

The bellies of the young males were full; they were content, enjoying the atmosphere of a mysterious land.

Yanga had yet to rise and a breathtaking sweep of stars speckled a ceiling of sable to plum, making the water still and inky black, with shimmers of silver.

Eku looked up at a vast sprawl of celestial bodies so vivid he wanted to jump up and grab one.

The cough of a leopard echoed and brought his attention earthbound, where invisible bats squeaked in pursuit of insects swarming over the water.

“I like it here,” he said.

“Me too,” Yathi quickly agreed.

“I like home better,” Goguk chimed in.

“I want to see the land of legend,” Kolo said.

“Me too,” Eku agreed.

“You miss home?” Kolo asked Goguk.

The two of them had been spending much of their free time together, many of the Abantu hoping that Goguk might have found an ikanabe.

“It was nice where we lived,” he said.  “I like eating mussels. They are my favorite.”

Yathi clicked rapidly and added a grunt before saying, “I want to go back to the other river, with the little palm trees.”

“You will end up fat like a vubu,” Kolo said.

Giggled, adding, “When they get mad at each other, they shit and use their tail to fling it in all directions.”

The others laughed and Yathi said, “I wish I could do that.”

Kolo shook his head and made a face. “They are disgusting. And they make disgusting noises. Never drink water near vubu.”

Yathi nodded with solemn integrity, “For sure.”

Kolo leaned closer.

Nose to nose, the night was bright enough for them to see each other’s features.

“Why are your eyes so?”

“Laza eyes,” Yathi said.

“Laza?”

“My mother says laza eyes are a gift from Uwama, for taking her islands back. She gave my ancestors’ eyes the color of her water.”

Yathi opened his eyes wide and Kolo peered closely.

Solemn, he said, “I have never seen Uwama.”

The Abantu males chimed, “Never!”

Kolo leaned back, saying, “We do not travel beyond the mangroves.”

Yathi said, “My ancestors lived on islands. They had boats. Probably like yours. We fished and speared seals.

“But then Uwama raised her waters and we took our boats back to Umawa and became Abantu.

“That was a long time ago. Even before the terrible time.”

Kolo said, “That is one of our shared isipo. When ash fell from the sky and even the trees died.”

Eku blurted, “Probably not the jungle trees. They are too large.”

Goguk exclaimed, “Have the jungle trees been here forever then? Like the rivers?”

“Rivers are forever, but jungle trees die,” Kolo said matter of factly. “They fall and then bamboo grows.”

“But jungle trees are very old, for sure,” Eku said.

“Very old,” Kolo agreed. “Like Tiuti.”

There was a sound and they all turned to look: Yat and Dokuk settled on a rise of grassy earth, a bit away from the young males.

“I cannot wait to ride tomorrow,” Goguk announced.

“You are lucky,” Yathi said, with envy.

“I want to swim,” Eku offered, knowing he sounded braver than he felt.

“Not me,” Yathi answered, though Eku knew he was an excellent swimmer. “I would rather ride. The last part is too far.”

Kolo said, “We are many together. So it is safe. Besides, this river is not good for vubu. They like mud and ponds.

“And wenya, if there are big ones, the hunters on the dugouts will stop them.”

***

The tribe would cross en masse, as the wildebeest did, cutting across the river as a river themselves.

Across from the encampment, the river was calm, the current negligible.

The presence of so many able bodies was reassuring for the weaker swimmers, especially the Mantel, who, ironically, having lived their entire lives along ponds and lakes, rarely swam; whereas, the Abantu were raised diving for shellfish.

Immediately before them was a tame expanse of riffles.

Eku and the other young people needed only to wade or float from small island to small island, some thicketed with brush, others just rock covered shoals.

The first, real swim began where the center channel deepened, but was not far.

Eku swam easily across the deeper water with waka-waka others.

He and Yathi walked gingerly across more rocky shallows, where the land rose again to an island large and dry enough to support a partial ecosystem, with monkeys in the trees and evidence of duiker and pig.

Eku and Yathi followed Yat and the other young people through shoreline tangles to find an open area under the tall trees, where they waited until the entire tribe arrived.

The two dugouts transported supplies and gave rides to those who could not swim safely.

Through the trees, Eku could see from one side of the island to the other, as well as one side of the river to the other.

So far they had crossed about half the river with little difficulty, but the remaining portion was wide open.

No more islands meant swimming the entire distance.

Far, even for an Abantu.

While the rest of the tribe prepared, Eku watched his father and the lead hunters swim the remaining distance while the dugouts transported their javelins, ula-konto and other supplies.

Soon after, Eku, Yathi and Yat set out with the rest of the tribe, swimming steadily, the dugouts roaming back and forth, watching for wenya and other dangers, and giving rides to those not swimming.

At times, the current seemed to pull, especially where the temperature varied with a cold spot, and Eku scissor-kicked to maintain course.

Yat and Yathi were strong swimmers and stayed close, occasionally offering encouragement.

At one point, Goguk passed on one of the dugouts, sitting with Doagu and another pregnant passenger, hollering gleefully.

Lume sat at the front, back straight, looking huge even for the large dugout, but refusing to relinquish the paddling duties to anyone else no matter how many trips across.

***

Beyond the delta of the two rivers, the land returned to savannah, pockmarked by trees and bush, level as far as the eye can see.

After conferring with the mothers, Kaleni and Nibamaz charted a course to the right of north, across a vast and flat grassland, which inevitably led them to mangroves.

The hunters a slow moving stream and the tribe moved en masse, hunched over, knee-deep in water that tunneled beneath the interwoven branches.

Amidst a thick parade of people, Eku and Yathi worked their way as close to the front as possible, crouching and eventually floating beneath a ceiling of twigs and green leaves that abruptly ended at laza sky.

Once out from the mangroves they stood in warm water to their knees and moved out of the way for the others who were following.

Yelling with happiness, Eku and Yathi joined a surge of Abantu skipping across the warm and shallow estuary, through a weaving of ankle-high water grass to—joy of joys—a sandy beach.

The Abantu bounded onto the sand, wearing goofy smiles.

The Mantel came slowly after, with looks of awe.

Before them, a small and narrow beach of yellow-brown sand and then, rolling waves of green-gray water cresting with foamy white caps.

Other than the people, a few crawling crabs.

Bird calls from the mangroves.

Expanding in all her majesty: Uwama.

There were soft murmurs.

A few tears.

Words cannot suffice.

Nevertheless, Kolo, standing beside Eku and Yathi, tried, saying, “She is so big.”

Yat stepped next to them and said, “Uwama carries the world.”

“I missed her,” Yathi said.

“Me too,” Dokuk and Goguk chimed, having joined them.

Kolo said in the same, reverent voice, “She is so big.”

Yat said, “There are songs of Uwama’s caress turning Umawa one way or the other, but my father thinks Umawa does not turn at all, and that the land goes on forever, like the salted water of Uwama does, but in different directions.”

Eku said, “He taught us how to tell.”

Gazed up to find Ulanga and checked his shadow.

Oriented himself and pointed up the coastline, adding, “We find out by going that way.”

Kolo asked, “Does Tiuti think there is more land beyond the land of legend?”

Proudly, Yat said, “Him and my father.”

Goguk exclaimed, “How big is the world?”

“I do not know,” Eku said. “But we will be the ones who find out.”

***

For several days the tribe clung to the coast, wading around pockets of mangroves; swimming across the intertidal zones that separated one pristine beach from another; feasting on endless ubhak-unda, turtles, fish and octopi.

Three straight nights where all the Abantu had to do to make camp was roll out bed mats on the sand and gaze at the stars.

The rain, when it came, was gentle and they made crude shelters and slept together for warmth.

Finally, the mangroves thickened and the shoreline dropped.

The tribe found another stream to follow, this time against the current and out of the mangroves, to begin marching into the heart of Umawa.