Chapter 15
Deadly Encounters
Eku woke later than normal, probably because sleep within the dense palm grove was so peaceful.
Waka-waka cycles of debris formed a thick platform beneath the canopy.
The ground had a bounce to it, the top-most layer dried and crumbled to a softness like feathers over a network of dense roots that formed a springy base.
Unfortunately, there was only so much space and the mothers and young people occupied all of the prime locations.
The previous night, Eku at first tried to get Yathi to sleep outside, to be closer to the hunters, but Yat talked them into taking advantage of the grove.
Yat was right.
As always.
Still sleepy, Eku noted slivers of light scattered through gaps in the leaflets.
Ulanga was already high.
Rubbed sleep from his face.
He never slept in!
Checked his sister and Yathi, still sleeping.
Stood and carefully crept across the soft flooring to the tunnel-like exit through the underbrush.
Emerged into bright light, the river spread wide before him.
There was a reversal to the normal plot line to start Eku’s day: next to one of the grass huts that was scattered outside the grove stood Tiuti, obviously waiting.
The older master rested one hand on the structure in which he slept and motioned with the other for Eku to come his way.
Tiuti inspired strong feelings in Eku.
His mother told him that once weaned and taking part in harvest, Eku began to follow Tiuti around.
Being so young, Eku could not remember.
Visiting Tiuti at least once each day was just something he had always done.
For some reason.
When he was old enough, Krele explained that it was isipo-kee!, which in their case, meant her grandfather revisiting the living world, through Eku.
Even as a baby, Eku was more curious than a vervet monkey and as soon as he could walk well enough, began chasing after Tiuti, especially when father was gone.
Eku figured that made sense.
Abantu revered their elders, after all.
Nevertheless, most young people were terrified of Tiuti; instead, Eku was drawn to the old master.
Krele’s grandfather was named Jeko.
Jeko and Tiuti were ikanabe.
Jeko died before Krele became pregnant with Eku.
The elders of the southern shores often said that Tiuti and Jeko not only shared the special bond of ikanabe, but also shared the same brilliance of the mind.
Tiuti stood tall in the early morning light, wearing only his loincloth and necklace of small bones, skin weathered and sagged the way that elders’ did; though, his long limbs were lean with muscle, forearms heavily veined.
Eku said respectfully, “Ikiz-izik Tiuti.”
“We will talk.”
Worry was written all over Eku’s face as Tiuti strode away.
He jogged to catch up and fell into stride.
Tiuti paced them along the periphery of the encampment, on the side opposite the river.
Eku looked over a shoulder at shelters clumped together, as though a herd of giant turtles climbed from the water to slumber beside a grove of palm.
Ulayo changed the direction of her breath and Eku caught a whiff of the dung pit.
There were a lot of people here, for sure.
Eku excused himself and scampered over to a designated area to empty his bowel and bladder as Tiuti patiently waited.
The two continued, patrolling the camp’s circumference.
Almost like hunters, Eku thought.
Except real hunters patrolled outside the encampment, ensuring that nothing in the surrounding territory posed a danger.
The land around the encampment felt enormous, a sea of grass and palm bisected by the river, surrounded by hills while the sky was endless.
Sometimes the world was like Uwama, Eku thought, making you think what you saw before you simply went on forever.
Tiuti led Eku with the river to their right.
In the distance, the ridges that straddled the water appeared to converge.
The river appeared to flow between a pair of hills like a spear slicing a fruit into halves.
Eku thought of his father, telling him that to face north, point your right shoulder directly at Ulanga, as soon as he rises.
He eyed ducks flying upriver ahead of them, in a v-shape, headed for the gap through which the river flowed.
North.
Spotted a lone, gray heron, long and narrow with feet straight behind, gliding toward them from the opposite direction for a water landing.
A group of the strange crows that lived here circled above the Abantu encampment.
No doubt the clever birds had already learned that as soon as two-leggeds left a roost, there were interesting and tasty items left behind.
Auspiciously, a fish eagle soared above all the other birds, Eku immediately recognized the shape while catching a glimpse of the white head.
Had to stifle a yelp when he accidentally brushed against a patch of tall grass.
Thankfully, most plants in this part of Umawa did not have thorns; whereas, brush up against the wrong bush in the Abantu homeland, you were likely penalized by a nasty scratch or sting.
Being nervous made Eku clumsy.
He took a deep breath and let it out.
Sensing he was ready, Tiuti said, “You want to be a hunter, yes?”
Wary of such a pointed question, he quickly responded, “More than anything.”
“More than anything?”
Eku recalled Kotuta using a similar phrase at the waterfall.
Well aware of the feelings he had for Ingwe (how could he not be?), Eku relished the fact that, despite her hold over him—or perhaps even more because of it—he desired to be a hunter.
Which of course, made meeting Ingwe all the more spectacular.
Eku could not stop daydreaming of a time when his eagle talon and her laza pendant would become entwined as they lay on top of each other and….
Tiuti allowed himself a brief smile as he looked fondly at the top of Eku’s closely shorn head.
Adopted a mock frown and snapped, “Eku, give me a reason why the giant lizards live here?”
A sharp move of his head and Eku looked up.
Caught off guard, he could only shrug.
Tiuti scowled. “I want a reason. Give me one.”
Growing confused, Eku clicked he did not know.
Tiuti clicked back several times, sharp and rapid.
“This is their land,” Eku blurted. “Where they live. We never saw them before we came here.”
Now Tiuti gave him a look of disdain.
“Oh, you want to be a hunter, but you cannot even give me a reason that giant lizards live here and not anywhere else? Any reason?”
The two of them walked as Eku used his mind furiously.
Tiuti wanted a reason?
No, he wanted Eku to calm down.
To use his mind instead of walking into things.
You must learn to put aside your nervousness to allow the mind to work properly, his father told him many times.
Focus.
“There are no lions,” Eku said. “Or hyenas or leopards.”
“Much better. That is one reason. Your father and I are sure there are other reasons.”
Tiuti shook his head and looked around with worry. “But we do not understand them, yet.”
Sounding skeptical, Eku asked, “Did the lizards make the lions and hyenas go away?”
“No. Something else kept the lions and hyenas out.”
Eku recoiled, knowing that could only mean a more powerful predator.
“That is scary.”
“Yes, that is scary.”
And thinking of things that were scary, Eku said, “I want to be a hunter, more than anything.”
“What if the tribe asks you to be something else?”
Eku slowed and Tiuti stepped past; stopped.
The grassy plain stretched all around.
Purple bristle grass rose along the water; along with it, the rasp and hiss of rubbers and shakers.
Eku felt something hot and heavy in his chest.
One of those silly lumps rose to his throat.
But he hadn’t cried in a long time.
Swallowed the lump down and scolded himself.
Whatever was going on, he needed to keep his wits about him.
Be strong.
Clever.
Like everyone always said he was.
Tiuti waited patiently.
Perhaps, were it not for constant exposure to the daily dance of Ulanga and Ulayo, his countenance would not seem so severe.
The old master sighed and looked away, where Ulanga peeked over the hills, the sky pale laza, clear of clouds, but above the tallest, jungle-green hill, cumulus wafts gathered like wisps of smoke, iridescent, with glimpses of yellow and orange.
So that only Ulayo could hear, Tiuti whispered, “My child, what is it that beckoned you here.”
Eku caught up to stand at Tiuti’s side.
Studied the old master’s profile, trying to figure out what was happening.
Tiuti, once so impossibly tall, was not anymore.
Krele and Shona had recently corralled him and cut his hair so it curled thin and white off the scalp.
The angle of light emphasized his wrinkles: crevices sloped from the corners of his mouth; furrows feathering from each eye; deep forehead lines above crazy curling eyebrows of white.
Why was Tiuti waiting for him this morning?
Still looking at the direction from which Ulanga rose, Tiuti said, “Eku kaleni-yana, you have followed me around like a pesky bug since you could walk.
“I know where your heart lies. I have heard you talk of being a hunter since you could not even mouth the words properly.”
Tiuti looked at Eku, staring back at him, eyes wide and fearful.
Fearful, because Tiuti understood that amongst Eku’s many gifts, he was the rare child growing into an adult who truly feared nothing—other than letting down the people he loved.
“Eku, we Abantu are special above all other beasts. You know that. We take food from both Uwama and Umawa. We benefit from both. We go where we want. Eat what we need. No other creature does that.”
He offered a rare smile and added, “Not even old seals who bask too long under the burning eye of Ulanga.”
Eku’s eyes widened and Tiuti chuckled.
Eku was thoughtful for a moment, then said, “The fish eagle takes prey from both water and land.”
Tiuti nodded and looked at Eku fondly.
“You have always wanted to be a hunter? Yes. Of course. Like your father. And you have always been clever.”
The old master shook his head, as though unsure of what to say or how to say it.
“Your father was a hunter. And then he became something more. And I think that is your destiny, only … Something different.”
Tiuti shook his head once more.
He had been feeling the weight of his age heavy in the mornings now.
He was well aware that his remaining days were limited.
Tiuti looked at Eku with his piercing gaze and said, “Eku, Wutota and I have learned so much from each other in a short time. With the tribes together now.”
Eku nodded, becoming intrigued, but still terribly worried.
What was so troubling that Tiuti, of all people, struggled for words?
The old master sighed and said in a way both dismissive and kind, “Responsibility, Eku. As your father learned. Not just to be a hunter.
“You are still young. You have time, but I do not.”
Eku said, “I want to be a hunter.”
Tiuti made a dismissive snort. Waved a hand with long fingers toward Ulanga.
Eku asked, “You mean like a izik-kosa or benzi-kusela?”
“No Eku. This is a new land. We are a new tribe. A very large and very powerful tribe.
“You are to be something different. Perhaps something that does not even have a proper name yet.”
Eku felt confused.
Tears came to his eyes.
He was angry and didn’t know what to say.
“Look around you, Eku,” Tiuti commanded.
Eku reluctantly looked around.
The heron stalked the shallows.
The crows circled.
The ducks were mere specks.
But the fish eagle had disappeared.
Tiuti said, “Eku, the tribe is going to ask you to be something other than a hunter. Something more.”
“What do you mean?”
Tiuti shook his head.
Eku understood why he would not answer.
The answer was obvious.
For any Abantu.
You serve the tribe first.
Always.
But Eku was desperate.
No other future was imaginable; yet, Tiuti, of all people, was going to ask him to be something other than a hunter?
Distraught, unable to stop warm tears from spilling down his face, Eku said, “What other honor is greater than wearing the talons of a fish eagle?”
“To serve the tribe,” Tiuti said firmly.
Unconsciously, Eku put a hand to his chest.
Tiuti saw and understood the gesture.
Laid a hand gently upon Eku’s shoulder and said, “Eku kaleni-yana, you will have a necklace that befits you one day.”
***
Krele lay awake, trying to figure out whether she actually enjoyed the rangy smell of the palm grove.
Thick and hearty.
Curiously though, this piece of Umawa’s earth was devoid of life.
No termites or beetles or even ants!
Many flies and bees buzzed, but only above, where the leafage began.
Beneath the shelter and calm of the palms, sleep was undisturbed throughout the entire night.
Such a splendid shelter with dry and comfortable bedding without having to do any work!
No unexpected visits from crawling creatures that happened all too frequently when camped in unfamiliar territory.
Putting such fascinating thoughts aside, Krele began to plot travel preparations for the upcoming day, when Eku rose to disappear outside.
She sat up, looking after, knowing Tiuti was waiting.
Tiuti had finally asked Krele for permission to make Eku his apprentice.
Something she had felt for some time was coming.
Becoming izik-ikiz was perhaps the single, greatest honor for an Abantu.
The training was very demanding.
Tiuti intended to impart all that he had learned upon Eku in a short amount of time.
The old master was a legend across the southern shores.
During his extraordinarily long life, the wisdom of Tiuti and his inventions touched and improved the lives of waka-waka-waka people.
He once had a mate and they had a good and long life together, raising two children to adulthood, both female.
Kreki, the youngest, was now isipo-bomi, a revered, elder mother, happy on the southern shores with adult children providing waka-waka grandchildren.
Tiuti was hard pressed to remain home, to spend his last days near Kreki and her brood, but chose to leave on the pilgrimage.
Yikuti was Tiuti’s eldest child.
There was a time that Tiuti hoped that Yikuti would be his protege; instead, she became something nearly as rare: zi-iz-kusela, a female who was a hunter.
Yikuti gained prestigious second and third talons while still young and became a scout, but disappeared along with the party that was in search of the land of legend, a generation prior to Kaleni’s scouting party.
The elders said that since learning of Yikuti’s disappearance, Tiuti was never the same.
Many of the elders thought Tiuti’s real motivation to join the pilgrimage was not to see the land of legend, but in the hope of finding a last connection to his lost child.
Krele crept through the thicket tunnel to emerge from the palm grove.
Looking around.
Located where Tiuti and Eku walked.
Krele knew that Tiuti loved Eku as if he were his own child; nevertheless, she worried over his motivation.
Typical of strong males, Tiuti, despite his brilliance, was blind to the power of his influence.
More importantly, nobody knew Eku better than his mother.
Krele remembered when informing Yat and Eku that their family was chosen for this great pilgrimage.
How Yat peppered her with all kinds of inquiries, while Eku’s only question was whether he could still be a hunter.
When she told him yes, he was perfectly fine with everything else.
In the coming days, Krele would keep an extra close eye on her child.
***
After meeting with Tiuti, Eku’s heart was heavy with sadness.
He was surprised when the tribe did not linger at such a spectacular location; instead, the encampment was cleared after the first meal and they were on the move.
Soon to approach where at first, Eku thought the opposing ridges converged.
Eku realized the ridges did not actually join; instead, formed the exit point through which the river departed the endless lake of freshwater.
Where they would enter the land of legend.
Once again the land changed.
Forested areas grew along the water that reminded Eku of home, the trees similar to those the Abantu encountered at the edge of mountains.
The large lizards were gone; though, the smaller ones were seen darting to and from thickets of boxthorn.
Eku saw familiar plants and beasts.
The hunters disappeared into the bush to return with fresh meat.
While crossing from a wooded grove through a meadow of tall grass, the people were treated up close to the spectacular display of one of the enormous flocks seen along shatsheli-lambo, but until now, only from a distance.
Quiet and introspective throughout the day, Eku walked next to Yathi, who, having recognized his mood, knew best to wait and find out what was bothering Eku later.
Yathi occupied a good part of the morning by entertaining Eku with a list of the reasons why they should never have left such a splendid sleeping spot after only one night.
Yathi’s chatter was interrupted by the incredible flock.
A moment not just for Eku and Yathi, but for the entire tribe to remember. Forever.
The meadow they crossed was a former floodplain, now permanently above the water line.
Flat.
Grown over with grass and scrub, but only a scattering of small saplings.
Roughly oval in shape, surrounded by tall trees in all directions but the river.
Above the meadow was an endless sky of laza and puffy white clouds.
Eku and Yathi were fortunate to be close to the front of the parade when the land around them seemed to erupt.
Yelps—some fearful, some excited, some simply shocked—rippled up and down the line.
When thinking back, at first it seemed to Eku that an enormous chunk of Umawa was somehow falling straight upward.
But it was waka-waka-waka birds, lifting into flight all around.
Innumerable wings quickly built into soft thunder and when waka-waka-waka beaks began screeching, there was a deafening eruption of noise and blurred wings.
Screeching and frantic motion.
A swirling confusion so dizzying that even the light of Ulanga momentarily dimmed.
But somehow, gazing up at the swarm, Eku realized that despite those infinite numbers, the birds were already coalescing.
Like a giant funnel, thickening into streams that twisted into channels that eventually merged into a single, great cloud.
Filling the sky above the meadow to perform spontaneous sweepings and undulations.
The flock was like a great, roiling storm cloud of birds above the field and water, twisting upward and then plummeting down, sweeping across the land and racing over the humans who screamed and waved; though, their voices were drowned by the beat of waka-waka-waka wings.
Eku saw the birds were the shape of a turaco, but smaller and plain brown, without any vibrant colors.
Wistfully, he watched the birds billow away, knowing the sound of all those wings would stay with him long after his heart stopped racing.
While Eku remained sad, something was growing inside.
After talking with Tiuti, he had been terribly distraught and raced straight back to his mother.
Krele comforted Eku, clarifying what Tiuti truly intended—to make Eku an izik-ikiz, but a new kind, for the entire tribe.
Such an honor was difficult for Eku to perceive, while the crushing disappointment of not wearing the talons of a fish eagle was all too real.
Almost too much to bear.
Never in his life had Eku felt such sadness.
Not even when father was away.
Throughout the early part of the day, Eku remained quiet.
He did not say anything to Yathi or Ingwe.
Not yet.
The time had to be appropriate.
Low on supplies, the tribe set up a temporary encampment.
Fishing was easy to the point of silliness.
Giant catfish drifted into the shallows, easily speared by a javelin.
Young people entered the water and pushed the enormous carcasses onto land for butchering.
Eku marvelled at the Mantel, now hunting with the ever-improving guka-ombe with impressive results.
Putting feathers on the tiny spears had made them accurate over a much longer distance.
Making the weapons even more formidable, the izik-kosa knapped flakes of wickedly sharp isipo-gazi to attach as tiny blades to the tiny spears, inspiring the Mantel to make more powerful stringed bows.
The Mantel hunters returned with waterbirds good for eating as quickly as the Abantu pulled fish from the river.
***
The land upon which the tribe stopped to make camp was a flatland that lay between the river and a low-rising ridge.
A blanket of bladed-leaf palm forested the ridge and Eku felt a pang of curiosity to investigate, but as soon as they began to make shelters, Krele told him in no uncertain terms that Eku was not to slip outside the present encampment.
The land around them appeared tame and there had been no sightings of large beasts for some time.
Eku was perplexed at the change of demeanor amongst the adults.
All of the hunters and nesibindi were more active than normal.
And his father and Nibamaz, Juka and Lopi, as well as Umthi and the most talented Mantel scouts were rarely seen.
Constantly patrolling.
Stands of hearty water reeds made the shelter raising go quickly.
Though still sika-yaka, only Tiuti and the mothers wore extra skins.
The land where they now travelled was permanently like lobo-yaka on the southern shores, Eku realized.
At least the warm part.
With chores finished, Eku, Yathi and Ingwe walked through the middle of the encampment, where many of the young people wandered.
For most of the pilgrimage, rules for exploring around camp were lenient.
Eku often snuck beyond the borders (but only in the early morning) to practice ibe-bonakalio.
But now the rules are strict.
Everyone must stay within the periphery.
Even the dung pits were well within the outer boundary, something that only happened in an area the hunters considered unusually dangerous.
***
Eku finally had a chance to tell Yathi and Ingwe of his early-morning encounter with Tiuti.
He even admitted running back to his mother in tears.
Embarrassed in front of Ingwe, she only smiled in sympathy.
Eku then explained how his mother went into more detail about what Tiuti intended.
Concern weighed heavily on Yathi’s normally cheerful face.
The lower lip stuck out and his chin dimpled.
Eku’s world had been turned upside down; yet, becoming izik-ikiz was an incredible honor.
Something neither of them had ever considered or even talked about.
The tribe’s izik-ikiz was always Tiuti.
How could it be someone else?
There were other izik-ikiz amongst the many tribes of the southern shores, but no one as famous as Tiuti.
But then, Yathi had to admit he was not that surprised.
He saw how others looked at Eku.
The newcomers, like Kolo and Dala and Longo, already treated Eku a little differently than anyone else.
And even strong Tuve—though he would never admit it—was in awe of Eku’s cleverness.
Dokuk, the most capable hunter of all the young males, told Yathi in secrecy that before long, Eku would surpass him, even though he was much younger.
Yathi knew that Eku was destined for great things.
Curiously, the only person who didn’t seem to know that was Eku.
Yathi vowed, as he had countless times before, to never leave the side of his always serious, but always thoughtful ikanabe.
Finally, because he could not stand the sight of Eku looking so glum, Yathi clicked in a way that expressed both solace and congratulations.
“It is a great honor,” he said for Ingwe’s sake more than Eku’s. “But that is a lot of responsibility.”
Eku nodded with a sad look, but clicked to show he was grateful for Yathi’s support.
Ingwe did not say much.
She observed the interactions of Eku and Yathi, without interfering.
When Yathi went off to make fish traps with Lume, Ingwe and Eku were left to their mutually favorite activity: walking the shoreline to watch the never-ending variety of birds.
The encampment was spread out enough to gain some privacy.
They wandered to the downriver side, where lines of swamp grass and water reeds curved in opposite directions from an area too shallow or muddy for either to prosper.
Ingwe was thinking of her father, having also been young when so much responsibility was placed on his shoulders.
And now the same was true for Eku.
They are similar, as she suspected and wondered what that really means.
The two paused at a pond created by the opposing peninsulas of swamp grass and water reeds.
Along each side, a margin of lily pads with yellow flowers.
Across the open water, waders stalked: storks and egrets in carefully orchestrated distances.
Ingwe asked, “Do you think they wonder why we walk on two legs, as they do?”
“Birds' wings are arms. They probably like having wings.”
“Silly people can only walk,” she said in a way that Eku knew was meant to be humorous.
Ingwe liked to compare birds to people, as he did.
Just another reason she was so perfect.
Eku managed a smile, but did not have the energy to laugh, even for Ingwe, who continued to look at him with worry.
On the far side of the river, vast fields of tall grass led to hills and then mountains; the closest hills loomed close enough for the texture of individual trees to appear across the canopy.
Directly in front of Eku and Ingwe, the lily pads and water grass faded and the shallows thinned to a film of water and mud.
Coots with brown, duck-like bodies and pale heads slid across on large lobed feet.
Where the mud ended, the water reeds rose.
Slipping past the edge of a tightly packed stand, a gray snipe stepped daintily into the mud.
Slender, ivory legs, beady eyes bright at the base of a long and curved yellow beak, poised to stab at the first tasty ubhak-unda that dared to wriggle.
Portly boubous, with black and white feathers, darted between the protection of the reeds and the water; while above, diminutive wagtails, also with black and white coloring, flapped once or twice as they skipped from thistle to thistle.
“Many of the birds that live here have the colors of a zebra,” Ingwe said. “To a Bwana, that is good luck.”
Eku pointed out a pair of mated crows circling.
The birds had white bodies with black-tipped wings, but conversed with the signature caws and rattles.
“I know,” she said. “Even crows are different. I did not think they were crows until I heard them talking.”
“I thought that also.”
Eku spoke in a wistful tone that Ingwe was unfamiliar with.
She looked at him with concern.
Catching the look, Eku glanced away, embarrassed.
He was sad, but Ingwe helped immensely.
He just didn’t know how to show it.
Or tell her how much he appreciated it.
He spontaneously reached to fondle the pendant hanging between her breasts, accidentally brushing a nipple, which caused her to smile.
They walked a bit further.
The grassy patch before them was interspersed with thick stalks flowered at the top by a puff of lavender, protected below by rings of hair-like spines.
Both Eku and Ingwe knew those spines were not meant to come into contact with human skin.
Eku sighed when they stopped.
They held hands and Ingwe leaned her shoulder against his shoulder.
They were the same height now.
A yellow-billed oxpecker came bobbing along.
Landed on a stalk of tall grass and looked around in every direction.
Launched to bob and weave to another tall seedling.
And repeated.
Ingwe said, “Silly bird is lost and cannot find a buffalo to ride on.”
Eku smiled.
Cutting harshly through the background of trilling and croaking and whistling and chirping came the ear-splitting wail of the grey ibis.
“Kraw-wah-ke-ke-keee!”
And repeated.
Ingwe said, “And I think some birds only want to screech again and again. At somebody.”
Eku’s smile broadened.
She pointed at a white stork, standing immobile and said, “While others just like to stand and stare into the distance.”
Ingwe giggled and Eku was entranced by her laughter.
Her eyelashes were long and her nose had such an interesting curve.
She caught him staring and now, instead of being embarrassed, Eku kissed her.
Then he blushed.
Ingwe smiled in her perfect way and said, “But I think the clever birds are only interested in grooming.”
And she kissed him back.
***
The people were close to the land of legend.
Excitement rippled up and down the length of the parade.
Perhaps that was why the danger was missed and tragedy followed.
Or perhaps, as the Abantu say, when something is meant to be, something happens.
The mountains on the left had grown close, each riser unique in height and shape, as though when unleashing the tectonic pressure that forced the land to shift and buckle, Uwama was feeling a bit whimsical.
Or maybe distracted.
Whereas the land to the left seemed impulsive, to the right of the direction the tribe marched, beyond the river, rounded mounds rolled into the distance.
The tribe marched on the left bank where the river curved along a floodplain of palm that gave way to riverine forest, tall, broadleaf hardwoods capped by circular canopies that leaked waka-waka vines.
Kaleni and Nibamaz led the hunters, all of whom carried javelins.
Gathered amidst a mix of sycamore and palm.
The air was thick with the chatter of parakeets and the whine of insects.
Ahead of them, the river broadened and turned, creating a wide, shallow area, shaped like a half-bent elbow, a result of the river redirected by the rise of land to the right.
Along the inside of the turn, a sandbar of silt spread across the crook of the elbow, burnt to a brownish gray by constant exposure to Ulanga.
Whatever geologic disruption caused the water to redirect, also thrust a rocky point into the center of the river.
A triangular slab of limestone formed a divider that separated an already wide main channel from an even larger pool, which bulged off the far side of the elbow.
The hunters crept through sycamore trunks marbled pale green and ivory.
Crouched below comb-like leaves of dark green as they circumvented smooth-trunked palms.
Walked deliberately into view across the sandbar, stepping into the ankle-deep, slow-moving current.
Studying the rocky point protruding midway across, leafy branches drooped over the sides; beyond which, the pool expanded into a teardrop shape surrounded by thick forest .
Vubu were clustered at the far end, submerged, but for heads and rumps.
A good sized pod.
The first the hunters had seen in some time.
Clicking quietly amongst themselves, the hunters agreed the vubu were too far away to be a threat.
If any vubu started to wander toward the main channel, the people had plenty of time to adjust their path and if necessary, alert the hunters.
The lead hunters continued; the parade of people followed.
***
What the hunters did not know was that bubinzwana came through this same spot.
Circled the pond, where they baited a trap to capture and kill a cow out foraging at night.
Butchered the beast and made fire at the kill site to feast on the choicest flesh.
Leaving what remained for vultures.
To a vubu, a bubinzwana appeared the same as a human; thus, when more two-leggeds appeared, the pod herded as far away as possible.
But not all of them.
The rocky peninsula that separated the pond from the wide and shallow turn of the river was broad enough for plants to find purchase.
Bushes and small trees sprouted across the top.
Branches heavy with leaves drooped over the sides, creating a nice, shady spot for the pod’s alpha male, the water deep enough to submerge the gigantic body, but for snout and eyes and ears.
The vubu remained perfectly still; hidden within the leafy shadows; thus, went undetected by the hunters.
Enormous, even by vubu standards, as was often the case with the species, the alpha male had an aggression equal to its bulk.
The vubu remembered how the two-leggeds came through before.
Killed a member of the pod feeding away from the water.
Left another cow riddled with deep cuts from a futile attempt to drive off the killers; lucky to have survived.
Two-leggeds were puny, but in numbers, became dangerous predators.
Below the leafage, within the shadow, the vubu lurked while the anger smoldered.
There were so many.
Even more than those who came through before.
Trodding in the pond.
All of them.
Right there.
Trodding in the pond.
His pond.
***
Branches and leaves shook violently and the vubu burst from concealment as a nightmare thrown into broad daylight, barrelling straight at the humans as a group of young ones came along.
Perhaps that was why the beast waited for that particular moment, sensing that the smaller bodies were less dangerous.
More vulnerable.
Perhaps there was no other reason than that being the precise moment the vubu’s anger went volcanic.
The hunters with the javelins were well ahead when the ambush occurred; whereas, Eku was at the centerpoint of the pack upon which the nightmare bore down.
At the first screams, the hunters sprinted back, but there were many people between where they were and where the attack was happening.
***
Later, Eku would think of the vubu’s charge as a shark slashing through a school of fish in the shallows.
He walked with Yathi, Goguk and Kolo amidst a pack of young people through warm, ankle-deep water.
There was talking and singing, everyone enjoying the soft silt beneath their toes when out of nowhere a monstrous vubu churned toward them, mouth opened impossibly wide and grotesquely pink, fangs the length of an adult arm, browned at the tips.
The bellow of the beast was ear shattering and resulted in a surge of people.
Screams and splashing.
Frantic movement.
The thud and slap of bodies colliding.
Eku and Yathi spun toward shore and the safety of the sycamore and palm, lifting their knees high, instinctively following the pack, struggling en masse to move away from the river.
Dokuk and Yat bounded at their side, Yat, a graceful and capable runner, keeping one eye on her little brother.
Bodies were all around.
Screams of terror.
Eku saw Kolo move up beside him, impressed at his speed and just as he wondered about Goguk, a high-pitched cry pierced the cacophony, a sound so gut-wrenching that everyone turned to look.
Goguk had always been a little slower.
Eku observed the monstrous vubu moving so fast that frothy white waves billowed.
And he saw Goguk, terrified and helpless, struggling through water up to his knees.
The juxtaposition told Eku’s mind what was inevitable; though, for the smallest instant, his heart pleaded for any other outcome.
Eku remained wary enough so that when Yat screamed as Dokuk spun to race back and try to save his brother, Eku threw his body in front of him, blocking Dokuk and allowing Yat to seize his arm and dig in her heels.
Before he could pull free, strong Yathi joined the fray, leaping to cling to his waist as Dokuk wailed in anguish.
The vubu was already upon Gokuk.
Lowered its horrible jaws and snatched up the tiny body, tusk-like teeth ripping through flesh as easily as an Abantu bit into a mussel
Eku, Yat and Yathi yanked and tugged at Dokuk, forcing him to stumble backward.
Began running again.
The mad beast flung away what was left of Goguk’s body and angled itself after the closest, fleeing two-leggeds.
More people were certain to die.
Eku looked back once more to witness another moment seared into his mind forever: a lone figure moving against the tide of bodies—the nesibindi with the wounded leg.
Screaming at the vubu while holding his spear aloft.
Hobbling into the path of the beast to draw its attention.
The vubu adjusted its angle and bore down on the nesibindi, who jammed the spear into its mouth before his entire head and torso disappeared into the gaping jaws with a sickening crunch.
A moment later, multiple javelins slammed into the side of the enraged beast.
The hunters had finally gotten through the crowd.
The vubu bellowed like thunder and turned toward its attackers; started forward, but paused, shaking its head to fling the body of the nesibindi impaled on its tusks.
Started again for the attackers and twisted in pain as more javelins penetrated flesh from a different angle.
Eku knew his father would be leading the fight, but it was his duty to flee with the others.
He turned and ran for the safety of the trees, tears blurring his vision.
***
The people regrouped and made camp up the river.
The hills darkened as Ulanga disappeared behind.
Clouds grayed by moisture circled the tallest massif to refract his final fire in orange and red and even hints of violet, a fitting display for a day disrupted by violence.
There was no harvest.
No one would be eating.
Wails of anguish would last through the night.
Sounds of sorrow the Abantu or Bwana did not put into song, but the memories they would.
The adults gathered around a fire to tell stories and make new songs.
A song for young Goguk, the first Abantu to die on the pilgrimage.
And a song for the brave nesibindi, who sacrificed himself so that others may live.
***
Fear of the dark.
Fear of the unknown.
Fear of being alone.
In the living world or the other, an Abantu’s greatest fear as the be alone in the world.
To be alone was a fate worse than death.
But what happens upon leaving the living world.
Where did you go?
How did the ancestors know where to find you? For sure?
The Abantu believed they were eternally bound to this world. Both the living part and the none.
A recycling.
Like Uwama and her water, the giver of life.
Her water circulates across the world as life does.
Regenerating.
Like the plaints, growing, fading, growing again.
A recycling. Circulation.
//
Eku and Yathi lay upon their bed mats within a round hut woven of water reeds.
Sad in the dark, but warm and comfortable.
Alone, but happy to be together.
Yat was outside with the adults.
Yathi said, “Do you think he hears the tribe singing his song?”
Eku, knowing he meant Gokuk, said, “I do not know.”
“Do you think he knows where to go?”
Eku clicked yes.
“Where?”
“I do not know. But father says elephants know where to go. When they die. There are special places.”
“Where do they go?”
“I do not know. Father has seen their bones. But the hunters do not go too close. The elephants do not like that.”
“How do the elephants know they are dying?”
“I do not know. Somehow, they know.”
“Maybe they go to that place to be with their friends who have died before and they go to that place so they can find them sooner in the afterlife.”
“For sure.”
“Father says our ancestors will be there to help Goguk.”
Eku clicked his agreement.
Yathi said in a quiet voice, “isipo-kee! It will be good to see him again.”
A moment later, adding, “But not for a long time.”
Eku smiled sadly in the dark. “For sure.”
The two went silent as angry words rose from the adults, the hunters berating themselves for not being more alert.
Eku and Yathi listened.
The hunters were angry for failing to recognize the vubu’s unusual behavior for what it was.
Fear.
Something different walked this land.
Two-legged beasts that hunt what no other beasts dare to hunt—not even lions—not even humans!
And the hunters know those beasts have been sniffing around the tribe.
The hunters have known since before the canyon with the waterfalls.
They know because Kaleni always sends the best scouts in advance.
Often, it was Eku’s father and Nibamaz themselves who stealthily explored ahead.
Ibe-bonakalio, as always.
The scouts have watched the bubinzwana.
They investigate their old camps.
Both tribes were keeping track of the other.
From afar.
For now.
***
Only the land along the river was tame.
Palm trees dotted the floodplain, but as soon as the terrain began to rise, hardwood canopies covered the hills with green knobs, interrupted by bald spots of pale granite.
The tribe marched along the water.
No straying.
Eku and Yathi—all of the young people, were obligated to remain together, no movement up or down the length of the column.
The entire tribe remained in the same formation.
Waka-waka young people paraded together would normally prompt the Abantu into festive singing, were it not for the demeanor of the adults.
Kaleni and Nibamaz were always at the front with Abantu hunters who wore at least two eagle talons.
They carried javelins vertically over a shoulder, blades dark against the sky.
Hunters with an ula-konto in hand and one or more strapped across their backs brought up the rear.
Up and down the length of the parade marched nesibindi with sturdy, stabbing spears.
At least one ax hung off the hip of every adult.
We walk like a giant caterpillar, Eku thought.
A caterpillar covered with lethal spines.
Holding hands with Ingwe amidst the young people, Eku had satchel, bed mat and ula-konto strapped to his back.
Ingwe wore a zebra loincloth and a supple sack of skin cured soft and brown, strapped to the shoulders.
Her long hair was braided with dark and pale straps to look like a zebra tail.
Eku’s feelings for Ingwe are so strong now that simply holding her hand provided warmth from his scalp to where his toes feel the slip and grab of flattened river grass.
The first of a series of fast-rising massifs rose before them, the path of the river sweeping away in a gentle curve along a bank of smooth sediment peppered by chunks of fallen rock.
The parade of people moved at a crawl and then slowed to mushroom around whatever caused the lead hunters to halt.
Realizing it was okay to move about, Eku and Ingwe kept their hands clasped and worked through the crowd to reach the front, where the nearby ridgeline thrust an outcropping close to the river.
In front of them, a near vertical wall of granite rose next to the flat riverbank.
A rock wall striated with ledges.
Every available ledge and platform was lined with skulls.
Waka-waka-waka skulls bleached white by Ulanga.
Countless rows and stacks of skulls placed as a clear warning for anyone or anything that dared to advance.
Elephants, hippos, the giant buffalo and other, menacing beasts.
The people had reached the land of legend.