Chapter 7
ichi-Bwana
The crossing of shatsheli-lambo proved to be laborious, as expected, but manageable.
The isiga-wila floated nice and high above the water, though compared to a dugout, the craft was clunky and slow going.
The Abantu used the long poles to push off the river bottom.
Those poling stood in opposite directions, feet set wide, one person leaning to thrust his pole to the bottom and then push, while the other pulled his pole from the water and took a rest.
Tools and weapons lay in the center of the raft.
The third person on board was there to keep an eye out for trouble and make sure none of their tools or extra clothing or weapons tumbled over the side.
Parts of the channel ran deeper than the poles could reach, in which case, swimmers clung to the raft and kicked, while those on top paddled best they could.
The Abantu were raised in the water and knew how to conserve their strength.
The pace was kept slow, not that they really had a choice.
Swimmers used easy side strokes or simply floated on their backs, paddling and kicking to maintain momentum.
Whenever someone needed a break, they pulled themselves onto the platform to take the extra spot and rest.
Halfway across, Ulanga had risen over the enormous river and their slow-moving disturbance was clearly visible to anyone or anything waiting on the other side.
As fate would have it, the Abantu’s approach was curiously observed by people settled along the north side of the river.
A tribe who called themselves the Bwana.
There was much discussion during the fascinating event of the strangers' gradual crossing.
No living Bwana had encountered humans from outside their tribe; though, there were stories that described visits from people who lived beyond the lands of ichi-Bwana, the great salt lake from which the Bwana people believe they emerged into the world.
Watching the strangers’ methodical approach, the Bwana discussed what was known of the old stories.
Everyone tried to guess where the strangers could be from.
And what would be the intent of the visitors?
Options ranging from bad to worse were discussed.
As well as options from good to downright sensational.
Eventually, the Bwana came to an agreement that, due to the number of individuals swimming and on the raft, the strangers were not a threat, considering the size of their own tribe.
Eventually, the entire Bwana population followed their esteemed leader to the shoreline, intent on welcoming the travelers.
The Bwana people were naturally friendly and curious; though, many adults carried spears and axes.
Just in case.
***
ichi-Bwana was a 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 and savannah.
Beyond the southern edge of the lake was thought to be an unending, arid wasteland, still not recovered from the terrible times.
Like the Abantu and Mantel, the Bwana survived due to an extraordinarily robust ecosystem.
After the terrible times came and went, the Bwana prospered to the north 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.
A series of small earthquakes climaxed with an awful, tectonic event.
Across a large, central portion of ichi-Bwana, the streams and rivers that delivered freshwater went dry.
Alterations to the landscape were visible from one seasonal cycle to the next.
Impossible to believe, at first, ichi-Bwana was shrinking.
The Bwana became nomadic, moving seasonally along a receding coastline, while sending scouting parties north and eventually 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 north and then east, tracing streams gone dry and grass covered, but showing a path that eventually led them to the Zambezi.
The Bwana followed the great river eastward, descending newly formed, cavernous gorges and traversing magnificent waterfalls to reach fertile lowlands.
Since leaving their homeland, the Bwana remained nomadic, leisurely moving along the river; establishing camp for the upcoming 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!
Humans!
Gathered on the opposite shore, maybe half as large in population as the Abantu and Mantel were together.
The hunters and izik-kosa quickly determined the gathering was meant to be peaceful … as they were obviously not trying to hide.
The strangers were just … Waiting.
Feeling relatively safe, seeing they were still far away in the water, there was time for discussion.
Hunters climbed onto the raft and sat or knelt, while others remained in the water and gathered around the sides, taking turns kicking to keep the drift in line with the opposite shore.
They discussed what to do.
Some wanted to press forward; others wanted to turn back.
One of the hunters kept repeating, “They are probably like hyenas!”
Kaleni, clinging to the side of the raft between Lume and Nibamaz, knew that hyenas were kind and helpful to those of their own pack, but killed members of other packs who strayed into their territory.
The same as lions.
The same as all predators.
Using his arms to keep his body away from the raft, Kaleni kicked, careful to avoid Lume and Nibamaz.
Lume said, loudly in his ear, so that everyone else could hear, “They might be friendly, like us and the Mantel.”
There was more 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 extra hunters on the raft went back in the water and the poling resumed.
The Abantu eventually navigated into shallows where they could walk beside the raft.
A single male from the tribe massed on the river bank stepped forward, as though to greet them.
Not sure what to do, the bulk of the Abantu 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, he saw vests and wraps of soft pelts dyed colors he had never seen put to skins—red and orange and yellow.
The people had long hair and were adorned in beads and feathers, especially the females, who had many decorations of beads and shells sewn into their vests.
There were necklaces and bracelets, similar in style to the Abantu.
Kaleni guessed they dressed so fancifully as a way to greet or impress him and the others.
He thought that was nice.
Respectful.
There were adults holding spears with blades of rock that looked like quartzite.
Many of the adults wore axes at the waist.
Maybe that was not so respectful, but the weapons were held or worn in a casual way.
Kaleni could tell the blades were far from Abantu standards, though well shaped and certainly effective.
The tall male who stood at the front of the strange tribe, however, was most impressive.
Older than Kaleni; tall and muscular.
Eyeing him and Nibamaz with a look of wariness and confidence, but of welcoming curiosity … Or at least that was Kaleni’s best guess.
He and Nimamaz wore only their loincloths and necklaces.
Wet and bedraggled and soft-skinned from so much time in the water, they approached slowly, exchanging soft clicks.
The tall Bwana male was even more imposing up close.
A broad and heavily lined forehead, wide and flat nose with flaring nostrils and wide, down-turned eyes.
His skin was a deeper hue of brown than an Abantu and his shoulders were nearly as broad as Lume’s.
Though his hair was startlingly long—like a young Abantu female—it was braided tightly around his head and pulled back into a thick ponytail down the back.
The people behind him talked in sounds both foreign and familiar.
Everyone appeared nervous, but friendly.
Most of the people were smiling.
Curiously, Kaleni realized that all of the strangers wore zebra loincloths, the pelts obviously soft and well cured, with the fur left on.
Unlike the others, the tall male before them wore an elaborate necklace of claws and fangs.
But what distinguished him most was a fearsome looking scar.
Finger thick, jaggedy pink welts began at the left eye and curved down the cheek to the corner of the mouth, as though a clawed beast tore into him long ago.
Casually, but in a way that suggested intimate familiarity, the spear rested vertically at the side, haft set on the shoreside mud, hand gripped at center, blade of quartzite rising to his steady eyes.
The tall male raised his free hand to his heart, then used two fingers to point at the chest of Kaleni, and then Nibamaz, in a manner that showed admiration for their matching, full sets of eagle talons.
Kaleni and Nibamaz stepped closer, leaning to look upon the necklace of the tall Bwana male.
Most impressive, like he is, Kaleni thought.
Some of the teeth and talons were genuine, others beautifully carved from ivory.
Kaleni and Nibamaz glanced at each other and clicked rapidly, motioned to their necks and then to the necklace of the tall stranger and performed a short bow.
The tall Bwana male smiled, the scar giving him a half-sinister, half-friendly appearance.
He offered a similar bow, stepped back with a 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.
***
The Bwana resided where the river sliced across a narrow plain, spread flat between opposing ridgelines.
The riverbank upon which Kaleni and Nibamaz stood sloped upward before flattening, plenty high to remain dry through the heaviest rain of lobo-yaka.
Kaleni stepped past the tall male to crest the riverbank.
Once able to see past the zebra-clad crowd, Kaleni was stunned at the sight of an established village set back from the water.
While crossing the river, even when standing on top of the raft, they had been unable to detect even the suggestion of a village, or for that matter, so many people.
From where they departed, there was no discernable detail along a dark shoreline, other than the bump of the lone mountain.
As the Abantu approached, the angle of the embankment did not allow them to see what lurked past the initial rise of land.
All they saw was the muddied slope of the riverbank merging with green forest, and the hazy hump of the lone mountain.
Nibamaz joined Kaleni at the top of the embankment and the remaining Abantu joined them.
Everyone herded along the riverbank, shocked and clicking rapidly amongst themselves.
After a bit of pantomiming between the two groups, the Abantu followed the Bwana in the upriver direction, along a well-worn path.
Closest to the water was clearly a communal area.
Underbrush was eradicated and a wide area of cleared dirt was now hard packed from waka-waka bare feet.
The encampment spread across a wide area of tall palms with mature crowns, reminding Kaleni of the enormous trees they saw while crossing between the two rivers.
The trees were not so tall here, but similarly bare and clear of any branches to an impressive height, with spreading, circular crowns of giant leaves.
At ground level, the area was wonderfully wide open; yet, would be well shaded through the middle of the day.
Drainage ditches zig-zagged toward the water.
In the center of the open area were fire pits ringed with stone, some of them smoldering.
Bamboo racks held zebra and antelope pelts stretched and tied for curing.
There were bamboo frameworks hung with strips of sinew and flesh.
The Abantu recognized much of what was around them, the objects being nearly identical in structure to what they made themselves.
Members of both tribes began pointing at familiar objects and saying words from their respective languages.
A natural kinship instantly blossomed.
The Abantu gestured at fire pits and cured skins, speaking words in their language while the Bwana did the same.
They pointed at the curing hides and then to each other’s loincloths and there was laughter.
Common items were recognized again and again.
There were many smiles and people gestured and pointed.
Though the words were spoken in different languages, there was no mistaking a shared ancestry.
And a growing sense of excitement.
Young children prowled wide-eyed for the chance to see up close the strange beings from across the river.
The Abantu were shocked again when they saw that beyond the food preparation area, three magnificent huts rise side by side amongst a grouping of the tall palms.
By far, the largest dwellings any of the Abantu had ever seen.
***
The Abantu and Mantel were marvelously talented at the quick assemblage of family-sized shelters.
As long as there are saplings and brush or palm and sturdy water reeds, or even heavy swamp grass, in a short amount of time, a family can set up a dwelling that will stay dry and warm.
During lobo-yaka, when the Abantu lived in large villages along the rivers that flow into Uwama, they built larger and more durable huts using saplings as ribbing and water reeds to weave into walls and roofing.
Closer to the beach, in areas good for feasting and celebration, the izik-kosa constructed pavilions using wooden poles and large palm leaves.
The real problem with building any kind of permanent dwelling on the southern shores, was mischievous Ulayo, sure to visit and wreak havoc with a single, hearty blow.
Large dwellings on the southern shores just never seemed feasible.
Or necessary.
Kaleni and all of the Abantu were awed by the Bwana huts.
Roughly circular in shape, the three huts reminded Kaleni of the conical shells of snails that attach so fiercely to rocks.
Multiple sections of roofing had different pitches.
He and Nibamaz clicked back and forth, while marveling at the construction.
Multiple tall palms served as the main support columns.
At the height of a tall person or maybe a head higher, hardwood poles connected trunk to trunk at the heavily wrapped joints of each support tree, forming a roughly circular shape.
From each tree joint, a pair of beams rose at an angle to a towering palm at the center of the grouping.
The peaked center beams created the graceful, conical appearance of the roofing; mats of tightly woven papyrus formed sweeping planes from center trunk to each pair of columnar supports, ensuring that even during the fiercest rain of shatsheli-lambo, water would cascade away in all directions.
The Bwana led the Abantu along the front of the big huts where Kaleni had a moment to see between the spaces.
Beyond where the large huts stood were rows of smaller shelters, rounded and familial sized.
A more familiar style that caused Kaleni to smile.
But then he also spied what appeared to be an enormous pile of brush beyond the family-sized shelters.
Though he didn’t have time for a proper look, it appeared there were logs and sticks attached and securing the bramble in a purposeful way, as though to create a protective barricade.
Kaleni wondered for what possible purpose as he and the rest of the Abantu were positioned in front of the largest hut.
***
The area in front of the three big huts was open, but for the tall palm trunks rising tall and bare to the circular canopies.
Bwana and Abantu gathered in front of the largest, central hut, where Kaleni saw a curious platform of woven papyrus.
The yellowish structure seemed to float above the dark soil.
Hovering … Or something.
Nibamaz and the other Abantu clicked in shared curiosity.
Like the big huts, the platform was something they had never seen.
Knee-high from the ground and woven of bound papyrus, yellowed and dry and hard, forming a flat layer, rectangular in shape, about knee high above the dirt.
Kaleni saw the hovering appearance as the result of hardwood legs set underneath, serving as leg-like supports, giving the platform an initial impression of floating.
The papyrus that formed the flat platform was woven tightly in a criss-crossing design pattern that was pleasing to the eye.
Using hand gestures, the Bwana directed the Abantu to assemble on one side of the platform, while their hosts gathered on the other.
Following Uta’s lead, the Bwana sat cross-legged along one side.
The Abantu, clumsy at first, stumbled about to find a suitable order on the other side.
Finally, Kaleni and Nibamaz sat at the center of the platform and including Lume, Juka and Lopi settled to either side.
More Abantu filled in the other spaces at the platform and others stood behind.
Kaleni and Nibamaz clicked at each other, liking the arrangement.
Many people could sit around the same, flat surface and converse.
“This is like a tribal circle, only small,” Nibamaz said.
Kaleni clicked agreement.
They sat across from Uta, who sat beside a female.
Very beautiful.
Adorned in fine skins, colored with orange and yellow.
Kaleni thought there was something of the Mantel in her appearance.
Her nose was long and narrow and the colored skins gave her skin a reddish sheen.
Her hair was gathered atop her head with bleached bone needles and strings adorned with beads to hold it in place.
Kaleni learned her name was Kafila and that she was mated to Uta.
As with Uta, the other Bwana seemed to treat Kafila with a special level of respect.
To the other side of Uta was a male with white whiskers, reminding Kaleni of Tiuti, only the Bwana elder was much shorter; though, the same as Tiuti, his skin was heavily wrinkled and his hair—though long—was mostly white.
When he caught Kaleni looking, the elder Bwana offered a smile and showed teeth surprisingly intact, shiny and white.
Kaleni almost clicked in response, but then smiled back.
The elder Bwana nodded back and looked away.
As he often did when away, Kaleni had a silly, but heartfelt moment where he wondered, if only Krele could see through his eyes now?
He looked at Kafila, sitting beside Uta and wished his mate was there; her guidance he trusted more than anyone, even Nibamaz.
Krele was always steady.
Practical.
And she did not let her emotions interfere with her judgement in times of stress.
Kaleni looked over the remaining Bwana, males and females, all young adults.
Noted that several of the males had impressive physiques and wore necklaces of carved talons and fangs similar to Uta’s, though not as elaborate.
The communal area was open and airy, but thanks to the tall palms, nicely shaded.
The Bwana brought heaps of food: fruit and nuts and cakes to set upon the platform.
They roasted steaks of zebra over a nearby fire pit, a first for the Abantu.
The Abantu drank a fermented juice that tasted funny and 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 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.
Their similarities, more than their differences drew them quickly together.
Their commonality was astonishing.
Both tribes built rafts in a similar way.
They used ostrich eggs and colorful shells to expertly shape and drill tiny holes through to make beads for decorations.
To make spears and axes the similar ways, each tribe knapped quartzite to make blades attached to wood hafts and secured with sinew glew.
But, as impressed as the Abantu were by the big huts, the Bwana were awed by the Abantu weapons.
Never had they seen such impressive knives, axes and spears.
The two tribes discovered that each had left an established homeland that bordered a great body of saltwater.
Became nomadic, in search of something greater.
The friendships that ignited on that day would warm the tribes for the rest of their lives.
By dawn, Uta offered the use of the Bwana fishing rafts to help transport the Abantu across the river.
Though neither of the tribes realized it at the time, the Bwana would join the Abantu and Mantel on their pilgrimage to the land of legend.
***
The Bwana were wonderfully hospitable; nevertheless, when Kaleni, Nibamaz, with fellow hunters Juka and Lopi set back across the river at first light, the bulk of the Abantu remained uneasily as guests.
The four Abantu would pole the isiga-wila back across, while teams of Bwana piloted three, similar rafts, also built with the sturdy and ultra-buoyant papyrus.
On the advice of the Bwana, who used their rafts for fishing and transporting bulk items—and had become quite familiar with the river in the process—the Abantu drifted 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 maintain a lead, saying little until they established a line the others would follow.
Despite being early, the air was already heavy and wet with heat.
Ulayo blew elsewhere, but that was better than blowing in a direction that was 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 and the hunters were desperate for rest.
Used to working together under difficult circumstances, the lifelong hunter friends goaded or encouraged each other, depending on which was required.
The suggestion made by the Bwana to start a bit more downstream made the crossing easier.
Able to poll the entire distance over shallower water, despite their fatigue, the pace of progress was actually much better the second time.
Two hunters worked the poles while two rested.
Water sloshed against the sides of the raft and progress remained steady.
Able to gain enough distance from the Bwana rafts to talk comfortably, the Abantu agreed, somewhat proudly, that the Bwana had impressive weapons and tools, but well below the standards of an izik-kosa.
“But I have never seen such huts,” Nibamaz said reverently. “Who would have thought building in such a manner would be possible.”
Lopi exclaimed, “Everyone can fit under if it rains.”
“The necklace of Uta,” Juka said with unabashed admiration. “What until the other izik-kosa see.”
Lopi asked, “Uta, he is like Tiuti, no? Izik-ikiz?”
Kaleni, like Nibamaz, was down on one knee and resting, clicked that he disagreed and said, “The other Bwana, named Wutota, maybe he is like an izik-ikiz for Bwana, but I think Uta is something else.”
Juka said, “Uta is not an elder, but he is wise in the way of someone who has seen many things in life. Survived and learned.”
“His face?” Lopi asked. “Does anyone know what happened?”
There were clicks of no.
Lopi, like Juka, wore three talons. He shook his head, saying, “It must have been a terrible wound.”
Lopi stood at the back of the raft with the pole in both hands and leaned with his body weight to push; in the meantime, Juka pulled his pole hand over hand from the water.
Once clear, Juka slid the long pole using both hands to hold it at center, keeping it on a horizontal plane.
Turned his neck to look at Kaleni and Nibamaz and said, “Lions follow a single male or sometimes two or three brothers. And hyenas follow a single female.”
“So they are like predators,” Lopi said, his voice reflecting the strain of pushing. “He is like the leader of a pride and wears the necklace as a mane.”
Kaleni stood, saying “But people live differently than lions. Or hyenas. It does not make sense for an Abantu to listen to one person for all things.”
Lopi finished pushing and began pulling the pole from the water.
The hunters were sweating and very tired.
Nibamaz stood and motioned at Juka for his pole, saying, “Uta listens to the others, especially the female. She appears to be his mate.”
“She is younger than he is,” Juka said, handling the long sapling to Nibamaz.
“I noticed.” Nibamaz said and shrugged. “Not too much.”
He changed positions with Juka while Kaleni did the same with Lopi.
Nibamaz jammed his pole straight down into the water, pushing hand over hand until it impacted the bottom.
Changed his grip on the pole and spread his feet to lean.
Juka, now kneeling, said, “I think we could trust him on a hunt, though I do not know for sure why I say that.”
Kaleni clicked his agreement and said, “Did you notice the weapons stacked in the center of camp?”
Juka clicked affirmation and said, “Why so many spears?”
“Maybe they were about to go for a hunt?” Lopi offered.
He too was now in a kneeling position, elbow on the knee, shoulders slumped with fatigue. “Maybe they do it with everyone at the same time, like a harvest.”
“Maybe,” Kaleni replied.
He lifted the pole, prepared to plunge it into the water as Nibamaz pulled back his own.
Holding the pole aloft, Kaleni said, “But their spears are short. And they had waka-waka. Out in the open, on racks. Far more than you would need to go on a hunt.
“And they built a barrier along the edge of the camp!”
“I saw,” said Juka.
Nibamaz, who had seen the spears, but not the barricade, clicked nervously as he watched Kaleni shove his pole straight down and set up to push.
Like all the hunters, he knew that long spears were for hunting.
The short and sturdy spears the Bwana favored were for stabbing.
For protection.
For fighting in close quarters.
***
Once the rafts set off for the opposite shore, Uta ensured his remaining guests were comfortable, then met with Kafila and several others, including his adult children, the male twins Tokuta and Kotuta.
The Bwana leadership gathered in a loose circle near the platform where they had sat so long with the Abantu.
They were tired, but still not ready to rest.
Many Bwana roamed the community area, more so than usual, due to a continued fascination with the strangers, who rested comfortably beneath the shade of some of the tall palms.
A muscular nesibindi named Hoju bowed to Uta and said, “They made an excellent raft.”
Tokuta asked, “How many can there be?”
Hoju shook his head. “Difficult to tell. I think their numbers match ours. Perhaps more.”
“More,” Tokuta said, voice grim. Adding, “You saw their weapons.”
Hoju said. “I have never seen such craftsmanship.”
As though on cue, everyone looked at Wutota.
The Bwana elder took the time to nod to everyone before saying, “Their knives. Those blades are stone, but a stone I have never seen.”
He shook his head in a way to express admiration, adding with a note of wonder, “I have only been able to imagine such weapons in my mind, but have never been able to make them.”
Pointed at the impressive necklace around Uta’s neck, which he 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 they brought on the raft? 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 come from another salted mother.”
She smiled whimsically. “All of the males have short hair. I wonder about the females?”
Kafila paused and everyone waited.
After a brief thought, she nodded with confidence and finished, “We will welcome them and learn their ways.”
Wutota readily agreed, adding, “That is what is important. They are Bwana. Human, like us. And some of their words are like ours.
“There are so many stories, after all. Of times from long ago, when people of other lands traded with the Bwana of ichi-Bwana.”
Uta gazed thoughtfully at the older male, then looked at Kafila, who offered him the barest of smiles.
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,” he said. “They do not know our language, nor us theirs.”
Once more he checked Kafila and Wutota with his gaze, before adding, “But we have already found common words.”
Kafila said with an edge to her voice, “Yes, only when we know them better, we will ask what they know of the terrible beasts.”
Uta nodded and the others murmured in accordance.
***
//
Several days and many raft trips were required to get all of the people across shatsheli-lambo.
Young adults crossed in manageable groups accompanied by one or more rafts so swimmers could take a break whenever necessary.
Anyone pregnant or ill or injured, or for any reason physically unable to swim, got to ride dry and comfortable on a raft the entire distance.
Some of the young adults took the crossing as a challenge and swam the whole way, including Yat and Dokuk, who swam together.
Eku and Yathi waited three, agonizing days with their mothers and other young people, impatient to cross and yet, not looking forward to such grueling, physical work.
When their turn finally came, Eku and Yathi swam with Tar and Maz and the rest of their families, the mothers polling two of the rafts.
For Eku, it seemed the shore receded impossibly slow.
He swam with a sidestroke or flat on his back, two styles of relaxed swimming that he could maintain for as long as necessary, alternating from one 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 occasionally 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, occasionally kicking and rowing with his strong arms, chatting 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 a curious strip of rock jutted from the spot for which their group was headed, like a tooth or bone.
When at last his feet touched soft soil, Eku felt glorious relief.
Even Yathi groaned with pleasure when able to stand.
There was still a good distance to solid land and Eku and Yathi bounced off the bottom as the two rafts floated to the right, drifting the rest of the way in.
The water grew more shallow and Eku and Yathi trudged forward through warm water.
A wide and smoothly sloped bank waited.
The pale rock Eku had seen from a distance proved to be an enormous uplift of flat bedrock.
Rising from the river and leveling a bit higher than the embankment before continuing straight back; how far, Eku could not tell, but possibly all the way to the forest, which did not start for a good distance from shore.
The land along the river was cleared of vegetation and swarming with Abantu and Mantel.
Eku looked over the crowd, trying to find his father or sister or Dokuk, but his eye was drawn to something in the water.
To his left, just past where the flat bedrock slab emerged from the river, there was a narrow structure built of wood logs that extended from shore.
Curious, Eku changed direction and Yathi followed.
Eku said, “What can this be?”
Yathi asked, “How is it floating and so straight?”
Eku was close enough to touch the structure.
Logs had been chopped to uniform lengths, then tied and fit together to form a straight, wooden path that appeared to be floating, but then he noted there were logs that rose vertically from the water, like stout legs to provide support.
The logs that formed the walkway were attached together with notches and excellent roping, laid over a support structure that made Eku think of a climbing ladder laid flat on 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 splashed toward shore.
Eku wearily followed.
***
Lume’s bulk stood out amongst the group of Abantu crowded at the base of the wondrous log walkway.
Lume, Kaleni, Nibamaz and others hovered around Tiuti, down on his hands and knees, poking at where the walkway was anchored to enormous logs, a few paces upriver from where the slab of rock emerged from the water.
While speaking as the others watched, Tiuti slapped at the large and notched logs that formed the foundation and gestured down the length of the boardwalk, Lume nodding with his lower lip stuck out.
He helped Tiuti to his feet just as Yathi cleared the water.
Eku called, “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.
Stepping onto dry land, Eku was enormously relieved to be out of the water.
He looked along a wide embankment of dark sedimentary soil.
It seemed the entire tribe was gathered, waiting for the final river crossers.
The shoreline was muddy from traffic and Umawa squished between Eku’s toes, a welcome feeling after half a day spent in the river.
He found the great slab of rock that emerged from the water was more fascinating than the human-made walkway of boards.
The rock formation was a singular structure, formed by a vast slab of bedrock that remained the same width and height from where it rose just out of the water, to follow a straight path into the forest, a good ways away.
Like a long and flat bone.
Or perhaps, Eku thought, as if Umawa laid a great pathway of stone for giants to emerge from the river and walk to the land of legend!
The slab was remarkably smooth.
Only narrow cracks and fissures disrupted the otherwise flat surface.
Across the top, waka-waka strangers sat or stood.
The Bwana.
Eku had heard all about the zebra loincloths, but was fascinated to see them.
Found he couldn’t wait for Yathi to stop clinging to uncle Lume.
There was so much to talk about.
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 over on was already heading back across, with new riders handling the poles.
He scanned the crowd for his mother’s distinct features or Yat’s poof, but saw either.
Curious, he walked up the river bank.
Once able to see past the rock, Eku saw something strange poking into the midst of the tree line.
Something utterly different.
At first, he thought some kind of a giant shell sat amongst tall palms, but realized he was looking at the sun-bleached tops of the magnificent huts that he had also heard so much about.
Zebra loincloths and wondrous huts?
Who were these people?
Eku immediately formed an impression of the Bwana being a very clever tribe.
He took another step closer to take a more studied look at the individuals scattered across the rocky plateau.
Like the Abantu, the Bwana tribe consisted mostly of young adults; though, Eku saw males and females who appeared his and Yatyambo’s ages.
Yathi suddenly grabbed his hand and pulled.
Lurching after, Eku blurted, “Yathi, this is kind of like home.”
“For sure,” he said, also excited. “Like during feasts and celebrations during lobo-yaka!”
Eku motioned with his free hand toward the rocks and said, “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 stopped pulling and let go of Eku’s hand.
Turned and giggled and said, “They look like a herd.”
Eku laughed.
Despite so much swimming, the ikanabe were re-invigorated.
After properly greeting his father, uncle Lume and Tiuti, Eku roamed with Yathi through the crowd to find Yat, who they found with 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 on the arm with Dokuk.
Eku pointed to where all the Bwana were seated on the rocky plateau, “Does anyone want to see the Bwana village and the giant huts? From that giant rock, we should be able to look and see.”
With confidence in numbers, the young Abantu went back across the crowd.
Approaching from higher up the shoreline, Eku thought the rocky outcropping was indeed like a river of stone.
As though a tributary that at one time drained into the river had miraculously turned to rock.
From where the Abantu approached, the bedrock merged seamlessly into dark soil.
Nervously, under the scrutiny of the nearest Bwana, they climbed the slight incline to the top.
Yat got there quickest and let out the first gasp.
Dokuk and Eku arrived close behind and were similarly amazed.
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 taller and wider than its neighbors, the spire of which Eku spotted earlier, when first reaching shore.
The giant huts made use of numerous tree trunks to create a series of pitched roofs.
The material, whatever it was, formed smooth slopes of light yellow or ivory.
Between the big huts and the river was an expansive communal area, busy with fire pits, racks of stretched hides and trestles of drying fish.
Eku could see the hanging, skinned carcass of an antelope.
There were lean-to shelters with stacks of burning fuel, clay pots and other miscellaneous items.
“How did they build those huts,” Eku said with wonder.
Yat said, her voice filled with awe, “The roofs are like the top of a conch shell. But not round. Flat on many sides to form a cone. How can they do that?”
“They must be very good hut builders,” Yathi said.
Eku looked around.
Being on top of the bedrock was like being on a plateau.
So unexpectedly flat; though it looked like the Bwana side dropped off steeply.
The stone was mottled pale, with gentle undulations and ridges, but none deep or sharp enough to take away from the remarkable flatness.
Making the pale tone of the plateau stand out more, the Bwana had cleared every scrap of vegetation around the rock formation.
Part of the original shoreline remained though: halfway between the rock slab and where the Bwana cleared the living area of the village, the ground subsided and was left untouched; an oval oasis of papyrus, grass and small palm, some of which interfered with Eku’s view of the big huts.
He took a few steps in the direction of the water to look.
Now able to see all of the big huts and also what was behind, Eku noted waka-waka family sized shelters, rounded and similar to something an Abantu would make.
Farther back was a large barrier, obviously put there for protection.
Eku wondered from what.
He looked at the Bwana seated closest.
Gulped, realizing every set of eyes was on him and his group.
Felt like a bug being stared at and quickly looked away.
Avoiding eye contact, he looked down the rocky outcropping in the direction of the forest.
A single, high point bulged up from the otherwise flat expanse, making Eky think of a dorsal fin on a fish.
A spire rose in the middle, like a ragged spike.
Someone had climbed to the top of the spire to hang there, peeking from behind, so only the head and a single hand showed.
Eku's initial thought was that the young Bwana must be an impressive climber, only to realize the head and hand belonged to something else.
Clicking instinctively, Yat and Yathi followed the direction of his eyes and Yat exclaimed, “Is that a Bwana?”
Sensing their scrutiny, whatever Eku had seen quickly 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 base of the rock.
“Yatyambo and Eku. All of you. Come down,” she said. “There is work to do.”