Chapter 3

Jungle

Eku woke up excited to start the new day, as always.

The sky was empty and dark and neither Ulanga nor Yanga showed their faces, encouraging the eyes to close.

But that irrepressible voice whispered to Eku.

Go.

Explore.

Be a hunter.

Opened his eyes to gaze into the empty slate above.

Turned his head side to side.

Yat and Yathi breathed deeply, all around was a tangle of arms and torsos and legs, the intermittent snorers blending with the splash and thump of Uwama’s caress.

Bird calls wafted from the jungle and Eku stood, shivering away from the warmth of Yat and Yathi.

Figured he could take care of his bed mat later and tread carefully through rows of people cuddled together.

Vigorously rubbed the palms of his hands against his upper arms and chest to coax his body warmer, while looking around.

Ulanga lurked below Uwama, but his coming added a glow to the center of the horizon, enough to show choppy, dull gray water intersecting with a flat beach, pale and featureless.

Eku wandered through the feast area, past blackened firepits, enjoying the feel of chilled sand under the toes.

Always crisp and fresh to start the day.

His young body quickly warmed and Eku felt a surge of energy, making him want to sprint down the beach, just for fun.

But he knew better.

Running in a strange place was a good—or more likely bad—way to invite unwanted attention from a curious predator, such as a leopard, silly enough to have ventured close to watch the humans.

Hunters scouted the area, of course, but predators are nosy and constantly on the move.

Eku eyed the jungle, a good distance away; not really worried, but an Abantu always practiced caution, even one as adventurous as Eku.

He paced through an army of crawling crabs poking through a litter of fruit rinds, empty bladders, bones and varied scraps. The crabs would bid a hasty retreat for the water as soon as Ulanga cast light enough for sharp-eyed seagulls, which would be soon.

The day was brightening.

Eku glanced over a shoulder, past the sleeping bodies and saw couples wandered the beach in the opposite direction.

Tiuti was not amongst them … Probably sleeping off the effects of the fermented juice, as were most adults.

Before Eku, in the direction of the mangroves, the sand spread wide and empty, turning light brown as Ulanga’s yellow eye peeked over.

Eku dashed into the water up to his ankles and lifted his loincloth to pee.

Splashed back to the dampened margin of sand to stroll down the beach, away from the encampment.

Ulayo’s breath was steady with a briny scent, the sky cloudless and pale, like the ivory of an elephant tusk reflected a sheen of laza.

The people had cleared the area of all driftwood and seaweed and the beach stretched flat and pristine to the mangroves.

Waka-waka birds were using the open area as a throughway.

Brown pelicans flew close enough overhead for Eku to hear the individual wingbeats, like quick gasps of air.

Looked up as the big bodies passed directly over, enormous orange gulars the same color as their tucked feet, necks pulled back, pointing the big beak straight into the breath of Ulayo, flapping three or four gaspy strokes to rise and then glide, slowly sinking.

And repeat.

White egrets, with narrow, yellow beaks raced past single file in the opposite direction, maintaining staggered formation, riding Ulayo’s breath with their wings held on a plane, Eku’s keen eyes noting how the elbows revealed the constant adjustments.

Sandpipers, ivory and v-shaped sped by at knee level, the black feathers at the tips of the wings almost, but never touching the sand.

Tiuti said that birds, with their wings and tails and feathers, touch and move the breath of Ulayo, the same way an Abantu touches and moves the water of Uwama when swimming, but with our hands and feet and skin.

Tiuti was a constant voice in Eku’s mind.

Reminding him that because the air was light, Umawa only allowed feathered birds to fly; whereas, Uwama’s water was heavy; thus, only strong beasts like fish and turtles and seals could swim.

Which of course, was why being an Abantu was so special.

Being an Abantu meant you were blessed to receive from both Uwama and Umawa.

Still, Eku thought, it would be exhilarating to be a bird.

If he had to be something other than an Abantu, of course.

Maybe a leopard or an elephant?

No.

Impressive, but no.

But a bird might be good.

The flying part, especially.

But if he had to be a bird, Eku wouldn’t be a silly squawking seabird, he would be a fish eagle—but still with his own mind and thoughts, of course.

He followed a group of gulls streaming low across the beach and saw people.

At first, Eku thought his mind was playing tricks.

As though materialized from the green-shadowed wall of mangroves at the end of the beach, he counted seven vertical figures, Ulanga casting shadows long.

Maybe some of the tallest Abantu wandered away from camp last night and were only now returning?

No.

These people were not Abantu.

Seven males approached at a leisurely pace, wearing simple loincloths that only covered the genital area.

Too far to see their features, Eku could tell they were different, as all of them had hair cut evenly around the head, like an upside down melon husk bowl; though, the hair on top was thick and long and tied in a ponytail that stuck straight up.

They carried long spears, but nothing else.

Now Eku did run—straight back to camp.

***

“Strange Abantu,” Eku bellowed at a full sprint.

“Abantu are coming who are not Abantu-Uwama,” he cried at the first awake adult he saw, which luckily was Nibamaz, a stalwart hunter and ikanabe to his father, which made Nibamaz more like an uncle.

Having just woken, Nibamaz crouched on his haunches, away from the sleeping people, in front of a fire pit used for the feast preparation, poking through the ashes, hoping to find hot coals underneath.

He wore only a well-worn loincloth and a high, leopard-skin belt around the waist. Knives and axes hung from holsters sewn into the belt. As a hunter, he wore no jewelry other than the necklace: a strap of cordage with a pendant that held one or more talons of the fish eagle.

Nibamaz, like Eku’s father, had all four talons, a revered accomplishment.

Eku felt fortunate to have been born to his father, who, with Nibamaz, was considered by the elders to be the most capable hunting ikanabe in memory.

Kaleni and Nibamaz were ibe-bonakalio in all environments and masters of their weapons. All of the young hunters now trained under their keen eyes and guidance.

And, of course, Kaleni and Nibamaz would forever be enshrined in song as the scouts who led the people back to the land of legend.

When Nibamaz saw Eku running full speed, he quickly stood, holding out a hand in a way to show that all was well.

“We are expecting visitors, Eku. That would be the Abantu-Mantel.”

“People of the forest!?” he shouted, digging heels into the sand for a skidding halt.

The Abantu said mantel to indicate the forests north of the coast, where the plateau rose to mountains, and where the Abantu sheltered through the chilliest part of sika-yaka.

Smiling at Eku’s excitement, Nibamaz said, “Mantel means to their people what Abantu means to us. It is what them call themselves, like we call ourselves Abantu.”

He motioned in the direction of the approaching strangers and added, “They know this land, Eku. This is where they live. Your father and I and other Abantu have met them at this beach before. During the long journeys we made. They are our friends.”

He crouched back to his haunches to toss sticks onto the coals he unearthed.

Still breathing hard from the run, Eku blurted, “They are very tall!”

Nibamaz only laughed and Eku didn’t understand why. At first.

Shortly after the Mantel entered camp, he recognized his mistake, realizing his eyes had played tricks on him: the Mantel were barely taller than he was; in fact, the tallest was still shorter than Eku’s father, who was average height for an Abantu.

***

The Mantel of the forest, like the Abantu of the ocean, survived the terrible times, maintaining a population across a mosaic of forested streams and ponds, wedged between inhospitable river deltas to the north and south, and mangrove forests buttressing the ocean to the east.

While exploring up the coast from the south, the Abantu hunters travelled through the land of the Mantel.

The meetings were friendly.

The Mantel language shared root words with the Abantu language.

Over a period of generations, a strong relationship developed and hunters from each tribe joined forces to scout further up the coast.

The co-discovery of the land of legend had the Mantel eager to join the Abantu to establish a foothold in the new region.

The plan was for the two groups to unite at the Limpopo River, the first of several, formidable rivers the people would forge in their inexorable push north.

***

Looking at where the mangroves merged with dark forest caused Eku trepidation.

While on the beach, the green wall had become a barrier of safety, separating the friendly beach world from … Whatever waited within.

And when left to the imagination of a young Abantu?

One could only imagine the beasts that stalked and slithered within the dark confines of those towering trees.

Eku reminded himself of what father said about unproven truths and superstitions.

Trust only what Umawa offers your mind.

And always—pay attention!

Eku and Yathi stood near the center of the tribe, everyone crowded at the end of the beach in a triangular area where sand, jungle and mangroves collided.

The people were organized into three groups; each group would include at least one of the Mantel as a guide.

The lead group included only hunters who wore two or more talons and would be led by Kaleni and Nibamaz, joined by a Mantel named Umthi.

Eku and Yat heard their father talk of Umthi many times. A revered Mantel hunter. Someone who knew this land like no one else.

Kaleni, Nibamaz and Umthi would chart the path that everyone else followed.

The second group also included hunters, all capable, but young and wearing only a single talon. That group included Kozik, Yathi’s older brother.

The last group was by far the largest and included everyone else.

“This is strange, with no more travois,” Eku said.

“For sure,” Yathi replied, fidgeting as he tried to see past the people standing all around.

Eku waited more patiently.

He wore a springhair loincloth, keri stick dangling.

A well-worn, sealskin vest was draped over the shoulders, tied around the waist and secured with cordage to stay snug against the body.

His bed mat was rolled tight and attached to the sealskin satchel, which hung down his back.

Eku proudly held his ula-konto vertically, haft currently rested on the sand, a wrap of hide secured over the pointy end.

Yathi was similarly equipped, but did not carry a spear.

Adults wore full sacks across their backs. Axes, knives, keri sticks and other tools hung from loincloths or from cordage straps tied around the waist or a shoulder.

Yathi, who often gestured with his hands when excited or nervous began moving both.

“I do not want to go in there,” a statement he made with more frequency to this very moment. Motioning with two hands over the adults in front of them, indicating the trees looming so tall.

A menacing green wall, for sure.

“It is safe,” Eku said for Yathi’s sake, sounding more confident than he felt.

“I know,” Yathi said, “But I do not like it.”

Eku felt pride when scattered calls and clicking accompanied the departure of the lead hunters.

As Kaleni led them into the green, people shouted for good fortune; a strong voice rose above all the others to cry, isipo-kee!, in a manner that invoked guidance from one’s ancestors.

***

The Abantu speak in a tonal language, where the same word can have multiple meanings.

Clicks are used as simple words.

Clicks are made using the tongue against the roof of the mouth.

High-pitched snaps generally meant something positive, such as yes or agreement.

A dull click meant something bad or disagreement or simply no.

The meaning of clicks could depend on the circumstances and was often customized between friends and siblings to mean almost anything.

Eku and Yathi shuffled closer to where their mothers stood, Yat, Tar and Maz amongst them.

The older females wore loincloths of soft springhare, but no vests. Their hair was coiled and netted on top of their heads. Each had a good-sized satchel strapped to her back.

Eku noted an axe made by his uncle hung from Maz’s loincloth. He liked Maz. While checking out the new ax, Eku happened to notice she had rather nice looking thighs.

Wondered why such a thought never occurred to him before.

He checked on Yathi again, still looking nervously where Krele stood with Shona, talking with Doagu, Yathi’s older sister.

Doagu was raised in the same laba-ini as Yat, but was mated to Iti, a young hunter who would be with Kozik in the next group to enter the jungle.

Doagu wore a vest of soft seal skin; a satchel hung over her back. She wore a cap on her head, with spirals of ostrich beads for decoration, a clever design that Eku thought made her look like she still had hair.

Her loincloth was small and triangular and a thick belt of ferret wound around the hips below a belly that jutted out below the vest.

She had the longest legs, Eku thought. Doagu being one of the tribe’s tallest females.

And she was very pregnant.

“Maybe we should stay here,” Yathi said, like Eku, still looking at his sister. “Maybe for the rest of sika-yaka. I like this beach.”

“For sure,” Eku said; though now that his father and the lead hunters were gone, he couldn’t wait to get started.

Feeling her little brother’s gaze, Doago pointed her laza eyes toward Yathi and Eku. Smiled and winked encouragement.

Everyone knew Yathi preferred the open spaces of the coastline, which made sense, as Lume loved to sing songs about their ancestors being an island people.

Eku prodded Yathi in the arm and pointed where the second group of hunters was about to set forth.

Each young hunter had a full backpack of supplies and wore a belt with holsters of axes and knives. They each carried an ula-konto and most had a second spear attached to the backpack.

Kozik stood with Ingwabi, his ikanabe.

Kozik had the brown eyes of his mother, Shona and resembled her in bearing and contenance; whereas, Yathi and Doagu favored their father.

Yathi muttered, “I do not want to see any snakes.”

“We follow the same path as everyone else,” Eku said. “We will be safe.”

Yathi stuck out his lower lip and used both hands to indicate his brother in front of their group, and then their sisters and the mothers.

“I am glad we are in the last group, with Doagu and our mothers and the izik-kosa. I do not want to be a hunter, like Kozik.”

Looked at Eku apologetically, adding, “Like you do.”

Eku slapped Yathi’s sturdy shoulder and clicked not to worry.

“I am scared because we are leaving Uwama.”

“We do that all the time.”

“I know, but this is different.”

Eku looked at Yathi and asked, “You have a bad feeling?”

Yathi stuck out his lower lip, shrugged and said, “Maybe I just like this beach. It’s nice and safe. We could stay here longer.”

***

The group in which Eku and Yathi would march included all non-adults and mothers.

Lume and the izik-kosa brought up the tail of the parade, some carrying the hunters’ javelins, others carrying equally formidable, tree-felling axes.

Eku spotted Dokuk and Odi, winding through the mothers, Goguk trailing.

Dokuk grinned at Eku, while Odi and Goguk looked nervous, similar to Yathi.

Odi, nearly as tall as Dokuk, wore his prized sealskin vest, as always. He had painstakingly decorated the softened pelt, cleverly using ostrich shell beads and pieces of bright shells. A black and white striped genet tail hung along the spine of the back and squirrel tails dangled from the waistline.

Odi was occasionally teased by other males his age, but it was affectionate teasing, as no one dared take it too far because that would mean answering to Dokuk.

Eku found Odi interesting, despite—or perhaps because of—his reflective quietness.

Like Yathi, Odi did not aspire to be a hunter.

And because hunters only hunted in pairs and teams, Eku would eventually need a hunting partner, also known as a hunting ikanabe.

Many ikanabe became hunters together, and were thus paired together as hunters.

Hunters who were not joined by their ikanabe, were paired with a hunter of a similar background.

Because neither Yathi nor Odi desired to be hunters, Eku knew that both he and Dokuk would require a hunting partner; thus, if Eku and Dokuk became hunters at the same time?

Well, then he and Dokuk could be partners … Possibly even great hunting partners, similar to his father and Nibamaz.

Eku could not help but idolize Dokuk (all of the young males did).

And while Eku knew that Dokuk was practically an adult, for some time now, he could not help but overhear the comments made by other hunters, regarding Eku’s remarkable ability to master skill sets at such a young age.

Eku could not help it if his mind imagined scenarios where he and Dokuk might be paired as hunters.

Dokuk puffed out his chest to act brave and said, mostly for the sake of Goguk and Yathi, “The five of us will march together. Do not be afraid! The jungle is like a forest, but with more trees and bigger.”

Yat, having spotted Dokuk’s approach, slipped past Doagu, with Tar and Maz trailing.

Coming up behind Dokuk, Yat said, “Do not be so confident. This is much more difficult than the forests at home. There are lots of swamps and many snakes.”

Goguk and Yathi clicked their disgust and Yat smirked.

Eku thought it miraculous how she and the other older females fit all that hair into netted buns atop their heads.

Yat sidled closer to Dokuk, who suddenly looked silly, instead of brave.

“This land is scary,” Yathi said. “I do not want to go in there.”

“For sure,” Yat replied. “But I was teasing. The jungle is safe as long as we are careful.”

She looked at Yathi liked a mother would, adding, “Do not be silly. You know our father has been here before. And Nibimaz and Juka and Lopi. I heard them talk of the Mantel many times.

“The Mantel know this forest. They live here and will guide us safely. We will travel with them in the jungle for a few days, and then there will be forest more like at home. And more savannah.”

As always, Eku was impressed by Yat (even though she drove him crazy) and asked, “Are we going where the Mantel live?”

Yat clicked yes and said, “After we cross a great river, we will be in the part of Umawa the Mantel call home. Father says it is very nice. Lots of freshwater and good food.

“We will travel through their land and some of them will come to live with us in the land of legend.”

***

Foreboding thoughts were all but forgotten once the hard work of hiking through the dense jungle forest began.

Eku marveled at the size of the trees, three or four times the width of those in the forested regions of home—trees he once thought of as large!

Unlike other trees, giant jungle trees started the roots well above the ground, gripping into Umawa like gigantic talons to support a mountainous trunk of roughly-textured, dark-gray bark.

Wide as an elephant at the base, each bundle of claw-like roots thrust a massive trunk upward to separate into diagonally thrusting branches to a canopy so dense that not even a speck of Ulanga glimmered through.

The brightest of days instantly turned twilight.

The air was rank with a scent not unlike seaweed washed on the beach to cook.

And the noise!

Something Eku did not expect.

A cacophony of birds, but loudest of all—monkeys!

With no baboons, the jungle must be a monkey’s paradise, Eku thought.

A troop greeted them as soon as they were awash in the green, racing along mid-level branches to screech at the trespassers.

Similar in body shape to the brown and gray vervet monkeys found across the Abantu homeland, but larger. The legs and arms were solid black; whereas, the rest of the fur was stippled with white, suggesting a hue of laza.

Eku noted small, yellowish eyes set close over a snout shorter than a baboon’s.

Their furry cheeks puffed out like a squirrel’s when overloaded, giving them, he thought, a permanent look of indignant surprise.

Obviously, they did not appreciate the intrusion.

Screaming and throwing sticks and even pieces of excrement.

Yathi laughed, shouting, “Those monkeys are worse than Yat when she gets angry.”

“I heard that!” came Yat’s voice from somewhere out of the greenery ahead.

Yathi brought a hand to his mouth, eyes widening.

Dokuk, watching out of the corner of his eye, smirked. He would gain favor by telling Yat of Yathi’s reaction later.

***

Green, Eku thought.

And birds.

Well, at least the sounds of birds.

Sightings were rare.

Because of all the green.

Green-green-green.

Though, there were surreptitious glimpses of color.

Slender, light green vines wreathed with clusters of orange, star-shaped flowers were draped across the mid-level canopy.

And then gone.

Passing beneath dark green vines thick as his finger, Eku spotted conical flowers of lavender, but when he turned for a second look, it was as though they disappeared.

Into the green.

Large vines, thick as his arm, grew like small trees, rising from the snarls of tree roots to disappear into a solid mass of leafage. The thickest vines sprouted branches like slender arms that ended with spread fingers tipped by tiny white flowers, often swarming with blood red ants the Mantel warned the Abantu to never touch.

A tumult of bird noise rose and fell.

Songs and calls.

To pass the time, Eku worked on distinguishing the different calls emerging from the multi-textured ceiling of green.

Songs were chirps and melodious notes, sometimes short, sometimes long and complex.

Calls between mated pairs featured sweet whistles and conversant croaks.

Squabbling rivals exchanged harsh shrieks and abrasive rattles.

Eku and Yathi especially enjoyed the short marches through dense patches of giant ferns.

The people filed through no more than two or three astride, Eku and Yathi holding out their hands so their fingers brushed across the symmetrically distinct fronds that lined the tunnel walls.

Wherever one of the great trees recently fell, the tribe circumvented impenetrable bamboo, the culms so closely-packed that not even a tiny child could squeeze through.

The ground was strange.

Eku did not like the clay-like mud squeezing between his toes.

With so many feet treading before him, it was impossible to avoid the squishy muck.

Thick roots criss-crossed in every direction, either rough and grippy like old bones, or smooth and slippery, like an exposed shell.

Insects hovered and buzzed, particularly mosquitoes that Eku found larger and more aggressive than at home.

The first time the tribe stopped, bladders with a thick liquid were passed around, the liquid being the result of the mangrove bark mix cooked on the beach.

Eku and Yathi slapped paste on each other, not minding the rank smell because the bugs instantly disappeared.

Progress was a difficult, slow plod through endless vegetation, with an occasional, unavoidable slog through swamp, where they used spears and ax handles to pull each other through the muck.

The swamp portions were disgusting and filled with leeches, but there was always a narrow, clear running stream near the middle to pluck off the leeches and get clean, the water delicious and refreshing, where only a handbreadth away, it became fetid, choked with weeds and algae.

Above all else, the first day in the jungle was exhausting.

When the lead hunters found an area flat and dry enough, the tribe stopped and cut away brush to make camp.

***

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, the constant twilight of day fell into absolute black, so that movement within camp would be impossible without fires.

And the noise?

Expecting the opposite, Eku was astonished by a dramatic increase in volume.

From every direction, insect noise emerged to wage multi-layered warfare: barrages of chirping and buzzing from one side, waves of clicking and whining from another.

Adding to the mayhem came an endless variety of tree frogs, competing individually with grunts and whistles, before a frenzied chorus of croakers and squeakers temporarily drowned out the competition.

After a meal of leftover cakes, dried fruit and jerked meat from the beach feast, Yat, Eku and Yathi lay side by side, mashed together, even though it was warm and sticky.

Eku lay on his back and held a hand to his face, but couldn’t see fingers.

The noise of the jungle was a visceral, ambient hum.

Using stomach muscles, Eku pulled himself to a seated position to see the glow of the nearest fire.

“I do not like the jungle,” Yathi said out of the black beside him. “It smells. I want to go swimming. There are too many bugs and too many vines. I keep thinking the roots are snakes. And I itch. I do not like this paste all over my body.”

“Think about something else,” Eku said, settling back down.

“It is too loud in here.”

“Uwama was this loud. Sometimes.”

“Those were waves. Or a storm. And we were home. We should have made shelters.”

Yat said from the other side of Eku, “It would not have been worth the effort. There are no small trees or water grasses or palm leaves.”

She grunted in the black, shifting her position so her paste-covered butt knocked Eku in the thigh and added, “Father said the swampy part is only one or two nights. He said the Mantel know the way. This is the difficult part.”

“We should go around the swampy parts,” Yathi grumbled.

Eku clicked agreement and Yat said, “It would take much more time. And it is not bad now.

“The Mantel told father that during lobo-yaka, we would have had to travel much further inland.”

Yat, always stern, but always positive, added, “We will not be in the difficult part of the forest for long.”

Penetrating the cacophony came the wail of an infant, a gut-wrenching yowl.

Yat gasped as did many other young people, crying out, “Was that a baby?”

Krele, seated nearby and talking with adults around a small fire, clicked in a soothing way and said, “Yatyambo, nothing to worry over. In this forest, there is a monkey that cries like an Abantu baby.”

“It is how they call each other,” Kaleni said from out of the black. “They have very large eyes and only come out at night.”

“It sounded just like a baby,” Yat said, still worried.

“I know,” Krele said. “But that was only a monkey.”

***

The midpoint of the second day in the jungle brought a welcome change in terrain.

The giant swamp trees were replaced by trees similar in stature, but with smooth, light gray bark.

The earth beneath Eku’s toes had grown firm and the trees grew more widely spaced, fat trunks rising cleanly from the ground.

The lower limbs were enormous, stretching outward and upward to branch again and again, until innumerable smaller branches formed a dense network beneath a verdant canopy that blotted out the sky.

Monkeys had vanished, but within the latticework of the uppercanopy was the constant movement of birds.

Many varieties and colors.

Large green and yellow parakeets with spectacular red tails, always in pairs, stood on opposing limbs, sliding claws to mimic their counterpart’s sideways shuffle.

Flocks of small shrikes, brown and orange and yellow, moved only in groups, endlessly exchanging three syllables back and forth.

Eku pointed and shouted out with pride and joy when his keen eyes spotted the irreplaceable honeyguide.

Yathi and others around him hooted with pleasure at the sighting, calling out, “unda-unda-unda,” as others quickly spread word of Eku’s sharp-eyed sighting.

Gray-brown honeyguides had orange beaks shaped like a small hawk. They ate beeswax and bee larva and would guide an observant hunter to a treasure trove of honey.

Honey was a prized resource, not just for the obvious tastiness, but healers like his mother used it for poultices for treating wounds.

Keen to observe more, Eku saw this part of the jungle featured far less underbrush.

Giant ferns were everywhere, but grew only in clumps, instead of the river-like extensions that ran alongside swamps.

Making up for the lack of underbrush was an unending litter of dead branches; though, curiously, anything on the ground—even freshly fallen—was covered by a moss or lichen, creating a dizzying blend of amber, green and laza, reminding Eku of the way seaweed and lichens occupied every niche of a tidal pool.

Passage remained difficult, but a welcome tradeoff after the grossness of the swampy parts.

Enthused by the sighting of the honey guide, and having grown more curious since Yat told them about the Mantel, Eku said to Yathi, “This part is easier. You want to try to get up front. To see the Mantel scouts?”

Yathi, typically game for anything, clicked agreement.

As long as the tribe did not cross dangerous territory, young people were not obligated to remain in the middle of the pack.

Children could migrate up and down the length of the line, as the adults often did.

The area in which they now marched was safe of large predators and the parade stretched long, the people evenly dispersed.

Eku and Yathi scampered across roots and jumped moss covered logs while passing beneath gigantic, moss covered limbs of trees with green bark.

“We are getting close,” Yathi said.

Indeed, Eku saw that he and Yathi were almost at the head of their column.

Eku imagined he was a scout, moving up to join the tip of the spear while Yathi stuck his chest out, feeling important.

There were only a few paired adults between them and the three Mantel scouts.

“I can hear them talking,” Yathi said. “They sound silly.”

“It is strange to hear another language,” Eku said.

The three males wore simple loincloths that covered only the front. A bone knife lay against each hip and they carried excellent spears, though, made only of wood.

Eku wondered where they found the saplings to produce such excellent length and straightness. With a little more heftiness, they would serve well as the haft for a javelin.

He observed how they carried the weapons; where they placed their hands; how the killing end, seared black for hardening, was kept pointed low at the path in front of them.

Snakes are the beasts to worry about in this place, Eku knew.

The two groups of hunters ahead of their own cleared a path safe and well trodden, so there was little work to do for the Mantel leading Eku’s group; nevertheless, he was impressed how they remained alert and balanced, keeping heads on a plane as they looked around.

Their compact forms were nimble and efficient.

The Mantel were brown, like Eku, but their skin seemed to offer a hint of red.

The hair on their heads was black and thick and straight, not spiraled or curled like an Abantu; pulled into a tight bunch at the top of their heads and held together by woven bands of fiber.

When they reached the edge of yet another swampy area, the Mantel paused and the Abantu adults close behind also halted.

Eku and Yathi moved as close to the front as they dared.

The entire parade came to a stop.

A patch of giant ferns lay ahead.

Two of the Mantel paced forward while the other waited.

Eku watched the remaining Mantel scout.

He stood comfortably, haft of the spear on the trampled, mossy path, held vertically, the blackened end rising a head higher than his own.

The Mantel scout had hooded eyes and a friendly demeanor and joked with the closest Abantu adults not to worry about vubu, only a few small wenya.

Eku did not know what vubu meant, but wenya was the word both tribes used for crocodile.

The investigating Mantel returned and the main group continued.

***

To pass the second night in the jungle, the people found a slight rise and cut undergrowth to make camp, cleared any low-lying vegetation and moved branches and sticks and other debris to the perimeter.

Layit-umlilo was gathered and fire pits arranged to burn through the night.

During the day’s march, hunters procured fowl, forest antelope and other small animals to roast, supplementing a dwindling supply of dried nuts and fruit.

With full bellies, Eku, Yathi and Goguk sat with Dokuk and Odi, cross-legged on bed mats, lathered in protective paste, talking in darkness over jungle noise that only seemed slightly less loud than the night before.

Being young, they were at the heart of encampment.

All around were the outlines of adult heads and shoulders, the orange glow of fire pits identifying the camp’s periphery.

The dissonant, but comforting hum of humans clicking and talking helped buffer the onslought of jungle noise that came from all directions above and below.

Eku, feeling he almost had to shout, asked Dokuk if he knew what vubu meant.

“I heard that word,” Dokuk said. “It is a Mantel word. Father said it is like a giant hagu with great tusks for teeth. They live in rivers and ponds.”

“Ir-hamka,” Yathi muttered, the Abantu word for monster.

Dokuk said, “Yes. Mother said the Mantel fear vubu more than anything. Even more than snakes and wenya and leopards. So we must watch for their trails, which is not hard because they are so large.

“They stay in the water during the day and come out to feed at night.”

Eku asked, “Are they predators or plant eaters?”

“They are plant eaters, but the bulls have teeth as long as my arm and are bigger than a buffalo. Only an elephant is bigger than a vubu, they say. And always, the vubu are waka-waka angry!”

***

The Abantu left the convoluted growth of the jungle behind the next day.

The canopy thinned and the giant trees were replaced by more familiar and smaller broadleaf hardwoods. Soon, Eku and Yathi hiked down a path cut through a barrier of bush that bordered a floodplain, littered with boulders and clumps of matted grass islands from which the short trunked palms grew.

In front of them, a narrow riverway and beyond that, the land rose abruptly.

A crag faced them from across the water, carved from limestone, shades of brown and red and ocher exposing ancient timelines intersected by jagged spires of granite.

The river did not flow swiftly or rise past Eku’s waist.

The people joined hands and marched single file across a rocky bottom.

With Yathi behind, Eku followed Yat, Tar and Maz around big boulders that cluttered the opposite shoreline.

Single file, they clambered around and over rocks .

They hiked down a narrow path cut by the hunters through the fringe of brush that grew between the river and approached the rock face.

For people accustomed to the rocky southern coast, the crag proved to be a fun climb.

The cliff was vertical for only a short distance and the rough texture offered many secure finger and toe holds.

The rock was warm to the grip and Eku paused several times to enjoy excellent views up and down the river.

Once atop the crag, Eku found they were at the top of a dome-like hillock, mostly rock with scatterings of grass, with an unobstructed view of what lay ahead.

He and Yathi pushed past the Yat to see a landscape that diverged sharply; as though Umawa declared the river and the sudden rise of land as a line of demarcation for what came next.

Yathi said, “This looks a lot better than the jungle.”

“For sure,” Eku replied.

Before them spread groves of broadleaf canopies that mushroomed wider than tall, but allowed enough light through for a carpet of foxtail grasses, the beginning of a healthy savannah and forest mix that nurtured an astonishing variety of plant eaters.

The people enthusiastically marched on.

Short and chunky duikers offered Eku a quick glimpse of their fat hindquarters before they dove headfirst into thick bushes.

Herds of impala, similar to home, but with different horns and color patterns watched the humans warily from a distance.

Slender gazelles, with white underbellies and butts overlayed by a stripe of black, allowed the tribe to parade near, then—as though waiting for a chance to show off—bound through the trees, elegant, seeming to float away under the guise of leafy branches.

Water bucks watched curiously while sitting under shaded boughs of the leaves browned and yellowed, chewing their cud and looking regal with scythe-like horns, big round ears and long, expressive faces painted symmetrically in white, black and brown.

Such a menagerie of hooved prey was sure to attract hyenas, lions and leopards; though, with the movement of so many humans, all predators instinctively remained unseen.

The tribe enjoyed a terrain more familiar to the forests they frequented on the southern shores and the young people became playful.

Energetic and curious.

Singing flowed up and down the parade.

The boisterousness only grew until young people ventured too far outside of the path set by the hunters, prompting the Mantel to pass word down the line that these forests were known to have snakes big enough to hang from a tree and snatch a wayward human right off the ground.

Once word of the snakes spread, Eku and Yathi—all of the young people—remained dutifully in the center of the parade until the next river crossing, which would be far more difficult than the last.

***

The Limpopo River basin spans nearly a half-million square kilometers of southeastern Africa, the source of the river flowing northward and rapidly expanding in volume before turning east, toward the coast.

Where the continent begins to swell eastward, the river turns south, completing a near half circle to reach the ocean, spreading into a vast delta of cypress swamps and mangrove forests the Abantu were forced to circumvent.

Having journeyed far enough inland to get past the southern half of the delta, the main body of the Limpopo remained between the tribe and the Mantel homeland.

***

The pilgrimage upon which the Abantu and Mantel embarked was planned over the course of multiple cycles.

Some of the elders told Eku and Yat that such a journey had been in the making for generations.

To get across the river, the Mantel established a transition site, a small village set upon a high riverbank surrounded by mature, riverine forest.

The camp area was cleared of lower branches and the hard-packed ground felt good under the toes.

Eku admired the Mantel’s stilted huts with sloped roofs layered with palm fans dried to a khaki color, but when peering ahead past tree trunks with flaky, blackened bark, the sight of the most enormous river ever made him draw in his breath.

Beside him, Yathi breathed. “That is a big river.”

Equally impressed, Eku said, “For sure. And it is only sika-yaka!”

The cousins and ikanabe knew that even a strong Abantu would be swept far downstream before crossing such a breadth of steadily-moving water.

The riverside village the Mantel prepared was small, with only a pair of huts and a fire pit next to a food preparation area.

The camp was soon very crowded with all of the Abantu.

The few Mantel who Eku saw were adults, males and females, all wearing the same, simple loincloths, hair tied in similar, vertical ponytails; but then, two small and naked and agile children leaped down from one of the elevated huts to scamper around Eku and Yathi, laughing in similar high pitches as they weaved through the legs of the tall strangers.

Figuring why not do the same, Eku and Yathi worked their way along the tide of people milling about and soon found Dokuk, Odi and Goguk.

Dokuk led them single file through the crowd, past the fire pit and through pruned trees for a closer look at the river.

The village perched on a flattened bank well above the water.

The drop to the water was a steep wall of earth, over which the lower limbs of trees extended, making Eku want to climb out on one so that he could stand over the water.

Eku had seen large rivers on their way to emptying into Uwama, but they were placid in their approach.

The mass of moving fluid before him was like nothing Eku had seen outside the dark waters of Umawa.

The river was vast and powerful.

“The pull of Uwama is stronger this far inland,” Yathi mused.

“Where did all the water come from,” Goguk exclaimed.

“From mountains and forests inland,” Dokuk said.

“We should not cross,” Yathi stated. “We will be carried downstream if we try to swim.”

Frowning, Eku knew Yathi was right.

The younger males had seen plenty of swift moving rivers, but rarely anything wider than a good throw of a rock would carry.

The river before them was spectacularly wide, the water dark and deep, racing inexorably forward, drawn by Uwama’s command to return to her womb.

Not a single boulder protruded across the center channel.

Eku clicked agreement and Goguk echoed, “We should go somewhere else.”

Yat came from behind to poke Dokuk in the ribs, causing an involuntary squeak that made him embarrassed; though, everyone laughed, including Dokuk.

“Go see the boats,” she said.

She grinned at Eku and smirked at Yathi, adding, “Uncle Lume fell in the water. When he saw the boats he got so excited he fell down the embankment into the water.

“He fell again trying to get in one. He looked silly.”

Eku asked, “Isiga-ubhak-wila?”

Yat clicked no.

Her hair, just released from its netted bonds, spilled around her shoulders and down her back.

She pointed with the bone comb in her hand, in the direction upstream and said, “Go over there and get in line. Where everyone else is standing.”

***

Dokuk led Odi, Yathi Eku and Goguk across the Mantel camp in parallel to the water, where people stood shoulder to shoulder, shuffling in a line where the embankment fell steep to the water.

The line curved around a small inlet area, where waka-waka Abantu stood, gawking and pointing at something out of sight, in the water.

Yathi began to bounce, trying to see.

At home on the southern shores, the Abantu pursued ubhak-unda in deeper waters.

They built floating platforms called isiga-ubhak-wila, using logs and stout, sealskin bladders filled with air for buoyancy.

The rafts were anchored using lines with heavy stones to serve as the platforms from which they dove to collect sea cucumbers, cockles, sea urchins and scallops.

Eku followed Dokuk and Odi along the top of the embankment until their turn came.

The inlet was rounded like a bowl, a nicely hollowed out area with a gentle slope for easy access to the water.

Five, gigantic and hollow logs floated side by side, attached to ropes and lined up diagonally from the tug of the current.

“Ipyane,” Yathi said reverently.

“For sure,” Eku said, knowing ipyane was the word Yathi’s father Lume used when singing songs about his ancestors and the boats they crafted.

Eku and Yathi instantly recognized the purpose of the massive logs, tapered at each end, the inside hollowed to create room for people to sit.

Tapered at either end like the head of a fish, such a craft would slide easily across the top of water, rather than bob along, like isiga-ubhak-wila.

Full of wonder, Eku asked, “What kind of giant tree was this?”

“I do not know,” Dokuk said.

“The Mantel must be good at carving,” Eku said. “Those trees were once very large. And straight!”

***

Crossing the river was arduous, but well planned and began at first light the following morning.

The five dugouts were in steady use, each with two rowers and room for passengers and belongings in between.

Though it took the entire day, everyone was transported safely across.

When his turn came, Eku followed Yat down the slope of the inlet into knee-deep water, where one of the giant logs floated.

Yat climbed into the back in front of the rear rower, with Eku in front of her.

The rough wood bottom was painful for his behind, but there was little to do about that, as mother immediately heaved satchels and bed mats and other belongings in front of him.

Kaleni and Krele then clambored aboard and much to Eku’s delight, Tiuti took the seat at the front, just behind the forward Mantel.

The dugout hung low, barely above the water line and Eku put hands over the roughened edges to feel the warm water.

The Mantel moved them expertly out of the inlet, using short, sturdy poles with rounded, carved paddles.

As soon as they moved into the river, the shakiness Eku felt when climbing aboard the giant log disappeared.

Yat and Eku clicked excitedly back and forth, marveling at the new sensation of gliding across the top of the water.

“Eku maybe this is like flying,” Yat shouted, much louder than necessary, as she was seated directly behind Eku, but excited.

Eku shouted back, “Or gliding along the surface like a seal or a fast swimming fish!”

The Mantel dugouts flowed smoothly, angled slightly against the current to maintain direction.

In front of them, Tiuti laughed like a child, holding his long arms out as though he were a bird.

Everyone was disappointed the ride didn't last longer.