Part 2

Heart of Umawa

The old alpha missed the home cave.

A natural fortress of stone from which he ruled for many cycles.

Dominion by club, dagger, fist and teeth.

Deciding where to hunt.

Choosing first amongst the females.

For a long time, none of the other males bothered to challenge his authority.

Forcing him to occasionally pick a fight, just to have some fun.

Now, not capable of defeating those younger and stronger, he was just an old male, clever, skillful and firmly aligned with the clan’s young, powerful alpha.

Respected, of course, so that he still had a pick of the females, when he felt up to it.

The old alpha returned that respect by never selecting any of the true alpha’s favorites.

Despite a legendary status, some of the younger males offered an occasional glance of disdain.

Annoyed by the weakness of his age.

Perhaps, someone might be stupid enough to challenge him.

He would fight, of course.

Slowed by age and injuries, experience made him a lethal opponent to all but the most agile of the young males.

But soon the day would come when a younger male would tear out his throat.

Or perhaps it be the jaws of a predator or the horns of a great beast.

Such a death would be welcome, of course—but only when the time was appropriate.

Besides, the ruling alpha was his offspring and looked upon him with adoration and would intervene if he was challenged at the wrong time, by the wrong male.

Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—the young alpha did not remember the home cave, being just a fledgling when they fled the land of their forebears.

Spacious; shaped perfectly for smoke ventilation.

Hippo skulls stacked at the entrance.

Within the large, inner chamber, a magnificent pyramid of curved buffalo horns.

Elephant tusks rested vertically against the walls.

Mounds of soft hides and comfortable bedding were all around.

Wood for burning, shards of bone useful for daggers, scrappers or diggers organized in the cool and dry inner chambers.

For generations the clan reigned from that cave.

But now, far away in a different land, they were gathered in another cave; really, no more than a sheltered outcropping of stone.

The mountainous ravines they had found were comfortingly familiar and might have worked out fine as new, permanent hunting grounds were it not for the flat faces.

From a hidden perch, the old alpha and the new alpha watched the flat face clan move up the river.

The old alpha stroked the long tooth that hung against his broad, heavily scarred chest.

The younger, powerful male gazed intently, thinking.

Chapter 6

Shatsheli-Lambo

Grass.

And then more grass.

Eku simply couldn’t believe there could be so much grass.

At least in the jungle, difficult as it had been, the ever-changing surroundings and occasional, colorful surprises kept one's attention.

Now, Eku felt as though they were marching across an ocean of grass, the land flawlessly flat, infinite leaf blades shifting pale to dark, depending on the direction of Ulayo’s breath.

Sometimes, the grass became thick and coarse, no more than chewed away patches up to their ankles; at other times, the stalks were long and dried and yellow and taller than Eku, rustling hollow as the people pushed through.

Direction according to the landscape was impossible, but Ulanga, huge and orange and unabating, always followed a set path, which guided their own.

The entire tribe walked together now, no forward party of hunters necessary to clear the way, a continuous column of humans pushing steadily forward.

With plenty of adult feet ahead of them, the path Eku and Yathi followed was well trampled.

“I would never want to be a wildebeest,” Yathi said with disgust. “Eat this all day? My whole life!”

“Elephants and zebras eat grass,” Eku said.

“They are just plant eaters.”

Yathi thrust his hands in front of him and wiggled his fingers. “I need lots of different kinds of food.”

Eku admitted, “I am tired of dried fruit and smoked meat.”

After slapping a stray shoot aside, Yathi said, exasperated, “We must be going somewhere.”

“You want to try and get to the front?”

“For sure.”

Eku and Yathi had grown nearly indefatigable during the pilgrimage, hardly noticing the full satchels and rolled bed mats attached securely across their backs.

Yathi tied his mat horizontally across the small of his back, while Eku arranged his mat vertically, along his spine so that he could attach the ula-konto, keeping his hands free. Sometimes Yathi laughed and told him he looked like he had a pointy horn sticking out of his head.

The two picked up the pace and went outside the corridor of trampled grass, dodging circular clumps of shoots to jog ahead, leaving Goguk and Kolo somewhere in the long parade behind.

The pair unexpectedly encountered a more manageable, knee-deep variety of grass, bronze with hints of orange, stripped seedless this far into sika-yaka.

The dirt between the circular patches was hard packed and good for walking.

With fewer bodies before them, Eku could see further ahead and recognized his father’s gait, at the front with Nibamaz and other hunters, dark, vertical bodies against a bright, shimmering background.

He thought their appearance strange, then realized the solid, seemingly endless plane of grass had disappeared; the horizon as well.

Eku had marched across enough coastal plains to know that something always lay on the horizon.

A hint of worry in his voice, Yathi clicked and asked, “Where did Umawa go?”

Suddenly realizing, Eku said, “I think it is water, showing the sky.”

Word spread down the column that something large and mysterious lay ahead.

The tribe was soon forced to a stop.

Gathered loosely along a body of water that expanded as far as they could see, as though everything else on earth had disappeared, leaving a tiny patch of humanity with endless grass behind and endless water in front, merged seamlessly along a perfectly straight, yet mysteriously defined shoreline with a narrow strip of bright green along the edge.

There was not a single tree or bush.

No large beasts.

A few distant waders and ducks.

Ulayo roamed elsewhere and the enormous body of water remained placid, but for dragonflies touching down and taking off.

Eku noted schools of waka-waka-waka tiny fish moving like shadows in the shallow water.

Water striders skimmed above the largest tadpoles he had ever seen.

A good-sized turtle poked its triangular snout out to gawk at the strangers.

There were no waves.

Just, water.

Eku stood with Yathi and Yat, next to Kaleni; they all knew that Uwama was never this calm.

There was no salty scent; nevertheless, a voice from behind asked, “Uwama?”

A fish jumped and people laughed nervously.

“No,” Kaleni said, loudly for others to hear. “We have reached shatsheli-lambo, the greatest river.”

Kaleni shrugged off the full satchel from his back, letting it fall gently to the ground.

There was an ax in his belt and he held his ula-konto with a sheath over the blade, making Eku wonder who was the lucky adult carrying his javelin.

The parade of people gradually caught up and familial groups separated to talk.

Yat asked, “Why can we not see the other side?”

Kaleni said, “The river is so wide here that only a flying bird can see the other side. Which is why we will have to travel upstream before we can cross.”

Krele came up beside Eku.

Mother and son stared at the smooth expanse of water showing a shimmering reflection of a bright sky, unable to comprehend it was a river.

There was not even a smudge on the horizon.

Like staring at the unimaginable breadth of Uwama, only different.

Krele, still wearing a satchel over her shoulder, put a palm to the back of Eku’s neck and he leaned his head against her shoulder, making her smile as he said in a doubtful tone, “It will not be so big then?”

“There is a lone mountain we must watch for,” Kaleni said. “On the other side. Taller than anything around it. When we see the lone mountain, shatsheli-lambo will not be so wide and we will cross.”

Eku leaned away from his mother and looked around and said, “There are no trees to make boats anyway.”

Krele laughed and rubbed his head.

The tribe marched along a shoreline that followed the direction of Ulanga.

While the flat land remained unchanged, what grew on it certainly did.

Papyrus and river grass appeared to form thick, parallel margins of light green and cream along the water.

Hillocks began to alter the horizon.

There were patches of bush, but still no palms or other trees.

The first, slight rise was an opportune place to make camp.

***

Yathi happily joined Lume catching fish while Eku was excited for a chance to use his ula-konto.

Shatsheli-lambo was loaded with ubhak-unda and Eku’s primary objective was to fill his satchel with crabs or clams, but as always, small beasts were also fair game.

He moved with other aspiring hunters from the slight hillock where they made camp to the papyrus along the water.

Papyrus was known to grow tall, but this papyrus apparently wanted to mimic the mighty shatsheli-lambo and the enormous stalks rose four or five times the height of an adult.

Camp was established far enough back from the water for Eku to detect a discolored blemish across an otherwise uniform, densely spiculated canopy.

He hurried down the slight incline to claim his entry point, noting Dokuk doing the same at a nearby location.

To anyone watching from camp, the young Abantu appeared to vanish when they entered the green.

Unlike thinner and rounded water grass, papyrus stalks have three flat sides and once mature, rise to enormous crowns feathered with clusters of grass-like spokes, creating a dense ceiling.

In jungle-like darkness, sinuous moves wound Eku’s slender body through stalks more like small trees, the scratch of the curious, red-brown scales covering the lower regions mildly pleasant to his skin.

Using his toes to test the muck before setting weight down freed Eku’s eyes to devour everything in his path while his ears parsed sounds for deciphering.

Ulayo’s breath could not penetrate such growth and the air stank of decaying vegetation.

Peering through the towering stalks, Eku was reminded of the giant bamboo at the edge of the Mantel homeland and felt as though he were in a miniature forest.

No!—an ordinary forest.

And he was a giant!

Vision adjusted to the low light, Eku moved in a slight crouch, using the ula-konto to push aside spider webs.

Paused when spotting fat snails migrating up the stalks.

Keeping in giant mode, he imagined the snails were climbing bush pigs, made his fingers like the beak of a raptor and snatched the biggest to stuff into the satchel tied tightly against the small of his back.

Continued the hunt of a giant.

Eku was exhilarated—and a bit intimidated!

His tribemates were all around; yet, here he was, amazingly separate.

Alone.

Tiuti taught Eku that his body was small, but his mind was not.

Using his eyes, ears and nose, Eku allowed the world to come to him, his mind creating a multi-dimensional image of what was around him.

Staying slightly hunched, he held his ula-konto in his right hand against the thigh, a strong grip used for stabbing.

There was no chance of making a throw in such density.

Desperately hoping another aspiring hunter would spook a water rat or even a mongoose into his path.

In his giant mind, he could pretend it was a charging lion!

Eku moved deeper into the papyrus, stalks smaller, growing closer, making passage more difficult.

There was little sound other than a splurt from a step or a gurgle from the nearby river.

Eku used the ula-konto to poke at a lump in the low light to be sure it was not the tail of a juvenile wenya … a rotted stick wasn't a snake.

Water suddenly up to his ankles, Eku peered through columns of shoots, ears deciphering plant rustlings from water sounds.

Finally, a patch of light identified the location he had singled out from shore.

Eku gripped his ula-konto in both hands, ready to thrust.

Leaned his shoulder to push through stalks crawling with dark beetles with red dots and saw a trail of stained leaflets indicating a bird’s defecation.

Squeezed a step closer and … alas, the broken stems he spotted from the higher ground were not fresh.

Whatever roosted here was long gone.

Disappointed, Eku spotted crabs huddled in the pool of water below the opening and finished loading his satchel before reluctantly winding his way back through the papyrus.

Dokuk was the winner of the day, choosing his section wisely, filling his satchel with crabs and managing to spear a water rat.

Strong Tuve retrieved a pair of giant frogs with fat legs.

Eku vowed to do better next time.

He and Yathi grabbed freshly sharpened cutters from the tribal supply and joined Yat, Tar and Maz working nearby shallows, pulling water grass and separating the juicy tubers from the lower stems.

Mothers and benzi-kusela orchestrated the butchering and slicing and pounding and grinding and cooking and the Abantu feasted on a communal stew.

Bellies full, Eku and Yathi found a patch of cleared earth on the edge of camp to sit upon, another river to gaze over; though, this landscape was much different than the last.

Surrounded by bristling grass in all directions except the water, the camp was high enough so they could look down across the papyrus, a fuzzy green border alongside the largest body of freshwater either of them had ever seen.

They looked up as flamingos began to fly overhead.

Impressed, Eku said, “That is a big flock.”

Yathi, similarly impressed, leaned back on his hands and tilted his head. “How can there be so many?”

“I do not know.”

“A lot of flamingos must live here.”

“Maybe they are following shatsheli-lambo to the salted waters of Uwama.”

“For sure.”

They looked left.

Ulanga was an orange crescent peeking over the horizon of the river, amber rays slicing across the entire continent to spotlight the colorful birds, bringing their majestic numbers into awe inspiring clarity: countless white bodies with pink and black wings, long necks and distinctive curved beaks.

Soaring in harmony.

Eku thought of the dancers tearing off their robes of feathers to hurl into the flames of the bonfire.

Brought a hand up to shield his eyes from Ulanga’s final fire and peered into the distance, wanting to see just how far the flock stretched.

There was no visible end.

Flamingos, as far as Eku could see, as though the flock stretched all the way to wherever Ulanga was setting.

An unbroken stream of beautifully colored birds following shatsheli-lambo, the greatest river.

***

The Zambezi River has carried water from the central African plateau to the Indian Ocean for over two million years, the river forming the backbone of an ecosystem that has sustained, for countless millennia, one of the great collections of large animal life on earth.

The Abantu came upon the Zambezi well inland to avoid an enormous delta that covers thousands of square kilometers, an inhospitable fusion of brackish wetlands, swamps and mangroves.

Before them lay expansive, alluvial flats through which the massive river coursed sluggishly, as an inexorable, tidal force.

The Abantu, throughout this journey, had felt their own kind of momentum, each individual believing they were part of an unstoppable team, the power of their combined abilities giving them the resources to overcome any obstacle, banish any threat.

The Zambezi humbled those thoughts.

***

The Abantu trekked steadily upriver, Eku glad to see the endless plain of grass transform to traditional savannah, with patches of mopane woodland and the return of the upside down trees Yathi liked so much.

Shatsheli-lambo dominated the landscape, often breaking into thick channels with numerous islands and outlying streams.

Birds and beasts were simply everywhere.

Fortunate to prosper on fertile lands; nevertheless, neither the Abantu or Mantel had experienced such a density of beasts.

Giant bats soared the lower layer of Ulayo’s breath while red-headed vultures drifted the higher.

Flocks of green pigeons raced from clumps of bush and trees.

When Eku and Yathi marched along the parade below riverside palms, the chatter of brightly colored parakeets was loud enough to interfere with the humans’ conversations.

And at one point, Eku worried a fire may be raging ahead, when smoke began to billow over the river, only to realize that an enormous flock of birds was pouring out of thick riverside vegetation to swirl and eddy before melting into the endless horizon of water and grass and trees.

Streams meandered off the main body to form interwoven shorelines of papyrus and reeds, where orange and black saddlebill storks stalked and broods of pintail ducks burst to cross from one patch of bristle grass to another.

Water buffalo, muddied and glowering beneath helmeted horns, plowed trails through the matted growth, stirring up clouds of water flies as oxpeckers with yellow beaks hitched rides on their backs.

Eku noted that the buffalo here had fur lighter than those at home and eyed the humans with no suggestion of the quick aggression that made them such a menace in the Abantu homeland.

Wenya basked in ridged rows along dark mud as white egrets stepped boldly amongst them, snatching crawling creatures off their armored skin.

To avoid trouble, but also for ease of travel, the people clung to the gentle hillocks along the river, patiently winding their way through forests and grasslands, often crossing trampled highways left by the enormous parades of elephants that moved to and from open areas of the river throughout each day.

The giants were spotted throwing mud on themselves, spraying each other, always with groups of little ones—as if an elephant could ever be called a little one—scampering about the shallows as the matriarchs watched.

When the tribe wandered away from the margin of shatsheli-lambo, the trees thinned to savanna, where wildebeest and zebra recently migrated to live side by side and battle amongst themselves—but never each other—over the most favored food and females amidst endless grazing areas of foxtail grass, soon to explode into growth with the onset of lobo-yaka.

Thickets surrounded the indomitable boxthorn, which remained green regardless of the cycle, and drew the giant oryx with ridged horns like spears, as well an antelope the Abantu had never seen, with stout bodies and lustrous, nut-brown fur and a white underbelly.

The new antelopes had horns as impressive as the oryx, but curving majestically over each shoulder.

Groves of acacia and wild apricot drew kudu and giraffes.

Kudu, with reddish-brown fur and white stripes and corkscrew horns nibbled flowers, fruits and vines, while orange-spotted giraffes, perfectly camouflaged despite their giant size, gorged on leaves and twigs from the upper levels.

Scattered amongst ground-hugging bushes and shrubs were impala and springbok, the physically smaller varieties of antelope congregating close, often with warthog groups, all of them skittish, perhaps because of the proximity of so many of their giant, plant-eating relatives.

As well as predators.

Hyenas and lions occasionally stalked the Abantu from a distance, only to stop and stare at the two-legged herd moving purposefully along.

With bewildered looks, Eku thought.

When the Abantu passed an ideal rise with layered limestone slabs and several large mopane with rounded canopies for shade, Eku got a good look at the region’s ruling pride, unusually large in number, the adults lounging under the trees, cubs chasing each other across the rocks.

Ruled by two, magnificent brothers with massive heads and shaggy manes, balefully eying the intruders as they trod along.

The males eventually padded out of the shade, leisurely approaching the strange herd moving slowly through waist-high grass with juvenile spikelets.

Waka lioness rose to range behind, curious to see what might develop.

From a safe distance, Eku and Yathi stopped and watched as Abantu hunters peeled off the line and marched directly at the maned lions, long javelins ready, humming with deep voices a killing song that rose to a roar when they organized into separate groups bristling with deadly blades.

The lions instinctively retreated at the abrasive noise and coordinated movement of so many; though, a single lioness paused to cast a wary glance back, as though already aware that usurpers had entered their kingdom.

***

The change of cycles was upon them.

Lobo-yaka and shatsheli-lambo proved to be a ferocious combination.

By midday, Ulanga was hot in a way Eku had never felt.

The people wore loincloths or nothing at all.

Through the middle of the day, the tribe rested in shade, as close as possible to drinkable water.

“If Ulayo is not blowing, stepping out of shade into Ulanga is like stepping next to a bonfire,” Yathi said.

Eku recalled songs of rain being a gift of Uwama, her water without salt, but Ulayo, her mischievous daughter, delivers that gift with mercy or vengeance.

At home on the southern shores, but for the occasional squall, Uwama’s gift was merciful: gentle showers and a periodic, good soaking.

Shatsheli-lambo unleashed storms short, but fierce, making up for brevity with intensity.

“Vengeance,” Eku told Yathi after the first storm of lobo-yaka.

“For sure,” Yathi said. “These storms are worse than Yat when she gets angry!”

The first storm heralded a daily cycle.

Generally, around the same interval of each day, a storm swept down the river.

First, dark clouds appear; day becomes dusk; fat droplets splat pleasantly against bare skin.

A welcome respite from the heat, for sure.

Next, the clouds thicken and thunder rumbles and rain arrives as a steady sheet. Strange as it seems, Eku feels even wetter during these storms than when swimming, rivulets of water pouring down his face and body.

Finally, the clouds blacken and boil and thunderclaps rattle your bones.

Rain arrives in vomitous torrents.

Like the beasts, the people stop whatever they are doing.

There is nowhere to hide.

Nothing that anyone can do.

Eku bows his head and focuses on the solidity of Umawa beneath his toes as the rain hisses, thunder explodes and lightning flashes.

The flattened landscape is awash and out of focus, his companions blurry, vertical brown shapes.

Eku and Yathi find each other, put arms over their shoulders and lean to touch foreheads, laughing defiantly.

As quickly as it appears, the storm moves along.

Clouds disperse and disappear.

Ulanga shines mercilessly, as though nothing happened.

***

Abantu males are assigned ikanabe at birth or shortly after.

Females are raised in generational groups called laba-ini.

Luvu, the mother of Dokuk and Goguk, had gentle, kind eyes and the same, broad face and flat nose as her sons.

Eku often thought he saw sadness in Luvu’s gaze; despite his young years, understanding that such a wonderful mother could not otherwise grieve.

Luvu worried over Goguk.

But then, everyone did.

Goguk and Huzi were ikanabe and shared the teats of their mothers until weaning.

Learned to walk together, play together and work harvest together.

Goguk and Huzi, like Eku and Yathi, were more than brothers, more than friends: ikanabe are obligated to watch out for each other for life, unless fate says otherwise.

During lobo-yaka, the Abantu massed in familial based camps.

There were waka-waka such camps strung along the fertile plains of the southern shore.

Large gatherings of waka-waka-waka people sometimes took place at communal areas, built for entertainment and sport, with pavilions for feasting and celebrating.

To avoid the chill that came with sika-yaka, more severe along the coast, familial-based smaller tribes trekked north to the forested ravines that lay between the coastal plains and mountains, often returning to the same streams, lakes and ponds, year after year.

Eku and Yathi’s family were traveling with several other extended families with whom they would camp and shelter through the chilliest part of sika-yaka.

Unbeknownst, alongside them, a leopard stalked.

Once a proud hunter of antelope, pig and baboon, the leopard had grown old, partly lame, teeth worn, unable to catch let alone kill the prey it was accustomed to. Fur, once golden-brown, was dulled and the spotted rosettes faded black to gray.

The old cat was starving and finding it difficult to evade hyenas.

Forced to move from one territory to the next.

Despite a long life, the leopard never encountered humans.

Driven to the point of madness from hunger, once catching the tribe’s heavy scent, the predator was unable to resist.

Perhaps the leopard knew from watching other primates that small humans would be clumsy on the ground and easy to kill.

The tribe settled for the evening.

Huzi, always the more adventurous of the pair, wandered the perimeter of camp, Goguk tagging along.

The old cat could still move quickly compared to a human; thus, when Huzi got close to where it was hiding, the leopard leaped and drove Huzi to the ground, sank jagged fangs into the neck and dragged the small body into the bush as Goguk screamed.

Hunters quickly tracked and killed the old leopard, but there was no saving Huzi.

The perils of early childhood were part of Abantu life; though, by the time a child was weaned, the loss of life was rare; thus, Huzi’s death was especially painful.

When half of an ikanabe was lost, especially at a young age, a survivor from one can be matched with another, but being separated with a smaller tribe through the remainder of sika-yaka, none of the other families had a solitary male of Goguk’s age.

Dokuk stepped in as much as could be expected.

And Eku and Yathi already treated Goguk like a brother.

But amongst the Abantu there was a superstition: that when half of an ikanabe was lost, especially when the bond was strong, the remaining half soon followed them into the afterworld.

***

The tribe camped a short distance from the river, within a mopane grove sprawled across a prominence of land, a welcome respite after the monotony of flat plains and low hillocks.

Amidst a copse of trees, slanted slabs of pale yellow sandstone pierced the rise and the dirt was gritty beneath Eku’s toes.

The trees appeared unaffected by the change in soil, but only grew in small groups, with a few, mature canopies in the middle.

The ground was covered by long and wide blades of yellow and brown grass, pierced by shorter, fresh green shoots. The grass was unfamiliar to the Abantu and Mantel, and Eku noted a lack of grazing, meaning it was unappealing to buffalo, vubu or antelope.

Eager to explore, Eku popped up at the first hint of dawn.

Ulanga was rising, but still below the skyline. Through a gap in the branches, Eku could see his white glow above a watery horizon.

As with any tribe of size, there were always people awake and Eku wandered through trampled grass, past faceless dark shapes of couples quietly talking.

Waka-waka people slept on bed mats laid out in the open.

At the edge of camp, Eku used the area designated for emptying bowels and bladders.

He then crouched and crept below boughs thick with fresh leaves, heading down the slight incline, leaving the encampment behind.

With lower branches not cleared, Eku was wrapped in darkness, but knew his eyes would adjust.

There was light.

He just had to be patient and let it come.

Slowed his breathing.

Gripped the earth with his toes.

Listed to mated owls hooting back and forth at each other, somewhere in the trees ahead.

Made himself ibe-bonakalio.

Dark shadows came into focus.

First, the outline of the tree trunks and then branches and leaves.

Imagined he was the stealthy genet and moved forward, one, slow, step at a time.

Eku stopped when his mind told him there was movement.

Ulayo breathed softly and swaying grass tickled his legs.

What had he sensed?

Ah!

The mopane caterpillars had emerged.

Continuing, Eku did not even interrupt the hiss of nearby cicadas.

Kept his movements deliberate and fluid.

Precise.

Hands at his sides, fingers spread, palms slightly forward, he made sure Ulayo’s breath remained against him, so that his scent would not be carried forward.

Relished the feel of the ground beneath his toes.

Energizing.

Crept through the bush without a sound, ignoring the tickle of soft wings, that peculiar feel of insect wing membranes against human skin, knowing it was only the last stragglers of a nightly horde of river flies that emerged from the water to perform an infinite number of matings before dying at first light.

There was still enough paste on his body to protect him from anything that wanted his blood.

Directly before Eku, conical figures emerged from a mix of forest and grass.

Termite mounds, like sentinels, loomed where the trees thinned.

Eku crept toward them, curiously trying to decipher new scents.

A colossal beast came into focus amongst the tubular shapes, even bigger than a vubu, maybe the length of a bull elephant.

Black in the darkness, Eku could tell that it was hairless like an elephant, but with stumpy legs and an enormous head and neck. Growing from the nose was a spectacular horn taller than he was.

Eku was but an accompaniment to Ulayo’s soft breath as he moved down the rise, but paused to listen, fascinated by the sounds made by the giant horned beast as it ripped and chewed the tough grass that none of the other hoofed beasts desired.

He stopped again in the midst of tall grass, the river expanded before him, glinting with dawn’s first light, startled to see a dark band across the water and beyond that, a blemish on the horizon, rising out of the flatness, a lone mountain like a shadowed head with a brow of mint green catching the first fire of Ulanga.

No longer a stealthy genet, but an excited human, Eku kept his discipline and remained ibe-bonakalio as he worked his way back to camp to tell his father.

***

The tribe was past the confluence of shatsheli-lambo and its largest tributary, the south-flowing river that drained the massive lake to the north, where the people were destined.

Upriver from the conjoining, shatsheli-lambo remained monstrous, but a bit more tame, snaking her way across yet another broad, fertile plain.

Once Ulanga was high, the people could easily see the dark line of the distant shore.

For days now, daily rains had soaked the ground and anything with roots grew at a frantic pace, allowing waka-waka large beasts to gorge.

Soon, the ground and plants would no longer absorb all of that water and the tributaries downstream would swell and shatsheli-lambo, as large as she was now, would significantly expand as swampy wetland.

The place and time for the Abantu to cross the river was here and now.

But how?

***

Eku, Yat and Yathi stood with their fathers in waist-high, red oat grass sodden and bent from the daily pass of storm.

A zebra group foraged nearby; wildebeest grazed in the background; in the distance, a parade of elephants marched single file from the water for a stand of mopane.

The wide open landscape of the river was pocketed with grassy islands, the opposite shoreline only a dark line in the distance; beyond that, the lone mountain was a greenish bump.

Eku watched the section of river before them, where a male elephant was crossing, barely discernible until the square head stood out against the otherwise placid surface.

The tip of each tusk poked through the water while the trunk rose S-shaped, nostrils pointed toward shore.

“How can they do that,” Yat asked.

Kaleni said, “They are not a rock, Yatyambo. You know how their bodies are made. You have seen them butchered.”

“Elephants are good swimmers,” Lume said.

“I know,” Yat replied. “But they are so big.”

Watching the solitary males cross, the Abantu learned that while vast, most of the river was shallow; more importantly, the current remained sluggish, even in the deepest, middle section.

The land around them was a mix of savanna and mopane, the trees with short trunks and twisting branches, much different from those the Mantel required to make dugouts.

They would build an asiga—a raft.

Eku and Yathi tagged along with Lume and the izik-kosa, to locate young trees not damaged by elephants to cut down and strip into long poles, notched and bound securely to form the main body, as well as long poles for pushing off the bottom.

Shorter logs were notched and attached at the corners to provide strength.

The izik-kosa went into the tall papyrus and in no time, assembled a great pile of hollow and highly buoyant stems. The long and flexible stalks were cut to length and bound into tight bundles to attach like ribs as the main flotation.

Vines were used to secure the ribbing and a mat of water grass was woven across the top.

The izik-kosa swarmed over the structure, cutting any sticks that jutted out, using valuable cordage  to further secure a dense webbing.

After giving the papyrus a few days to dry, at dawn, the voyagers set out, waka-waka males, mostly hunters with several izik-kosa, Kaleni and Lume amongst them.

Most of those crossing would swim, taking turns resting by clinging to the side of the raft or taking a turn on top, where four at time would stand and handle poles or paddles, while keeping weapons secure.

The entire tribe gathered to watch the group depart.

Once the raft was offshore, most of the people returned to the shade of the mopane, but Yathi wanted to stay.

The area of shoreline the raft departed from was flat and grassy, dotted with a few rounded boulders amongst broad shorelines of silt.

Yathi found a good place to sit, while Eku raced back under the trees to the camp and retrieved his ula-konto.

***

Returning to the riverside, Eku gathered dried water grass and added mud to build mounded targets.

Covered the barbed end of his ula-konto with a protective sheath.

Grasping the weapon in a two-fisted grip for stabbing, he skipped from pile to pile, practicing the quick motions he would need going after prey in thick stalks of papyrus.

Or other, similar circumstances.

An ula-konto was made for throwing, but could also be used in one or both hands as an extended knife blade.

His father had taught him how to adjust his grip and body to strike from a variety of angles, ensuring that he was always in control and using the power of his entire body to direct the blade.

Eku’s motions were steady and precise.

After serious practice, he had a bit of fun, spinning around and jumping to make fancy stabbing motions, as though he and his prey were locked in a macabre dance of death.

Eku clicked to get Yathi’s attention.

He spun while whipping the ula-konto in sweeping arcs.

The rotation of his body made the ula-konto a blur and then suddenly—and seemingly miraculously—the weapon was impaled in a debris target.

Yathi clapped and Eku performed a little bow.

But then Yathi returned to staring across the water, chin in fists.

Eku sighed and practiced more stabbing thrusts.

He then combined all the piles into a single, large pile for his favorite activity—the three-step throw, for which an ula-konto was really designed for.

The creation of an ula-konto was a deliberate process.

Every weapon was slightly different, as the length and adjusted balancing fit the unique body of the thrower.

Uncle Lume explained to Eku that a throwing spear must have a light haft, but sturdy and thick and just long enough to properly balance with the killing end.

The killing end was an attached blade, either of carved bone or if you were an adult, bone plus isipo-gazi.

Lume carved the killing end of Eku’s ula-konto from the still wet foreleg bone of a grass eater. He fused the killing end to the shaft, cleverly embedding a rock in an expanded marrow groove of the thicker part of the bone for balancing.

Sinew glue and wraps of the toughest sinew were applied for greater strength.

A final carving of the haft and precise grinding of the hardened bone provided more precise balancing.

Eku had excellent coordination and took naturally to the discipline of a three-step throw—the most efficient means of quickly delivering an ula-konto accurately over any distance.

A three-step throw could take place in one spot, where the feet hopped more than stepped.

Or a three step throw could include full strides to deliver the weapon with maximum velocity.

He practiced throwing into the soft target from a variety of angles and distances until his arm begged for mercy.

Joined Yathi sitting on a flat rock, staring worriedly across the water.

The raft was tiny, the swimmers barely a disturbance in the expansive, flat surface.

Eku said, “What do you think is over there?”

“Our fathers will find out and come back to tell us.”

“It is probably the same over there as it is here.”

“I do not want to go.”

“You have a bad feeling,” Eku asked, looking at Yathi with concern.

Yathi stuck out the lower lip. “At home, rivers are small. Not here. And I do not like vubu. Elephants leave us alone, but … there are so many here. Everything at home was … easier.”

“The journey is hard,” Eku acknowledged. “Sometimes.”

They watched until the raft and swimmers faded to a speck and eventually disappeared into the darkened line of the far shore.

***

The Abantu do not have schedules.

Most days include an informal gathering for the first and last meal.

And of course, everyone participates in harvest.

Harvest could mean many things, but generally the gathering of fruits or other plants.

Sometimes—especially with so many people to feed—harvest was a communal effort to capture whatever was available, which was what the tribe had been doing for much of the pilgrimage.

While at home on the southern shores, life was more predictable.

Celebrations were held in conjunction with the lunar cycle.

And there was always an excuse for feasting and singing and dancing.  

During the average day, hunters scouted and tended to snares and traps; izik-kosa made repairs and filled orders for tools; mothers and benzi-kusela performed the countless tasks that kept the camp running: organizing harvest, preparing food and poultices, braiding ropes of sinew or plant cordage, weaving mats and baskets of water grass, sewing and preparing hides and bladders.

Sleep time was up to a family or the individual.

Most people, especially children, slept when it is dark.

Shelters were always available in case of rain.

The night after their fathers crossed shatsheli-lambo, Eku and Yathi remained awake later than normal.

Krele and Shona gave them permission to mound grass beds out in the open, in a spot where they could see the river.

As long as there was no rain, Eku and Yathi both preferred sleeping out in the open now, as did many other tribe members.

Left to themselves, Eku and Yathi outlasted Yat, Tar and Maz, notorious busybodies who rarely fell asleep before the young males.

The air was hot and sticky and they were lathered with paste for protection from the relentless swarm of bugs that emerged with the rain and heat.

“I still do not feel tired,” Yathi said.

Eku clicked to indicate the same.

“You want to find Kozik and Doagu?”

Eku clicked yes.

Yanga was high and almost full.

The two could see as well as in daylight, though there was no color.

The tribe was scattered all around, the encampment cut beneath mopane trees, all branches cleared to the height of an adult, as well as any brush and bramble.

Small fires glowed yellow and orange.

Eku and Yathi paced quietly through matted grasses, winding through rounded shelters, groups of sleeping forms around fires, to a group of young adults seated around a fire on the perimeter of camp.

Doagu was set cross legged on the ground beside Iti, her head tilted against his shoulder.

She was not wearing her fancy cap and in the firelight, Eku realized that if he ignored the short hair, Doagu still looked the same age as Yat.

Spying Eku and her little brother, Doago lifted her head off Iti’s shoulder, grimacing at the required repositioning and motioned for Yathi to join them.

Yathi clicked gratefully and settled next to his sister.

Doagu smiled, warmed by Iti on one side and Yathi on the other.

She rubbed Yathi’s head as he talked into her belly.

Eku found an open spot and settled cross legged on the dirt and made himself comfortable.

Gazed at the fire and tried to sit up straight, hoping to eavesdrop on the soft conversations.

There was the hunter Goagu and beautiful Inka, who smiled at him and winked.

Eku had to control the size of his return smile, having to admit that a wink from Inka just made this late night spectacularly worthwhile.

For some reason.

He saw strong Kozik, sitting with lovely Ola.

Maz, with her pretty eyes and nice thighs suddenly came to Eku’s mind, but that was not right. She was older, like Yat and he dismissed those thoughts.

Around the fire were waka young males with a single talon dangling on their chest, all with females of the same laba-ini.

Eku has known them all his entire life and realized his first memories of each were from a time when they were about the same age as he was now.

He sat up straighter and vowed—as he had countless times before—to one day step before a tribal circle to receive an eagle-talon necklace.

Doagu saw his face change and clicked softly.

Eku looked and she said, “You do not have to be so brave all the time.”

Cocked his head, unsure of what she meant, then said, “I remember what it was like when father was away.”

Doagu smiled and a moment later, Yathi seemed in better spirits.

They returned to their bedding with a view of the river.

“Doagu has Iti and soon a baby to think about,” Yathi said. “I cannot wait to meet the baby.” Laid down on his bed mat and sighed, adding, “Kozik lays with Olo. He is lucky.”

“Olo is nice,” Eku admitted, lying down beside him.

“I hope I am matched with a female soon. Like Olo. I like the way she walks.”

“Olo walks nice,” Eku admitted.

Back on their homeland, Olo’s mother was famous, having achieved isipo-bomi twice plus two: five females and three males, a truly revered status.

Kozik, big and strong and capable, was an impressive catch for a female, but Olo was the last of her sisters and highly coveted.

Eku understood why Kozik was fortunate.

The Abantu believe their existence came as the result of Uwama and her water. The making of life and the maternal bond both flowed through the mother, the way Uwama’s water flowed across the world, whether by rain or river, nourishing even those who lived exclusively upon Umawa.

Eku said what he was thinking, “Kozik is good for Olo. He is a good hunter. Clever and strong.”

“For sure,” Yathi said.

Eku wanted to add that he believed Yathi would grow up to be even more impressive, but kept that to himself. For now.

Yanga sent enough light through the mopane for Eku to see that Yathi remained worried.

Ikanabe always talked.

There were no secrets.

No shame or envy.

Eku was trying to think of something comforting to offer when Yathi asked suddenly, “How many females are there? Of our age?”

They lay side by side, on their backs. He held up both hands, fingers spread so that Eku could see. “Waka! That is how many we pick from.”

“There is more.”

“They are old. Like your sister.”

“Yat is not old!”

“You know what I mean.”

Eku clicked in a neutral way and said, “You said you like all of them, so why does it matter?”

Yathi clicked agreement. Sighed and said, “I do like all of the females, especially Sisi, but she seems to like Bot.”

“Sisi is good,” Eku agreed. “She is a good diver for shellfish. Even better than you.”

Yathi sighed again and said, “I wish I could be matched with Inka.”

Now Eku laughed. “She is old! And she is matched with Goagu!”

“Inka is not old!”

“You know what I mean.”

They were quiet for a moment.

Eku recalled Inka’s wink and smiled in the dark. Clicked softly and said, “Sisi is nice. Maybe she likes you too.”

“I like it when I work near her at harvest. Maybe there will be harvest tomorrow. Something to do.”

Eku glanced worriedly at Yathi, knowing he never looked forward to harvest.

Craned his neck to look at the river.

A narrow beam of Yanga’s shimmering reflection was all that disturbed a vast darkness.

The sounds of the people were all around, talking and clicking, ambient murmurs that mixed with the background of whirring and chirping of insects, the moaning roar of a male lion marking its territory.

Eku laid his head down and said, “I do not care who I am matched with.”

Yathi exclaimed, “Why not?”

Eku thought for a moment, then shook his head, as though irritated and said, “It is too hard to think about. I will ask mother to pick someone for me.”

“That is a good idea,” Yathi said. “Maybe I will ask father. When he gets back.”

“That is a good idea.”

“I am going to sing a song.”

“Not too loud,” Eku cautioned.

They settled comfortably and Yathi sang softly.

He was a good singer, like his father. Lume, so huge, nevertheless had a voice that was gentle, soothing and yet strong, as though transporting his physical strength to his listeners.

Yathi’s voice was still that of a young male, but his fast growing body would change that.

His voice was soft, but carried through the dark branches above.

Umawa send our hunters home

Give them food

Give them water

We Abantu know

When something is meant to be

Something happens

Our hunters are brave

We miss them so

Give them food

Give them water

When something is meant to be

Something happens

Uwama bring our hunters home

***

The next day, still early, shouts came from the river.

Eku and Yathi joined the entire tribe in a race from beneath the mopane trees to the water.

The raft was coming back, a bit downriver from where it had crossed the day before.

There were four Abantu on top, including Kaleni and Nibamaz, using poles to push the craft.

There were no swimmers, but there were three more rafts floating behind the Abantu, even larger and more impressive, but the people on top using the poles and paddles were not Abantu.

At least not Abantu-Uwama or Abantu-Mantel.

Whoever was poling the other rafts must be from a new tribe.