Part 4

After this dance had stopped, Damasi appeared with a bow made of a bent reed which he had strung tight with an ox-tendon string. He held one end of the bow in his lips and twanged the string with his thumb. This was the signal for another dance, and the children sprang up again.

The dancers got in a long line, and this time they composed their own dance. They turned to each other, grunting and screwing up their faces. Such hideous grimaces as they made! It was terrifying enough to scare away a lion, Nomusa thought. Soon she decided it was more fun to drop out of the dance and watch it. She singled out Kangata, whose movements and dreadful faces were so comical that Nomusa’s sides ached from laughing.

“Oh, that Kangata!” she exclaimed. “What awful faces!”

Intombi had dropped out, too. “Let us get some corn kernels so we can play the game of guessing bird names,” she suggested.

Nomusa went with her to a pile of dried mealie cobs. They began stripping off kernels and dropping them into a basket. When they had enough, the girls carried the basket out to an open space. Together they laid the kernels in rows on the ground.

From all sides came the children, eager to take part in the new game. “_Bula Msense!_” they called to each other, announcing the game.

“Boys on one side, girls on the other,” cried Intombi.

The smaller children did not take part in this game; so they stood to one side watching the others. Each child was given a turn at naming a bird for each kernel, picking up a kernel if he could offer a name no other child had yet given. If he could not name a different bird, he had to drop out of the game.

At the beginning the corn kernels disappeared quickly as a child from one side would call out “finch,” and the other side would cry “honey-bird,” or “white-eye,” or “woodpecker,” or “nightjar.”

Nomusa marveled at the number of birds the children knew. She was ashamed of having been eliminated when the game was not yet half over. Mdingi was still going strong against Damasi, Zabala, and Bongoza. Nomusa was very proud of him. Excitedly the onlookers cheered on the remaining contestants.

Presently it was announced that Mdingi was the winner. Intombi brought him a narrow belt of oxhide, with beads dangling from it; and everyone cheered as Mdingi delightedly fastened it around his slim waist.

It was now the turn of the smaller children to have a dance or game of their own. Kangata boldly walked into the empty space and began showing a new dance he had invented. As he chanted, he jumped up, at the same time kicking his buttocks with his bare heels. The other children imitated him.

It was a strenuous dance, and as the children grew tired, their throats became parched and they uttered their songs in short gasps. Weak corn beer and _amasi_ were passed around to quench their thirst.

One of the older boys now came up, playing a flute made of the chinbone of a reedbuck. He sat on the ground and made up plaintive tunes while the children gathered around him, munching kaffir plums, blackberries, wild figs, or roasted caterpillars. The soothing music of the flute calmed the children and made the little ones so sleepy that they dozed off and had to be carried into the huts and laid on mats to sleep.

It was now midnight, and the moon floated behind some wispy clouds, making them luminous and gray. The older boys left the kraal and went off by themselves. Nomusa decided that instead of joining a girl’s game she would go to the hut where she had left Dube.

Softly she groped her way among sleeping children to Dube’s corner, expecting him to jump into her arms. But he did not come to her. He must be asleep, Nomusa thought. She was glad, for it made her feel less selfish for having left him.

It was quite dark in the corner, so she began feeling for Dube. At last she found the cord. But there was no monkey attached to it. With a sudden pang Nomusa realized that Dube might have run away.

Quietly, so as not to waken the sleeping children, she moved about the hut, hoping to find Dube hiding. But he was not there. Nomusa left the hut, wondering what to do. She decided to search in all the huts, and began by entering the main one, where the girls were busy playing _ngelitshe_.

“Yo, Nomusa!” they called. “Have you been in the hills with the boys, or have you been asleep in one of the huts with the little ones?”

Nomusa smiled wretchedly, and Intombi said, “Come and play with us, Nomusa. You will beat us all at this stone game. Here, take my stones for a while. I am tired.” Nomusa wanted to say that she was weary of all these boring girls’ games, but instead she squatted beside Intombi, taking the five stones.

Her heart was heavy as she held the stones in her hand. The game was to hold all the stones in one hand, tossing one into the air while holding all the others and catching the stone in the same hand. Each time a different stone was thrown. When a player failed to catch a stone, she was eliminated from the game. It was easy for Nomusa. She did not feel like playing, and as soon as the attention of the girls was turned from her, her eyes roamed over every part of the hut, searching for Dube. In an absent-minded way she tossed her stones, turning her head from side to side and then back, just in time to catch the tossed stone in her hand again.

After a while Nomusa decided to leave the hut. She gave the stones back to Intombi and crept out into the cool air of the starlit night. The girls continued with their game, forgetting about Nomusa.

NINE: Wild Boar

Outdoors it was dark and still. Who could find a monkey now? From somewhere far off Nomusa could hear the shouts of the older boys. In the waning moonlight she began walking toward the huts in which she had not made a search. How thankful she was that there were still places to search.

Walking toward the hut nearest the kraal entrance, she was suddenly startled by a long black shadow that seemed to withdraw hastily as she approached. Nomusa stood still, frightened but curious. Something was prowling outside the kraal fence. There was no doubt of that.

Again the shadow passed the kraal entrance, as if deciding whether it should come in or not. Nomusa felt goose flesh creep over her whole body. Was it a wild animal about to attack them? What should she do? She had no weapon with which to drive it off or kill it. She wanted to run or shout for help. The children might be in great danger if she did not act quickly. But if she screamed to attract the attention of Damasi’s father and uncle, she might cause whatever it was to rush in at once and attack.

Again she saw the indistinct form. At the same time, as the moon reappeared from under the clouds, Nomusa’s eye caught the glint of something long and pointed lying next to one of the huts. Could it be a spear? What a lucky thing if it was a weapon of some kind! When the shadow disappeared again and the moon floated under the clouds once more, Nomusa dashed to the object she hoped was a spear. Yo! It was. She picked it up just as if she had been accustomed to holding such weapons all her life. Nomusa did not doubt for a moment that she would know how to handle it. Often enough she had watched the men and boys throwing spears. Secretly she had even practiced with long, heavy sticks.

She felt the point of the spear with her finger. It was very sharp. She began moving cautiously. Nomusa’s hair fairly stood on end as she saw that the black thing was a wild boar. Only too well she knew how fierce a wild boar could be. Every Zulu feared and hated this vicious beast with his dangerous tusks. Standing with her back flattened against the kraal fence, close to the entrance, with spear up and ready, Nomusa hid in the deep shadow. She waited tensely for the boar to venture in. The wind, fortunately, was blowing in such a direction that the boar couldn’t get her scent. Her upraised arm trembled a bit, then became steady as she waited.

Soon the boar’s ugly head appeared within the kraal entrance not far from Nomusa. He had decided to come in. It was a rare chance for him. Ordinarily the kraal fence was entirely closed, but tonight, because the older boys were out, the kraal gate was left open for them. Slowly the beast moved his clumsy body through the kraal entrance. Once within, he lowered his head as if he had got a whiff of something and, with a snort, got ready to rush in the direction of the hut where the girls were playing _ngelitshe_.

There was no time to lose. With all her might, Nomusa hurled her spear at the neck of the boar. _Hau!_ The spear caught him in the throat. With an enraged snort, he rushed toward Nomusa, the spear still sticking in his neck. He stumbled, and got up again. His roars, mingled with grunts of pain, woke up Damasi’s father and uncle, as well as everyone else who had been asleep. Intombi and Sisiwe rushed out of the hut, followed by the other girls. When they saw the wounded boar they ran behind the hut.

The boar had now fallen, close to one of the huts. He made powerful efforts to raise himself and almost got up, when Damasi’s father dashed up. He let fly an arrow from his bow, and the boar fell dead.

Nomusa ran to the side of Damasi’s father. “How glad I am you came!”

Amazed, he asked, “Was it you who hurled the spear?”

Nomusa nodded.

Everyone crowded round the dead boar in astonishment.

Damasi’s father said: “Nomusa is a brave girl. It was she who discovered the boar and wounded him. She has saved us from great danger. I shall tell her father, Chief Zitu, about her bravery.”

There were loud cries of agreement. “Hau! Yo!”

Damasi’s father put his arm around Nomusa’s shoulder. “Come and rest. You are weary.”

She followed him obediently. Unrolling a mat in the little hut occupied by Damasi’s mother and his baby brother, she threw herself upon it, exhausted. Only now did Nomusa realize fully the great danger she had been in and how lucky she had been. Oh, how tired and sleepy she was! Yawning, she put her arm under her head as a pillow and was about to fall asleep when there flashed through her mind the memory of her lost monkey, whom she had forgotten in all the excitement.

Her eyes filled with tears and she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She buried her head in her arms. The joy of the day was entirely gone. Though she had been a brave hunter but a short time before, now she was only a small girl crying bitterly over a lost pet.

At last she dozed off and fell to dreaming of her search through deep and dangerous forests for her little monkey.

Muttering restlessly, Nomusa tossed from side to side in her sleep. She put her hand on her neck to scratch herself. Suddenly she felt something soft and warm moving across her shoulders and the back of her neck. She woke up with a start and clutched at the thing with both hands. There was a squeal of pain as she pulled it forward. Her fright turned to joy as she saw that what she held in her hand was the tail of a monkey. Dube!

“Oh, I have hurt you!” cried Nomusa, taking Dube in her arms and hugging him.

Damasi’s mother smiled and said, “I am glad you like the little monkey. Damasi went to a great deal of trouble to get him when he was tending the cows in the pasture. He kept him as a pet for himself until you won him as a prize.”

Just then Damasi’s baby brother wailed. “_Tula!_ We must be quiet now,” warned Damasi’s mother, and then, lying down on the mat next to the baby, she began nursing him. Soon he fell asleep again. Nomusa lay down on her mat, too, drawing Dube close to her.

“Where did you go to, you bad little Dube?” she whispered to him affectionately.

“Tchirk? Tchirk?” Dube answered, snuggling beside her. The warmth of his body next to her shoulder soothed Nomusa into a sleep from which she did not waken until she heard loud calls of “Come! Come! Time to go back to our kraals. Hurry, we are going!”

The sun was just rising above the horizon. The sky was lined with rose and deep blue, but the early morning air was cool, and the waiting children jumped about to keep warm. Pink and red flowers dotted the fields a short distance away, and a few birds were beginning to twitter.

The older boys straggled back into their groups exhausted and irritable because they had not slept all night. But they were aroused into curiosity by cries of “Did you hear? Don’t you know?”

“What? What? Tell us,” they demanded eagerly.

“Nomusa and her wild boar. She hit it with a spear. You can see it over there—behind the cattle kraal.”

Those who had not yet seen the dead boar ran off at once, to return full of astonishment. They all agreed Nomusa was as good as any boy. Sisiwe had to admit that it was lucky for all of them that Nomusa liked shooting and hunting.

Nomusa was surrounded by the girls in her group, who gazed upon her with pride and envy. What a lot she would have to tell Themba! She could hardly wait to see his face when she showed him the monkey. She knew he would ask her to tell him the story of the boar over and over again.

There was a loud whistle. The children fell into lines, waving good-by to Damasi and his brothers and sisters and cousins. Tired and bedraggled, the children marched off. Some pushed each other ill-humoredly and quarreled on the way home, but finally they reached their kraals in time to begin their various duties—the boys going off to the pasture, the girls to their tasks. The boys hoped to make up their lack of sleep while tending the cows; but the girls knew they would have to wait until evening before they slept again. As soon as Nomusa entered her kraal with her brothers and sisters, she went directly to her hut to start her work.

In a few moments Nomusa was out of the hut again, headed for the stream with Dube perched on the empty water jar that rested on her hip. She fairly danced along the path as she looked at Dube and thought, “Never will my trips for water be tiresome again.” She tweaked his ear gently, and Dube looked up at her and said, “Tchirk, tchirk.”

TEN: Zitu’s Messenger

For most of the children, the days that followed the party seemed like all other days. But not for Nomusa. She had Dube.

Sometimes she took him with her when she went to the stream. But often she left him behind with Themba, who loved the little monkey almost as much as Nomusa did.

One morning Nomusa was sitting with Themba and Dube outside their hut, telling her little brother the story of Damasi’s party and the wild boar. Already she had told it to him dozens of times, but Themba still loved to hear it.

“Nomusa!” called Makanya.

Nomusa crawled inside the hut. Her mother was feeding Bala.

“When you weed the garden today, I want you to see what vegetables and fruits will be ready to pick in the morning,” said Makanya. “Tomorrow is the day for your father’s visit. He may not be coming again for some time, and I want him to remember this visit.”

“Is my father going on the elephant hunt soon?” Nomusa asked.

“Yes, but I do not know when. He will send a messenger to the headmen of the neighboring kraals.”

“How I wish I could go with him!” Nomusa said.

“This is foolish, Nomusa,” her mother said, almost sharply. “You know girls do not go on elephant hunts. If anyone from our hut went, it would be Mdingi.”

“I know,” answered Nomusa, softly.

“Why can’t you be happy with girls’ work like Sisiwe and the others? What your father hears about your skill and courage may please him, but it would be better if he heard it about your brother than about you. When it is time for you to marry, people will say, ‘I wonder how many cows Nomusa will have to give for a husband,’ rather than how many cows a husband will give for you.”

Nomusa laughed. “I do not wish to marry at all. I wish always to stay with you.”

The mother smiled as she fed Bala clotted milk. “Yes, yes, you think so now,” she replied.

When Nomusa left the hut, Themba called eagerly, “Are you going to play with me, Nomusa?”

“No, I must weed our mother’s garden.”

“Well, tell me a story, then,” pleaded Themba.

“When I come back. I shall take Dube with me, and you play with Umpondo.”

When she returned, there was Themba waiting for her. “What about my story?” he demanded.

“Oh, I am so tired now!” said Nomusa.

“You can rest while you tell me the story,” Themba suggested.

“All right. Wait till I get a drink for Dube and me.”

When Nomusa came out, Themba quickly made room for her next to him. “Well, what’s the story going to be about?” he asked, eyes bright with anticipation.

Nomusa thought for a moment, wondering what story to tell. “How would you like to hear about the hyena that tried to eat the moon?”

“Oh, I should like that,” Themba assured her.

“Once upon a time,” said Nomusa, “a hyena chanced upon a bone. She took it up in her jaws and carried it away.

“It happened that the moon was shining very brightly and the water in the stream was very still. The greedy hyena saw the moon’s reflection in the quiet water. Thinking it was a fine big piece of meat, she threw aside her bone in order to grasp it.

“Into the water the hyena plunged her head. But she withdrew it with her mouth empty. The water was now disturbed, and the disappointed hyena could see nothing.

“She sat quietly on the bank, watching the stream. The water became clear again and reflected the image of the moon. The hyena made a fierce spring into the stream, trying to grasp the moon and hold it fast. But she seized only water and returned to the bank with her jaws empty, while the stream became muddy again.

“In the meantime, another hyena had picked up the bone from the bank and had quietly gone away with it. The first hyena kept on snapping at the water until morning came and the moon grew pale and could no longer be seen in the stream. Only then did the hyena look for the bone she had thrown aside to grasp for the moon. The bone was gone.

“Day after day the angry hyena returned to the stream, tramping the bank and muddying the water. Everyone laughed as they saw her run into the stream again and again, snapping and snapping her jaws and catching only water.”

Nomusa looked at Themba, who was leaning drowsily against the hut. “Did you like the story?”

“Hm?” murmured Themba, rousing himself. “If that is the end of the story, I have heard you tell better ones. But thank you,” he added, rising. “I see Somcuba. I am going to play _Ama-hu_ with her.”

The next morning when Nomusa and her mother were preparing the food they heard an odd commotion outdoors. They went out to see what it was about.

“Look at Kangata!” cried Themba.

Kangata was indeed a sight to see. His arms were covered with red circles, and he carried branches of wild cabbage in his arms.

“My father has chosen me to deliver an important message to all the kraals in our neighborhood,” said Kangata, proudly holding aloft his branches of wild cabbage. “I am big now; so I am allowed to run and tell them that the elephant hunt is to be two sleeps away.”

“You must tell them where the hunters are to meet and when,” advised Nomusa. “As soon as they see the wild cabbage in your hand they will know your errand. Remember you must not speak until you are asked. Then tell when and where the hunters are to meet.”

“And how does my boy-girl know all this?” asked Makanya, amused. “It is a pity your father did not choose you as messenger, since you know so well how hunting messages should be given.”

“I know what to say,” Kangata assured them. “I must go quickly to the other kraals and return in time to help Mdingi with the cows.”

ELEVEN: A Reward for Nomusa

Chief Zitu squatted on his special bamboo mat in the hut of his wife Makanya. He sniffed the food in the bowl Nomusa handed him.

“I think I know what meat this is,” he said to his wife.

“It is Nomusa’s wild boar,” Makanya said, proudly.

“I have heard about it.” Nomusa’s father looked at her keenly. “It is a pity Nomusa is a girl, because she would have made a good hunter. I could use another strong, brave boy to help on this hunt.”

“If I were allowed to go with you on the hunt, I might be able to catch another boar for you on the way,” Nomusa suggested, surprised at her own daring.

“Nomusa! What are you saying!” reproved her mother.

But Zitu smiled good-naturedly and caught her arm in his powerful hand, feeling her hard little muscles. “Nomusa is strong—as strong as many boys older than she is. And she is clever and brave.”

He looked at his daughter again, and then at his wife. “If Nomusa wishes, she may come on the hunt. But she must be sure to cause me no shame.”

Nomusa’s eyes widened with surprise. Makanya was speechless. “Oh, my father, thank you!” Nomusa burst out. “Please let me go with you, yes, yes!” She turned to her mother. “I know Sisiwe will do some of my work.”

As if her father had already arranged everything, he declared, “Mdingi lost the cow, and you found her, so he will not go on the hunt this time. Kangata, of course, is too young. Between your brothers and Sisiwe, your mother will be able to get her work done.” Zitu pushed away his bowl, saying, “I have finished.”

Makanya handed him some white clay with which to remove the grease from his fingers. When Nomusa brought him the water gourd again, he rinsed his mouth and with his fingers rubbed the food from his teeth. He was clean again.

The business of the hunt settled, Zitu gave his attention to his wife and baby. Nomusa slipped quietly out of the hut.

She felt as if she would burst with joy and looked for someone to tell. Themba was standing outside the hut, looking lonely. To relieve her feelings, Nomusa picked him up, pulled his hair gently, and turned him upside down until his little pink heels wriggled in the air. Themba squealed with delight, and Dube hopped up and down, bewildered at this curious kind of play.

Sisiwe came along, bearing vegetables from her mother’s garden.

“Oh, Sisiwe,” Nomusa cried, “our father says I may go on the elephant hunt!”

Sisiwe was too surprised to say anything.

“Will you take care of Dube for me while I am gone?” Nomusa asked.

“Of course, my sister,” Sisiwe answered. “And I will help your mother, too,” she added generously. “Yo, Nomusa, what do you think the other girls will say?”

There were no preparations to make for the trip, and the two days before the hunters were to meet were very long ones for Nomusa. She would have liked to talk about the hunt with her family. But she did not, because she saw Mdingi was hurt because she was going and he was not. Perhaps he really should be the one to go. Still, her father had said plainly that Mdingi would not be allowed to go, since he had lost the cow.

Timidly she spoke to Mdingi about her feelings. “I wish you were going on the hunt, my brother.”

“It is no matter,” Mdingi said indifferently.

But he was unhappy, Nomusa knew. How she wished there were something she could do to help him! If only Zitu knew how clever Mdingi was at composing songs and stories, how much he knew about birds and animals! And even so, he was a better shot with the bow and arrow than most of the boys. He had proved that at Damasi’s party.

It was just that Mdingi did not care as a boy should for shooting and hunting and such things. Still, his pride was hurt when the chief chose his daughter to go with him on the elephant hunt instead of his son.

At dawn on the morning of the departure, Nomusa crept out of her hut very quietly, taking with her the empty water jar. She would leave everything in readiness for her mother when she awoke.

There would be just time enough to fetch the water, grind some mealie corn, and stir up the fire before it would be time to leave.

When she carried Dube over to Sisiwe’s hut, he complained sleepily at being disturbed.