Chapter 7

ichi-Bwana

Crossing shatsheli-lambo was laborious, but the Abantu were able to use long poles to push the raft for most of the distance.

The saplings and giant papyrus used to build the raft were light and strong and floated nicely.

Those on top of the sturdy platform stood with feet wide for balance, as one or two at a time leaned into long poles to push from the bottom. Tools and weapons were secured in the center.

Through the deeper parts of the channel, the swimmers took hold of the sides and kicked, while those on top of the raft paddled best they could.

Steadily, through the early part of the day, the raft and swimmers made progress.

By the time they were halfway across, their slow-moving disturbance was clearly visible to anyone or anything waiting on the other side.

As fate would have it, the approach of the Abantu was curiously observed by people settled along the north side of the river.

A tribe who called themselves Bwana.

Much of the Bwana finished their first meal of the day as the fascinating event of the strangers' gradual crossing unfolded.

Though they had never encountered humans outside of their own tribe, there were stories from times long in the past, of contact with people from the lands outside ichi-Bwana, the great salt lake from which the Bwana people arose.

The Bwana discussed what was known of the old legends as the Abantu methodically approached.

Eventually, the entire tribe followed its esteemed leader to the shoreline to welcome the mysterious travelers; though, many individuals carried spears and axes.

Just in case.

***

The Bwana trace their ancestry back even farther than the Abantu, many generations dwelling along the shore of an ancient and vast inland sea, fed by the overflow of an equally vast, freshwater inland delta, nourished by rivers draining the immense central African plateau.

North and east of the salt lake were healthy forests interconnected across lush savannah.

The sprawl of land to the south of the lake was thought to be unending, arid wasteland.

A place of death.

Like the Abantu and Mantel, the Bwana survived the terrible times due to an extraordinarily robust ecosystem.

After the terrible times came and went, the Bwana prospered on the north side of the salt lake as the Abantu thrived alongside the ocean, some 1,500 kilometers to the south.

Now the ancient lake was undergoing radical changes.

Alterations to the landscape were visible from one seasonal cycle to the next.

A series of small earthquakes climaxed with an awful, tectonic event.

Impossible to believe, at first, ichi-Bwana began to drain.

Worse, along a vast, central portion of the lake, the streams and rivers that always delivered freshwater went permanently dry.

The Bwana became nomadic, exploring along a receding coastline while sending scouting parties north and east.

A generation passed and the inland sea, while enormous, was shallow and had already lost much of its original size; worse, the dry and salted regions along the original coast turned to choking, eye-irritating dust when the dry season arrived.

Similar to the Abantu, the Bwana selected a portion of their tribe to pilgrimage eastward, strong and capable young couples, including families with adolescent children.

The new tribe was led by Uta, a heroic nesibindi, a recently conceived Bwana word to describe a new tribal role—that of a warrior.

Uta led the new tribe east, tracing streams gone dry and grass covered, but still showing a path to a powerful, ancient river that descended eastward down cavernous gorges and magnificent waterfalls to fertile lowlands.

Two years after leaving their homeland, the Bwana remained nomadic, leisurely moving along the Zambezi until establishing camp for the thick of the wet season, precisely where the Abantu would cross.

When something is meant to be, something happens.

***

When the Abantu floated close to shore, they almost turned back.

Waka-waka strange individuals waited on the riverbank!

A tribe had gathered on the opposite shore, maybe half as large as the number of Abantu and Mantel were together. Kaleni felt some comfort they were not trying to hide.

They were just … waiting.

At least there was plenty of time for discussion.

Some of the hunters wanted to press forward; others wanted to turn back.

One of the hunters kept saying, “They may be like hyenas.”

Kaleni knew that while hyenas were kind to those of their own pack, they killed members of other packs who strayed into their territory.

Just as lions and other predators did.

“They may be friendly, like us,” Lume suggested.

At least there was time for much discussion.

Finally, seeing that both the Abantu of the ocean and the Mantel of the forest had only experienced human behavior where, in a harsh world, comradery greatly enhanced mutual survival, they voted to continue.

The Abantu pushed the raft into the shallows as a single male from the tribe massed on the river bank stepped forward to greet them.

Not sure what to do, the bulk of the group remained nervously in knee-deep water next to the raft, keeping one eye on the strangers, the other on their weapons as Kaleni and Nibamaz waded to shore.

***

Colorful, was Kaleni’s initial impression.

Glancing over the crowd before them, he saw vests and wraps of soft pelts dyed to colors he had never seen put to skins before—red and orange and yellow.

There were feathers of many different colors hanging from the females’ loincloths and individuals with impressive necklaces and bracelets.

Some of the males and some of the females held spears with blades of rock that looked like quartzite.

Good blades, but not to Abantu standards.

The male from the strange tribe who stood at the front was older, tall and muscular.

Kaleni and Nibamaz clicked only loud enough for each other to hear and agreed he was most impressive to look upon, with a broad and heavily lined forehead, a wide and flat nose with flaring nostrils and almond eyes.

His skin was a deeper hue of brown and his shoulders were nearly as broad as Lume’s and his hair was long, like a young Abantu female, woven into braids down his back.

The body language of the people crowded before them appeared friendly.

They were uneasy, but smiling.

Curiously, Kaleni realized they all wore zebra loincloths.

Unlike the others, the tall male who stepped forward to greet them wore an elaborate necklace of many claws and fangs.

But what distinguished him most was a fearsome looking scar.

Jaggedy welts, finger-thick, pink and pale from age, began at his left eye and went to the edge of his mouth, as though a clawed beast had torn into his face long ago.

Casually, but in a way that suggested intimate familiarity, he held a spear vertically at his side, the haft end resting on the shoreside mud, a killing blade the length of Kaleni’s hand next to his head.

The tall stranger gestured with his free hand to his chest in a way that showed he was impressed by the full set of eagle talons that Kaleni and Nibamaz wore.

Kaleni and Nibamaz gazed upon the necklace of the tall male; up close, it was most impressive. Some of the teeth and talons were genuine, while others were carved from ivory. They glanced at each other and clicked rapidly, then offered a short bow to the tall stranger.

The scarred Bwana offered a similar bow, stepped back with one foot and gestured to the crowd behind him with an open palm, speaking in a language Kaleni did not know; though, the body language was clear: they were welcome to come ashore.

***

On the Bwana side, the river sliced across a narrow plain that spread flat between the knobs and bumps of opposing ridge lines.

Erosion and sedimentary deposits of deep time formed a high, solid bank; thus, there was no floodplain; the land would remain dry, even through the worst of lobo-yaka.

The embankment rose gradually before flattening.

Having settled at this location for some time, the Bwana cleared much of the vegetation along a large portion of the river and the Abantu were stunned to find an established village set back from the water.

Shocked into silence, Kaleni and Nibamaz walked at the front of the Abantu, all of them following waka-waka Bwana into a communal area, where everything but the tallest palm trees had been cleared.

There were drainage ditches lined with rocks and the main grounds were hard-packed with numerous fire pits, racks with zebra and antelope skins stretched for curing, frameworks hung with strips of sinew and flesh.

Kaleni realized the communal area was much like that of an Abantu village on the southern shores and instantly felt a kinship, as did his comrades.

The Abantu began to relax, pointing out things both familiar and different.

The Bwana seemed to perceive what was shared and there was much smiling and gesturing and talking, though no one had any idea of the other’s language.

The Abantu gestured at fire pits, curing skins, an area of enormous woven grass mats, sacks of what looked like grain bristles and numerous mortar and pestle.

Nibamaz said softly to Kaleni, “I think the entire tribe was at the shore to greet us.”

Kaleni clicked his agreement, then clicked rapidly in wonder at the sight of three, large dwellings in the center of the village.

All of the Abantu gaped when they saw the structures: magnificent huts, circular in shape with spiraling roofs that used multiple tree trunks for support.

By far, the largest shelters any of them had ever seen.

***

The Abantu, being semi-nomadic, never bothered developing structures robust enough to last beyond a single lobo-yaka or sika-yaka.

The Abantu were marvelously talented at crafting temporary shelters.

They used poles and skins or flexible saplings and palm leaves to make huts for waka people.

Or more.

When on the move, the mothers and benzi-kusela were amazingly efficient when using water reeds to weave low to the ground ovals enough to keep a family dry for one night.

Or more.

During lobo-yaka on the southern shores, when the Abantu established their largest villages, they used wood timbers to build solid frameworks with layered grass or palm as roofing.

The Bwana huts were spectacularly larger than anything the Abantu had ever tried to build.

Multiple tall trees served as the main supports, the trunks stripped of all lower branches, leaving only the upper canopy. Roofing was layered with river grass and palm across rafters of papyrus and bamboo.

With the large trees acting as supportive spires, roofing layers spiraled at a slight angle to each successive tree trunk.

Multiple beams and poles were added for support.

Below the sections of roofing that sloped lowest were shallow gullies the Bwana had dug and lined with rocks to direct rainflow to the river.

More familiar to the Abantu were the many, rounded, familial sized shelters scattered beyond the big huts.

Kaleni noted that beyond the shelters, there appeared to be some kind of barrier between the encampment and forest. He clicked softly and pointed and Nibamaz clicked acknowledgement.

The Bwana led the Abantu to the front of the largest hut, where a long, rectangular platform was built knee-high off the ground, with leg-like supports of hardwood and cut papyrus layered flat across the top.

With much gesturing and demonstration, the Bwana directed the Abantu to assemble on one side of the platform, as their hosts gathered on the other.

Led by Uta, the Bwana closest to the platform settled into cross-legged, seated positions, while others clustered to each side and behind.

The Abantu followed suit on the opposite side of the platform.

Kaleni settled across from Uta, who sat beside a female, striking to look at and adorned in fine skins, colored with orange and red, once again, vibrant colors Kaleni had never seen set to skins.

The female was very beautiful.

Kaleni thought there was a hint of the Mantel in her appearance, as she had a long and narrow nose, unlike most of the Bwana, who had round noses.

Her hair was gathered atop her head with bleached bone needles and strings adorned with beads to hold it in place.

Kaleni soon learned her name was Kafila and that she was matched with Uta.

To the other side of Uta sat an elderly male with white whiskers and long hair threaded with silver, reminding Kaleni of Tiuti.

The remaining Bwana included males and females, all young adults, similar in age to most of the Abantu across the river.

Kaleni noted the males were impressive physically and some wore a necklace similar to Uta’s, though not as elaborate.

Nibamaz sat to one side of Kaleni; Lume on the other. Other hunters settled cross-legged beside them on either side. All of the other Abantu who came across crowded in behind.

The communal area was open and airy, but thanks to the thick crowns of the tall palms, well shaded.

The Bwana brought heaps of food: fruit and nuts and cakes to set upon the platform.

The people feasted on roasted zebra, a first for the Abantu.

They drank fermented juice from buffalo horns that made their heads buzz nicely.

Natural human curiosity and pantomiming led to a level of rapport.

The two tribes began a dialogue.

Surprisingly—and to their mutual delight—they soon found similar words.

Fascinated with each other, the Abantu and Bwana began a labored discussion that lasted the remainder of the day and into the night.

The people felt a natural kinship, coming to understand that each had left an established homeland bordering great bodies of saltwater to become nomadic, searching for something greater.

By dawn, Uta had offered the use of their fishing rafts to help transport the Abantu across the river.

Though neither tribe realized it at the time, the Bwana would join the tribe of Abantu and Mantel on their pilgrimage to the land of legend.

***

The Bwana were wonderfully hospitable; nevertheless, the bulk of the Abantu remained uneasily as guests when, at first light the next morning, Kaleni, Nibamaz and fellow hunters, Juka and Lopi set back across the river.

While the four Abantu poled their own raft, three teams of Bwana piloted similar rafts, also built with sturdy and ultra-buoyant papyrus, with a solid platform on which to stand.

On the advice of the Bwana, who used their rafts to fish daily, the Abantu allowed their raft to drift a bit downstream, being told the depth was better suited to pole the entire distance.

Instinctively, the Abantu worked hard to ensure their raft would lead the way, saying little until getting ahead to establish a line the others would follow.

Though early, the air along the river was heavy with heat. Ulayo blew elsewhere, but they knew that was better than her blowing in a direction not in their favor.

Nevertheless, with Ulanga blazing and full bellies—and with no opportunity to sleep since leaving the opposite shore the day before—Kaleni fought hard to remain focused.

The hunters settled into a rhythm with the poles.

The water sloshed against the sides of the raft as they made slow, but steady progress.

The four hunters agreed, somewhat proudly, that the Bwana had impressive weapons and tools, similar to the Mantel, but nothing compared to what the izik-kosa of the southern shores could make.

“But I have never seen such huts,” Nibamaz said reverently. “Who would have thought building in such a manner would be possible.”

Lopi said, “Everyone can fit under if it rains.”

“And the necklace of Uta,” Juka said with unabashed admiration. “What until Tiuti sees.”

Nibamaz asked, “Uta, he is like Tiuti, no?”

Kaleni clicked in agreement, but added, “The other named Wutota, he is an elder. But I think Uta is something else.”

“Uta is not old enough to be an elder,” Lopi added.

Kaleni clicked his agreement and Nibamaz said, “Uta is wise in the way of someone who has seen many things in life.”

“His face?” Juka asked. “Does anyone know what happened?”

The hunters clicked and shared looks of unease.

Lopi and Juka, who each wore three talons on their necklace, leaned into the poles and pushed as Kaleni and Nibamaz rested.

Juka said, “Lions follow a single male or sometimes two or three brothers. And hyenas follow a single female. Maybe they are like those predators. He is their leader and wears the necklace as a mane.”

Kaleni said, “But people live differently than lions. Or hyenas. It does not make sense for an Abantu to listen to one person for all things.”

The four hunters rested for a moment, feet set wide for balance, letting the raft drift toward the opposite shore.

They were sweating and very tired, but highly motivated to be first across.

Nibamaz said, “Uta listens to the others. Especially his mate.”

“She is younger than he is,” Juka noted.

“I noticed.” Kaleni said and shrugged. “Not too much.”

Nibamaz said. “I think we could trust him on a hunt.”

Lopi and Juka clicked agreement.

The weary Abantu resumed poling and progress remained steady.

Kaleni asked, “Did you notice the weapons stacked in the center of camp?”

Juka and Lopi clicked affirmation while Nibamaz said, “So many spears?”

Lopi suggested, “Maybe they were about to go for a big hunt?”

“Maybe,” Kaleni replied, “But the spears were short. And they built a barrier along the edge of their camp.”

“I saw,” said Juka.

Now Nibamaz looked worried, while Lopi clicked nervously.

Long spears were for hunting.

Short spears were for protection. For killing in close quarters.

***

Once the rafts departed, Uta ensured his remaining guests were comfortable, then met with Kafila and others, including Uta’s twin sons, Tokuta and Kotuta.

A muscular nesibindi named Hoju respectfully nodded to the Bwana chieftain and said, “They made an excellent raft.”

Tokuta asked, “How many can there be?”

Kotuta shook his head. “Difficult to tell. I think their numbers match ours. Perhaps more.”

“More,” Hoju said, voice grim. Adding, “You saw their weapons.”

Begrudgingly, Tokuta said. “I have never seen such craftsmanship.”

Uta and the others looked pointedly at the lone elder, whose name was Wutota. He took the time to nod to everyone before saying, “Their knives. Those blades are stone, but a stone I have never seen. I have only been able to imagine such weapons in my mind, but have never been able to make them.”

He pointed at the ivory necklace around Uta’s neck, which he had carved and put together and said, “They have learned to flake and grind stone and bone as effectively as we carve a piece of wood or ivory.”

Tokuta exclaimed, “Did you see the long spears! Magnificent! We could use such weapons.”

Hoju puffed out his broad chest and said, “We should not let them cross. Especially if there are more of them than us.”

Uta said, “Perhaps. But then they will cross somewhere else.”

“They are Bwana, like us,” Kafila said, matter of factly. “Just not ichi-Bwana. They are from another salt mother.” She smiled whimsically. “All of the males have short hair. I wonder about the females?”

She nodded with a certain confidence, adding, “We will welcome them and learn their ways.”

Wutota nodded at Kafila and added, “That is what is important. They are Bwana. And some of their words are like ours. As our legends suggest, I suspect our people traded long ago, before the terrible times.”

Uta gazed thoughtfully at the older male. Looked around at his most trusted people and said what they were all thinking, “I do not know if they have encountered the bubinzwana.”

“That is what I would have asked first,” Tokuta said, still with a scowl on his face.

Uta smiled, a strange effect with such a terrible scar. “Patience Tokuta. They do not know our language, nor us theirs.”

He looked at Kafila and Wutota before adding, “But we have already found common words.”

Kafila nodded and said with an edge to her voice, “Once we know them better, we will ask what they know of the terrible beasts. Find out whether they encountered the bubinzwana in their travels.”

Uta nodded and the others murmured in accordance.

***

Several days and many raft trips were required to get all of the Abantu across shatsheli-lambo.

The people crossed in manageable groups accompanied by one or more rafts so the swimmers could take breaks.

Anyone pregnant or ill or injured, or for any reason was physically unable to swim, got to ride a raft.

Some of the young adults took the crossing as a challenge and swam the entire distance, including Yat and Dokuk, who swam together.

Eku and Yathi waited three, agonizing days with the mothers, impatient and yet, not looking forward to such grueling, physical work.

When it was finally their turn, Eku and Yathi swam with Tar and Maz and the rest of their laba-ini families, the mothers polling two of the rafts.

The young people swam, sometimes clinging to a raft and kicking; sometimes, when necessary, rolling onto the platform for a rest.

For Eku, it seemed the shore receded impossibly slow.

He swam with a sidestroke that he could maintain for a long time, alternating from one side to the other.

The middle part was terrifying; something he did not expect, the sight of land so distant in every direction, forcing him to quell feelings of panic.

He rested by clinging to the side of the raft and kicking.

Yathi was at home in the water and a tireless swimmer and spent much of the crossing floating on his back, chattering at Eku to keep his mind off the task at hand.

Gradually, the shore to the far side grew closer.

The dark line of the embankment took form, mostly smooth dirt, but for a pale spine of rock jutting from the river.

When at last his feet touched mud, Eku felt glorious relief and even Yathi groaned with pleasure when able to stand.

Eku and Yathi bounced off the bottom as the rafts floated to their right until they could walk alongside Tar and Maz and other young Abantu.

A wide and smoothly sloped bank awaited, the spine of rocks rising in the middle like a backbone.

The land along the river was cleared of vegetation and swarming with Abantu and Mantel.

Trudging for shore, Eku looked over the crowd, trying to find his father or sister or Dokuk, but then his eye was drawn to something in the water.

To his left, Eku saw a structure built of wood logs, extending from shore, almost to where they slogged through thigh-high water.

Curious, Eku waded closer, Yathi following.

Eku said, “What can this be?”

“How is it floating? And so straight,” Yathi asked.

Eku moved close enough to touch the structure.

Logs were chopped to uniform lengths, tied and fit together to form a straight, wooden path that appeared to be floating, but then he noted thicker logs that rose vertically from the water, like stout legs to provide support.

The logs that formed the walkway were attached together with excellent roping and set over a support structure that made Eku think of a climbing ladder, but set flat upon the water.

Yathi yelped, having caught sight of his father, standing with others at the base of the very structure they now ogled.

Always able to find strength when motivated, Yathi raised his knees and began splashing toward shore.

Eku summoned the energy to follow.

***

Lume’s bulk stood out amongst the group of Abantu crowded about the base of the wondrous walkway built upon the water.

Lume, Kaleni, Nibamaz and others hovered around Tiuti, who was down on his hands and knees, poking where the logged walkway was anchored to enormous logs, just upriver of where the spine of rocks rose from the water.

Tiuti slapped at the notched logs that formed the foundation and gestured down the length of the boardwalk and said something to Lume, who nodded and stuck out his lower lip.

Lume helped Tiuti to his feet as Eku and Yathi cleared the water, Eku saying, “I have not seen this many people since we left home,” but Yathi was charging for his father, who turned from Tiuti just in time to gather his wet and joyous son to his belly.

Eku followed, looking all around.

It seemed the entire tribe had gathered, waiting for the final river crossers.

The shoreline was muddy from all the traffic, but Umawa squishing between Eku’s toes was welcome after so much time spent in the water.

The outcropping of rock rose abruptly about halfway up the riverbank, leveling to a standard height and width, then extended from the shore as a long and narrow plateau of bedrock, all the way to the forest in the distance.

The top of the vast slab was smooth, a natural platform, and all across strange people were sitting and standing in groups.

The Bwana.

Eku had heard all about the zebra loincloths, but was fascinated to see them. Shook his head in wonder as he waited for Yathi to stop clinging to uncle Lume.

Zebra loincloths!

Who could have imagined such a thing?

Eku fingered the soft skin of springhare hanging in front of his genital area.

Turned and saw the raft they swam with was already heading back, new polers on top.

Eku scanned the crowd for his mother’s distinct features or Yat’s poof, but did not spot either.

Curious, he walked up the river bank to better look over the rocky outcropping.

Beyond the rocks to his left, Eku thought at first something odd was in the trees, but then realized he saw the tips of sun-bleached tops of the magnificent huts that had also been talked about.

Zebra loincloths and wondrous huts?

Who were these people?

Eku immediately formed an impression of the Bwana being a very clever tribe and took a more studied look at the individuals scattered across the rocky plateau.

Like the Abantu, the Bwana tribe consisted of mostly paired adults; though, Eku did spot males and females who looked close to his and Yatyambo’s ages.

Yathi suddenly grabbed his hand and pulled him. “This is kind of like home,” Eku blurted.

“For sure,” Eku said, also excited. “Like during feasts and celebrations!”

Motioning with his free hand, Eku excitedly said, “Yathi, look at all the Bwana sitting there. The males have long hair.”

“I guess they like long hair!”

“And they have the zebra loincloths!”

Yathi giggled and said, “They look like a herd.”

Eku laughed.

Despite so much swimming, they were re-invigorated.

After properly greeting his father, uncle and Tiuti, Eku and Yathi roamed through the crowd to find Yat, who had found Tar and Maz, as well as Dokuk, Odi, Gokuk and Kolo.

Eku was pleased when his sister smiled broadly and said, “Well done little brother. Both of you.”

Surprised by the compliment, Eku spontaneously hugged Yat and exchanged slaps of the arm with Dokuk.

Eku pointed to where all the Bwana were seated on the plateau of rock and said, “Does anyone want to see the Bwana village? From those rocks, we should be able to look.”

With confidence in numbers, the young Abantu moved through the crowd toward the outcropping.

Nervously, under the scrutiny of the nearest Bwana, they climbed across the rocks; Yat, quickest to the top, let out a gasp.

Dokuk and Eku arrived close behind and made similar sounds.

On the other side of the rock outcropping, just a bit upriver from where they stood was the most incredible village they had ever seen.

Dominating the encampment were three rounded huts of great height; though, the center hut was twice as wide as its neighbors.

The huts used numerous tree trunks to create domes with multiple pitches, layered with reed and papyrus roofing.

Between the huts and the river was a communal area, busy with fire pits, racks of stretched hides, trestles of drying fish and antelope carcasses waiting for butchering.

There were many benches and three-sided shelters where they could see stacks of baskets, gourds and cooking pots.

“How did they build those huts,” Eku said with wonder.

Yat said, her voice filled with awe, “The roofs are like the rounded top of a conch shell. How can they do that?”

“They must be good hut builders,” Yathi said.

Eku looked around.

The plateau was even larger from this perspective, a great wedge of bedrock pressing up from the ground. The stone was mostly grayish, mottled pale, rising from the river to run flat toward riverine forest well beyond the shoreline.

Eku realized the forest on this side of shatsheli-lambo was the same as the other and felt relief.

Making the location all the more welcoming was the fact that the Bwana had cleared an impressive amount of land.

Eku saw many small huts beyond the big huts and guessed that was where most of the people sheltered.

A kind of barrier was built along the outer reaches of the encampment, obviously put there for protection.

Eku wondered from what.

He looked at the Bwana seated closest and realized every set of eyes was on their group.

Eku suddenly felt like a bug being stared at.

He looked down the outcropping along the side that faced the Bwana encampment to where a single high point bulged around a central spire of stone. At first, Eku thought a young Bwana was peeking from behind, only to realize it was something entirely different.

He clicked instinctively and Yat and Yathi followed the direction of his eyes, Yat asking, “Is that a Bwana?”

Sensing their scrutiny, the creature ducked out of sight.

“What was that?” Yathi asked, having only caught a glimpse of movement.

A bit flustered, Eku said, “A person or a monkey.”

All of the young people turned at the sound of Krele, calling from the crowd on the opposite side of the rock plateau.

“Yatyambo and Eku. All of you. Come down,” she said. “There is work to do.”