Chapter 12

Forest of the Elephants

Through the days that followed the feast, Eku was troubled.

Restless.

Unable to concentrate.

Normally, throwing his ula-konto allowed his mind to forget whatever bothered him.

But now, as soon as he began to practice and made a good throw, his mind betrayed him by conjuring Ingwe was there to witness it!

The beautiful Bwana female seemed to follow him everywhere.

Even when trying to avoid her, Eku saw her profile amongst the clouds, the lines of her body emerging from the contours of Umawa.

Though Eku cannot see or touch or even hear or smell Ingwe, she was simply there, all the time, like the air of Ulayo flowing into his lungs.

I am the silly crab, Eku thought. Having crawled out of the water, unsure of what to do and where to go until a gull swooped down to snatch him up.

Or, maybe like Yathi, he was completely obsessed with females now.

No.

Eku was obsessed with one female.

He must do something before the pilgrimage resumes, which was any day now!

Eku wandered away from the community area, lost in thought.

Would Ingwe ever give him a chance?

He no longer cared that Uta was her father; well, maybe he did, but there was no sense worrying about it.

Besides, he only wanted to talk to her.

But what would he say if she allowed it?

Eku hiked across the dark ground that led to iliwi-kelele; paced to the center of the great rock slab and stopped to stand, arms folded across his chest, gazing across the river the way he liked to, knowing it often inspired his mind.

But today?

Nope.

Shook his head, aggravated.

Walked to the edge of the rock and hopped down.

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

Maybe just something simple?

Like … Do you want to go see the river?

—Oh for sure!

The river is right here.

All the time!

Having no idea what he would do or say if he got the chance, Eku saw nothing interesting in the work area and continued grumpily in the direction of the Bwana encampment.

Walked past the dock and circled the debris pile.

Ulanga was bright and low over shatsheli-lambo.

Spear-like shadows from the palms slanted across the rich dirt of a well-worn path.

The swimming area was abandoned this early, but up ahead, where the path widened on the way to the Bwana encampment stood Ingwe, hands on hips, hair combed to cascade down her back, laza pendant, zebra loincloth and white-beaded anklet.

So beautiful that Eku’s heart ached—and then began to pound.

What was she doing here?

Did she know that he wandered down here every morning just for the chance to see her?

Before he was actually aware he was going to do anything, Eku gestured to Ingwe with his hand, which he then brought to his heart and bowed, as he had seen the Bwana males do.

Ingwe's smile was stunning and Eku’s heart leaped.

She started forward, continuing to smile beautifully, but then … Another step and those pretty eyes narrowed.

Another step and the smile was gone.

Ingwe bolted past, their shoulders almost brushing, Eku spinning to watch.

Sighed.

He cannot catch her.

She is too quick, like Yat.

Nevertheless, Eku focused on the bob of her poof, bowed his head and gave chase.

Pumped his arms and ran as fast as he could on the hard-packed trail of the river.

To no avail.

Eku managed to close some of the distance, but when Ingwe looked back, she grinned and picked up a pace he was laboring to maintain.

Her lithe form scampered in the direction from which Eku just came, the river on the right, rafts lined up side by side, beyond which was the walkway of logs.

Ingwe raced past the rafts.

With grim determination, Eku followed, deciding he will run until he drops or catches her.

But then, in a flash, he realized that just past the rafts sprawled the debris pile; thus, in order for Ingwe to stay on the Bwana side—something he knew she always did from previous behavior—she had no choice but to go left and circle the big hut.

Eku leapt off the path, hurdled a boulder and sprinted up the edge of the overgrown area, heading for the side of the big hut opposite the river, the angle of the terrain and palm fronds hanging from the roof hiding him from Ingwe’s view.

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

But then … He paid attention during that first chase, as frantic as it had been.

Ingwe, while beautiful and quick, was also clever (how could she not be?).

Once part-way around the big hut, she is sure to look back and verify that he is trailing.

Probably slow down to tease him, again.

When she does not see him, aware of the blocking effect of the big hut, being clever, she will surmise what he is up to.

Purely on instinct, Eku dug in his heels and cut back toward the river where he was originally heading, rounding the waterside edge of the big hut, just as Ingwe came ripping around from the opposite side.

She doubled back, just as he hoped, her squeal of surprise as delightful as the first time he almost caught her.

They skidded to a stop, face to face, close enough to touch.

Both, too stunned to react.

Ingwe’s eyes were wide and utterly beautiful and she was breathing heavily and for Eku, this would be the most thrilling moment of his life.

They stared at each other.

Finally, catching her breath enough to speak, Ingwe said in perfect Abantu, “You tricked me.”

Still breathing hard, Eku managed a smile and said, “I cannot run fast enough to catch you.”

Eku’s heart was captured forever when Ingwe smiled in her perfect way and said, “But you just did.”

***

The Abantu, Mantel and Bwana marched away from shatsheli-lambo as one tribe.

Amidst a parade of people, Eku strode with Yathi, Goguk and Kolo along a path cut by the elephants through a mopane forest.

Everyone had bedrolls and satchels attached to their backs.

Eku was proud more than ever to carry his ula-konto; in fact, he was exhilarated.

Feeling strong—like an elephant!

Agile—like a leopard!

Soaring to heights that not even the magnificent fish eagle can match!

Why does spending time with Ingwe make him feel so?

Who cares?

Eku was ready to conquer the world.

The mopane forest through which the tribe marched grew on a land both ruled and administered by elephants, their foraging weeding away saplings and brush, pruning every tree into a similar pose: fat, bare trunks stripped of lower branches with mature, rounded tops above a carpet of foxtail grass, giving the forest a surreal, but pleasing symmetry.

Gaps in the trees offered a glimpse of where the lone mountain loomed ahead, ever larger.

When the forest broke at the floodplain of the south-flowing river on its way to join shatsheli-lambo, Eku marveled at the singular massif, directly across the water, with much lower hills to either side, like a matriarch with little ones trailing.

Ulanga cast a golden glow across granite cliffs and anabatic updrafts allowed eagles, vultures, fruit bats and parakeets to soar across their respective tracts without a single flap of the wings.

Despite such large numbers, the people needed little time to set up camp and once chores were done, Ingwe joined Eku and Yathi along the waterway.

The river was impressive and currently had a spectacular background; though, after shatsheli-lambo, Eku could never imagine another river seeming truly impressive.

Eku and Yathi wore only springhair loincloths shorn of skin.

Ingwe wore a zebra loincloth. A beautifully softened skin was draped over her shoulders and her hair was wrapped in a plume down the back.

Like the young people, groups of adults wandered the camp, socializing and gawking at the scenery.

The tribes, being nomadic in the first place, had combined efficiencies to become truly impressive: the well-supplied groups so quickly and effectively setting up shelters, there was little to do but mingle.

“Waka-waka people,” Yathi said.

“Like the villages at home during lobo-yaka,” Eku said.

“We once lived in a large village like this, but they are all gone now,” Ingwe said.

She spoke somewhat wistfully, Eku thought, studying her profile as she gazed over the river, then glanced at Eku to find him staring and looked away, smiling shyly.

Eku and Yathi exchanged a glance, knowing that while this would be a large village where they came from, during lobo-yaka, there were waka-waka such villages spread across the southern shores.

What happened to the Bwana?

Their present encampment was cut from flatland above a steep riverbank.

Thicket covered, at first, the people quickly and efficiently hacked and sliced away brush and saplings to use for shelters, layit-umlilo or left piled along the half-circle fringe to mark the periphery.

For the length of camp the riverbank dropped quickly to deep water, slow moving. The depth of the channel grew shallow on the opposite side, where rounded rocks pockmarked a heavily forested shoreline.

Beyond the vibrantly green trees, the lone mountain rose, with globular canopies intersected by steeper parts of sheer granite.

On their side of the river, the trio passed clusters of rounded shelters arranged in familial groups.

Most shelters used saplings as ribbing, river reeds and pliable twigs and vines to weave walls and roofing, leaving a single, low entrance. The domed top was waterproofed by layers of leaves.

Eku, Ingwe and Yathi were headed upriver, where the encampment ended at a copse of trees with a barrier of boxthorn, shimmering with pretty, white flowers amidst narrow, silver-green petals, a brilliant guise for branches loaded with skin-slicing barbs.

Poking out through the bramble were the sturdy stalks of impala flowers, called so because the antelope were quick to devour the bright white petals with blood red edges.

The boxthorn rose thick only to the lowest tier of tree branches, heavy with broad, oval leaves with wavy margins, terminated by clusters of pink flowers.

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

Eku sniffed and shook away an urge to sneeze and Ingwe grinned, saying, “The last showing of flowers.”

“Sika-yaka is coming,” Eku responded, “Vuka-yalo-ulala.”

Ingwe smiled sweetly, saying in Bwana, “Yes, the dry season starts after the last showing of flowers.”

The change of seasons may be upon them, but the spectacular growth that came with lobo-yaka remained vibrantly on display.

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

The trio moved close to the water, next to a margin of water reeds with pale stalks topped by thick, yellow-brown thistles.

Eku pointed out a section of sturdy grass where a community of dark birds constructed circular nests around the stalks and said,  “Those birds build clever round nests, as we do.”

“Black weavers,” Ingwe said. “Their nests are like beads on a string.”

The birds flitted in, clinging to sturdy stalks to get their bearings before leaning sideways and wiggling inside.

Yathi pointed where they turned toward the river, at the boxthorn overlapped by the trees with the pretty pink flowers.

A pair of green and laza turacos had settled, each with an eye angled at the humans.

“Those birds have red wings in our land.”

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

Eku and Yathi clicked and exchanged a glance, grinning at her enthusiasm.

“The shape is the same,” Eku said. “Only the feathers are different.”

Ingwe smiled at his explanation. She was tall, but moved delicately, with long and supple limbs.

When she spoke and motioned with her hands, Eku noticed she often flexed all of her fingers.

And even though she had just taken a simple step and motioned to the turaco, Eku found her graceful, like an elegant water bird.

No wonder she runs so fast, he thought.

He found that he loved to watch her. Every gesture and expression enthralled. Her eyes had a brightness of their own.

When Ingwe became excited, her upper lip twisted adorably and she pushed her head forward on her neck, just so slightly, as though wanting to share her mirth.

And Eku could not believe how clever she was with her words, the same way Yat could be, in a way that seamlessly blended their languages.

Eku wanted so much to impress her.

Make her feel the way she made him feel.

He pointed to another group of birds, clinging to foxtail grass that rose away from the water, where the boxthorn ended.

“Red wings like that bird.”

Ingwe looked at the small bird singing sweetly, otherwise black, but for the vibrant orange of its head and neck.

“Aka-yosi,” Ingwe said.

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

“Yes”

She smiled sweetly at Eku, making his heart feel like it just skipped a beat.

“Aka is Bwana for Ulanga,” Ingwe added. “We name them after Ulanga because of their red and orange colors. I wish I could see a turaco with red wings.”

“There are a lot of birds here,” Yathi said.

He wandered closer to the water to find a rock. Bent and threw it into the water.

Used both hands to gesture at the splash and said, “We had fish with bright colors where we swam in Uwama. There was coral rock in the water and lots of fish.”

Waved both hands around for emphasis, adding, “The fish were like the birds here. Many different colors and shapes and sizes.”

The three young people stood together, side by side, looking over the water, dark and slow, with gentle gurgles, offering a hypnotic and comforting aspect to its steady passage.

Eku took the opportunity to glance at Ingwe’s profile.

She looked thoughtful.

But then her lips puckered and all he could think of was kissing her.

A lot.

He blushed, though no one was looking.

Ingwe fingered the blue pendant below the skin draped over her shoulders.

“There were colored fish in ichi-Bwana,” she said, looking over the river with a thoughtful expression.

“But I never saw them. My mother told me the fish disappeared when the lake started losing water.”

Yathi asked, “How does a lake lose water?”

“There were rivers that once brought fresh water to ichi-Bwana, but then they stopped flowing.”

She looked at Yathi to one side and then Eku on the other.

Stepped closer to the river and turned to she could address both of them.

“My mother said she once lived alongside such rivers,” Ingwe explained. “There were waka-waka people, but the rivers went dry. That was when she was little. Younger than I am now.”

Yathi asked, “Is that how your father got his scar?”

Ingwe looked at him sharply and Yathi blushed, but she nodded, as if the question were familiar.

Eku watched carefully.

Ingwe’s pretty features showed no expression; though, her voice became different, in a way that made him wonder.

So much about the Bwana was still unknown.

“My father fought the bubinzwana,” Ingwe said. “More than once. He gathered and led the nesibindi against the bubinzwana in a final great and fierce attack and when my father tried to kill the leader of the bubinzwana, instead, the beast struck him down.

“The leader of the bubinzwana was very large and fierce and escaped with others. But the nesibindi killed many of the bubinzwana. They killed enough to make them run away, but my father almost died.”

Eku felt bad and didn’t know how to respond.

The untold stories behind what she had just told them.

“You must have been afraid,” Yathi said.

Ingwe shook her head no.

“That happened before I was born. My father was young. My brothers were only babies.”

Getting questioning looks from both Eku and Yathi, Ingwe added, “That was before my father was with Kafila, my mother.”

She smiled beautifully, but with a softness that made Eku want to hold and protect her.

“My brothers came from a different mother,” she explained. “Their mother died bringing them into the world, for it is very difficult to have two at once. My father told me he was very sad for a long time. He says the wound on his face did not hurt nearly as much as losing her.”

“Ma-bomi,” Eku said. “When a mother births two, her name is added to a song. It is a special honor.”

“For us as well,” Ingwe said. “It is sad to think about the mother of my brothers, but we are thankful because they grew strong. There were other mothers to feed them and take care of them.”

“When something is meant to be, something happens,” Eku said.

Ingwe gave him another sweet smile and added to the story.

“There were once many tribes of Bwana,” she said. “There were people along the rivers and along the shores of ichi-Bwana. But then the rivers dried and then the lake dried and then the bubinzwana came.

“The Bwana became one tribe and we traveled all the time.

“There were always smaller tribes who were joining the larger tribe and that was how my father met my mother, Kafila.”

Ingwe paused.

Again, Eku saw her face quickly change again, her beauty becoming … Something fierce.

Softly, Ingwe said, “My mother lost her family to the bubinzwana. Like my father. When her village was attacked, she was one of the few to escape.”

Yathi clicked in sympathy out of habit and Eku looked concerned, unsure of how to respond.

But then Ingwe brightened and she said, “But now my brothers are older and Tokuta has a baby with Samfila.” Giggled in a way that brought a smile to both Eku and Yathi, and added, “So I am an auntie!”

Eku pointed at the most fantastically colored bird they had yet to see.

A group of three, like themselves.

Perched on the ends of a boxthorn twig.

Tiny, with delicate wings, brown at the tips and red at the shoulders, the body a mix of laza and green with a slash of yellow across the throat.

Ingwe said, “kafila-yosi.”

Yathi made a face and Eku blurted, “Your mother is named after a bird?”

“Yes!” She smiled sweetly and winked at Eku, adding,  “You pay attention!”

Ingwe put her hands to her hips in a provocative way that Eku could not help but adore, adding, “My father likes to point to my mother and joke how bee-eaters have pretty colors and are beautiful, but do not be fooled.”

She took a hand from her jutting hip and pointed, first at Eku and then Yathi, waggling a finger and shaking her hips, adding, “They are like the nesibindi!”

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

“Watch,” she said.

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

On closer inspection, Eku saw that kafila-yosi had long, curved beaks, shaped like the talon of a hawk.

Their high-pitched calls sounded like insects.

Ingwe sidled close to Eku, leaning wonderful against him so their skin touched, saying softly, “Kafila was nesibindi, before she became my mother.”

Shocked, both Eku and Yathi exclaimed, “A female nesibindi?”

Ingwe smiled prettily, but with an edge.

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

One of the tiny birds launched toward a section of bright flowers where waka-waka bees circled.

The bird seated next immediately dive-bombed after and the two competitors shot away, screeching their high-pitched squeaks and chasing after each other.

An instant later, with the competition absent, the remaining bird shot from its perch to snatch a buzzing bee deftly out of the air.

“A bird that hunts like the fish eagle!” Eku exclaimed.

They watched the successful bee-eater, prize clamped in its beak, speed across the river to where waka-waka similarly colored birds fluttered across a sloped, earthen bank, dotted with dark burrows tunneled into the soil.

Ingwe pointed across the water at the nesting area and said, “They live together in groups, like the black weavers. You see them where there are lots of flowers, because they eat bees.”

Eku said, still impressed, “They are good hunters and live together in numbers, but squabble all the time.”

Ingwe giggled and said, “Yes. They are just like people.”

***

The people marched through groves of aza-enji, now green and heavy with long pustules of ivory, the fragrant flowers attracting countless bees and thus, many of the brightly colored and constantly quarreling bee-eaters.

Travel was easy along trails fortuitously carved by the elephants in parallel to the river.

The people paraded along paths cleared of all branches from the ground to a height within the grasp of an adult trunk.

The great beasts tunneled through thick aza-enji, leaving open areas for colorful songbirds to criss-cross in fluttering throngs.

The elephants bored across groves of broadleaf hardwoods, where Eku saw flocks of giant fruit bats hanging with translucent wings tent-like around dark bodies.

The mighty beasts cut paths through stands of fig trees, where green and orange parakeets gathered to argue and acquiesce.

The Abantu were comfortable following elephants, their cyclic migrations sometimes crossing; thus, coexistence was a requirement.

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

But this place?

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

Their rumbles continuously carried through the air like tiny tremblers of thunder.

Trumpeting erupted throughout the day.

The ponderous animals were simply everywhere.

Gorging on watergrass along the river.

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

While marching one day through mature soseji-umthi, Eku and Yathi stopped to watch a magnificent tree under siege.

A large matriarch, up on hind legs to yank a great bough to within reach of others; together, the elephants wrapped their trunks around and used their enormous combined weights to twist off a limb larger than most normal sized trees, the huge limb breaking off the main trunk with a ripping crack that made both Eku and Yathi jump.

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

With so many elephants, frequent encounters with solitary males were inevitable.

The hunters simply halted the parade and the tribe passed the time until the giant moved along.

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

Besides, the people were never actually in a hurry, anyway.

***

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

Especially in the earliest part of the day, when Yathi remained sleeping.

Generally, finding a soft embankment along the river to use as a soft landing area.

The tribe had been hiking along an extra-wide floodplain for several days, built from millennia of runoff from the ridgeline that ran parallel to the river on the opposite side.

The water level was at a low point.

A shoreline of silt, somewhat like the beaches along Uwama, only dark in color, the sediment finer than sand and nearly black. Nubs of pale boulders lay half buried in water and land, like giant turtle eggs partially exposed.

Eku left his familial hut with his ula-konto.

Beyond the silted flatness, the terrain was defined by riverine grasses and clusters of fan-leaved palms.

Waka-waka rounded sleeping shelters dotted the cleared area.

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

Or maybe the next, depending how long they stayed here.

Beyond the floodplain, the forest appeared dark and forbidding; although, Eku learned that while menacing from the outside, inside was a singularly beautiful place, where huge, yet innocuous elephants lumbered and rumbled amidst good food aplenty.

Eku located a sloped bank of silt at which he could throw his ula-konto and began practice throws.

The river spread wide to his back, the encampment to the front and left.

Eku’s new favorite activity (other than spending time with Ingwe, of course), was the three-step throw.

He sometimes thought he would practice endlessly, if it weren’t for his arm falling off.

“Always throw at a target,” his father told him. “And always select in your mind exactly where you intend the killing blade to land.”

Three quick steps were all that was required to send an ula-konto sailing like a speeding bird.

And with deadly accuracy.

Eku threw at a selected spot on the embankment, then jogged forward to retrieve the embedded spear.

Brushing it off as he jogged back for the next throw.

Repeating the process again and again and again.

Ulanga had cleared the tops of the forest trees and amber rays slanted over his head when he took a break.

Brushed the spear off and paced closer to the water.

Scattered across the center channel were the rounded boulders, some large enough so that soil accumulated at the top, allowing bushes to sprout, reminding Eku of the Mantel ponytails.

The opposite bank held neither soil nor vegetation, the pale, exposed bedrock rising to steeper, rocky hills.

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

Eku watched the exposed bedrock across the water.

Ulanga’s early light had exposed movement.

Confused, it appeared to Eku as though a puddle of water moved across the bedrock.

He walked closer to the water for a better look.

The strange movement turned out to be waka-waka small beasts, similar in size to squirrels, but more robust. Their fur was similar in color to the pale bedrock; hence, at first it seemed some of the stone was moving.

Eku detected dark snouts and black feet. Triangular heads, round ears and short necks. Long whiskers on a dark muzzle.

Gathering where the early rays of Ulanga touched stone the color of bone, the small beasts vigorously rubbing against each other, even climbing over one another in the zest to socialize.

Eku spoke softly to Ulayo, as he often did, when alone.

“They look like squirrels, groom like monkeys, but move together in waka-waka numbers, like a herd.”

From higher up the steep rock face, baboons were descending.

Baboons on the southern shores were grayish or brown, but those across the river had coats similar to an impala, a pretty yellow-brown.

Many young ones clung to the stomachs of mothers.

Eku was surprised and amused when the baboons simply ignored the herd of squirrel-like beasts, who gave them no regard in return.

Sensing movement on his side of the river, Eku saw a number of Bwana moving through the rounded shelters.

Mostly Yat’s age, but then he saw Dala, lingering in the back.

Eku waved and Dala eagerly waved back in a way to show he wanted Eku to join him.

Eku set the ula-konto down in a safe spot and ran over.

***

Eku approached where the Bwana assembled by the water.

Sidled up to Dala, who was grinning.

“We are guessing where the baboons are going,” he said.

He pointed over the heads of the older Bwana in front of them, across the water.

“I think there is nothing but more figs over there, but Jikana, the older one,” and Dala pointed to a strapping young male of Dokuk’s age. “He thinks we should find out if it is something yummier.”

Thinking the encampment was already surrounded by yummy figs, Eku blurted, “Like what?”

Dala rubbed his stomach with his non-pointing hand and said, “nandi-unwe.”

To Eku, it sounded like Dala had said something in Bwana like, “a tasty finger.”

“What is that?”

“We shall see, no?”

Dala took a step toward the river, where the older Bwana males and females were already wading into the water. Turned and gestured for Eku to follow.

When Eku hesitated, Dala said, “Do not worry, but we have to keep up. They let me tag along because I am fast and a good swimmer. I told them you are too. You should come. It might be fun.”

Eku saw some of the older Bwana carrying the sturdy, short spears favored by the nesibindi.

Others had axes hanging from the belts of loincloths.

Eku thought about running back for his ula-konto, but that was forbidden.

Until he was a hunter, he was not to swim with a weapon in tow.

Feeling naked without something in his hands, Eku remained hesitant, but when Dala walked into the water he followed.

There was a good span of shallows and Eku sloshed through to catch up.

About a third of the way across, he and Dala leaned into dives and swam.

The current was not strong and the water was invigorating.

Eku was energized at the chance of an adventure with the Bwana.

He swam with Dala behind the others to a steep riverbank of bare rock.

Climbed a flat and hard surface that reminded him of iliwi-kelele.

Dripping, Eku stood and looked around, disappointed to see the squirrel-beasts had fled.

The terrain though, was interesting.

Rough and a bit intimidating.

Slabs of bedrock lay like ribs in parallel to the river, leading to the steep risers from which the baboons climbed down earlier.

Being the youngest, Dala and Eku remained at the rear of the group when they moved across the rocks, in a direction downriver.

Where the bedrock sank into the ground, scraggly bushes and patches of grass gone yellow-brown grew in a fringe around a grove of very peculiar looking trees.

Not tall, reminding Eku of a palm tree, but with slender, dark trunks.

The enormous leaves were similar to a large-leafed palm, sprouting from the top of the trunk to curve outward and droop down, each main stalk lined with so many slender leaflets as to appear feathered.

Eku thought the trees were something like giant jellyfish, placed upside down over a stick so the tentacles formed an umbrella-like canopy, within which Eku could see clusters of dark fruit.

The Bwana chattered excitedly and again Eku thought he heard words that sounded like tasty fingers.

“This is good,” Dala said, visibly excited, like the other Bwana.

He chatted for a moment with an older female, too quickly for Eku to follow, but again, he thought there was something about tasty fingers.

By then Eku had also noticed the baboons.

Waka-waka baboons, in fact.

Some of the large males rushed out from beneath the feather-leaved umbrella trees, snarling and barking and showing their impressive fangs.

The older Bwana with the spears stepped forward and shouted and the baboons immediately backed off.

Eku, who did not like baboons—especially without a weapon in his hands, lagged behind, nervous as the beasts remained close, barking aggressively.

The large males dashed forward again, mouths opened as wide as possible to expose teeth, pink mouth and dark throat.

The Bwana remained packed together and looming large in front of the baboons.

The older males and females with spears and axes gathered and chatted excitedly, speaking too fast for Eku to follow.

Forgetting, he clicked nervously and Dala said, “Do not worry.”

Baboons had teeth comparable to a leopard and Eku, without a weapon, could not help but feel worried.

But then, he watched the Bwana at the front with the spears.

Appearing quite capable.

Feet balanced.

Solid grips with blades forward.

Dala and the remaining Bwana began to gather rocks and Eku quickly did the same.

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

The larger, aggressive baboons bolted away at top speed and waka-waka more baboons with many young ones streamed out from beneath the feather-leaved umbrella trees, racing en masse for the risers of the ridgeline.

The baboons did not scale the rocks though, instead, gathered closely in tight groups, young ones under their mother’s bellies, peeking out and looking concerned.

Some of the males made half-heartedly efforts to bare fangs … but only from a distance.

Dala grabbed Eku’s hand and pulled him under one of the strange trees.

Passing through the giant feathery leaves that looked soft, Eku found they were rough, reminding him of the wiry tail of a wildebeest.

Dala plucked a dark, tubular shaped fruit and showed Eku how to peel away the hard skin.

Inside was a yellow shape, almost like a human finger.

Dala bit the fruit in half and offered what was left.

Just the smell told Eku he was in for a treat, but the sweet and tangy explosion in his mouth was utterly delicious.

The young people scoffed down fruit and then raced back to the river to swim back to camp.

The announcement of a grove of unwe-umthi made them heroes for the day and canceled whatever else the tribe had planned.

The entire tribe later crossed the river, much to the further dismay of the baboons.

The people transported bushel after bushel of the sweet finger fruit back across the water.

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

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

***

Tasty fingers were a wonderful treat, but would not serve as travel food.

Spoiling quickly once removed from the tree.

Figs, on the other hand, could be carried for days and the tribe remained on site the next day for another harvest.

The fig trees at their present location rose barely higher than a person, but had fat, lower trunks with a dark brown and flaky bark, the trunks branching rapidly to form a solid wall around the floodplain.

The leaves were long and leathery, ovoid shapes of dark green, the figs fat and round, growing solitary or in groups of two or three.

Eku and Yathi picked reddish berries for one satchel, yellowish fruits for another to ripen.

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

The pair found a solitary area at the upriver end of the encampment.

Ulanga was sunk to the tops of the treeless hills across the water; his fire cast a golden hue across the bare rock, where Eku saw the squirrel beasts that morning, when Ulanga hung low on the side they were on now.

We are closer to his path, Eku realized.

Wondered what that meant.

The shoreline upon which Eku and Ingwe stood was so different from the other side, which was only rock.

Where they stood, the ground was silted and firm, like the clay along shatsheli-lambo.

Eku and Ingwe had reached the designated end of the encampment and rotated back toward the center.

Walking along a shallow area of water, where tributaries grooved the sediment and bright green water grass formed zig-zag patterns, as though confused where to set down roots amidst the ever-changing interactions of water and silt.

Eku and Ingwe stepped away from the muddy area, to where the ground was firm again.

Grass and bushes offered a variety of flowers.

Honey bees buzzed and bounced.

Bee-eaters, this particular version being orange and black, had settled in the nearby fig trees, appearing to watch the humans; though, Eku guessed their attention was mostly focused on each other.

Eku was amazed when Ingwe mimicked the birds’ insect-like squeaks.

“Do that again!”

Ingwe pulled her lips tight and sucked air through the corner of her mouth to make a near perfect imitation.

Eku grinned.

Ingwe was too wonderful to put into words.

Her beauty was like Yathi’s physical strength, at times, simply overwhelming.

Ulanga went behind clouds and they spontaneously leaned against each other for warmth.

The touch of Ingwe’s skin sent lightning signals through Eku.

Why would the touch of her skin be so different from everyone else’s?

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

They gazed at each other, feeling silly, but unable to stop smiling.

Not sure where to go or what to do next.

Ingwe suddenly took a deep breath, pulled her chin tight against the throat and stayed that way until her eyes bulged and her cheeks glowed and her face contorted.

Mystified, Eku’s eyes grew wide as Ingwe stared at him with breath held and then let loose with the throaty rattle of a blue crane, a sound not unlike the elders made when clearing their throats upon waking.

Eku simply couldn't believe such a harsh sound came from Ingwe’s pretty face and burst into laughter.

Ingwe widened her eyes again.

Pushed her cheeks together with her fists and emitted the sweet call of a songbird hunting hawk.

Eku clapped his hands.

Inspired, Ingwe saved her best for last.

Sucked in a deep breath, puckered her lips and let loose with the distinctive, “oo-wat, oo-wat, oo-wat” of the funny looking black korhaan.

Laughing, Eku collapsed to the ground and Ingwe fell down beside him.

Once the giggling subsided, they sat up on the dark soil to look across the encampment.

Mantel youths stalked with small stringed bows, trying to be like adults.

Further downriver, the dark shapes of people were outlined against the water, casting nets and inspecting traps.

Yathi would be amongst those knee-deep in the water.

Eku realized this would be an excellent opportunity to practice throwing his ula-konto, but immediately dismissed the idea, shocked by how quickly Ingwe superseded what had always been his favorite activity.

Watching his profile, sensing something was on his mind, Ingwe asked, “Do you miss Uwama?”

Eku often had difficulty responding to open ended questions.

Considered what she asked as she watched closely, waiting.

He liked that she was patient. Like his mother. Allowing him to use his mind before he talked.

Eku knew the journey had changed much in his life.

Did not realize that at first.

When they started.

And now, having met Ingwe, his life changed even more dramatically.

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

Ingwe shook her head. “I do not remember much from living there. I liked it better when we traveled.”

She giggled. “As Yathi likes to say, even though he doesn’t mean it.”

Ingwe quickly turned serious.

Eku was facinated by Ingwe’s range of emotions. Separate from her beauty, but part of it,  thrilling and powerful and mysterious, something he desperately wanted to become more familiar with.

Ingwe was full of laughter one instant and deadly serious the next, reminding Eku of Yat, of all people.

“But I do mean that for myself,” she added. Looked thoughtful and explained, “Travel has been good for the Bwana. “The land here is much better than the land we left. All of the adults say so.

“And everything else is better, especially since meeting your tribe and especially you.”

She smiled so brilliantly Eku’s heart sang with wini-nesisa.

“Everyone admires the Abantu,” she said. “All of your clever tools and ideas.”

Eku was flabbergasted, thinking how much the Abantu thought those same things about the Bwana.

Together, how powerful might they become?

Not knowing what to say next, Eku blurted, “Living on a salted lake must be strange.”

“I don’t remember much. What I remember most are journeys. Not a long journey, as we are on now, but different.”

“Where did you go?”

“We went out across the lake. We traveled on rafts, far across into the water. To places where no other land was in sight. And we slept on little islands under the stars.”

Ingwe grasped a handful of silted dirt and let the fine particles filter through her fingers, adding, “They were islands like this dirt here. But pale. And salty.”

“Like Uwama,” Eku said.

Ingwe nodded. “Maybe. But we traveled away from ichi-Bwana, as well. Into the land you call Umawa. We once went to a place where there were old huts. Very old and very large. Larger than the huts you saw at shatsheli-lambo.”

Eku gasped. “Larger?”

Ingwe nodded, her pretty eyes wide, voice intent with the memory.

“There were waka-waka large huts, stretching into the distance. Large huts stretching away as far away as the eye can see.”

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

“My mother told me waka-waka Bwana once lived there. But then the water went away and not even birds or monkeys stayed. All of the beasts left.

“When we visited that place, the old huts were falling apart. The ground was dusty and the trees and bushes were dead. And there were skeletons of beasts. And even humans.

“The old village was where the shores of ichi-Bwana once reached, before the rivers went dry.”

Eku wasn’t sure what to say.

The Bwana were such wondrous and inventive people.

But what could anyone do when freshwater was not available?

“By the time I saw them, the huts were falling apart,” Ingwe said. “I was little, but I remember. I remember because my mother told me that when she was my age, she lived in those big huts, with waka-waka-waka Bwana.”

Eku’s eye widened in amazement. “Where did everybody go?”

“To live in other parts of ichi-Bwana.”

“Where there was freshwater?”

“Yes.”

“That is sad.”

“Why?”

“Because all those big huts are falling apart!”

Ingwe laughed.

“That is sad, but now we are here. That is good.”

“Yes. That is good.”

Ingwe cast her eyes down and Eku felt a pang of longing.

She said, “But I do remember the birds of ichi-Bwana. I wish you could see them. There were so many. Many more than here.”

“How can there be more than here?”

Ingwe smiled, but then shook her head as though correcting herself. “Not more. But more, bigger. She nodded emphatically, then looked at Eku.

Sensing his natural doubt and curiosity, she clarified, “Ichi-bwana had many different herons and storks. They came during different parts of the cycle. Some during rainy cycles. Others during the dry. They would stay on the salted waters and then leave.”

“Did you have favorites?”

Ingwe jumped to her feet.

Eku watched, enthralled and smiling.

“The tallest are the herons,” she said. “I like them the best.” She stuck hands to her armpits and held her elbows out like wings. Bent over and wiggled her butt, as though she had tail feathers.

Eku blushed and smiled.

“There were pretty gray herons with short and strong legs,” Ingwe said. “But a neck longer than its body with an orange beak. Long like a knife! And large, yellow eyes to spot fish to spear!”

Ingwe held her elbows and behind stuck out and stalked like a heron, Eku enthralled as she gestured and mimicked the movements of the bird.

She straightened and faced him.

Hands to the hips.

“There are herons of bright laza and cranes with long legs and short necks, including one that is all black and knows better than to allow a Bwana to get close, because we covet their feathers as they match our zebra skins so well.”

Ingwe spread her arms out again like wings, as though to catch the low angle of Ulanga’s fire, giggled and said, “But my favorites were the lavender herons.

“Their wings are so big that when they hold them out like this to dry, they look like a big hut.”

She let her long arms fall and giggled.

Suddenly shy, she said, “When I was a little, I imagined that I could sneak up and duck under the wings to hide so that when they flew away, I would climb on their back and ride them.”

Eku stood.

Realized his cheeks actually ached from so much smiling.

“That is clever,” he said. “Riding on the back of a giant bird. And the robe you wore the night you came through our village … Was that from the lavender heron?”

“You saw me,” Ingwe exclaimed, smiling in a way that just about made Eku’s legs give out from under him.

“Of course,” Eku said, as if such a thing would have been impossible to avoid.

The two of them remained together, along the water until the stars began to show, when Ingwe snuggled close to Eku and enchanted him with the solemn whistle of the Nightjar.

***

Since meeting Ingwe, every day has been an adventure.

From the moment he woke, Eku felt exhilarated.

First, he practiced with his ula-konto; then came chores with Yathi, stopping only to eat before racing off to see Ingwe; eventually, collapsing into an exhausted sleep before rising to start all over again.

Though the tribe moved at a leisurely pace, Eku felt they were going too fast.

Maybe because they always marched against the current, it seemed they moved in the wrong direction. They were moving away from Uwama, after all.

The elders said that an Abantu was eternally tied to the Mother, which was why, come lobo-yaka, an Abantu almost always traveled downriver.

Eku does know he wants each wondrous day with Ingwe to last without end.

When he told his mother how he felt, she said it was wini-nesisa, a special place of pure joy.

Like Eku, Ingwe was often busy with chores.

In the middle of the day, Eku found he had a rare moment to himself.

Yathi had gone off fishing with uncle Lume; Kolo and Goguk were off somewhere.

The river where they camped was wide and slow moving. Big round rocks scattered across the middle. The far shore was mature forest. The ridge of hills they followed for days became faded bumps in the distance.

Eku was at the edge of the downriver side of the encampment.

Checked the location of Ulanga and looked upriver.

North.

Across the clearing of the river’s corridor, though far in the distance, Eku could see faint, gray bumps.

Mountains.

Maybe as tall as the clouds that were mountains.

Maybe taller.

The day was bright, the sky laza, with only a few, puffy white clouds.

Eku continued downriver, out of the cleared encampment area.

His keen eyes picked out scratchings.

Stepped closer and squatted.

Three-toed fowl.

Ulayo blew steadily, enough to shift grass and flap leaves for a steady, background rustle.

The floodplain was heavy with green growth, but nothing that grew taller than Eku, just grass and bush and immature palm that leafed directly from the ground.

He stood, holding the ula-konto horizontal and loose in his throwing hand, fingertips already in position.

Just in case.

Crouched again and tipped his head so his ears could avoid the whistle of Ulayo’s breath.

Cupped a hand behind one ear.

Listened at the edge of the tall grass for the intermittent low clucks of foraging fowl amidst the inevitable whine of hoppers and cicadas.

Nope.

Nothing but Ulayo’s noisy presence, making him constantly change the angle of his ears and use his hands to block her breath.

Ulayo’s mischievous nature had a way of keeping all of Uwama’s beasts unnerved; perhaps, a reminder that when upset, she wielded some of her mother’s power.

Eku straightened to look around.

He was not allowed to go further.

Parakeets, a pretty bright green and orange, clung to a young palm, but flew away as soon as Eku took another step.

Beyond the tall grass, where the floodplain ended, the forest grew very tall.

Just ahead, along the water, Eku spotted Abantu hunters.

Wearing leopard-skin belts with an ax and knife hanging.

All with javelins.

The end of each long spear rested on the ground, the haft against a shoulder, blades lethal and dark against the bright sky.

Eku approached cautiously.

***

The hunters continued to talk as Eku came close.

Again, surprised and pleased to not be shooed away, Eku was barely aware of his hand touching his chest where he hoped the talon of a fish eagle would one day rest.

Kaleni stood with Nibamaz, Lopi and Juka.

The tribe’s greatest hunters.

And Eku knew that it was not boasting.

Abantu all over the southern coast knew of his father and Nibamaz, leaders of the scouting party that found the land of legend.

Juka and Lopi were with them every step of the way.

He could tell by his father’s posture that he was in a serious mood; though, he clicked for Eku to come close.

“You always worry,” Nibamaz chided, looking at Kaleni.

Kaleni clicked at Eku in a way that told him it was okay to be present, but to remain quiet.

Eku clicked back to show his respect to his father and the others.

Settled on a circular patch of grass, habitually kneading the individual stalks with his toes.

Kaleni looked at Nibamaz and said, “They chased us from the river. You saw. We were just scouting. Not too close. The big mothers were flapping their ears. Too aggressive.”

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

Eku watched Juka, father of Maz and a hunter he greatly admired.

Juka was smaller in stature, but with excellent muscles and a naturally agile manner, like a mongoose or genet.

He currently wore the same, thoughtful look of concern as Eku’s father.

Juka clicked to get the attention of the others and said,  “The other side of the valley. The day after we left shatsheli-lambo? I was with some of the Bwana.

“We went up the river and I showed them how we set snares for duiker. We saw waka-waka buzzards.”

Lopi, tall and skinny and always steady and dependable, was Juka’s ikanabe and asked in a knowing way, “The elephant?”

Juka clicked yes.

Kaleni asked, “How long dead?”

“Long enough so there was little meat. Just bones and skin.” Juka paused. Shrugged, unsure of how to explain. Clicked to express confusion and said, “I thought it was odd at the time. I told Lopi about it. When elephants live that long … They know where to go to die.”

Nibamaz asked, “Was it old?”

“It was very big.”

Kaleni asked, “Did you look at the teeth?”

Juka clicked no and said apologetically, “I did not think to look at the time.”

Kaleni clicked not to worry and said, “But you think something killed it? Another elephant?”

He clicked yes and then no.

“I had no thoughts until now that you speak of their behavior, but thinking back? The trees and brush were trampled, like it was running from something.”

Nibamaz said flatly, “Male elephants do not run from anything.”

“Except another bull elephant,” Lopi said.

“Do you think something killed it?” Kaleni repeated. Then added, “Was it being hunted?”

There was a long moment of silence.

Eku watched the face of the others turn serious, like his father and Juka were already.

Nibamaz said, “Maybe this elephant died from something we have not seen?”

“Which means we are not looking where we should be,” Kaleni quickly answered.