Chapter 4

Giant Pigs and Flying Monkeys

Pushing with his hands and twisting his torso, Eku thrust upward feet first over the side of the dugout, flopping over to land in another shallow inlet.

Yat immediately followed him over the side with a similarly acrobatic move.

Together, they leaned bellies against the rough, rounded edge of the craft and hefted seal skin satchels, bed mats, ula-konto and other supplies.

Turned and followed their parents and Tiuti through the shallow water and trudged up a muddied bank.

Eku and Yat clicked rapidly in mutual admiration at the sight of an established village.

Similar to the encampment on the other side of the river, but a broader width of undergrowth was cleared, leaving a wide swath of hard packed dirt, worn smooth from waka-waka feet.

At the center of the encampment were more of the above-ground shelters.

Eku had never seen structures built in such a manner, using tree trunks as both support columns and stilts for flooring.

He clicked and pointed and Yat exclaimed, “They are so clever that way, built above the ground!”

Using the tree columns as support, the flooring of each hut was roughly aligned with Eku’s waist.

He and Yat leaned to peer past the legs of standing bodies, to see flooring made of bamboo, tied tightly to create a solid platform, well clear of the ground.

A simple hop or flob for a human, but inaccessible to crawling beasts.

Above the flooring, leaving plent of height to stand, bamboo poles were attached to the same mooring trees to act as beams and rafters in support of roofing made of layered palm. Orange-bellied parrots and green pigeons strutting excitedly across the roofing, no doubt impressed by all the commotion.

The huts were occupied by young Mantel, perched inside, watching in wonder the strange humans swarming  their little village.

And though there were many more Mantel here than the previous shore, the Abantu already dwarfed the hosts in numbers, with more still coming.

Yathi, having relieved himself of his belongings wherever the rest of his family was settled, waited for Yat and Eku to approach and greeted them with, “Waka-waka Mantel live here.”

“For sure,” Eku said, though he see from the many bodies that Abantu already outnumbered the forest people, with more still arriving.

Yat, carrying two satchels, shoved one at Yathi, who accepted his burden without a click of ptotest and, together, they waded through the crowded camp.

Yat, Eku and Yathi carried their belongings through the throng of people until they found Tar and Maz, along with Sisi and Kat, females of the same laba-ini and same age as Eku and Yathi.

The young people gathered together with familial adults all around, including Luvu with Dokuk and Goguk, already moving over to join their posse.

Eku spotted his mother and aunt Shona with uncle Lume and relaxed, suddenly able to marvel at how much the pilgrimage continued to change.

Here they were, standing in a strange village, next to the largest river ever, having just magically floated across in the belly of a floating log!

Eku felt excited. “Yathi this is kind of like celebrations at home,” he said. “During lobo-yaka, when all the tribes gathered.”

“For sure,” Yathi responded, feeling the same level of interest. “When we had feasts and there was lots of dancing”

He clicked rapidly and motioned with his eyes, saying, “Eku look over there, at the above-the-ground huts.”

A good-sized group of young Mantel were crowded within the nearest hut. Across the front edge of the flooring, some sitting with feet dangling, others standing, all with vertical ponytails, staring in the direction of Eku’s group of young people.

One of the Mantel children jumped down.

Others followed, until waka-waka young Mantel clustered together, all of them staring at Eku’s group.

The Mantel shuffled closer as a unit and then stopped.

Nervous, but curious.

No one has ever seen someone from a different tribe.

“What should we do,” Yathi said.

“I do not know,” Eku answered.

“They do not speak our language,” Yat said.

One of the Mantel stepped forward.

The smallest.

A female, younger than Eku, wearing only a dainty loincloth.

Ostrich shell bracelets stood out against dark skin, still smooth and plump with baby fat. Her hair poked straight up, tied in place by a spiraling string and decorated with small, bright red feathers.

She approached in short, cautious steps.

Stopped to stare at Yat, who quickly grew uncomfortable.

Eku instinctively took a step toward his sister, but then the little Mantel female smiled in an adorable way and bent at the waist.

Half bent over, she turned her head and looked at Yat, while reaching with one hand to touch her vertically-oriented ponytail.

Straightened and looked at Yat expectantly.

Yat, always so stern, smiled beautifully, took a step forward, bent at the waist and turned her head so her coily plume flopped over the side.

The young Mantel female giggled and stepped up to tentatively touch her hair and immediately several of the other Mantel came forward to touch Yat’s hair.

And just like that, everyone was smiling and chattering at each other.

Eku saw a young Mantel male with the same, narrow eyes as the Mantel scouts who had led them through the jungle; he caught Eku’s gaze and when Eku waved, the young Mantel grinned and waved back.

Soon, all of the young people were mingling and though it was awkward at first, the tribes shared enough common words to stumble through often hilarious communication.

Eku approached the Mantel youth with the hooded eyes and learned his name was Kolo and that his family would be joining the Abantu on their journey to the land of legend.

Kolo had red dots painted on his cheeks and the ribbon holding his hair in a ponytail was an orange color Eku had never seen.

When Kolo gasped and pointed and stuttered words Eku did not know, he followed the direction of Kolo’s finger to Tiuti, towering over the Mantel scouts he was holding court with.

Though Eku had no idea of the exact wording, he would have guessed that Kolo said something like: “That is the tallest and most ancient person I have ever seen!”

***

With such a crowded camp, there was little opportunity to rest and the two tribes bonded over fire pits and fresh food.

At first light, the combined parade of Abantu and Mantel charted a course north.

Eku, Yathi, Goguk and Kolo were officially a foursome.

Kolo proved to be a talented guide and impressed the young Abantu with his knowledge of the forest.

After a few days of hiking through bountiful lands, the tribe set up camp along a healthy running stream. Sek-igambu was chopped from water grass culms and nearby groves yielded figs and plums, so harvest was easy.

The area was considered safe of large predators and young people were given the freedom to move about freely once chores were finished.

Kolo, having learned of an adventure from one of the Mantel hunters, promised Eku and the others a surprise.

They slipped away from the encampment, Kolo leading Eku, Yathi and Goguk over a knoll and into a glen of trees with lush, broad leaves and patches of giant fern, where they spied forest elephants foraging in a wooded meadow.

They remained hidden in trees, observing from a safe distance, elephants barely half the size of their savannah-living relatives.

“But the tusks are even much shorter,” Eku said, watching a baby no larger than a warthog search for a teat under the belly of a its mother, with tusks no longer than his forearm.

Kolo said, “I did not know forest elephants were small, at first. But then I was little and saw an elephant from the savannah, I did not even think it was an elephant! I thought it must be some other kind of beast. So much larger and with such enormous tusks!”

Eku, Yathi and Goguk stared blankly.

Mantel words were still part guesswork.

When Kolo repeated what he said, adding hand gestures and facial expressions, Yathi chuckled and said, “Ir-hamka.”

***

The tribe never hurried, but made steady progress.

The tribes intermingled daily and the words and habits of each became intertwined.

Eku’s quartet, hardened from constant travel, continued to have energy to burn, even after the day’s hiking.

Kolo, hoping for another chance to impress his new-found friends with a success similar to the forest elephants, caught wind of another potential adventure.

Again, something he overheard hunters had talked about.

Kolo told Eku, Yathi and Goguk to be ready for another quick excursion.

The encampment sprawled along the bottom of a shallow ravine carved by a stream now dry. A natural wall of exposed rock once supported a deep pool, now filled with sediment and level along the ravine floor, an opportune spot for the people to arrange quick-and-easy shelters of saplings, branches and water fans.

While the adults dug fire pits and prepared food, young people gathered layit-umlilo, again, a process made nice and easy, being in a mature hardwood forest that daily shed dead and dry branches.

Layit-umlilo could mean burnable material other than wood. When necessary, the Abantu made use of dried palm fronds, tree bark, dried water reeds, and even mounds of dried elephant dung.

Basically, layit-umlilo meant anything used as fuel for fire.

Once chores were finished, Kolo led Eku, Yathi and Goguk up the ravine and away from the encampment.

The forest was heavily foraged; after all, even small elephants ate like elephants, leaving a relatively clear understory.

The quartet of young males paced comfortably across patches of foxtail grass that only grew to Eku’s waist.

Cresting the ravine, the sounds of camp faded.

“This is far,” Goguk said.

Yathi clicked agreement.

“It is safe,” Kolo said with confidence. “We see bushpigs here. Maybe. I heard my father and the hunters talking. This is the forest they like. Yes?”

Eku looked perplexed and said, “Bushpigs?”

“I heard the hunters talking,” Kolo said.

Eku, who has told Kolo many times how his people trapped and ate bushpig said, “We have not seen bushpigs since we arrived at the jungle.”

Eku also told Kolo that when he practiced throwing his ula-konto, the target he most often conjured in his mind was a bushpig.

Unfortunately, Kolo had never seen a bushpig.

Or a warthog.

He only knew what Eku told him.

And he still did not understand all the nuances of the Abantu language.

For example, the word hagu, only meant pig in general. As in the type of creature or simply a shape. An Abantu said hagu-unda to reference a bushpig or hagu-okwe for a warthog.

Eavesdrooping on the hunters, Kolo heard the phrase hagu over and over, and assumed it was a bushpig.

He was not adept enough in the language yet to know the hunters were saying hagu-gozi.

Kolo, still young and relatively inexperienced, also did not know that while the forest had a shrinking effect on elephants, it had an opposite effect on pigs.

The foursome began moving down the opposite side of the ravine.

The incline was steep and they moved carefully, turning sideways with feet spread, ducking below downward sweeping branches to arrive at a level clearing, where the grass and earth had been torn about.

The sweeping branches hemmed either side of a roughly oval area, as the incline was steep enough to deter well-fed elephants.

The digging across the grassy clearing was recent, but not too recent. The exposed sod was powdered from lost moisture.

Nevertheless, Eku’s mind was on high alert.

Past the disrupted earth, a gully ran diagonally away, starting parallel, but then diverging from the ravine they just left.

No water flowed through either side of this ravine in some time, and the gully before them was filled with a dense thicket; from where Eku stood, appearing as an impenetrable mass of boxthorn and brush.

Kolo moved past him and turned to gesture at the torn up ground, looking at Eku.

“They were here. Yes?”

Kolo’s poked with a toe a clump of sod ripped from the earth. Offered Eku a questioning look, still hoping so much to impress his friends, especially Eku, but starting to have doubts.

Because of the way Eku looked as he studied the ground, disrupted as though by a human with a digger or keri stick.

He said with a voice much sharper than intended, “What did this?”

“Hagu.” Kolo said quickly.

He seemed suddenly unsure and asked, “With their tusks?”

Eku took a quick step and knelt to the ground, tracing his fingers around a two-hoof print, the same shape as a bushpig from the southern shore, but larger.

Much larger.

Bent his head to stick his nose in the print and inhaled the scent of hoof musk—also different from the bushpigs he was familiar with.

Saw tufts of red fur stuck to the fresh soil and quickly stood, looking at Kolo with concern.

Bushpigs were small and ran from humans, who liked to eat them.

They had small tusks that could not disrupt the ground in such a fashion.

And they definitely did not have reddish fur.

“We are safe?” Kolo asked, sensing doubt.

Eku clicked sharp to mean, pay attention and Yathi and Goguk clicked rapidly back and forth and moved closer.

Kolo was visibly upset.

He only wanted to impress his friends.

Of all the Abantu, Kolo was most impressed with Eku, who warily looked around the clearing as Yathi and Goguk did the same.

Eku was always so thoughtful. Clever like no one else Kolo had ever met. He had been so thrilled by the forest elephants and he had hoped for similar success with the bushpigs.

Kolo watched as Eku looked around.

The forest was quiet. Mostly.

Eku took a few steps back up the incline and tried to hear the sounds of the encampment from the other side of the ravine.

But there was only the whistle and chatter of parakeets … The screech of a fruit bat … The whirring and buzzing of insects.

Kolo looked at Eku apprehensively.

Having completely misunderstood the situation, he felt desparate to do something and sponteneously held hands to his mouth and made a squealing noise.

Yathi and Goguk looked at him with horror while Eku instinctively checked the location of the closest climbing tree.

Kolo made the squealing noise again.

The bramble patch at the bottom of the gully shook violently and leaves fell to the ground.

While appearing solid from the outside, the dense thicket was actually spacious and hollow on the inside, a nice, snoozing area for a herd of giant forest pigs.

While Kolo’s silly squeal would not even cause such powerful pigs to flicker an eye during snooze time, this particular moment, coincidently—and unfortunately for the four young males—happened to be exactly when the pigs were awake and waiting for an excuse to get started on the evenings’ foraging.

The lead beasts burst from the bramble to barrell straight at Eku, Yathi, Goguk and Kolo, who simulteneously shrieked in terror.

The large bodies surged forward like a wave.

Darkly reddish, thick and powerful.

Tusks arced from gaping mouths.

Pale fur covered a protracted face and snout, giving them a menacing, mask-like appearance, made more terrifying by long and tufted ears that flailed out like horns behind the tusks.

The giant forest pigs thundered up the gully.

Eku clicked as he spun for the tree implanted in his mind, Yathi instinctively following.

Kolo reacted nearly as quickly and Goguk followed him into the same set of branches.

All four were spectacularly good tree climbers and in a scant two or three heartbeats, managed to pull themselves out of range of the first slashing tusks.

Barely in time.

***

Eku pulled himself to a safe position, hanging upside down, clinging with hands and feet to a sturdy branch.

Saw that all of his comrades were in similar, safe but uncomfortable positions.

Turned his neck to stare down at a tumultuous horde of thick spines, rampaging barely an arm’s length below.

The pigs squealed loudly in rage or excitement or maybe just for fun.

The sharp and tangy scent of musk, fresh earth and shit filled his nostrils.

Eku pulled himself over the branch and fixed himself in a seated position, trying to quell the trembles of fear in his arms.

Checked again on Yathi and the others, all watching from similar, safe havens.

Looked at the mass of flesh passing below.

Eku ran a finger along his thigh to the lump of the scar near has knee, remembering the awful sensation when the stingray’s spine skewered his flesh.

The tusks of those enormous pigs would have been much worse.

“Always know what is around you,” his father told him. “Never stop using your eyes, ears and nose to inform the mind.”

The beasts pounded out of sight as quickly as they appeared, but the young males remained aloft until the thumping and rustling of their passage faded.

“I am sorry,” Kolo said immediately, once they dropped to the ground. “I have never seen such beasts. I did not know they were so large.”

“Those are not bushpigs,” Yathi said.

Gokuk, looking pale and frightened, said, “They came out of the thicket so fast.”

“I am sorry,” Kolo repeated.

Goguk’s lower lip trembled, but he swallowed and bravely said, “We will keep this a secret.”

Kolo looked suddenly fearful and Gokuk managed a laugh.

“I will not even tell an adult what happened,” he said. “But I will tell Dokuk. He will be jealous not to have seen such fearsome hagu.”

“They stink,” Yathi said. “We should go back.”

“For sure,” Eku said, already moving up the hill.

With darkness approaching, the four quickly cleared the top of the ravine and hurried down the other side, back to the encampment.

***

The forest in which the Mantel thrived was once a vast area of sand dunes built up over millennia along an ancient coastline.

Deep time blanketed the dunes with rich soil and vegetation and the gently rolling hills today accommodate a fertile network of freshwater streams and ponds.

Three days of steady hiking brought the Abantu to an area of land with which the Mantel were more familiar.

Supplies low, they stopped at a large and well stocked pond to replenish, marching along the waterline to find a proper length of shoreline, flat and dry.

The Mantel watched in awe as the Abantu immediately began clearing small trees and undergrowth with impressive effeciency.

Mantel craftsmen made excellent knives and small axes of bone and wood, but little quartzite was found in the forested regions in which they lived; and since no other rock was good for knapping and flaking, the Mantel had a shortage of effective tools for chopping tough wood.

The Abantu had an abundance of rugged quartzite axes, as well as the knives and spears bladed by the unmatcheable hardness and sharpness of isipo-gazi.

Through apprenticeship and training, an izik-kosa learned to knap and flake stone to a specific purpose: extended, killing blades for the javelins; narrow blades for the ula-konto; assorted, smaller blades for knives and sewing tools; as well as other types of ultra-hard tools used for drilling holes, splitting bone, scraping mussels from rock, removing fur from skin or digging in the earth.

While still young, Tiuti recognized the cutting edge as only a part of a tool or weapon and spent a lifetime improving the craft of the izik-kosa, inventing new ways to carve wood and grind bone, using either and sometimes both to craft handles that perfectly fit a blade to its purpose.

The Mantle hooted with pleasure when the izik-kosa used long knives and axes to cut away brush in a fraction of the time it would have taken them with their own tools.

Upon their arrival, numerous wenya lined the shoreline, but when the tribe descended and began clearing brush, the beasts slithered into the water; however, a single, mighty beast refused to budge.

The izik-kosa stopped working.

Moved away with the rest of the tribe to gather at a safe distance along the shoreside to observe.

Eku and Yathi scrambled to get as close to the action as possible.

Yathi said with a voice that bespoke awe, “Ir-hamka!”

“For sure,” Eku said, “That is a giant wenya.”

“The biggest in the world, for sure,” Yathi breathed.

Dark and menacing and armored, the massive beast crouched tense on a gently sloped shoreline, dark soil covered by a scattering of fallen leaves.

Eku guessed the beast was the length of at least three adults lying head to foot.

Thick in the middle, the belly bulged from the sides; yet, despite such bulk, such a wenya would propel  itself quickly forward on outsplayed lizard legs with clawed feet.

The massive tail featured plated scales like dark blades.

A mouth longer than Eku was tall remained half open to display twin rows of fangs.

Hissing in anger, no doubt infuriated by the unusual activity.

Only a serious danger would inspire the mass exodus of its smaller brethren.

Eku knew such a beast could not conceive of giving way.

The wenya was the pond’s undisputed ruler

Whatever caused the mass exodus of its smaller brethren was going to receive its wrath.

But as of yet, the weak eyes of the giant wenya did not perceive the many humans lurking under cover of the treeline.

“Those teeth are longer than my fingers,” Yathi breathed, leaning his shoulder into Eku.

The two remained wrapped behind the fat trunk of a sycamore, as close as they were allowed.

Watching in awe from a safe distance.

Eku knew that the jaws of such a wenya would snap the spine of a lion.

Such a giant wenya could drag a full grown buffalo into deeper water and drown it.

The ruling wenya hissed loud, a sound no unlike Ulayo at her angriest.

Twitching a tail that would fracture legs.

The people watched an epic confrontation.

Eku felt pride and fear as his father and Nibamaz led a group of Abantu hunters down the shoreline, all of them carrying javelins.

The hunters split into groups and surrounded the beast.

Despite such size, the wenya quickly turned one way and then another.

Giant claws slung great gobs of mud and the mighty tail flailed with terrifying violence to keep the hunters at bay.

But the hunters were in no hurry.

Eku recognized the tactics.

The wenya was huge and powerful, but only had two eyes that faced forward and sideways at one end of a very long body.

The hunters could dance around the beast like this all day.

The huge wenya could not and quickly grew tired.

The hunters danced closer and began luring the tiring beast away from the water.

While the head and back and tail were covered by impenetrable armor, there were vulnerable spots.

Once on ground with firm footing, the hunters attacked with precision and speed.

Diminutive compared to such a mighty beast, they clicked back and forth and struck from one direction and then the other, two-handed javelin thrusts with their full body weight behind, stabbing deep into soft spots near the leg joints and belly.

The wenya snapped its enormous jaws with incredible speed and power, lunging first in one direction, then the other.

Thrashing the huge tail in a way that made Eku think of trees toppling.

The people cried out at the awesome spectacle.

The Abantu hunters had thoroughly confused the beast.

A hunter always remained in the tunnel of its forward vision, distracting the beast, while others circled and clicked for opportunities to deliver penetrating stabs.

The wenya lunged one way and the hunters struck from another.

The beast whirled back, tail flailing violently, skidding across dirt to send mud flying, the hunters skipping out of range.

A relentless attack continued until the exhausted wenya, with blood gushing from waka-waka wounds, lurched clumsily for the shallows, mighty tail sending a wave of mud and water flying.

Blood stained the foamy water red as the beast struggled vailantly before flipping over to expose the pale belly, dying before it could reach deep water.

Eku and Yathi charged forward to be among the people pulling the giant carcass back to shore.

***

The next morning, Eku rose early, as always.

Crept from his family’s rounded shelter of saplings and brush.

Ulanga remained low in the sky, obscured behind the hill on the opposite side of the pond.

Though early, the air was warm and moist.

Eku was comfortable in only his loincloth.

Trampled leaves and twigs were wet and soft under his feet as he moved toward the food preparation area, in front of the water.

Dark cones emerged against the shimmer of the pond, teepees made of long sticks and covered by fat palm leaves, smoke traps for the thinly sliced flesh curing within.

Next to the smokers, ash-filled fire pits sent smoky tendrils wafting upward, like the tentacles of an upside down jellyfish.

Eku paced to the edge of the water, ula-konto held low at his right side, wary of any wenya silly enough to return where there were so many Abantu.

There were none.

The water was pristine and placid and reflected the brightening sky.

Eku moved along the shoreline, leaving the encampment behind, following the shadows.

Out of habit, his gait slowed, feet adopting the side to side pace of a hunter.

One foot pad down … Roll to the other … Set the heal down.

And repeat.

His movements became very slow.

Every movement deliberate.

The quiet of morning was Eku’s favorite time to practice ibe-bonakalio.

His father and Tiuti said ibe-bonakalio was really just a place to seek.

Something not actually attainable.

Which Eku thought did not make sense.

But he certainly understood enough to know that when a hunter entered the bush, he seeked ibe-bonakalio.

To become invisible.

Tiuti liked to say that true ibe-bonakalio would be where one must go to see Umawa and Uwama not as rivals or lovers, as we Abantu tend to see them, but as equals, two sides of the whole that made life possible.

Kaleni taught Eku how to unseen in the bush.

How to keep all movements hidden.

Precise.

Staying in shadows.

Discerning every stalk of grass.

Checking every leaf.

Observing each crawling insect.

A hunter captured what was vital from a variety of inputs, so concentration must never wane.

“The world and your mind, they are separate,” Kaleni told him. “One you can control. The other you cannot. Learn to control your mind to best understand what Uwama has to offer.”

Even as a tiny child, Kaleni began bringing Eku into the bush for lessons.

Taught him to observe a line of bushes and grass, using his eyes to simply soak everything in while his mind parsed the details: singling out the tuft of springhair fur amongst the individual grasses; separating a duiker crouched in darkness amongst branches and roots.

Plants and beasts follow a sequence.

Eku naturally discerned grasses that spread in circles patterns from those that followed zig-zagging lines.

No matter how chaotic at first glance, trees and bushes followed branching patterns that when interrupted, no matter how clever, reveal a crouching predator.

A hunter unleashed the full power of eyes and ears and nose and that was what allowed his mind to put everything together.

Eku separated individual sounds from the cacophony.

Took note of where cricket and cicada song came from … Where they did not.

Bird calls were common chatter, squabbles or the warning of a four-legged predator.

Or the reaction to a strange, two-legged beast prowling below.

The continued, soft cooing of doves in the branches above gave Eku some degree of satisfaction.

At least to the birds he was ibe-bonakalio.

Human noses, being weak, needed assistance and Eku used his eyes to put his head where it was best to capture scents: fresh dung, fresh urine, the fresh musk a plant eater’s hoof left in the mud.

On the northern end of the camp, the bank leveled and the water was shallow, bristling with water grass and dotted with white flowering lily pads.

Shoreside trees offered sparse leaf cover at this period of sika-yaka, mostly yellowed and browned; though, all branches ended in clusters of twigs lumpy with buds.

Eku gracefully wound around tree trunks and stepped on roots.

Moved with serpentine grace below pale boughs that radiated out along the shoreside.

The harsh cry of a grey ibis burst the silence.

The call of such a bird carried far and signaled an alert hunter that water was near.

Eku crept silently across damp leaves to the shoreline and immediately spotted the dark body hunched over in a stalking pose, long beak ready to strike.

Watched the big bird prowl a  muddy shore in front of swamp grass, currently lacking thistles and standing light brown and listless.

The abrasive call of the ibis was countered by musical chatter from yellow canaries, the flock flitting along pond-side branches.

Forced to move away from the shoreline to remain unseen, Eku walked upright through mature forest, then re-approached the shoreline to peer through branches with small, narrow leaves yellow and brown, but twigs loaded with buds.

Before Eku, in shallow water: two contrasting storks.

Both immobile.

No doubt tolerating each others' presence because they sought different prey.

The closer bird stood on stately, pink legs, the primary feathers of its wings a light pink, similar to flamingo. A knife-like yellow beak led to dark eyes that missed nothing.

The second stork was of a similar size and shape, but with black wings and a white breast. An extended beak of bright orange and black bands matched the same pattern on its long and thin legs.

Eku fervently wished he could use his ula-konto.

His chances for a successful throw were excellent.

He could present the feathers to his mother or Yat.

The meat was always useful for stew.

And such legs were brilliant for sinew; though, it would be delicate to remove and would require the precision of an izik-kosa, using a blade of isipo-gazi.

The feet and skull would be desired decorations … But only if they were in a real village.

Besides, until Eku wore an eagle talon, hunting such birds remained the decision of an adult.

Not that that mattered now, anyway.

Both birds were aware that something hovered nearby, as each profile offered an eye focused on Eku’s exact location.

The slightest move and they would be gone.

Eku whispered, “Their minds have somehow told them to suspect that I am here, but their eyes do not see.”

He faded into the shadows and continued.

Crept under the drooping branches of silver willow to see yellow billed ducks, feathers brown with white-tips, scooting in and out of the grass and lily pads.

Found their soft quacking comforting.

Per usual, the monkeys made their presence known, rustling through the trees next to the water, hooting softly back and forth.

Even the monkeys did not want to be noisy this early.

Eku settled into a crouch in the tall grass with a clear view of the pond.

A kingfisher shot across beams of sunlight slanted over the opposite treeline, defending its territory from the ducks with a barrage of high-pitched, insect-like chirps, laza wings a furious blur, the bird’s aggression belying its stature.

The ducks drifted slowly the other way.

Pleasing Eku came the melodic call of the fish eagle.

His hand went to his chest when he saw in the laza oval above the pond a circling pair.

White crown, throat and tail, everything else dark brown, except the wicked beak and massive, curved talons of yellow.

Eku giggled in his mind at the diminutive songbird, chasing after the pair.

A fish eagle only killed what was necessary.

Hunting only for itself and its mate and the single offspring they would rear at the start of lobo-yaka.

So they let the little birds chase them; after all, this one was probably trying to impress a mate or guard their territory.

To turn and attack would be … Beneath the fish eagle.

Spellbound, Eku watched the huge birds turn gracefully, when suddenly, one of the eagles plummeted.

Powerful wings accelerated the raptor down and across the water, slashing the surface to emerge with a plump catfish wriggling helplessly in a curled claw, screeching as it headed for the shoreline canopy, its mate gliding behind.

***

For the Abantu, such a large body of freshwater was a treasure and the tribe enjoyed a few days of replenishing.

Later that day, Eku sat with Yathi, uncle Lume and several other izik-kosa, cutting rigid and straight shoots of bamboo to equal lengths. They then used willow shoots as weaving to craft funnel-shaped traps, later baited and set along the shore at nightfall and sure to be full of catfish the next day.

In the meantime, hunters disappeared into the forest to return with impala, while adults and children prowled the shoreline, casting lines with fishbone hooks, baited with frogs or insects.

Mounds of tilapia grew alongside the carcass of the monstrous wenya, already in the process of being carved apart for curing as travel food.

The young people scavenged for layit-umlilo and once all of the smokers and fire pits had full beds of glowing coals and burnable fuel stacked in reserve, Yat gathered Eku and Yathi for harvest.

The three of them joined many other mothers and young people at the same grassy end of the lake that Eku explored that morning.

Chagrined, he did not notice earlier, Eku saw bushes of sek-unda growing in a patch where he had seen the contrasting, but equally splendid waders.

Sek-unda being a phrase used to designate a variety of fruit and plant parts the Abantu enjoyed feasting upon. The sek-unda here grew large, grooved fruits that sprouted from the node of each branch grown from the main shoot.

When green, Eku now remembered this particular sek-unda was bitter and inedible, but once ripened and red, became tasty, especially after boiling.

He and Yathi followed Yat, pinching the stems of ripe fruit and filling satchels.

They dumped their haul into a communal basket and joined Tar and Maz, Sisi and Kat, and Dokuk, Odi and Goguk wading through shallows, pulling up clumps of thick sedge grass and using a sharp cutter to remove the corms growing underneath.

Finally, all of the Abantu pulled descended on a patch of watercress and fill more bushels.

The people headed back to camp under a full load.

Despite a long and busy day, Eku and Yathi remained awake well into the night as the tribe enjoyed its first feast together.

***

The next morning, Eku exited his familial shelter and paced across the center of camp.

Conical smokers spouting white smoke offered smells of cured flesh as he moved purposefully along the water, heading for the same area as the previous morning, only to find Tiuti and one of the Mantel there ahead of him.

Tiuti stood at the edge of shore, in the grassy area trampled from yesterday’s harvest.

Umthi, the scout who led the lead group with his father and Nibamaz, stood a short distance in front of Tiuti, ankle deep in the shallows.

Tiuti excitedly beckoned Eku with one hand, the other pointing at Umthi, who used both hands to grasp a strange device: a bowed stick, the thickness of a spear, held bent by a taut string tied to either end.

Umthi had a conctrated look on his face and he peered ahead, as though focused on something in the water.

Eku approached the shoreline, silent.

Stopped next to Tiuiti and glanced up at the old master, who remained engrossed by whatever Umthi was doing.

The esteemed Mantel hunter held the bowed stick in front of his body, using one hand, fingers wrapped at the center like a fist.

In his other hand was a tiny spear, long and reed thin.

Voice barely a whisper, Tiuti said, “Watch carefully Eku, this is a most wondrous device!”

Eku did his best to follow.

Umthi stood still, then moved with practiced precision.

Adjusted the bowed stick to a horizontal plane and laid the tiny spear across the handle so that it rested against his clenched hand.

Deftly moved his fingers in a way to attach the butt end of the tiny spear to the string and drew his hand and the tiny spear back, increasing the curve of the bowed stick to a half circle.

Umthi leaned forward and shifted the device vertically.

Appeared to sight down the length of the tiny spear and released the string.

Eku was astonished when the bowed stick snapped back to its starting position, the tiny spear flying faster than the eye could follow to pierce the water with a distinct plunking.

Tiuti yelped and raised his arms and finally looked at Eku, “Wonderful, yes?”

With a wide grin, Eku could only nod and watch in amazement as Umthi stepped forward to retrieve the tiny spear, smiling as he lifted it from the water with a fat catfish wriggling from the end.

“The Mantel use this weapon for fish and ducks,” Tiuti said. “They are not accurate from a distance, but very effective along the water.”

“It flew so fast,” Eku said.

Umthi waded to shore, raised the stringed bow in one hand, the other with the tiny spear and catfish, now gone limp.

“Guka-ombe,” he said.

***

The tribe never hurried, but progressed steadily.

The Mantel, like the Abantu, sent forth only the strongest adults; those who did have children, none were younger than Kolo, who was the same age as Eku.

Moving comfortably and well-fed through broadleaf forest, the tribe reached the uppermost reach of the Mantel home range, where the trees began to mingle with the tallest bamboo the Abantu had ever seen.

While making camp, Kolo told his new friends that he had a special treat for them to sneak away and see first thing in the morning.

“Not as dangerous as last time,” he said, still sounding apologetic. “Mantel do this many times. I come here, many times.”

“What is it,” Goguk begged.

Kolo shook his head.

“You have to tell us something,” Yathi implored.

Kolo smiled slyly and said, “I take you where the monkeys fly.”

The following morning, Kolo, Eku, Yathi, Goguk, Dokuk and Yat—Goguk having told Dokuk what they were doing (and then Dokuk secretly invited Yat to come along)—slipped into the towering bamboo.

Moving cautiously, the canopy well above their heads, the growth above so dense that nothing else grew at ground level.

The culms were just far enough apart for slender humans to wind their way through and the dirt was soft, but prickly from a carpet of the fallen, slender leaves.

Exiting the bamboo, the young Abantu were awed by the return of giant jungle trees; though, not quite as enormous or thickly canopied as those of the swamplands.

Still, the canopy was an unfathomable tangle of branches and leaves; though, some of Ulanga’s first fire filtered through as slanted beams of light.

The six young people came to a stop.

Magnificent greenery all around.

“This is a good spot,” Kolo said, peering upward.

Nervous, Eku asked, “Do they look like the laza monkeys?”

“No. These are special monkeys.”

The jungle was noisy, mornings especially so, with birds waking up. Calls came from every direction: sly whistles, cheerful chirps and harsh screeches.

The Abantu instinctively moved closer, shoulders and elbows touching, heads tilted up, staring uneasily through a tangle of vines and branches.

Early morning moisture sent droplets shining through narrow beams of light.

Movement.

The rustlings of branches.

Dokuk and Eku both carried ula-konto and automatically moved in front of the others.

There was a low-pitched hoot and then another.

Glimpses of black and white.

“They have long hair,” Yat exclaimed. “Like a black and white weasel, but with such long arms and long legs!”

“I hope they are not angry all the time, like the laza ones,” Yathi said, peering uneasily upward.

“No,” Kolo said. “Flying monkeys like to have fun.”

The monkeys crept downward, almost like crabs, Eku thought, face first, toward the humans.

Excited to observe an entirely new creature, he nevertheless watched with caution.

The monkeys were larger than a baboon, with long and narrow bodies with small heads and black faces and dark eyes.

In sharp contrast, thick white hair fell from prolonged arms and legs, making Eku think they were like an enormous spider with the coloring of a zebra.

More monkeys crept lower.

From different trees, two monkeys launched spectacular leaps across the mid canopy, passing each other close enough to touch, the white fur on their limbs flying out like wings as they soared between opposing trunks.

The Abantu murmured in amazement.

Eku had never seen a monkey leap so far.

Built for the trees like a gazelle was for the savannah.

Kolo cupped hands to mouth and made a hooting sound, Dokuk and Yat simultaneously imploring, “What?”

“They like to put on a show.”

All six began hooting and the monkeys instantly reacted, using all four limbs to elastically propel themselves.

The monkeys made no vocal sounds and moved quickly through the branches to find the proper launch point and set sail.

The slap of their palms on a thick branch was like a clap.

When several monkeys flew and landed at the same time, the rustlings sounded like gentle rain.

The young Abantu hooted louder and waka-waka monkeys descended to the lower canopy, thrilling the young Abantu with unmatched leaping prowess.

The monkeys spun around branches.

Leaped and twisted with unmatched acrobatic excellence.

Eku had never seen such power combined with agility.

Suddenly, as one, the monkeys scampered back to the upper reaches of the trees, vanishing within a verdant vacuum.

“Are they gone?” Gokuk asked, sounding disappointed.

“No, this is the good part,” Kolo said.

A black and white monkey came plummeting out of the greenery, screaming shrilly, descending at a terrifying speed toward the youths, Yathi and Gokuk shrieking; all of them, but Kolo throwing up their arms in defense.

But even in complete freefall, the monkey easily snatched a branch, swinging low to almost touch the top of Kolo’s head, before the branch sprang upward, the monkey catapulting back into the mid-level canopy.

Everyone began hooting with enthusiasm and it was raining monkeys: slender, graceful black figures with long white fur flying out like wings, performing death-defying plummets, somehow able to grab the perfectly sized branch to swing close to the laughing Abantu before slingshotting back up.

That night, Eku dreamt of flying monkeys.