Shaka the Great (49 page)

He helped the Induna pack, saw him off at daybreak, and since then he's been in a prolonged mope.

“Hssst! Hey!”

Sitting in the shade of the tree, the udibi ignores these utterances made with such melodramatic intensity. His head bowed, he's listening to the screech of the cicadas and watching the ants patrol the dirt. Nothing feels worth doing any more, and even the prospect of the impending feast has palled.

“Hssst! Hey!”

The Induna had patiently explained that the need for secrecy meant they both couldn't leave this ceremony before it was over. Otherwise it would be all too obvious that something was afoot. What's more, all the ensuing talk and speculation could ruin the Qhumbuza, for it would cease to be the focus of attention. They couldn't do that to their host! Nkululeko would know the real reason for the Induna's departure, of course, but the story would
meanwhile be put about he had sick cattle to tend to. If anyone doubted the truth of this explanation, there was continued presence of the udibi. If it had been something serious, he would have gone with the Induna, but no, he had remained behind to represent his master. “Hai,” chuckled the Induna, “they already call you Shadow of the Shadow, so now become the Shadow of the Shadow!”

The boy should have savored this compliment, a sign of the great trust the Induna had in him, but it still feels to him as if he's being punished.

“Hssst!”

The clouds are high today, almost touching the roof of the sky. Winds up there pull them into slender ropes, frayed and unraveling, but down here the wind is merely a breeze, like a calf struggling to walk. When it stands, teetering on its long, ungainly legs, the grass rustles; when it topples over, the grass is silent. And the heat steps forward to remind you that it's still around, and it will take more than such a little whisper to chase it away.

“Hey!”

The voice comes from behind the tree. If the speaker wants to hide himself, it seems a redundant precaution, as the trunk is narrow and the boy just needs to turn around to see who's trying to attract his attention. Not that he needs to do that, for he knows who it is.

“What do you want, Philani?”

Philani has been following the udibi around ever since the older boy arrived, and stepped up his pestering after the Induna's departure two days ago. His parents are dead and he lives with a married sister, understands loneliness in the instinctive way of the solitary child, and perhaps sees in the udibi a kindred spirit. Or just a temporary older brother.

“I have something to show you,” he says.

Magema stood staring into space, oblivious to the approach of the village elder. Hafa, quickening his pace, was about to chastise Magema for his lack of manners, but his annoyance became concern as he
drew closer to the youth. It was as if Magema was fast asleep on his feet with his eyes open, he tells the Induna. And he didn't respond when the elder's gray-tipped fingers closed around his arm. A gentle squeeze … then something a little firmer, Hafa's callused fingertips pressing deeper, leaving leopard spots when he let go.

That seemed to revive the youngster. To his credit, as both the elder and the village's unumzane agree, Magema proceeded to tell the truth. He could have shrugged and said there was nothing wrong, and proceeded on his dazed way after apologizing for his rudeness. Instead, risking ridicule, not to mention Hafa's wrath, he told the elder what had just happened.

How Sitheku had been there—
right there!

How both of them had turned away, at almost the same time …

How he'd looked back again …

Hafa immediately instructed Magema to lead him to the exact spot on the path where Sitheku had been standing. But, looking around, he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. The grass was undisturbed, the softer edges on each side of the path a quilt of faint footprints. There were no convenient rocks or bushes that Sitheku could have hidden behind—and Magema was adamant that Sitheku could not have darted back into the buffalo-thorns where they had taken snuff.

Sitheku was playing a joke on Magema, decided Hafa. “What else could I think?” he tells the Induna. It would not have been out of character, for Sitheku had a reputation for being something of an isilawuli, a prankster.

“You did not consider that
both
of them intended you to be the prey?” asks the Induna.

“No, never,” says Hafa. For they knew all too well what trouble they would have found themselves in; and even if Sitheku had been tempted, he would not have been able to involve Magema.

“Yet they were friends …”

“But, Nduna, we have all seen this before: the one pushes, the other pulls, and together they are stronger.” When it came to playing a trick on a village elder, it was doubtful Sitheku would have
been able to persuade Magema to join him, while in fact the latter would have endeavored to restrain his friend.

“I told Magema that doubtless he would find Sitheku at his father's hut, waiting there to laugh himself silly at his distress.”

With that, the two parted. Magema returned to the main trail, while Hafa, who'd been intending to take the other path anyway, headed for the trees with a little more purpose in his stride, half hoping he'd catch up with Sitheku.

Magema got back to the village after dark and only went in search of his friend the following morning. That was when he learned that Sitheku hadn't returned home, after taking a bull to Bubula's homestead. His father wasn't all that concerned—Sitheku could certainly look after himself—but he was decidedly less sanguine after Magema related his strange tale.

They immediately went to seek an audience with the unumzane of the village. He in turn summoned Hafa, who confirmed what Magema had said, and agreed this was taking a practical joke too far even by Sitheku's standards.

The headman then sent Hafa, Magema, Sitheku's father and two other men to the spot where Magema had last seen his friend.

“How far till we reach this secret?”

The udibi's annoyance is unnoticed by Philani as he turns round. “Not far,” he says.

Not far? How far is
not far
to a child? And this one seems a most inside-out child, and upside down. Wearing his isinene around his forehead, in a manner of speaking. For most children, the shortest distance can seem far, an interminable trek, but they've been following the river for a long way already. In fact, they're following—in the opposite direction, of course—the path the udibi and the Induna took to get to the umuzi. Does Philani want them to go all the way to Bulawayo?

“How much farther?” asks the udibi again, well aware he's the one who sounds like a child.

“We are near,” says Philani, stopping. “But we must hurry,” he adds.

“Why?”

“I do not like this place.”

“What place?” And if he doesn't like it, why has he brought his new friend here?

“This place … the river.”

“The river?”

“Yes.”

“
This
river?”

“
Yes.
I am scared it will take me. It won't take me, will it?”

Ah! Now the udibi understands: Philani's thinking of the Cat Man's story …

The little boy nods vigorously.

“That was just a story.”

“But that is what I want to show you.”

“What?” The udibi frowns. “What do you want to show me?”

“We must go further on.”

“But I thought you were afraid.”

“Hai, I am. But I think it has also eaten, so we should be safe.”

“Eaten?”

“Yes. Come now, please.”

“Hai! Hai, what's this? You are far from home, my little brothers!”

Philani all but leaps into the udibi's arms. It's Lungelo, the Cat Man's nephew. The udibi gently but firmly eases Philani aside, bristling at being called “little brother.”

“And you, too,” he says, “you are also far from home,
Little Brother
.”

“Aiee! It's my lot to be far from home. At least, this is what my uncle says. It is our lot, he says.”

That superior tone grates, especially since the same can be said of the udibi. Hai, he has probably traveled further and seen more than Lungelo, all the while serving the King. “And now?” he asks. “Are you practicing?”

“I don't understand …”

“Roaming,” says the udibi. “Are you practicing your roaming?”

A mirthless grin. “No, I thought there might be some pools where
I can catch fish, but I could find none, and the river flows too fast.”

“This is so.”

“And you?”

Out of the corner of his eye, the udibi sees Philani straighten up, ready to speak and he brings his hand down on the younger boy's shoulder to silence him. They have come in search of imphepho, he says in a flash of inspiration, referring to the yellow flower used as a form of incense in the sacrifice of beef that follows the piercing ceremony.

Well, then, says Lungelo with a snigger, he will now leave them to look for their flowers.

They watch him until he's disappeared from sight. Then Philani says: “You lied.”

Yes, and the udibi's not quite sure why. Possibly it had something to do with Lungelo's superior tone, the way he already acts like a man, although he has yet to join his regiment. And probably never will, for such is the shiftless existence of those like the Cat Man and his kind. “Peddlers,” others in another time and place might call them. And their children are as unruly and shiftless as the lifestyle they've chosen. Surviving on services rendered, on the occasional usefulness. But shiftless and shifty. Watch your cattle when they're near, and your pots, even. Guard your secrets, no matter what they might be, as anything and everything it seems can be fashioned by these people into something that is needed or wanted by others.

And Philani says, “You lied.”

And the boy shrugs. “So?” he asks. “Did you not say this thing you want to show me is a secret?” Staring sternly at the little one. “Or did my ears deceive me?”

Philani shakes his head, grinning. He would have told all, for Lungelo scares him, but the udibi has saved him. Clearly his faith in the wisdom of his new friend hasn't been misplaced.

After they had searched the immediate area, including the stand of tambotis, Hafa went to the headman and requested some more men.
For the rest of that day, and the next, search parties roamed the region. Sitheku's brothers were questioned almost as many times as Magema was made to retell his story. Had Sitheku let anything slip that might suggest he was planning to run away or, for whatever reason, was going to pretend to run away?

They knew nothing; neither did Magema, or Sitheku's other friends. The youth had no reason to run away. He hadn't been accused of theft and, although he considered his charms too much for even the hardest feminine heart to withstand, he hadn't got any of the maidens in the village with child, or incurred a father's wrath while exercising some of those charms.