Chapter 16

Beyond the Cliff of Skulls

Beyond the cliff of skulls the ridgeline veered away from the river, which continued in a straight line north.

The center channel continued to widen, the opposite shore now a dark green line, hills in the background merely shadows against a sky of mottled gray cloud cover.

The people marched into an old inlet shaped like one side of an antelope print, the land level from a time the water rose higher; now overgrown by hardwood saplings and grassy islands of palm.

The wide and flat shoreline was enriched by the runoff of the forested hills, resulting in dark soil speckled by pale stones; a furry margin of shiny green water grass grew to a straight edge where the center channel deepened.

As the ridgeline continued to angle away from the river, the hills rose higher; a lone massif, maybe tall enough to be a mountain loomed in the background, heavily forested to appear dark and ominous.

When the hunters came upon a stand of sturdy water reeds at the end of the old inlet, the decision was made to establish camp.

***

A steady rain fell, but the air was warm.

Establishing camp was like harvest: every able bodied person participated.

The izik-kosa began by attacking a grove of saplings at the downriver end of the old inlet, where the ridgeline sloped closest to the water.

The slender trees were stripped of crowns to make flexible poles, which Eku and Yathi helped transport to the center of camp, where they separated vine useful for construction before dragging the excess brush to where barriers were being raised at each end of camp.

When the izik-kosa moved en masse to the upriver side where the tall swamp reeds grew in thick rows, Eku and Yathi followed, along with nearly all the young people, forming a steady procession that transferred bundles of reeds back across camp to where mothers and benzi-kusela were binding the long saplings into rounded frames.

Hunters dug shallow fire pits along the periphery of the encampment and slashed overhead limbs to enhance visibility past the first layer of mature forest.

Eku and Yathi dragged more brush to the barriers along the water.

If someone were to approach the encampment from either direction, the barricades would force any creature other than a bird to circumvent the barriers and enter the camp somewhere along the arc of fire pits.

While Ulanga remained above the mountain, waka-waka young people swarmed across the area, collecting dead branches, any browned or brittle palm leaves, and even stacks of old and dry water reeds to add to wealthy piles of layit-umlilo, which once collected, was kept under the cover of palm leaves to avoid more soaking.

The day was unusually exerting and everyone was tired; yet, there was still much to do.

The rain continued, but had lightened.

Good fortune continued with harvest.

Enormous catfish simply drifted into the shallows to be easily speared.

Yathi, who generally enjoyed all things fishing, was unhappy when the only work for him and Eku was hauling the carcasses to the location for gutting and deboning—and then doing the gutting and deboning.

Slimy and smelly work that would require scrubbing and a fresh loincloth after.

“The fish here are silly,” Yathi kept saying.

“For sure,” Eku mumbled, pensive and lost in thought.

He and Yathi were on the downriver end of camp, with waka-waka other young people, squatting in the shallows, ankle deep in trampled water grass, hunched side by side over a giant catfish.

Using bone tools made by the izik-kosa.

Tossing entrails toward the open water to drift away.

A fish-gutting tool had a sturdy, thick haft with two useful ends. The narrow end conjoined to a blade of isipo-gazi for cutting through scales and separating flesh from bone; the other end widened to a flat edge ground sharp for scraping away entrails.

Setting the tool down in muddy water, Yathi used both hands to take hold of a squishy and yellow intestine. Pulled and grimaced and said, “Why do these giant fish just swim up to where we can spear them? That is silly.”

Eku leaned back.

Wiped the bone tool in the water with one hand, while tugging his muddy loincloth with the other.

Remained on his haunches and bent his neck to peer along the smooth gray skin, to a gill he could fit his hand through, and then the eye, large and round.

Big eyes, Eku thought, for seeing in the dark water of this river.

Took a moment to watch raindrops splatter off the thin, but incredibly strong transparent layer of tissue that protects the eye.

Probably the same tissue that protects the eyes of all fish and beasts.

Even humans.

Invisible, so that we can see through.

A part of flesh that became truly ibe-bonakalio. Somehow.

He considered Yathi’s question.

Set a hand down in the muddy water and leaned close enough to see the glint of his wet face reflected on the otherwise invisible covering of an enormous black pupil.

“There are no Abantu here,” he said. “Nor other predators that hunt from shore. So they have not learned to fear us.”

***

Once again the land changed dynamically; this time in favor of the people’s palette.

Surrounding the encampment were fig trees, tasty berries and bushes with yellow sek-unda.

Such a wealthy harvest would normally lead to spontaneous feasting and fun, but the people worked silently, knowing no such frivolity awaited.

Mothers snapped off commands in voices brittle with stress.

Unsure of what to do, Eku and Yathi tagged along with Yat, Tar and Maz.

Like everyone else in camp, they noted the select Abantu and Mantel hunters going in and out of the forest, in the direction of the mountain.

There was an over abundance of food so they were not hunting.

Eku and Yathi followed the older females to the downriver side of the camp, to the ground swell where the izik-kosa razed the saplings, leaving the dark earth speckled with pale stumps.

Left untouched was a patch of tasty berries.

As the young people stepped up to the treeline, somewhere in the hills above, Eku heard monkeys screaming in a way he had never heard.

Certainly a new species and from the depth and volume of the sounds they were making—large.

He wondered what Yat and Yathi thought, but no one seemed to have paid attention.

Yathi was a notoriously slow berry picker (unable to stop from eating more berries than he stored), but today, he was downright miserable, accomplishing little.

Not even snacking; instead, clicking nervously whenever his gaze wandered to where the mountain rose behind them.

Yat, who generally took advantage of any opportunity to chastise Yathi, remained silent, plucking berries to deposit in a grass basket.

When Yathi kept clicking she finally snapped, “Try not to worry!”

But then she noticed Tar, also with a frightened look.

Tar looked at Yat and asked, “What are they doing?”

Yat said, trying to sound more gentle, “They are watching for the bubinzwana.”

“I know, but why?”

Eku, like Yat and Maz, kept busy plucking berries, but said, “They are the most skilled scouts. As good as father and Nibamaz.”

Maz added, “They are keeping track of where the beasts are.”

Yathi and Tar only clicked with worry

Thinking that he was helping, Eku added, “My father said we are tracking them and they track us.”

Seeing Yathi’s eyes widen, he added, “That is the way of the forest. If you are a hunter, you know where things are.”

Tar exclaimed, “The bubinzwana have hunters? Like us!”

Eku, Yat and Maz all clicked yes.

Yathi protested, “But they are beasts!”

“They are very clever,” Yat said. “As dangerous and smart as a leopard in the forest. That is what my father said.”

“They are like us,” Maz said. “But they are beasts.”

“Yolumkono,” Eku said with an emphasis on his voice that he hoped conveyed humor.

Yat and Maz smiled, but Tar and Yathi only looked more worried.

***

The rounded shelters were finished.

Water reeds tightly woven across the ribs.

Palm leaves laid across the top for waterproofing.

Dotted across a flat area in front of the river, close together, but with enough space for people to wind their way through.

The encampment sprawled enough so that a margin of open area stretched between the shelters at center, and the barricades at either end.

Each barricade was a mash of branches and bush fortified with limbs sharpened into spikes, spilling into  waterway to the grass coated shallows.

After so much intense work, the entire tribe was voracious.

Coverings of palm were erected over cook pits, which were fired up and made the camp temporarily smoky.

While the smoke cleared the young people scoured the perimeter for a final gathering of layit-umlilo.

When at last Ulanga slipped behind the mountain, a feast was ready.

Eku and Yathi helped themselves to roasted duiker heaped on boiled corms and tubers, sweetened with figs and berries.

A communal stew was brewed in a pit lined with clay and leaves and the people enjoyed bowls of catfish with sek-unda and an assortment of tasty morsels, gathered from this wonderfully abundant land.

Comradery and good food were a comfort after the busiest day of the pilgrimage.

The people gathered en masse across the center of the encampment, in front of the shelters.

Eku, Yathi and Kolo settled with Dala and Longo amidst waka-waka young people, cross-legged, with bowls of stew on their laps.

The rain was light, cooling and not bothersome to humans, but enough to keep flying and biting insects under cover.

“What is this?”

A curious look on his face, Dala held up an eating stick: stabbed on the end, a yellowish, dripping blob.

Eku leaned to peer close and said, “Gongthwana. But very big.”

Dala pursed his lips and looked concerned, so Eku added, “They grow into beetles.”

Relieved, Dala said the Bwana word for grubs, then agreed with Eku, saying, “It is very big.”

“For sure,” Yathi said. “The ones we eat at home? When we live in the forest—they do not grow by the ocean—we eat gongthwana, but not as big as that one.”

Kolo said with some enthusiasm, “That gongthwana that lives here? It grows into a beetle as big as my fist.”

Held up a hand and made a fist, squinted with one eye and pondered before adding, “Actually, bigger. They make a loud noise when they fly.”

Eku could not help but smile and said, “Maz likes gongthwana. She is good at finding them and is always digging them up and putting them into stew, but then she tries to find them before anyone else does.”

Yathi was quick to offer, “If you do not want to eat it, I will.”

But Dala’s jaw was already at work; though, he enthusiastically managed to exclaim through a mouthful, “Chewy!”

***

Dusk was balmy, but pleasant.

The rain stopped and voracious mosquitos emerged and the people coated themselves with a protective paste that muddied their skin.

Despite such an enormous tribe packed into one area, the people and their temporary roost of shelters blended into the forested background as though a natural part of the shoreline.

Ulayo blew steadily from the great lake to the north, as though to send her mother a kiss along with the excess water.

Above, the last puffy clouds whisked along the same route.

When Ulanga disappeared behind the mountain, nightfall was swift.

Large fires close to the barriers at each end of camp began to burn.

Fire pits, previously dug and packed with layit-umlilo and kept under cover from the rain, formed an arc along the periphery.

Flames were added to all of the fire pits and once again smoke billowed.

Smoke collected over the encampment to form a thick layer over the rounded shelters, before Ulayo’s breath grabbed hold and pulled tongues of smoke into the falling darkness.

The people covered their faces and mouths, not minding the momentary inconvenience, as the smoke discouraged emerging insects.

Once the outer moisture of layit-umlilo burned away, the flames turned yellow and the smoke was only smell and memory.

The larger fires that flanked each of the barricades continued to burn steadily, with logs added to ensure steady flames through the night.

Likewise, the arc of fire pits along the periphery of the encampment had settled into orange coals, which would also be maintained through the night.

***

On most evenings, young people ate in two shifts.

First, a quick filling for an energy boost to send everyone into a frenzy of playing, before another go-round filled bellies for sleep.

Tonight, there was no running or playing.

Besides, after so much physical work, young people were happy to relax and nibble on the abundant food.

The young people had all been herded to the heart of the encampment.

Adults were grouped around the shelters, along the periphery, and close to the large fires at either end.

The tribes were now solidly together in all aspects of living, but functioned in separate groups based on age and corresponding skill sets.

Older adults watched the children with concern.

Younger, mated adults without children watched the forest with concern.

Eku, Yathi, Kolo, Dala and Longo arranged in a tight circle, facing each other and sitting cross-legged.

The outer ring of fire pits shed little light, but the glow of the larger fires at either end of the encampment was enough to allow them enough light to make out each other’s faces.

Surrounded by other small groups of young people, including Maz, Tar, Sisi and Kat, as well as other females. Eku noticed Yat was not in their group and wondered where she might be.

Yathi sat beside Eku, holding a melon husk that held pieces of catfish, which he used to motion toward the forest, saying, “why are the scouts still going in there?”

“They are watching the bubinzwana,” Kolo said. Plucked a fig berry from the sack of hide on his lap and popped it into his mouth and pointed with a finger in the same direction as Yathi, past the arc of fires toward the mountain.

All day long the bubinzwana were the topic of conversation.

Everyone felt a certain level of fear, but perhaps for the young people, curiosity was more common. The fear that all of the adults shared had not taken root.

Eku’s group sat a bit closer to the upriver barrier, everyone on their butt, feet stretched out or crossed at the ankles.

Eku sat cross-legged and faced the forest. He noticed a brightening and turned to look across the rounded tops of the shelters.

Yanga’s pale face had snuck over a black hill.

Eku turned back and the encampment came into more detail.

Hunters and nesibindi stood in groups along the arc of fire pits, his father and Nibamaz amongst them, side by side with Uta and Kafila.

Beyond the encampment, Yanga’s fresh light brought individual trees to form.

As though waiting for the same signal, cicadas and crickets ramped up their efforts; likewise, from stands of water grass and swamp reeds rose a chorus of whistling and croaking frogs.

Waka-waka-waka wing rubbers and body shakers added buzz to the din, while Ulayo blew softly on the palms of the floodplain, making bladed leaves scissor.

The mountain loomed dark and forbidding in the background.

Eku watched his father with Uta and Kafila. Talking.

He wondered about mother and quickly scanned the group of older mothers.

Krele was nowhere to be seen … The same as Yat.

Eku’s attention snapped back to the group when Yathi exclaimed, “We are ALL staying in the same shelter!”

“Oh yes,” said Dala, seated next to Longo, across from Eku. “Some of our friends and some of yours.”

Enthusiastic, Longo leaned his shoulder against Dala, adding, “As long as we start in the same shelter, we get to stay together all night!”

“This is good,” Yathi exclaimed, sharing the enthusiasm, “Only once we pick where we are staying, we cannot leave even to find a snack.”

Seemed momentarily concerned, then brightened and threw up both hands, almost spilling fish chunks, adding, “But there will be snacks in the huts already because we harvested so much so who cares!”

“The shelters are very big,” Kolo agreed. “Maybe that is why we made them that way. So we can all fit.”

“But there will be others with us,” Dala said. “Waka-waka in all the shelters.”

There were groans of disappointment and guesses to whom it might be.

Yathi declared, “Just no adults in ours!”

“And no farting!” Dala called, grinning and looking at Yathi, who responded by burping impressively.

“We can tell stories,” Kolo said. “I can tell isipo of the yolumkono. Some of the stories are scary and some are funny.”

“A scary one would be good,” Dala said.

“No!” Yathi declared. “A funny one.”

Kolo shrugged and clicked twice, then looked at Eku and Yathi, as though embarrassed, though both of them smiled and clicked back.

“We can tell both of those stories,” Eku said.

“But we cannot shit alone,” Dala declared.

Kolo groaned and said, “The dung pit is in only one spot!”

The young males shook their heads at the contrived inconvenience, Longo adding, “And we have to go with someone else!”

Yathi said, “My mother told me waka-waka times already.”

Dala said, “My father said to hold it until morning.”

Now Yathi groaned, saying, “I cannot do that. Shitting for me is the same as life.” He glanced at Eku and smirked, before adding, “When shitting is meant to be, shitting happens.”

Everyone giggled.

“We might be here for more than one night,” Longo said. “My mother thinks it could be two or three nights.”

“This is the right spot,” Kolo said.

“Everyone keeps saying that,” Dala said. “What does that even mean?”

They all looked at Eku, who shrugged and answered, “I do not know, but my father and Uta picked this spot.”

Thought for a moment, then added, “I heard my father say this is the right place. That it is embi-kulunge.”

Yathi groaned again, saying, “Another one of those life things. I just hope the bubinzwana stay away. That would be the best.”

***

There would be festivity after all.

A commotion rose from amongst the rounded shelters.

Because of the somber atmosphere, a sudden explosion of happy noises brought the entire tribe to its feet.

Mothers singing a simple chorus, with a vibrant, uplifting tone:

he waits

she cuts her hair

female to male

Uwama, Umawa!

Every Abantu knows this song.

Having heard it since the womb.

A song for when a female emerges after cutting her hair.

For a moment, Eku was baffled, thinking that he was looking at a younger incarnation of his mother, but it was Yat, walking out from amongst the shelters.

Behind her, Krele, Shona, Luvu and Nyama lead a parade of mothers, arms raised, fingers waving as they sing with gusto:

he waits

she cuts her hair

female to male

Uwama, Umawa!

Yat came away from the shelters and was mobbed by Abantu of all ages.

Everyone—even the Bwana and Mantel—join the next chorus:

he waits

she cuts her hair

female to male

Uwama, Umawa!

And they repeated, even louder the second time through.

Finally the people around dissipated and there was Yat, holding hands with Dokuk.

Filled with such happiness, Eku pushed past those around him and charged for his sister, practically knocking her over with a spectacular hug.

They were the same height now and Yat staggered backward, laughing.

“Thank you little brother.”

Eku released his sister and hugged Dokuk, only to find he had a close up view of a fish eagle talon.

There has been no formal presentation, but that did not change that Dokuk was a hunter.

“You have an eagle talon,” Eku breathed, stepping back.

Dokuk nodded in a peculiar way, without saying anything.

His eyes were red-rimmed and he looked at Yatyambo with such love that Eku felt his own tears begin to well.

Eku knows that becoming a hunter means the same to Dokuk as it does for himself, but he understands the sadness.

There is pride, for sure, but it can only come later, when the sadness of missing Goguk fades.

Eku stepped aside to let other people through to offer congratulations.

Saw his mother wiping tears.

Shona, Nyama and Luvu and all the mothers had such happy looks.

Everyone knew Dokuk and Yat were destined to be mated.

It had only been a question of when.

Eku tried not to be jealous.

He was happy for Yat and Dokuk, of course.

Eku told himself it was silly to be jealous, especially since he can no longer even be a hunter.

Dokuk will no doubt find himself another, excellent hunting ikanabe.

***

As the celebration for Yat and Dokuk subsided, the crowd reshuffled.

Mothers gathered children for shelter deployment and excitement rose considerably amongst the young people.

Good-natured trash talk erupted between potential shelter groupings.

Everyone was eager to see which of the big huts would be theirs.

Eku, Yathi, Kolo, Dala and Longo stuck close behind their mothers, who knew they wanted to be together and had planned accordingly.

Eku was beginning to look forward to a different kind of fun at night, when he saw Krele waiting at the outer row of shelters, the line of her gaze no doubt singling him out.

She clicked for him to stop.

When Yathi paused to linger with him, Krele and Shona both clicked to indicate he should move along with the others.

Eku looked curiously at his mother.

“Tiuti wants you to stay,” she said. “To listen. For as long as you can stay awake.”