Chapter 11

Gathering the Worms

A great feast was planned.

That was the good news.

When the mothers announced there were four straight days of harvest to prepare, Eku became more excited while Yathi howled in protest.

The first day was grass day.

Beyond iliwi-kelele, just past the boxthorn barrier, additional land was cleared of small trees and underbrush.

Being too close to the human encampment for antelope to tolerate, a thick carpet of ungrazed foxtail grass was ripe and ready for plundering.

Eku and Yathi joined lines of people moving through the waist high grass, stalks nodding over with hearty amber bristles.

The seeded heads snapped off easily and Eku coaxed millet into the basket that hung from a shoulder by rubbing and bending the thick heads.

After gathering waka-waka bushels, the people marched below mopane boughs crawling with caterpillars to where the bamboo patch rose along the outskirts of the encampment, on the end opposite of iliwi-kelele, where sorghum, higher than Eku was tall grew in a thick border along the bamboo.

He and Yathi moved methodically through thick, green stalks with long flat blades topped by thickly branched pinnacles, loaded with clusters of red seeds they sliced away and dropped into baskets.

The second day of harvest was in the water.

Eku and Yathi remained side by side, surrounded by many others, wading along the shore of their encampment, wrestling with dense mats of water grass with purplish thistles.

The reeds grew matted thick wherever shatsheli-lambo ran shallow.

Downriver from where the Abantu labored, elephants had gathered, adults wading into the water halfway up their bellies to use their trunks to pull tangles of reeds to shove into their mouths.

The people stayed well clear of where the elephants gorged.

Eku and Yathi slogged through water up to the groin. The work was difficult and there were clouds of pesky river flies.

Eku did not bother to bring his ula-konto. There would be no opportunity to hunt while performing such work.

Purple-thistled water grass sprouted from the bottom, the stalks yellowish and thick before separating at the surface into bright, green leaf blades wrapped around a slender shoot that rose to the furry spikelet.

Pulling up the main stem demanded a firm grip on the slippery stalk and Eku dunked his entire body underwater to push off the bottom with his legs.

The dunking was a good way to stay cool and be rid of crawling bugs.

And the energy expenditure was worthwhile.

At this time of the year, the fat base of each stalk was loaded with sugary sap. The starchy root tubers would be boiled and pounded to soften and then ground into powder to mix with the sugar to make sweet cakes.

But first, the stalks had to be pulled from the muck and hauled to shore for chopping and soaking to separate the tubers and sugar.

Eku remained focused on getting the work done while Yathi was periodically scolded by Yat, who had an uncanny ability to catch him every time he jammed a thick stalk between his teeth to frantically gnaw and suck in an attempt to get at the sweet juice inside.

The third day of harvest began in the heart of the encampment, where Eku and Yathi joined all of the young people below tall, heavily crowned palms to grind seeds and mash tubers gathered the previous days.

Eku and Yathi were relieved from the monotonous duty of mortar and pestle when Yat, Tar and Maz grabbed the two of them and several others, leading them to a mash of growth where the forest met the river.

Hedges of papyrus rose parallel to the purple-thistled water reeds, followed by a tangle of competing bushes and small trees, a solid wall of vegetation made even more dense by an armor like covering of vines, criss-crossing in every direction and dripping with slender green pods.

Eku and Yathi used knives to cut through the tangled growth, swatting insects and watching for snakes while snapping off the recurved pods with delicious round peas inside.

They dumped the pods into satchels and traced the vines to the ground to pull out the tubers, peeling the skin to reveal creamy flesh, which also went into the satchels.

The final day of harvest was the one that everyone looked forward to—the gathering of the worms.

“At last,” Yathi said. “A harvest that I like.”

“Waka-waka worms,” Eku said.

“Waka-waka-waka worms,” Yathi answered.

For the entirety of lobo-yaka, the mopane trees around camp were under watch: bats and birds, monkeys and even elephants kept away.

The protected trees were loaded with engorged caterpillars.

The adults threw ropes and pulled boughs covered with small branches and leaves to ground level and the young people swarmed.

Every heavily leafed branch was a contest.

The caterpillars were now as long as Eku’s finger with many plump segments, each segment nearly identical: vertical bands of yellow to white to yellow, speckled with black dots with an orange slash through the center.

Eku imagined his fingers were the beak of a black starling as he snatched worm after worm after worm, careful not to squeeze too hard.

Yathi was equally enthusiastic, but not as dextrous and soon, green caterpillar guts splattered on his hands and arms.

The harvest was so bountiful that a steady parade of people hauled full baskets to camp while others rushed back with emptied baskets for refill.

Soon enough worms were gathered and once again the Abantu assembled in the communal area of the encampment, under the palms.

Clean pelts and matts of grass were stretched on the ground where Ulanga shined unobstructed.

The young people arrange themselves in a series of circles, sitting or kneeling on the ground.

Eku sat in a circle next to Yatyambo. Following Yat were Maz and Tar, and Sisi and Kat, who grew up in the same laba-ini and were the same age as the younger males. Following Eku were Yathi, Dokuk, Odi and Goguk.

The adults brought forth bushels of worms and turtle shells filled with water.

The process was simple: pluck a worm from a basket, pinch off the head, squeeze bright green guts onto the ground and toss the thick tube of the worm body into a bowl for rinsing.

Soon, everyone was contesting with whoever was seated closest.

The males in Eku’s circle challenged the females, but that was a mistake.

Yat, Tar and Maz have amazingly nimble fingers and soon assembled a tremendous mound of caterpillar guts.

Adults merrily wove in and out of groups of caterpillar-butchering young people, replacing full turtle bowls and keeping up a steady supply of worms.

Soon, everyone pinching and squeezing had green goop covering their hands and wrists. There was simply no avoiding it.

The enthusiasm of the young people made the process go quickly and mounds of worm tubes fit for a feast were soon glistening under the gaze of Ulanga.

All of the young Abantu had an impressive mound of caterpillar guts before them, but, unlike everyone else, Yathi managed to splatter gooey slime over a good portion of his young, but impressively proportioned body.

With the work done, Eku laughed, pointing at a dismembered caterpillar head plowing a path through the green sludge coating Yathi’s belly.

In a moment of inspiration, Yathi bent and gathered a handful of caterpillar goo off the ground and hurled it at Eku.

A direct hit, splattering across Eku’s face and torso.

Yat began to laugh hysterically only to have Yathi promptly splatter her with an even larger handful.

And the mayhem began.

The adults ran away laughing as caterpillar guts began flying in every direction.

Soon, everyone had gobs hanging from hair, faces and bodies and once the grossness level exceeded tolerance, all of the young Abantu raced to be first into the river.

***

The day before the feast, each tribe marked paths to and from their respective camps, using rocks and sticks.

Tree branches were draped with dried mosses; decorations of shells, bird nests, flowers and feathers hung from strings.

As Ulanga set downriver, Eku and Yathi gleefully joined other young people racing across the Abantu encampment, lighting the many small campfires along the prepared pathway.

The tribe gathered along the route, Eku and Yathi settling at a good place to sit with Kolo and Goguk.

Tremendous shouting and chanting arose from iliwi-kelele, where the Bwana were gathered.

The Abantu whistled and clapped as the entire Bwana tribe marched into and through their camp, down the set pathway.

The Bwana wore brilliant costumes.

Fantastic robes of feathers, much like the Abantu crafted in their homeland.

Some of the Bwana wore skins of beasts: zebras and leopards and even a male lion, replete with furred mane.

There were outfits such as the Abantu had never seen—elaborate combinations of skins and feathers, constructed to look like half bird and half beast.

Eku felt as though his heart would burst from his chest when he saw Ingwe.

She skipped along smiling and laughing with other Bwana females of her age.

Yathi hooted enthusiastically, as they were all beautiful, but Eku only had eyes for Ingwe.

Her robe was a shimmering lavender and he wondered what magnificent bird provided such feathers, following Ingwe with his eyes until she danced from sight, yet another image implanted in his mind.

Forever.

***

The Abantu did not have elaborate robes.

There has been no time to even construct new vests or caps.

No idle days for making masks or fancy headdresses.

There were a few soft wraps for the mothers, but that was all.

The Abantu gathered silently at iliwi-kelele and marched into the opposite village. They moved silently, en masse, to assemble in front of the big huts.

The Bwana had also arranged many fires.

There were enchanting decorations of bone and shells and feathers and beads.

Families displayed their most prized possessions—carvings representing ancestors, colored pelts, feathered robes and other finery, hung in tribute to the visitors.

In return, the Abantu sang.

They sang songs first heard while in the womb.

They sang the songs hummed by the mothers as they suckled.

They sang the songs of harvest.

Some of the songs started soft and rose in volume.

Other songs were slow and full of emotion.

There were songs that changed suddenly in rhythm and tempo and some that finished in a thunderous cadence.

Sometimes only the males sang.

Sometimes only the females.

But when all of the Abantu sang together, the simultaneous sound of their voices was pleasing in a way the Bwana had never experienced.

The voices of the Abantu of Uwama echoed across shatsheli-lambo and carried upriver to cavernous gorges.

Eku and Yathi belted out the words with gusto.

In front of them, the normally reserved Yat threw her head back and sang with passion.

Her hair was combed and flowed down her back like a waterfall; Eku noticed many Bwana males gestured to her, then touched their chests above the heart and bowed.

Maybe he can do that the next time he sees Ingwe?

***

The following day, Yathi was beside himself, convinced they were about to partake in the greatest feast in the history of the world.

“This really is the greatest feast,” he told everyone. “It has to be. For sure.”

Having heard the declaration enough, Eku said, “We had large feasts at home.”

Yathi harrumphed. “We did know how to make Bwana sweet cakes before coming here.”

Eku clicked in a way that made Yathi grin and said, “I think they are my new favorite.”

When darkness finally fell, the entire population gathered at Iliwi-kelele, around the big hut.

Fires burned to either side of the zoba-upay on the miniature cliff face.

Eku saw that Wutota updated the charcoal etchings of the original with dyed fats.

He used a combination of browns and red to show the contours of Uwama, outlined in black.

Perhaps because of the flicker of the firelight, the shape of the land seemed to hover off the rock, floating above Uwama, who Wutota painted all around Umawa on three sides, using white paste.

He also used white paste to highlight shatsheli-lambo, and the south flowing river they would follow to the endless lake of freshwater, painted in as a pale oval at the very top of the  zoba-upay.

Throughout the night people paraded past the zoba-upay, everyone taking waka turns to gaze in wonder upon a sketching of all the known world.

A formal ceremony was held in front of the zoba-upay, where the first Abantu births since leaving their homeland were announced.

There were five new Abantu babies, including Doagu’s male child, named Pume. There was a newborn amongst the Mantel and three more from the Bwana, giving the people a total of nine births to celebrate.

When the introductions were over, Eku and Yathi got in line to see the babies.

When they got to Doagu, wearing her cap with the spiraling design and a vest of soft and supple skin, decorated with feathers of reddish brown and white, Yathi—now a proud uncle—called out “Pume,” and the tiny baby pulled away to look at the familiar voice, Doagu’s nipple popping from its mouth and dribbling milk.

Many people—especially the females—took turns holding the babies.

The Abantu newborns include three males and two females. The females would be the first laba-ini, soon to be joined by others, as a good number of Abantu females showed pregnant bellies.

Because there was an odd number of males, Pume might have been without an ikanabe, but a Bwana mother named Gakila, who had befriended Doago and learned of the Abantu tradition, matched newborn male named Takila; thus, Pume and Takila were the first Abantu and Bwana to be ikanabe.

***

The feast exceeded even Yathi’s wildest expectations.

Mopane worms were the main course.

Worms coated with grease and sprinkled with tangy spices.

Worms mixed with fresh fruit.

Worms minced and formed into cakes to serve as a bed for roasted fish, antelope and hagu.

And most important, more sweet cakes than even Yathi could eat: ground nuts mixed with honey; ground tubers mixed with the sweetest nectar and rolled into balls; mashed nuts mixed with sugar from the river grass and rolled into flat pieces and dried to a crunchy, delicious crust.

There were gourds of fermented juice that made Eku’s head feel funny, but nice.

Soon, Eku, Yathi, Goguk and Kolo could not stop laughing.

Or stop eating.

A bonfire was lit in the expansive flat area between the big hut and water.

Hollowed logs were rolled into place and others brought drums of skin. A pounding rhythm that reminded Eku of many hooves running got everyone on their feet, despite full bellies.

The drumming had a visceral effect, somehow able to travel through the air and into Eku’s stomach and chest to enter his body and mix with his heartbeat.

The bonfire sent flames even higher than the big hut.

A thick bundle of dried papyrus was mounted at top, from which sprouted long and dry palm fronds, almost like a Mantel ponytail. When the flames reached the bundle, an explosion of white flames and sparks whooshed upward, resulting in squeals of excitement from the young people.

Rattles and shakers were brought forth and the crowd of people raised a ruckus as they danced around the bonfire.

Eku, Yathi, Goguk and Kolo joined many other young people, throwing their arms in the air and bouncing.

Eku spotted Ingwe cavorting with her friends and felt a burst of longing.

He left Yathi and the others to move to a spot outside the main circle of dancing, so he could watch her.

Ingwe dancing was the most beautiful thing Eku had ever seen.

When she danced with Dala and Longo and other Bwana males, Eku felt jealous.

Scolded himself for feeling that way.

He danced with Abantu females, after all.

When he looked at Ingwe, Eku felt a longing that was painful.

How could he attain such beauty?

His father had trained him to be a hunter since weaning.

He knew how to become a better hunter!

But with Ingwe, he didn’t even know where to start.

Inka dancing at the beach feast came to mind.

Ingwe had the same beauty. Even more so.

The remaining wood fuel was piled onto the fire and the flames roared again, rising in a way as though to reach for bloated Yanga, now arcing across the water.

Eku tried to forget about Ingwe and rejoined Yathi, Goguk and Kolo.

He pranced and danced with his tribemates and began having fun again.

They took turns with the shakers and passed them along.

Everyone was dripping with sweat.

Eku was enjoying himself again, but when he spotted Yat dancing with Ingwe, he grew jealous once more.

That was silly because Yat was his sister and he loved her … but Eku couldn't help it and became angry.

Yathi, overjoyed by so much food and dancing and so many females could only stare perplexed when Eku wandered away again, to be by himself.

But then Yathi saw the way Eku watched Ingwe and understood.

Yathi also noticed many young males watching Ingwe. Some were the same age as Dokuk.

Eku wandered the perimeter of dancers around the fire to find Kolo and Goguk sitting sweatily on the ground and settled beside them.

When the drummers took a break, many of the young people rushed for the water, while many adults snuck off into the dark.

Eku morosely wondered how many new babies would be made tonight.

He wondered if Ingwe noticed him.

Maybe the chase—so exhilarating to Eku—was  simply something for her to do.

Eku vowed that tomorrow he would spend the entire day throwing his ula-konto.

Nothing else really mattered, anyway.

***

When the drummers took a break, Ingwe raced to one of the first into the river.

There were so many people!

Now that they are away from the bonfire, she could see Yanga shining and many stars.

Shatsheli-lambo was warm, but the water felt wonderful after so much dancing and Ingwe relished the feel of sweat washing off skin.

Dancing to drums and shakers was one of her favorite things to do.

Ingwe especially enjoyed dancing with the Abantu female named Yatyambo.

Though Yat was older, Ingwe felt that she knew her in a way that females know things without having to talk.

Because Ingwe has noticed Eku; in fact, her feelings were the same for him as his were for her.

She knew his name and she knew that Yat was his sister.

And Yat had noticed the two of them eyeing each other—from a distance.

Ingwe has for some time felt the gaze of young males upon her, but none of them were interesting.

Well, not that much.

Maybe for an occasional chase.

If they were up to it.

And they are afraid, because of her father.

Eku was not afraid—and almost caught her on the best chase ever!

The Abantu male was persistent. For sure.

And he was interesting!

Nervous. Often silly, the way young males can be.

But Ingwe likes the way he looks. She can’t help it.

Eku was bright and attentive. She felt something different when she saw him now. Something powerful, settling in her belly.

Ingwe was especially impressed when she saw Eku talking with the tall, wise one named Tiuti, the one her mother and father held in such esteem.

Tiuti talked to Eku like he was already an adult.

Ingwe has also noticed the way that others of his own age act around Eku. She guesses that he will be a leader someday, like her father; though, he probably doesn’t know it yet.

Ingwe stood in waist deep water, fingering the blue pendant once worn by the mother of her older, twin brothers.

She looked for Eku, but did not see him and felt disappointed.

Ingwe desperately wanted to talk to Eku, but has not allowed herself.

Not yet.

She was the child of Kafila and Uta.

Eku must prove himself.