Chapter 12

Forest of the Elephants

Through the days that followed the feast, Eku was troubled.

Restless.

Unable to concentrate.

Normally, throwing his ula-konto allowed his mind to forget whatever bothered him.

But now, as soon as he began to practice and made a good throw, his mind betrayed him by conjuring Ingwe was there to witness it!

The beautiful Bwana female seemed to follow him everywhere.

Even while trying to avoid her, Eku saw her profile amongst the clouds, the lines of her body emerging from the contours of Umawa.

Though Eku cannot see or hear or smell Ingwe, she was simply there, all the time, like the air flowing into his lungs.

I am a silly crab, Eku thought.

Having crawled out of the water, unsure of what to do and where to go until a gull swooped down to snatch him up.

Or, maybe like Yathi, he was completely obsessed with females now.

No.

Eku was obsessed with one female.

He must do something before the pilgrimage resumes, which was any day now.

He wandered away from the community area, lost in thought.

Would Ingwe ever give him a chance?

Eku no longer cared that Uta was her father.

Well, he did, but there was no sense worrying about it.

Besides, he just wanted to talk to her.

But what would he say if she allowed it?

Eku hiked across the open area to iliwi-kelele and paced to the center of the great rock slab.

Stood with arms folded, gazing across the river, thinking it might inspire his mind to think of something to say.

Nope.

Shook his head, aggravated.

Walked to the edge of the rock and hopped down.

Why couldn’t he think of anything to say to her when all he could do was think of her?

Maybe something simple.

Like … Do you want to go see the river?

Oh, for sure.

The river was right there.

All the time!

Having no idea what he would do or say if he got the chance, Eku saw nothing interesting in the work area and continued grumpily in the direction of the Bwana encampment.

Walked past the dock and circled the debris pile.

Ulanga was bright and low over shatsheli-lambo.

Spear-like shadows of palms slanted across the rich brown dirt of a well-worn path.

The swimming area was abandoned this early, but up ahead, where the path widened on the way to the Bwana encampment stood Ingwe, hands on hips, hair combed to cascade down her back, laza pendant, zebra loincloth and white-beaded anklet.

So beautiful that Eku’s heart ached—and then began to pound.

What was she doing here?

Did she know that he wandered down here every morning just for the chance to see her?

Before he was actually aware he was going to do anything, Eku put a hand to his heart and bowed, as he had seen the Bwana males do.

Ingwe smiled beautifully and Eku’s heart leaped.

She took a quick step forward, grinning, but then slowed.

Her eyes narrowed.

The smile vanished.

Ingwe took another step and bolted past Eku, their shoulders almost brushing.

He spun to watch.

Sighed, knowing he cannot catch her.

She is too quick, like Yat.

Nevertheless, Eku focused on the bob of her poof, bowed his head and gave chase.

Pumped his arms and ran as fast as he could along the hard-packed trail along the river.

To no avail.

Eku managed to close some of the distance, but when Ingwe looked back, she grinned and picked up a pace he was laboring to maintain.

Her lithe form scampered in the direction from which Eku had just come, the river on the right, rafts lined up side by side, before the walkway of logs.

Ingwe raced past the rafts and shifted for the work area.

With grim determination, Eku followed, deciding he will run until he drops—or catches her.

But then in a flash, he recalled that past the rafts sprawled the debris pile; thus, in order for Ingwe to stay on the Bwana side—something he knew she always did from previous behavior—she had no choice but to keep going left and circle the big hut.

Eku hurdled a boulder and cut across a grassy area, sprinting up the embankment from the side of the big hut opposite the river, the angle of the terrain and palm fronds hanging from the roof hiding him from Ingwe’s view.

Realizing he could cut her off, excitement boosted sky-high adrenaline and Eku flew with long strides.

But then … He paid attention during that first chase, as frantic as it had been.

Ingwe, while beautiful and quick, was also clever (how could she not be?).

Once part-way around the big hut, she will look back to verify that he is trailing.

Probably slow down to tease him, again.

When she does not see him, aware of the blocking effect of the big hut, being clever, she will surmise what he is up to.

Purely on instinct, Eku dug in his heels and cut back toward the river where he was originally heading, rounding the waterside edge of the big hut just as Ingwe came ripping around from the opposite side.

She doubled back, just as he hoped, her squeal of surprise as delightful as the first time he almost caught her.

They skidded to a stop, face to face, close enough to touch.

Both, too stunned to react.

Ingwe’s eyes were wide and utterly beautiful and she was breathing heavily and for Eku, this would be the most thrilling moment of his life.

They stared at each other.

Finally, catching her breath enough to speak, Ingwe said in perfect Abantu, “You tricked me.”

Still breathing hard, Eku managed a smile and said, “I cannot run fast enough to catch you.”

Eku’s heart was captured forever when she smiled back and said, “But you just did.”

***

The Abantu, Mantel and Bwana marched away from the magnificent shatsheli-lambo as one tribe.

Amidst a parade of people, Eku strode with Yathi, Goguk and Kolo along a path cut by the elephants through a mopane forest.

Everyone had bedrolls and satchels attached to their backs.

Eku was proud more than ever to carry his ula-konto; in fact, he was exhilarated.

Feeling strong—like an elephant!

Agile—like a leopard!

Soaring to heights that not even the magnificent fish eagle can match!

Why does spending time with Ingwe make him feel so?

Who cares?

Eku was ready to conquer the world.

The mopane forest through which the tribe marched grew on a land that truly belonged to the elephants, their foraging weeding away saplings and brush, pruning every tree into a similar pose: fat, bare trunks stripped of lower branches with mature, rounded tops above a carpet of foxtail grass, giving the forest a surreal, but pleasing symmetry.

Gaps in the trees offered a glimpse of where the lone mountain loomed ahead, ever larger.

When the forest broke at the floodplain of the south-flowing river on its way to join shatsheli-lambo, Eku marveled at the singular massif, directly across the water, with much lower hills to either side, like a matriarch with little ones trailing.

Ulanga cast a golden glow across granite cliffs and anabatic updrafts allowed eagles, vultures, fruit bats and parakeets to soar across their respective tracts without a single flap of the wings.

Despite such large numbers, the people needed little time to set up camp and once chores were done, Ingwe joined Eku and Yathi along the waterway.

The river was impressive; though, after shatsheli-lambo, Eku could never imagine another river seeming truly large.

Eku and Yathi wore springhair loincloths shorn of skin.

Ingwe wore a zebra loincloth.

A beautifully softened skin was draped over her shoulders and her hair was wrapped in a plume down the back.

Groups of people wandered the camp as they were, socializing and gawking at the magnificent scenery.

The tribes, being nomadic in the first place, had combined efficiencies to become truly impressive: the well-supplied groups so quickly and effectively set up shelters, there was little to do but mingle.

“Waka-waka people,” Yathi said.

“Like the villages at home during lobo-yaka,” Eku said.

“We once lived in large villages, but they are gone now,” Ingwe said.

Eku and Yathi glanced at each other, knowing that while this would be a large village where they came from, there were waka-waka such villages sprawled across the southern shores.

Villages that every cycle were growing larger.

What happened to the Bwana?

Their present encampment was cut from thickets of leafy bush and small trees that crowded the high bank of the river, their removal leaving only scraggly bush and rounded patches of grass.

The terrain was flat to a sudden drop at the river channel; thus, vegetation grew directly to the water’s edge.

While the river was deep on the side where the people camped, the water level grew shallow across the way; rounded rocks pockmarked the surface along a heavily forested shoreline.

Beyond the heavy growth of the shoreside trees, the mountain rose with a covering of globular canopies of green, but for steep parts of sheer granite.

“Waka-waka people,” Yathi repeated as they passed shelters arranged in familial groups.

Most of the shelters were built with saplings as ribbing, river grass and other material weaved around and around, leaving a single, low entrance.

Eku, Ingwe and Yathi wandered the downriver side of the camp, where the cleared area ended at a natural barrier of boxthorn, shimmering with pretty, white flowers amidst narrow, silver-green petals, a brilliant guise for branches loaded with skin-slicing barbs.

The boxthorn rose to a lower tier of tree branches with twigs that had broad oval leaves with wavy margins, terminated in clusters of pink flowers.

Poking thicks stalks upward through the bramble were impala flowers, called so because the antelope were quick to devour the bright white petals with blood red edges.

The noses of the young people tingled with the sweet aroma of so much colorful flora and Eku shook away an urge to sneeze.

Ingwe smiled and said, “The last showing of flowers.”

“Sika-yaka is coming,” Eku responded, sniffing, “Maybe already here.”

Ingwe smiled sweetly, saying in Bwana, “The dry season starts after the flowers fade.”

No doubt the lessending heat cast by Ulanga showed the change of seasons was upon them, but the spectacular growth of lobo-yaka remained vibrantly displayed.

Clouds of bees doved and dodged, their combined buzzing joining riverside katydids and cicadas for a multi-layered hum.

The trio moved close to the water, next to a margin of water reeds with pale stalks topped by thick, yellow-brown thistles.

The reeds grew spectacularly tall and were supremely useful for weaving into the walls of shelters.

Eku pointed to a section of the sturdy grass left untouched, where a community of dark birds had constructed circular nests around the stalks.

“Those birds build clever round nests, as we do.”

Ingwe said, “Black weavers. Their nests are like beads on a string.”

The birds flitted in, clinging to the gently waving stalks to get their bearings before leaning sideways and wiggling inside.

Yathi pointed where they just left the boxthorn, overlapped by the trees with the pretty pink flowers, where a pair of laza and green turacos settled to watch the humans warily out of a single eye.

“Those birds have red wings in our land.”

Delighted, she exclaimed, “The turaco has red wings in the land you come from?”

Eku and Yathi grinned at her enthusiasm.

“The shape is the same,” Eku said. “Only the feathers are different.”

She smiled at his explanation.

Ingwe was tall, but moved delicately, with long and supple limbs.

When she motioned with her hands, Eku noticed she often flexed all of her fingers.

And when she took a step and motioned gracefully, toward the turaco, she reminded Eku of a graceful water bird.

No wonder she runs so fast, he thought.

He found that he loved to watch her.

Enthralled by each gesture, every expression.

Ingwe’s eyes seemed to light up from within.

When she got excited, her upper lip twisted adorably and she pushed her head forward on her neck, just so slightly, as though wanting to share her mirth.

She was clever with her words in a way that went beyond their respective languages.

Eku wanted so much to impress her.

Make her feel the way she made him feel.

He pointed to another group of birds, clinging to foxtail grass that rose where the boxthorn ended and said, “Red wings like that bird.”

The lower part of the body was light brown, but the upper third was a vibrant crimson all the way to a long beak for sipping nectar.

“Aka-yosi,” Ingwe said.

“Ulanga’s birds?” Eku asked, seeing if he understood the Bwana words correctly.

“Yes. Aka is Bwana for Ulanga.”

She smiled sweetly at Eku, making his heart feel like it just skipped a beat.

“We name them after Ulanga because of their red and orange colors. I wish I could see a turaco with red wings.”

“There are a lot of birds here,” Yathi said.

He bent and found a rock to throw in the water.

Used both hands to gesture at the splash, “We had fish with bright colors where we swam in Uwama. There was coral rock in the water and lots of fish.”

Waved both hands around for emphasis, adding, “The fish were like the birds here. Many different colors and shapes and sizes.”

Ingwe looked thoughtful and her lips puckered in a way that made Eku think of kissing.

He blushed, but no one noticed.

She fingered the blue pendant below the skin draped over her shoulders.

“There were colored fish in ichi-Bwana,” she said. “But I never saw them. My mother told me the fish disappeared when the lake started losing water.”

Yathi asked, “How does a lake lose water?”

The three walked slowly along the river’s edge.

The water was dark and slow and made gentle gurgles.

“There were rivers that once brought fresh water to ichi-Bwana, but then they stopped flowing,” Ingwe said. “My mother said she lived alongside such a river with many people, but the river went dry. When she was little.”

Yathi asked, “How did your father get his scar?”

Ingwe looked at him sharply and Yathi blushed, but she nodded, as if the question was expected.

Eku watched carefully.

Ingwe’s pretty features showed no expression; though, he thought her voice became different, in a way he could not yet identify.

“My father fought the bubinzwana. More than once. He led the nesibindi against the bubinzwana in a fierce attack and he was hurt.

“When my father tried to kill the leader of the bubinzwana, the beast struck him down.

“The beast was very large and escaped with many others from the attack, but the nesibindi killed many of the bubinzwana.

“They killed enough to make the bubinzwana run away, but my father almost died.”

Seeing the serious look on Ingwe’s face, Eku felt bad and didn’t know how to respond.

The untold stories behind what she had just told them.

“You must have been afraid,” Yathi said.

Ingwe shook her head no.

“That happened before I was born. My father was young. My brothers were only babies.”

Getting questioning looks from both Eku and Yathi, Ingwe added, “That was before my father was with Kafila, my mother.”

She smiled beautifully, but with a kind of softness that made Eku want to hold and protect her.

“My brothers came from a different mother,” she explained.

“Their mother died bringing them into the world, for it is very difficult to have two at once.

“My father told me he was very sad for a long time. He says the wound on his face did not hurt nearly as much as losing her.”

“Ma-bomi,” Eku said. “When a mother births two, her name is added to a song. It is a special honor.”

“For us as well,” Ingwe said. “It is sad to think about the mother of my brothers, but we are thankful because they grew strong. There were other mothers to feed them and take care of them.”

“When something is meant to be, something happens,” Eku said softly.

Ingwe gave him another sweet smile.

“There were once many tribes of Bwana,” she said. “There were people along the rivers and along the shores of ichi-Bwana.

“But then the rivers dried and then the lake dried and then the bubinzwana came.

“The Bwana became one tribe and we traveled all the time.

“There were always smaller tribes who were joining the larger tribe and that was how my father met my mother, Kafila.”

Solemn, Ingwe added, “She also lost her first family to the bubinzwana.”

Immediately brightened and added, “But now my brothers are older and Tokuta has a baby with Samfila.”

She giggled, which brought a smile to both Eku and Yathi, and said, “So I am an auntie!”

Eku pointed at the most fantastically colored bird they had yet to see.

A group of three, like themselves.

Perched on the ends of a boxthorn twig.

Tiny, with delicate wings, brown at the tips and red at the shoulders, the body a mix of laza and green with a slash of yellow across the throat.

Ingwe said, “kafila-yosi.”

Yathi made a face and Eku blurted, “Your mother is named after a bird?”

“Yes!”

“You pay attention!”

Ingwe put her hands to her hips the way that Eku adored and added, “My father likes to point to my mother and joke how bee-eaters have pretty colors and are beautiful, but do not be fooled.”

She took a hand from her hip and pointed, shaking a finger at Eku in a way that made him blush, adding, “They are like nesibindi!”

Eku wasn’t sure what to think, but Ingwe winked at him.

“Watch,” she said.

The three observed the gregarious birds, tiny enough to stay balanced on the very ends of the gently waving branches.

The vibrant colors of the birds stood out, even amidst the shiny boxthorn fronds.

On closer inspection, Eku saw that kafila-yosi had long, curved beaks, shaped like the talons of a hawk.

Their high-pitched calls sounded like insects.

Ingwe leaned toward Eku and said softly, “Kafila was nesibindi, before she became my mother.”

Shocked, both Eku and Yathi exclaimed, “A female nesibindi?”

“Many people of ichi-Bwana fought the bubinzwana. Especially those who lost loved ones.”

One of the tiny birds launched toward a section of pink flowers where waka-waka bees circled.

The bird seated next immediately dive-bombed after and the two competitors shot away, screeching their high-pitched squeaks and chasing after each other.

An instant later, with the competition absent, the remaining bird shot from its perch to snatch a buzzing bee deftly out of the air.

“A bird that hunts like the fish eagle!” Eku exclaimed.

They watched the successful bee-eater, prize clamped in its beak, speed across the river to where waka-waka similarly colored birds fluttered across a sloped, earthen bank, dotted with dark burrows tunneled into the soil.

Ingwe pointed across the water at the nesting area and said, “They live together in groups, like the black weavers. You see them where there are lots of flowers, because they eat bees.”

Eku said, “They are good hunters and they live together in numbers, but squabble all the time.”

Ingwe giggled and said, “Yes. They are just like people.”

***

The people marched through groves of aza-enji, now green and heavy with long pustules of ivory, the fragrant flowers attracting countless bees and thus, many of the brightly colored and constantly quarreling bee-eaters.

Travel was easy along paths fortuitously carved by the elephants in parallel to the river.

The people paraded along tunnels where the mighty beasts cleared all branches from the ground to a height within the grasp of an adult trunk.

The great beasts tunneled through the thick aza-enji, leaving songbirds to dash from tree to tree in fluttering throngs.

The elephants bored through groves of broadleaf hardwoods, where Eku saw fruit bats hanging with wings like tents wrapped around their dark bodies.

The elephants cut paths through stands of fig trees, where green and orange parakeets gathered to argue and acquiesce.

The Abantu were comfortable around elephants, their cyclic migrations often crossing; thus, coexistence was a requirement.

The parades of elephants with which Eku grew up seemed impressive at the time, but were dwarfed by the magnificent herds encountered along shatsheli-lambo.

But this place?

Eku believed the narrow plain through which the south flowing river passed must surely be a kingdom of elephants.

Their rumbles carried through the air like tiny tremblers of thunder.

Trumpeting erupted throughout the day.

The ponderous animals were simply everywhere.

Munching watergrass along the river.

Ambling along the well-maintained paths through the groves of their favored foods.

While marching one day through mature soseji-umthi, Eku and Yathi stopped to watch a magnificent tree under siege.

A large matriarch, up on hind legs, yanked a great bough to within reach of others.

Together, the elephants wrapped their trunks around and used their enormous combined weights to twist off a limb larger than most normal sized trees, the huge limb breaking off the main trunk with a ripping crack that made both Eku and Yathi jump.

Once on the ground, the elephants took their time feasting on waka-waka fruit pods, grown fat and oblong and the length of an adult arm.

With so many elephants, encounters with solitary males were inevitable.

The hunters halted the parade.

The tribe passed the time until the giant moved along.

Kaleni told Eku many times that patience is the best way to avoid danger.

The people were never in a hurry, anyway.

***

More than ever, Eku enjoyed practicing with his ula-konto.

Especially in the earliest part of the day, when Yathi remained sleeping.

The tribe had hiked along a wide floodplain for the past several days.

Built from millennia of runoff from the ridgeline that ran parallel to the river, the shorelines of dark silt spread wide, the water level being at the low point of sika-yaka.

Eku thought the shoreline was like the beaches along Uwama, only dark in color, the sediment finer than sand and almost black.

Nubs of pale boulders were half buried across both water and land, like giant turtle eggs partially exposed.

Eku left his familial hut with his ula-konto.

The area along the river was wide open.

Beyond the silted flatness, the terrain was defined by riverine grasses and clusters of fan-leaved palms.

Waka-waka rounded sleeping shelters dotted the cleared area.

The floodplain included a margin of fig trees that Eku figured would incur harvest later that day.

Or maybe the next, depending how long they stayed here.

Beyond the floodplain, the forest appeared dark and forbidding, as Ulanga had still not risen above the trees.

Eku had learned that, while it may look menacing, this forest was a singularly beautiful place, filled with elephants and lots of good food.

Having located a nicely sloped bank of silt at which he could throw his ula-konto, Eku began making practice throws.

The river was to his back, the encampment spread to the left.

Eku loved the three-step throw.

He always selected a specific spot along the clay-like bank before each attempt.

“Always with a target in your mind,” his father told him. “Exactly where you intend the killing end to land.”

Three quick steps to send the weapon sailing.

Jogging forward to retrieve the embedded spear.

Brushing it off as he jogged back for the next throw.

And repeat.

After a while, Eku took a break.

Looked across the river.

Ulanga had cleared the horizon of the forest and amber rays slanted over his head.

Scattered across the center channel were the smoothly rounded boulders, some large enough so that soil accumulated at the top, allowing bushes to sprout, reminding Eku of the Mantel ponytails.

The opposite bank was mostly clear of soil.

Slabs of exposed bedrock formed a rugged talus that sloped steeply to the rocky hills.

The morning was calm with musical bird calls; the inevitable, high-pitched whine of cicadas and other wing rubbers and body shakers.

Ulanga’s early light exposed movement across the rocks.

Confused, it appeared to Eku as though a puddle of water moved across the bedrock.

Walked closer to the water for a better look.

The strange movement turned out to be waka-waka small beasts, similar in size to squirrels, but more heavily built, with fur similar in color to the rock they trod upon; hence, at first it seemed some of the stone was moving.

Now Eku saw dark snouts and black feet.

Triangular heads, round ears and short necks.

Long whiskers on the dark muzzle.

They gathered where the earliest rays of Ulanga touched stone the color of bone, the beasts vigorously rubbing against each other, even climbing over one another in the zest to socialize.

Eku spoke softly to Ulayo, as he did sometimes when alone, “They look like squirrels, groom like monkeys, but move together in waka-waka numbers, like a herd.”

From higher up the steep rock face, he saw waka-waka baboons descending.

Baboons on the southern shores were grayish or brown, but those across the river had coats similar to an impala, a pretty yellow-brown in the shine of Ulanga’s first fire.

Many young ones clung to the stomachs of mothers.

Eku was surprised and amused when the baboons simply ignored the herd of squirrel-like beasts, who gave them no regard in return.

Sensing movement on his side of the river, Eku saw a number of Bwana moving through the rounded shelters.

Mostly Yat’s age, but then he saw Dala, lingering in the back.

Eku waved and Dala eagerly waved at Eku to join him.

Eku set the ula-konto down in a safe spot and ran over.

***

Eku approached as the Bwana grouped along the water, sidling up to Dala, who grinned, Eku grinning back.

“We are guessing where the baboons are going,” he told Eku.

“I think there is nothing but more figs over there, but Jikana, the older one,” and Dala pointed to a strapping young male of Dokuk’s age.

“He thinks we should find out if it is something tastier.”

“Like what?”

Dala grinned and said, “Unwe-umthi.”

“What is that?”

“We shall see, no?”

Dala gestured toward the river, where Bwana males and females were wading into the shallows, all of them older than Dala and Eku.

As though sensing his doubt, Dala said, “Do not worry. But we have to keep up. They let me tag along because I am fast and a good swimmer. I told them you are too. Want to come?”

Eku saw some of the Bwana were old enough to carry the sturdy, short spears favored by the nesibindi.

All of the Bwana but Dala had axes hanging from the belts of their loincloths.

Eku thought about running back for his ula-konto, but until he was a hunter, he was forbidden to swim with a weapon in tow.

When Dala headed into the river, motioning for him to come along, Eku followed.

There was a span of shallow water and Eku sloshed through.

About a third of the way across, he and Dala leaned into dives and began to swim.

The current was not strong and the water was invigorating, Eku energized at a communal adventure with the Bwana.

He and Dala swam behind the others to a steep riverbank of bare rock.

Climbed onto a flat and hard surface, not unlike iliwi-kelele.

Eku stood and looked around, disappointed to see the squirrel-beasts were gone.

The terrain was nothing but rock.

Slabs of bedrock like ribs in parallel to the river, leading to a steeper ledge from which the baboons climbed down earlier.

Being the youngest, Dala and Eku remained at the rear and followed the older Bwana across the rocks in a direction downriver.

Where the bedrock sank into the ground, foxtail grass appeared, currently yellow-brown and listless, forming a fringe in front of a grove of small trees.

Very particular looking trees, Eku thought.

Reminding him of a palm, but with dark brown, heavily textured bark.

The leaves were simply enormous.

Also similar to a palm, but the fronds were extraordinary.

Sprouting from the top of the fat trunk and curving elegantly, with waka-waka fine leaflets like the feather of a bird, but thicker, making Eku think the tree was like a jellyfish that sprouted tentacles from the top, instead of the bottom.

Within the umbrella-like canopy, Eku could see clusters of dark fruit around the sheath of each spectacular leaf.

The Bwana chattered excitedly and Eku heard words that sounded like tasty fingers, but could not be sure.

“This is good,” Dala said, excited.

He chatted with an older female too quickly for Eku to follow, but again, he thought there was something about tasty fingers.

Eku also noticed there were baboons.

In fact, waka-waka baboons.

Some of the large males came rushing out from beneath the strange trees to bark and bare fangs.

The older Bwana males and females with the spears had already gathered and matched the baboon’s aggression by only moving closer.

Eku, who did not like baboons—especially without a weapon in his hands, lagged behind nervously as the beasts snarled and barked more aggressively.

The large males dashed toward them, mouths wide to expose impressive teeth, then retreated.

The Bwana chatted excitedly, speaking too fast for Eku to follow.

Forgetting, he clicked nervously and poked Dala.

“Do not worry,” he told Eku, confidently.

The baboons dashed about in a frenzy.

Baring teeth comparable to a leopard.

The Bwana put their spears into a ready position, blades forward.

Dala and the remaining Bwana began to gather rocks and Eku quickly did the same.

On que, the rock throwing began and the older Bwana with the spears moved forward, everyone shouting.

En masse, the young people went directly at the baboons, rocks flying, yelling with raised spears.

The baboons held their ground for maybe a heartbeat, then bolted away at top speed.

As the humans took over the grove, the baboons gathered nearby to snarl and bark, young ones back under their mother’s bellies, peeking out and looking worried as the males half-heartedly bared their impressive fangs … but only from a distance.

Dala grabbed Eku’s hand and pulled him under the branches of one of the strange trees, the feel of the slender leaflets reminding him of the wiry tail of a wildebeest.

Dala plucked a dark, tubular shaped fruit and showed Eku how to peel away the hard skin.

Inside was a yellow shape, almost like a human finger.

Dala bit the fruit in half and offered what was left to Eku.

Just the smell told Eku he was in for a treat, but the sweet and tangy explosion in his mouth was utterly delicious.

The young people scoffed down some of the fruit and then raced back to the river to swim back to camp.

The announcement of a grove of unwe-umthi made them heroes for the day and canceled whatever else the tribe had planned.

The entire tribe later crossed the river, much to the further dismay of the baboons.

The people carried bushel after bushel of the sweet finger fruit back across the water.

That night Eku, Yathi, Gokuk and Kolo collapsed to the ground, holding bloated bellies, groaning in pleasure.

Yathi declared that his love for tasty fingers exceeded even that for the little palm trees.

***

Tasty fingers were a wonderful treat, but would not serve as travel food.

Spoiling quickly once removed from the tree.

Figs, on the other hand, could be carried for days and the tribe remained on site the next day for another harvest.

The fig trees at their present location rose barely higher than a person, but had fat, lower trunks with a dark brown and flaky bark, the trunks branching rapidly to form a solid wall around the floodplain.

The leaves were long and leathery, ovoid shapes of dark green, the figs fat and round, growing solitary or in groups of two or three.

Eku and Yathi picked reddish berries for one satchel, yellowish fruits for another to ripen.

Once harvest was over, Yathi went to visit Doagu and the baby, while Eku sped off to see Ingwe.

The pair found a solitary area at the upriver end of the encampment.

Ulanga was sunk to the tops of the treeless hills across the water and his fire was again cast across the bare rock where Eku saw the squirrel beasts, but now from the opposite direction.

The shoreline upon which Eku and Ingwe stood was much different than the other side.

Silted and firm, almost like clay.

Having reached the designated end of encampment, they turned back to walk in the direction of the water, pacing a short distance from the main channel, where some of the water veered onto the smooth shoreline.

Their toes occasionally splashed in the shallow tributaries that followed grooves through the sediment.

Wispy water grass made zig-zag patterns, as though confused where to set down roots amidst the ever-changing interactions of water and silt.

Away from the water, grass and bush offered a variety of flowers.

Honey bees buzzed and bounced while bee-eaters, this particular version being orange and black, settled in nearby fig trees, appearing to watch the humans; though, Eku guessed most of their attention was focused on each other.

Eku was amazed when Ingwe mimicked the birds’ insect-like squeaks.

“Do that again!”

Ingwe pulled her lips tight and sucked air through the corner of her mouth to make a near perfect imitation.

Eku grinned.

Ingwe was too wonderful to put into words.

Her beauty was like Yathi’s physical strength, at times, simply overwhelming.

Ulanga went behind clouds and they spontaneously leaned against each other for warmth.

The touch of Ingwe’s skin sent lightning signals through Eku.

Why would the touch of her skin be so different from everyone else’s?

Ingwe stepped away from Eku and looked at him funny, wondering the same question.

They gazed at each other, feeling silly, but unable to stop smiling.

Not sure where to go or what to do next.

Ingwe suddenly took a deep breath, pulled her chin tight against the throat and stayed that way until her eyes bulged and her cheeks glowed and her face contorted—only then letting loose with the throaty rattle of a blue crane, a sound not unlike the elders made when clearing their throats upon waking.

Eku simply couldn't believe such a harsh sound came from Ingwe’s pretty face and burst into laughter.

Ingwe widened her eyes again and pushed her cheeks together with her fists and emitted the hoarse caw of a crow.

Eku clapped his hands.

Inspired, Ingwe saved her best for last.

Puckered her lips and let loose with the distinctive, “oo-wat, oo-wat, oo-wat” of the funny looking black korhaan.

Laughing, Eku collapsed to the ground and Ingwe fell beside him.

Once the giggling subsided, they sat up on the dark soil to look across the encampment.

Mantel youths stalked with small stringed bows, trying to be like their adult hunters.

Further downriver, the dark shapes of people were outlined against the water, casting nets and inspecting traps.

Yathi would be amongst those knee-deep in the water.

Eku realized this would be an excellent opportunity to practice throwing his ula-konto, but immediately dismissed the idea, shocked by how quickly Ingwe superseded what was his favorite activity.

Sensing something was on his mind, Ingwe asked, “Do you miss Uwama?”

Eku often had difficulty responding to open ended questions.

Considered what she asked as she watched him closely, waiting.

The journey changed so much in his life.

And now, having met Ingwe, his life changed even more dramatically.

“Yes,” he finally said. “It was nice. But I am glad to be here. With you. Do you miss ichi-Bwana?”

Ingwe shook her head. “I do not remember much from living there. I liked it better when we traveled.”

She giggled. “As Yathi likes to say, even though he doesn’t mean it.”

Ingwe quickly turned serious.

Eku was still learning her range of emotions.

Her beauty was so hard to get used to, and now he was astonished at how quickly her expressions changed.

Full of laughter one instant, deadly serious the next, reminding him of Yat, of all people.

“But I do mean that for myself,” she explained. “Travel has been good for Bwana. The land here is much better than the land we left. All of the adults say so. And everything else is better. Especially since meeting your tribe and especially you.”

She smiled so brilliantly Eku’s heart sang with wini-nesisa.

Not knowing what to say next, he blurted, “Living on a salted lake must be strange.”

Ingwe shrugged.

“I don’t remember much. It is funny. What I remember most are the journeys. Not long, like this one, but different. Across the lake. They were like … Celebrations for our people.”

“Where did you go?”

“We went out across the lake. We traveled on rafts far across. To places where no other land was in sight. And we slept on little islands under the stars.”

Ingwe grasped a handful of silted dirt and let the fine particles filter through her fingers, adding, “They were islands like this dirt here. But pale. And salty.”

“Like Uwama,” Eku said.

Ingwe nodded. “Maybe. But we traveled away from ichi-Bwana, as well. Into the land you call Umawa.

“We once went to a place where there were old huts. Very old and very large. Larger than the huts you saw at shatsheli-lambo.”

Eku gasped. “Larger?”

Ingwe nodded, her pretty eyes wide, voice intent with the memory.

“There were waka-waka large huts, stretching into the distance. Large huts stretching away as far away as the eye can see.”

Incredulous, Eku asked, “How could there be so many?”

“My mother told me waka-waka Bwana once lived there. But then the water went away and not even birds or monkeys stayed. And all of the beasts left.

“When we visited that place, the old huts were falling apart and the ground was dusty and the trees and bushes were dead. And there were skeletons of beasts.

“The village was where the shores of ichi-Bwana once reached, before the freshwater rivers went dry.”

Eku wasn’t sure what to say.

The Bwana were such wondrous and inventive people.

But what could anyone do when freshwater was not available?

Ingwe added, “By the time I saw them, the huts were falling apart. I was little, but I remember. I remember because my mother told me that when she was my age, she lived in those big huts, with waka-waka-waka Bwana.”

“Where did everybody go?”

“To live in other parts of ichi-Bwana.”

“Where there was freshwater?”

“Yes.”

“That is sad.”

“Why?”

“Because all those big huts are falling apart!”

Ingwe laughed. “That is sad, but now we are here. That is good.”

“Yes. That is good.”

Ingwe cast her eyes down and Eku felt a pang of longing.

She said, “But I do remember the birds of ichi-Bwana. I wish you could see them. There were so many. Many more than here.”

Amazed, Eku asked, “How can there be more than here?”

Ingwe smiled, but then shook her head as though correcting herself. “Not more. But more, bigger.

She nodded emphatically then looked at Eku and, sensing doubt, clarified, “Ichi-bwana had many different herons and storks.”

“What were your favorites?”

Ingwe jumped to her feet.

Eku watched, smiling.

“The tallest are the herons,” she said. “I like them the best.”

Stuck hands to her armpits and held her elbows out like wings.

Bent over and wiggled her butt, as though she had tail feathers.

Eku blushed and smiled.

“There were pretty gray herons with short and strong legs,” Ingwe said. “But a neck longer than its body with an orange beak. Long like a knife! And large, yellow eyes to spot fish to spear!”

Ingwe stalked like a heron, Eku enthralled as she gestured and mimicked the movements of the bird.

She straightened to look at him.

Hands going to her hips.

“There are herons of bright laza and cranes with long legs and short necks, including one that is all black and knows better than to allow a Bwana to get close, because we covet their feathers as they match our zebra skins so well.”

She spread her arms out again like wings, as though to catch the low angle of Ulanga’s fire, giggled and said, “But my favorites were the giant, lavender herons.

“Their wings are so big that when they hold them out like this to dry, they look like a big hut.”

She let her long arms fall and giggled.

Suddenly shy, she said, “When I was a little, I imagined that I could sneak up and duck under the wings to hide so that when they flew away, I would climb on their back and ride them.”

Eku stood.

Realized his cheeks actually ached from so much smiling.

“That is clever,” he said. “Riding a giant bird. And the robe you wore the night you came through our village … Was that from the great lavender heron?”

“You saw me,” Ingwe exclaimed, smiling in a way that just about made Eku’s legs give out from under him.

“Of course,” Eku said, as if such a thing would have been impossible to avoid.

The two of them remained together along the water until the stars began to show, when Ingwe snuggled close to Eku and enchanted him with the solemn whistle of the Nightjar.

***

Since meeting Ingwe, every day has been an adventure.

From the moment he woke, Eku felt exhilaration; first, practicing with his ula-konto; then, rushing through daily chores, stopping only to eat before racing off to see Ingwe; eventually collapsing into an exhausted sleep before rising to start all over again.

Though the tribe moved at a leisurely pace, Eku felt they were going too fast.

Maybe because they marched against the current of the river?

More likely because he simply does not want each day to end.

When he told his mother how he felt, she said it was wini-nesisa, a special place of pure joy.

With Ingwe busy with chores, Yathi off fishing and Kolo and Goguk elsewhere, Eku had a rare moment to himself in the middle of the day.

The river was wide and slow where they camped, with only a few big round rocks scattered across the middle.

The far shore was mature forest, the ridge of hills they followed for days now faded bumps in the distance.

Eku checked the location of Ulanga and saw the river flowed to the right of north.

Followed the corridor of the river’s path and could see in the distance, a new ridge of hills.

Beyond those hills were the shadows of mountains.

Though difficult to tell from such a distance, Eku guessed the mountains at which they appeared to be headed were as tall as the clouds that were mountains.

Maybe even higher.

The day was bright, the sky laza with a few, puffy white clouds.

Eku paced the sediment along the shoreline, keen eyes picking out scratchings.

Stepped closer and bent.

Three-toed fowl.

Ulayo blew steadily, enough to shift grass and flap leaves for a steady, background rustle.

The floodplain was heavy with green growth, but nothing that grew taller than Eku, just grass and bush and immature palm that leafed directly from the ground.

He held his ula-konto horizontal and loose at his side, in his throwing hand, fingertips already in position.

Just in case.

Crouched lower and tipped his head so his ears would avoid the whistle of Ulayo’s breath.

Cupped a hand behind one ear.

Listened at the edge of the tall grass for the intermittent low clucks of foraging fowl amidst the inevitable whine of hoppers and cicadas.

Nothing.

Straightened to look around.

Parakeets, bright green and orange, clung to a young palm and flew away as soon as Eku took another step.

Beyond the tall grass, where the floodplain ended, the forest grew very tall.

Just ahead, along the water, Eku spotted four Abantu hunters.

Wearing leopard-skin belts with an ax and knife hanging.

All with javelins.

The end of each long spear rested on the ground, the haft against a shoulder, blades lethal and dark against the bright sky.

Eku approached cautiously.

***

The hunters continued to talk as Eku got close.

Again, he was surprised and pleased to not be shooed away.

Unconsciously, a hand went to where he was sure the talon of a fish eagle would one day rest.

Kaleni stood with Nibamaz, Lopi and Juka.

The tribe’s greatest hunters.

And Eku knew that it was not boasting.

Abantu all over the southern coast knew of his father and Nibamaz, leaders of the scouting party that found the land of legend.

And Juka and Lopi had been with them every step of the way.

Kaleni clicked for Eku to come close.

“You always worry,” Nibamaz chided, looking at Kaleni, who watched Eku approach.

Kaleni clicked at Eku in a way that told him it was okay to be present, but to remain quiet.

Eku clicked back to show his respect to his father and the others.

Settled on a circular patch of grass, habitually kneading the individual stalks with his toes.

Kaleni looked at Nibimaz and said, “They chased us from the river. You saw. We were just scouting. Not too close. They are acting too aggressive.”

“Maybe the elephants are different in this land,” Lopi suggested. “There are so many.”

Eku watched Juka, father of Maz and a hunter he greatly admired.

Juka had a thoughtful look and clicked to get the attention of the others before saying,  “The other side of the valley. The day after we left shatsheli-lambo. I was with some of the Bwana.

“We went up the river and I showed them how we set snares for duiker. We saw waka-waka buzzards.”

Lopi, who was Juka’s ikanabe, asked in a knowing way, “The elephant?”

Juka clicked yes.

Kaleni asked, “How long dead?”

“Long enough so there was little meat. Bones and skin.”

Juka shrugged, unsure of how to explain.

Clicked to express his confusion and said, “I thought it was odd at the time. I told Lopi about it. When elephants live that long … They know where to go to die.”

Nibamaz asked, “It was old?”

“It was very big.”

Kaleni asked, “Did you look at the teeth?”

Juka clicked no and said apologetically, “I did not think to look at the time.”

Kaleni clicked not to worry and said, “But you think something killed it? Another elephant?”

He clicked yes and then no.

“I had no thoughts until now that you speak of their behavior, but thinking back? Where it died … The trees and brush were trampled, like it was running from something.”

Nibamaz said flatly, “Male elephants do not run from anything.”

“Except another bull elephant,” Lopi said.

“Do you think something killed it?” Kaleni repeated.

There was a moment of silence.

Eku saw the face of each hunter was serious.

Juka finally said, “Maybe this elephant died from something we have not seen?”

“Which means we start looking,” Kaleni quickly answered.