Chapter 12

Forest of the Elephants

The days following the feast Eku remained 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.

Her profile amongst the clouds.

The lines of her body in the flow of the river, the curves of Umawa.

Though Eku cannot see or hear or smell Ingwe, she was there—always, 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!

Eku wandered out of the Abantu encampment, lost in thought.

Would Ingwe give him a chance?

He 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 onto the great rock slab of iliwi-kelele.

Stood in the middle and stared over the river, thinking it might help his mind think of something to say to Ingwe.

Nope.

Shook his head, aggravated.

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

Maybe something simple.

Like … ask if she wanted to 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.

Tall palms cast spear-like shadows slanted across the path before him.

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 and cascading down her back.

She wore the 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 made a face that Eku could only interpret as a delighted surprise and his heart leaped.

Smiling beautifully, she took a step toward him, but then stopped, hands going back to the hips, eyes narrowing.

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, heading for the work area.

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

But then in a flash, he recalled that once past the rafts there was 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 turn left and circle the big hut, away from the river.

Eku darted behind a hedge of papyrus, hurdled a boulder and cut across a grassy area, sprinting for 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.

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

But then … he paid attention during that last 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 was 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 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 only knew that it felt so good, he 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 out saplings and brush, and 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 look at the lone mountain looming before them, ever larger.

When the forest broke at the floodplain of the south-flowing river on its way to joining shatsheli-lambo, Eku marveled at the singular massif before them, 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, the anabatic updraft allowing eagles, vultures, fruit bats and parakeets to soar across their respective tracts without a single flap of the wings.

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 being truly large.

Eku and Yathi wore springhair loincloths. Ingwe wore a zebra loincloth, hair wrapped in a plume down the back. One of the Bwana’s beautifully softened skins was draped over her shoulders in a way Eku found enticing.

The camp spread all around them, groups of people wandering and gawking at the magnificent scenery.

The tribes, being nomadic in the first place, had combined efficiencies to become truly impressive: familial groups so quickly and effectively set up shelters, there was nothing 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 at home, 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.

Their present encampment was cut from thickets of riverine bush and small trees.

The terrain sloped gradually to water calm and deep and with little shoreside, vegetation grew to the water’s edge.

Deep on their side, the river grew shallow on the opposite; rounded rocks pockmarked the surface along the heavily forested shoreline.

From behind the shoreline trees, the mountain rose, covered mostly by a furred green canopy, except for the steep parts of granite, mottled brown and gray.

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

Most used saplings, vines and river grass to weave rounded huts with a single, low entrance.

Eku, Ingwe and Yathi wandered the downriver side of camp, where the cleared area ended at a natural barrier of boxthorn, shimmering with pretty white flowers amidst long, silvery-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.

Sturdy stalks of impala flowers poked through gaps in the bramble, the palm-sized flowers called so because the antelope were quick to devour the bright white petals with the blood red edges at any opportunity.

The young people’s noses tingled with the sweet aroma of so much colorful flora.

“The last showing of flowers,” Ingwe said.

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

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

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

The trio moved closer to the water, where a margin of water reeds grew spectacularly tall, the canes supremely useful for quick assemblage into shelters. Innumerable pale stalks topped with thick, yellow-brown thistles.

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

“Those birds build clever nests, like we do.”

Yathi nodded approvingly.

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 at the trees, where a flock of green turacos settled, watching the humans warily out of a single eye.

“Those birds have red wings in our land.”

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

Eku and Yathi grinned at her enthusiasm.

Ingwe was tall, but moved delicately, reminding Eku of a graceful water bird. Her long and supple limbs were strong.

No wonder she runs so fast, he thought. There were times the expressions on her face took his breath away.

Ingwe’s eyes seemed lit from within when she became excited. Her upper lip twisted adorably when she spoke with enthusiasm. And she was clever with her words in a way that went beyond their respective languages. Her slightest gesture kept Eku enthralled.

He wanted so much to impress her.

Make her feel the way she made him feel.

Eku pointed where birds clung to foxtail grasses, the lower two-thirds of the bodies light brown, the upper third a vibrant crimson all the way to a long curved beak for sipping nectar.

“The red wings of our turaco are like that bird,” he said.

“Aka-yosi,” Ingwe said.

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

“Yes. Aka is Bwana for Ulanga. 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 threw a rock at the water, adding, “We had fish with bright colors where we swam in Uwama. There was coral rock in the water and lots of fish. The fish were like the birds here. Many different colors and shapes and sizes.”

Eku added, “My father said the lake at the land of legend also has fish of many colors.”

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 its water.”

The three moved closer to the river’s edge. The water was dark and slow and made gentle gurgles.

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

“My father led my people in an attack against the bubinzwana,” she said. “He was hurt in a terrible battle. My father tried to kill the leader of the bubinzwana, but the beast was large and strong and struck my father down.

“But the nesibindi were able to kill many of them and that made the bubinzwana go away. The nesibindi forced the bubinzwana to leave our land. My father was a hero, but almost died.”

Eku felt terrible.

“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.”

She saw questioning looks from both Eku and Yathi and said, “That was before my father was with my mother.”

Ingwe 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 said, the smile fading. “She died bringing them into the world. 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.”

“Mawale,” 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.”

“That is good,” Eku said softly.

Ingwe gave him and Yathi a sweet smile and continued, “There were many tribes of Bwana at one time. We lived all around the shores of ichi-Bwana. But then the lake began to disappear and the bubinzwana came.

“The Bwana became one tribe and we traveled all the time. There were always small tribes who were joining our large tribe and that was how my father met my mother, Kafila. She also lost her family to the bubinzwana.”

She looked thoughtful, then said, “And now my brothers are older and Tokuta has two babies with Samfila.” Giggled in a way that brought a smile to both Eku and Yathi and added, “I am an auntie!”

She laughed and they couldn’t help but join her.

Eku pointed at the most fantastically colored bird they had seen; tiny; perched on the end of a boxthorn twig, the delicate looking wings brown at the tips and red at the shoulders, the body a mix of blues and greens 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!” She looked at Eku sweetly. “You pay attention!”

Ingwe put her hands to her hips and added, “My father likes to joke how bee eaters have pretty colors and are beautiful, but do not be fooled.”

She took a hand from her hip and posed provocatively, pointed, shaking a finger at Eku and then Yathi, smiling in a way that made them both blush, adding, “They are like nesibindi!”

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

“Watch,” she said.

The three observed the gregarious birds, tiny enough to stay balanced on the very ends of gently waving branches, the colors of the birds standing out even amidst the shiny boxthorn fronds.

Kafila-yosi had long, curved beaks like the talons of a small hawk and squeaked at each other in high-pitched calls that sounded like insects.

Softly, Ingwe said, “Kafila was nesibindi, before she became my mother.”

Yathi exclaimed, “A female nesibindi?”

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

When one of the birds launched toward a section of pink flowers with bees circling, the one sitting next to it, 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.

“They hunt like the fish eagle!” Eku exclaimed in admiration.

The successful bee eater sped across the river, prize clamped in its beak, to where many, similarly colored birds fluttered across a sloped, earthen bank dotted with dark burrows tunneled into the soil.

Ingwe pointed and said, “They live together in groups, like weavers. You always see them close to flowers, because they eat bees.” She laughed and added, “They are pretty and they are good hunters and they live together in numbers. And they squabble all the time, so 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 sunbirds.

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

The great beasts burrowed through the thick aza-enji. Bored across broadleaf hardwoods. Cut through stands of fig trees.

Clearing all branches from the ground to a height within the grasp of an adult trunk.

The people paraded easily along tunnels filled with bird calls.

The Abantu were familiar with elephants, their cyclic migrations occasionally crossing; thus, coexistence was a requirement.

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

But this place?

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

At most any moment he could hear their rumbles carry through the air like tiny tremblers of thunder.

Trumpeting carried from near or far.

The ponderous animals were simply everywhere.

Munching watergrass along the river.

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

One day, while marching, Eku and Yathi stopped to watch in awe as the tribe passed through a copse of mature soseji-umthi, where a magnificent tree was under siege.

A large matriarch, up on hind legs, grasped and yanked a great bough to within reach of others, so that together, the elephants wrapped their trunks around and used their enormous combined weights to twist off a limb larger than most normal sized trees.

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

With so many parades of elephants, there were frequent encounters with solitary males.

The hunters halted progress and the tribe passed the time until the giants moved along.

Kaleni told Eku many times that a hunter must understand that patience was almost always the best way to avoid danger.

The people were not in a hurry, anyway.

***

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

Especially in the first part of the day, when Yathi and many others still slept.

The sweeping floodplain where they made camp was built from millennia of runoff from the opposite hills. The shoreline was wide and extended into the distance, much like the smooth beaches of sand alongside Uwama; only the ground was dark, like the water, with nubs and knobs of pale boulders, half buried like giant turtle eggs.

Eku found a nicely sloped bank of dense earth against which he could throw without wear and tear to the killing end.

He practiced with the river to his back, the encampment spread before him.

Waka-waka sleeping shelters dotted a terrain defined by riverine grasses and clusters of fan-leaved palms.

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

Or maybe the next.

Beyond the floodplain, the forest appeared dark and forbidding, but Eku knew it was a singularly beautiful place, filled with elephants and lots and lots of good food.

After a series of throws, Eku took a break to glance across the river.

Spaced about the center channel were the smoothly rounded boulders, some large enough so that soil accumulated at the top, allowing bushes to sprout and reminding Eku of the Mantil ponytails.

The opposite bank was mostly clear of soil.

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

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

Ulanga rose from the side of the river upon which the tribe was camped and early orange rays slanted across the river to expose movement.

Confused, at first, Eku stared where a puddle of water seemed to be moving across the bedrock.

He skipped over to the embankment to retrieve his ula-konto.

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 light brown fur similar in coloring to the rocks they trod upon.

The beasts had a triangular head, round ears and short neck and long whiskers on a dark muzzle.

He watched them congregate where the earliest rays of Ulanga touched upon worn stone the color of bone, constantly rubbing against each other, even climbing on top of each other in their eagerness to socialize.

Eku said softly to the gentle breath of Ulayo, “They look like squirrels, behave like monkeys, but move together like a herd.”

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

Baboons on the southern shores were grayish or brown, but these baboons had coats of a golden color, like an impala. Many young ones clung to the backs of mothers.

Eku was surprised when the baboons simply ignored the waka-waka squirrel-like creatures, who gave them no regard in return.

Sensing movement on his side of the river, Eku turned to see 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 his ula-konto down at a safe spot and ran over.

***

Eku approached where the Bwana gathered along the water. Sidled up to Dala, who grinned, Eku grinning back.

“We are guessing where the baboons are going,” he told Eku. “I think there is nothing over there, but more figs, 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.”

“Tastier like what?” Eku asked, instantly curious.

Dala grinned and said, “Unwe-umthi.”

“What is that?”

But Dala only grinned and said, “We shall see, no?”

He gestured toward the water where the Bwana were wading into the shallows. “They are older, but do not worry. 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 young people carrying the sturdy, short spears of the Bwana.

Everyone had axes hanging from zebra loincloths.

Eku wished he kept his ula-konto, though he knew it would not matter. Until he was a hunter, he was forbidden to swim with the weapon in tow.

Eku and Dala walked behind the older Bwana and into the river.

About a third of the way across they were forced to swim.

There was barely a current and the water felt wonderful early in the morning.

The two Eku followed the older Bwana up a steep riverbank to the slabs of bedrock, which extended in parallel waves up the incline, like the bumps of ribs.

Eku was disappointed to see the squirrel-like creatures had disappeared.

Being the youngest, Dala hung in the back, Eku fast at his side.

They followed the older Bwana across the rocks, downriver, where the baboons were directed earlier.

The bedrock sank into the ground at a grass covered terrace that led to forest.

The margin where grass transitioned to forest held a healthy grove of a particular looking tree. Similar to a palm, but with black, heavily textured bark. The leaves had waka-waka pinnacles like a palm but even more so, hanging enormous, twice as much as Eku was tall, sprouting from the tops of the tree to hang, giving the mature trees a shape like a jellyfish with tentacles.

Where the giant leaves connected to the trunk were clusters of dark fruit.

The Bwana were chattering excitedly and Eku heard words that sounded like tasty fingers, but he could not be sure because he was still learning the Bwana language.

“This is very good,” Dala said, clearly as excited as the others. He chatted with an older female too quickly for Eku to follow, but again, he thought there was something about tasty fingers.

He also noticed baboons were around the trees; in fact, the baboons were everywhere.

Some of the larger males sprang from beneath the long hanging leaves to bark and bare fangs.

Unimpressed, the older Bwana moved closer, everyone chatting excitedly.

Eku, who did not like baboons—especially without a weapon in his hands, became nervous when they snarled and barked loudly and made aggressive dashes toward the humans.

Weaponless, Eku hung back, Dala as well.

There were waka-waka baboons, racing intimidatingly toward the humans and then retreating.

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

Forgetting, Eku clicked nervously, then poked Dala.

“Do not worry,” he told Eku confidently.

Eku tried, but the baboons were dashing about in a frenzy. Baring teeth comparable to a leapard.

He watched warily as the Bwana with spears put themselves in front, in a protective formation.

Dala and others began to gather rocks and Eku did the same.

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

En masse, the young people moved forward, rocks flying, the older Bwana yelling and raising their spears.

The baboons instantly scampered away.

As the humans took over the grove, the baboons gathered nearby, many of the females with young ones clinging to their backs looking worried, while the males continued to bark and snarl in protest.

But only from a distance.

Dala grabbed Eku’s hand and pulled him under the branches of one of the strange trees. Plucked a dark, tubular shaped fruit and showed Eku how to peel away the hard skin.

Inside was a fat, yellow finger shape.

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 ate some fruit, but then raced back to the river and swam to camp.

The announcement of a grove of unwe-umthi canceled whatever else was planned for the day.

The entire tribe 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 and feasted.

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

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

***

Tasty fingers were fine for gorging, but not as travel food, spoiling quickly once removed from the tree.

Figs, on the other hand, could be carried for days.

The tribe remained in the encampment through the following day for fig harvest.

The trees were not the large fig trees of the Mantel home forests, but a smaller variety the Bwana were familiar with, growing similar and equally delicious fruit.

The fig trees 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 of vegetation.

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 during the ensuing days of travel.

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

***

Eku and Ingwe walked a wide stretch of shore, firm beneath their toes, almost like clay, built of particles smaller than sand.

The river sent shallow tributaries meandering through grooves that curved and twisted over each other, so that water grass shoots appeared as a zig-zagging pattern of rows and clumps, as though confused where to set roots down amidst the ever-changing interaction between water and silt.

Back from the water, still within the floodplain, tall grasses and bushes were still heavy with mature flowers, though an equal number of faded and wilted petals mixed with those vibrant.

Honey bees buzzed and bounced while bee eaters, this particular version being orange and black, settled in nearby fig trees, watching the insects and each other.

Eku was amazed when Ingwe mimicked the birds’ insect-like squeaks and exclaimed, “Do that again!”

Ingwe pulled her lips tight and sucked air in and out, resulting in a perfect imitation.

Eku smiled and looked into her eyes.

Ingwe was too wonderful to put into words. Her beauty was like Yathi’s physical strength, at times, simply overwhelming.

Ulanga sank behind clouds across the river and she leaned against Eku for warmth, the touch of her skin sending lightning signals through his mind.

Why was the touch of her skin so different from everyone else's?

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

They gazed at each other, unable to stop smiling and not sure what to do next.

Ingwe suddenly took a deep breath and pulled her chin to her throat; stayed that way until her eyes bulged and her cheeks glowed and her face contorted and let 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 bowed and, having 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 sandy soil and watched all around.

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

In the distance, the dark shapes of people outlined against the water cast nets and inspected traps; Eku knew Yathi would be with his father amongst those knee-deep in the water.

He realized this would be a good time to practice with his ula-konto, but instantly dismissed the idea, a bit shocked by how quickly Ingwe superseded what had always been his favorite activity.

She asked, “Do you miss Uwama?”

Eku looked at Ingwe. She was staring across the river, appearing to be lost in thought; though he knew her well enough already to know that she was always paying attention.

Considered the question.

The journey changed so much in his life. And now, having met Ingwe, it has changed dramatically more.

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

Ingwe shook her head. “I do not remember much from living there that is pleasant.”

“Living on a salted lake must be strange.”

“When we lived at ichi-Bwana, we went on journeys. We traveled on rafts far across the lake, with no other land in sight and slept on little islands under the stars. Like we do now.

“But once we traveled away from ichi-Bwana. Into the land you call Umawa. We 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?”

“And there were waka-waka large huts, stretching into the distance.”

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

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

“When we visited, the ground was dusty and the trees and bushes were dead. And there were skeletons of beasts.

“My father said that the village was once great with waka-waka people. Built 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 else 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 around 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 eyelashes down and Eku felt a pang of longing.

She said, “But I do miss 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. Ichi-bwana had many different herons and storks. Waka-waka flamingos and waders and ducks.”

“What were your favorites?”

Ingwe jumped to her feet and Eku watched, smiling.

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

She strutted about, holding her arms out like wings. Stuck her butt out and wiggled as though she had feathers.

“There were pretty gray herons with short and strong legs, 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’s eyes came alive and she stalked like a heron, Eku enthralled as she gestured and mimicked the movements of the birds she described.

“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 Ulanga’s fire, giggled and said, “But my favorites are giant, lavender herons. Their wings are so big that when they hold them out to dry, they look like a big hut.”

She giggled again, adding with a hint of shyness, “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.”

Her arms dropped and Eku stood. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much. “That is clever,” he said. “Riding a giant bird. And the robe you wore the night you came through our village … was that?”

Ingwe’s smile just about made Eku’s knees buckle.

“You saw me,” she said.

“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, enchanting him by mimicking the solemn whistle of the Nightjar.

***

Since meeting Ingwe, every day has been an adventure.

From the moment he wakes, Eku feels exhilarated; 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 always marched against the current of the river?

Perhaps because he simply does not want each new day to end.

Eku felt taller and stronger and knew it was not his imagination.

There was hair under his arms now.

He could throw the ula-konto with impressive velocity.

Yat kept telling him his voice was different.

Eku prowled along the river in a patch of tall grass, the encampment in the background, on the lookout for banded mongoose or ducks, both of which his father exhilaratingly added to his list of permissible targets.”

Ulayo blew steadily, enough to shift the grass and flap palm leaves and Eku crouched and tipped his head so his ears would avoid her breath, listening for the intermittent low clucks of foraging fowl.

The tall grass paralleled a wide and flat shoreside with banks of dark silt. Small parakeets, bright green and orange, clung to the stalks, flitting away when Eku got close.

Across the river, the ridge of hills was now moving diagonally away from the water.

There were puffy white clouds in the sky and the peak of the nearest hill made Eku think of hair rising on his arms in times of excitement, the individual trees along the ridged top looking like bristles along a spine.

Clearing the tall grass, Eku saw a group of hunters, including his father.

He approached cautiously, noting how the adults behaved: relaxed, but always alert.

The hunters wore leopard-skin belts with an ax and knife hanging.

They all had javelins, the end of the spear resting on the ground, the haft leaned against a shoulder, blades rising lethal and dark against the bright sky.

The forest rose thick with tall and mature trees beyond the floodplain.

When Eku got close, the hunters continued to talk as if he was not there, once more somewhat surprised heartily pleased to not be shooed away.

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

Kaleni stood with Nibamaz, Lopi and Juka. He clicked for Eku to come close.

“You always worry,” Nibamaz was saying, in a teasing way.

Kaleni clicked again at Eku to indicate that it was okay to be there, but to remain quiet.

Eku clicked back softly to show his respect; settled his feet on a circular patch of grass, habitually kneading the individual stalks with his toes.

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

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

Eku noted Juka, father of Maz and a hunter he greatly admired, looking thoughtful. He clicked to get the attention of the others and said,  “The other side of the valley. The day after we left shatsheli-lambo. I was with Bwana. We went up the river to set snares for duiker. We saw waka-waka buzzards.”

Kaleni and Nibamaz made identical clicks.

Nibamaz asked, “An 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 added, “When elephants live that long … they know where to go to die.”

Nibamaz asked, “Was it 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, but asked, “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. Thinking back? Where it died … The trees and brush were trampled, but not the way two elephants would fight.”

Nibamaz clicked at the same time as Kaleni and said, “Males do not fight without females nearby.”

“Something killed it,” Kaleni said.

“Nothing kills a bull elephant,” Juka responded.

There was a long moment of silence and Eku saw the face of each hunter become grim.

Nibamaz said, “Nothing we have seen.”

“Which means we go looking,” Kaleni answered.