Chapter 11

Gathering the Worms

A great feast was planned.

That was the good news.

When the mothers announced that there would be four straight days of harvest beforehand, Yathi howled in protest, while Eku grew only more excited.

The first day was grass day.

Alongside the boxthorn barrier, additional land was cleared of small trees and underbrush.

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

Ulanga shone bright in a near cloudless sky.

The people moved in oscillating waves through waist high grass, stalks nodding over with amber bristles, hoppers taking flight before them with blurred wings, the air buzzing in their passage.

The seeded heads snapped off easily, Eku rubbing and bending the husks to coax millet into the basket hanging over a shoulder.

After gathering waka-waka bushels, the people marched below leafy mopane crawling with colorful caterpillars to where the bamboo patch rose, at the side of the encampment opposite iliwi-kelele.

In front of the bamboo grew a swath of sorghum, now higher than Eku was tall.

He and Yathi moved methodically through green stalks with flat bladed leaves, the spikelets at the top clustered with red seeds.

Slicing off the heads to drop into baskets.

The second day of harvest was in the water, downriver from the bamboo patch.

Eku and Yathi remained side by side, along with many others, wading into water grass with purplish thistles.

The mature reeds formed dense stands along the margins of shatsheli-lambo, as well as bristly islands wherever the river ran shallow.

Further along the river from where the Abantu labored, elephants were gathered, the adults wading into water halfway up to their bellies and using their trunks to yank up wads of reeds to cram into their mouths.

The people stayed well clear of where the elephants gorged.

Eku and Yathi slogged through water up to the groin.

Ulanga’s fire was hot and pesky river flies bounced off their skin.

Purple-thistled water grass sprouted from the bottom.

The stalks are yellowish and thick at the base, separating at the surface into green leaf blades that wrap around a slender shoot that rises to a furry top.

Pulling up the main stem demands a firm grip on the slippery stalk.

Eku dunked his entire body underwater to wrap both hands around the base and pushed off the bottom with both 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 root tubers would be boiled and pounded to soften and then ground to mix with sugar and 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 earned a periodic scolding from 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 kept all of the young people at the center of the encampment, below the tall, heavily crowned palms of the communal area.

Grinding the seeds and mashing the tubers gathered the previous days.

Eku and Yathi, not adept at mortar and pestle, were stuck with cleanup duty, carting away detritus from the preparation area, moving bowls and baskets to and fro; keeping the communal area swept clean and handling requests from the mothers and benzi-kusela.

That was until Yat grabbed the two of them.

She and Tar and Maz and several other older females, led Eku and Yathi to a labyrinth of growth where the forest met the river.

Papyrus rose in a hedge parallel to the purple-thistled water reeds, next to a tangle of competing bushes and small trees, made more dense by a covering of vines that criss-crossed in every direction, now dripping with slender green pods.

Eku and Yathi joined the females using knives to cut through the entangled vegetation, swatting insects, watching for snakes, 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 have been under watch: bats and birds, monkeys and even elephants were kept away.

The trees were loaded with engorged caterpillars.

The adults threw ropes and pulled heavily leafed boughs to the ground and the young people swarmed.

Every branch was a contest.

The caterpillars were finger length with 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 there were green caterpillar guts splattered on his hands and arms.

The bountiful harvest kept a steady line of adults moving from to and from the food preparation area and the mopane, dumping full baskets of worms to rush back with the empties.

Before long, piles of still squirming worms waited back at the center of the encampment.

Once again, the Abantu assembled in the communal area, under the tall palms.

Clean and shorn pelts and grass mats were placed on the ground where Ulanga shined unobstructed.

The young people arranged themselves in the shade, sitting or kneeling on the dirt in rough circles.

Eku sat next to Yatyambo.

Next to Yat were Maz and Tar, and then Sisi and Kat, who grew up in the same laba-ini.

Next to Eku were Yathi, Dokuk, Odi and Goguk.

The adults brought bushels of worms and turtle shells filled with water to each grouping of young people.

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

Soon, everyone began contesting with whoever sat closest.

Yathi made a bold challenge to the females for who can accumulate the biggest pile of caterpillar guts.

Which Eku knew was a mistake, but didn’t care because contests made things fun.

Yat, Tar and Maz had amazingly nimble fingers and the females quickly assembled a much bigger mound.

Adults weaved merrily in and out amongst the caterpillar-butchering young people, providing a steady supply of worms and replacing fresh turtle bowls.

Again, the enthusiasm of the young people made the process go quickly and piles of worm tubes fit for a feast glistened under Ulanga upon the grass mats.

Everyone pinching and squeezing now had green goop covering their hands and wrists.

All of the young Abantu have accumulated impressive piles of caterpillar guts.

Unlike everyone else, Yathi managed to splatter green goo over a good portion of his young, but impressively proportioned body.

With the work done, all of the young people came to their feet, groaning after staying in the same position during the frantic competition.

Eku reached hands over his head to stretch.

Looked at Yathi doing the same and began laughing.

Arms in the air, Yathi offered a questioning look.

Giggling, Eku pointed at a dismembered caterpillar head plowing a path down the green sludge coating Yathi’s belly.

In a moment of inspiration, Yathi bent, 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 pointed at Eku and 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 of green slime 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, the Abantu used rocks and shells and sticks to mark a path through their camp.

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

As Ulanga disappeared in the direction upriver, Eku and Yathi gleefully raced through camp with other young people, helping to light the many small campfires along the pathway.

The entire 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 shouted and clapped as their entire neighboring tribe marched down the set pathway.

The Bwana wore brilliant costumes.

Beautiful robes with feathers, much like the Abantu crafted in their homeland.

Some of the Bwana wore the 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 the head of a bird or 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 her with his eyes until she danced from sight, yet another image implanted in his mind.

Forever.

***

The Abantu no longer had their beloved feathered robes.

There has barely been time to make vests and extra loincloths, let alone craft any shells or ostrich beads to make jewelry.

There are soft wraps for the mothers, but that is all.

The Abantu gathered silently at iliwi-kelele to march into the Bwana village.

They assembled quietly in the open area in front of the big huts.

The Bwana remain silent, out of respect.

As the Abantu, they made a strong effort to welcome their guests.

There are many small fires.

Enchanting decorations of bone and shells and feathers and beads.

Families displayed their most prized possessions—carved representations of ancestors, colored pelts, feathered robes and other finery, set on stones or hung from the palms.

And in return the Abantu offered songs.

They sang the song first heard hummed by their mothers while they suckled.

They sing songs of harvest and songs of the hunt.

Some songs started soft and rose in volume.

Some were slow and full of emotion.

Sometimes, the song changed suddenly in rhythm and tempo, and the Bwana spontaneously clapped and stomped their hands in enthusiastic participation.

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

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

Eku and Yathi, like all of the people, belted out words with gusto.

Singing was as natural a part of their culture as breathing.

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

Her hair was combed and flowed down her back like a waterfall.

Eku notices Bwana males gesturing to Yat and touching their chests above the heart with a small bow and thinks that maybe he will do that the next time he sees Ingwe.

***

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

“This is the greatest feast,” he said to everyone.

“How could there ever be one bigger? Surely this is the biggest. For sure.”

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

Yathi harrumphed. “But did we have Bwana sweet cakes before coming here?”

Eku clicked in a way that made Yathi grin and admitted, “They are my new favorite.”

When darkness fell, the entire population gathered at Iliwi-kelele.

There were people everywhere; in fact, Eku realized this might be the largest gathering he had ever participated in.

Mingling in the area along the water, across the flat of the rock slab, all across the work area of the iziki-kosa, and around the open area next to the big hut.

Fire pits were built to either side of the zoba-upay and light flickered and fluttered across the miniature cliff face.

Eku and Yathi went to see the latest updates.

Wutota had used charcoal and some of the Bwana’s clever dyes to bring the drawing alive, painting the outline dark to define the shape.

Lighter colored paste painted around the three sides showed the vastness of Uwama.

A lighter paste was also used to show the rivers they crossed on the journey north, before even reaching shatsheli-lambo.

Shatsheli-lambo was a much thicker line of paste, gently curving partway across the oval of Uwama to almost intersect with the circular shape of the ichi-Bwana, enormous and in the center.

Connecting to shatsheli-lambo between the salt lake and the sea was the south flowing river, the one river that flowed up instead of across, finishing at the very top of the zoba-upay, where the endless lake of freshwater was painted as a pale spot that ended where the face of the rock did.

Eku stepped back and stared for a moment.

Perhaps because of the flicker of the firelight, the shape they had drawn seemed to hover off the rock, ethereal and floating.

As if for a moment, Eku were a giant fish eagle, able to fly so high as to see the entire known world.

***

Festivities officially began 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, for a total of nine births to extol.

When the introductions were over, everyone got in a long line to see the babies and give blessings.

Doagu smiled, looking tall and proud and happy.

She wore her cap with the spiraling design and a vest of soft and supple skin, decorated with feathers of 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.

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

Amongst the Abantu newborns there were three males and two females.

The females would be the first members of the first laba-ini, as there were soon to be others, as a good number of Abantu females showed pregnant bellies.

Because there was currently an odd number of males, Pume might have been without an ikanabe, but a Bwana mother named Gakila, who had befriended Doago.

Upon learning of the Abantu tradition, Gakila offered to join in the raising with her newborn male named Takila.

Pume and Takila were the first Abantu and Bwana males to become 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 stacked 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 the water.

Hollowed logs were rolled into place.

A pounding rhythm began that reminded Eku of many hooves running.

Despite full bellies, people got on their feet.

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 Eku and Yathi joined a wave of young people dancing around the bonfire.

Goguk and Kolo joined them and the young people threw their arms in the air and bounced.

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

He left Yathi and the others to move outside the circle of dancing to watch.

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

Her eyes, as always, seemed to sparkle and her skin glowed in the firelight.

Unlike the Abantu, the Bwana had no restrictions for males dancing with females, and when Ingwe danced with others, including Dala and Longo, Eku felt jealous.

Scolded himself for feeling that way.

Inka, naked and dancing at the beach feast came to mind.

Ingwe had the same kind of beauty when she moved.

Even more so.

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 bounced and shook shakers with his tribemates and began to have fun again.

But then he spotted Yat dancing with Ingwe and grew terribly envious.

Eku scolded himself, for that was silly, because Yat was his sister and he loved her … but Eku could not help the barrage of feelings cascading through his mind.

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 when Yathi saw the way Eku stood alone and watched Ingwe, he understood.

Unfortunately, Yathi also noticed that waka-waka other young males watched Ingwe.

Both Bwana and Abantu.

Who were the same age as Dokuk.

Everyone knew Ingwe was a prize above all others.

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

Yathi went to Eku, who, feeling angry and sad, but knowing that Yathi needed to put his sweaty body in the river, shooed him away.

Said he would join him in the river soon.

Yathi charged away to join Kolo and Goguk, heading for the water.

Instead, Eku sat in the dirt and stared at the fire.

Many young adults headed in a direction opposite the water and he wondered how many new babies would be made tonight.

Wonders if Ingwe actually noticed him.

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

Relieve boredom.

She forgot about him as soon as it was over.

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

Told himself that nothing else mattered.

He would throw his ula-konto.

And practice ibe-bonakalio.

That is what he would do.

He would only think about being a hunter.

Force his mind to forget about Ingwe.

***

When the drummers took a break, Ingwe raced down the hard-packed dirt slope with many others.

She loved running.

Everyone said she was fast, which was good, but it was fun to simply run and feel the breath of Ulayo, no matter if you were the fastest.

Nevertheless, Ingwe was among the first to reach the swimming area.

Splashed into warm water up to her thighs.

There were so many people!

Her friends were suddenly all around and they laughed and splashed.

After a moment, Ingwe drifted away from the others, the way she liked to sometimes.

To have a moment.

Waist deep in the water, she gazed up at many stars.

Yanga was a half circle, pale and white.

The bonfire was a circle of glowing orange coals, the water an ever-changing reflection of black and silver shimmer pierced by the silhouettes of human heads and torsos.

Ingwe studied the human shapes intently, as though to find someone.

Frowned in disappointment.

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

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

Along with running, of course.

Ingwe was especially happy to dance with the Abantu female named Yatyambo.

Although 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.

Very much so.

The attraction between them was spontaneous and powerful and had only grown stronger.

Ingwe knew that Yat was Eku’s sister.

And Yat has 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 he 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.

And Ingwe likes the way he looks.

She can’t help it.

Eku was bright and attentive.

She feels something different when she sees him now.

Something powerful, settling in her belly.

Ingwe was especially impressed when she saw Eku talk with the tall, wise one named Tiuti, the one her mother and father hold 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 fingered the pendant once worn by the mother of her older, twin brothers.

Looked for Eku once more, but did not see him and was disappointed.

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

Not yet.

She was the child of Kafila and Uta.

Eku must prove himself.