Chakwenga

Mugech and Uli were thirsty and close to starving. Uli’s pregnant wife was sick and he knew that she needed to stop and rest. He looked across to the mountain mahogany tree under which sat his wife with the rest of the family. His sisters, most of his cousins, uncles and aunts were there, forty-three including the children. His grandfather, the headman had refused to come, insisting that he would never leave his home. “Stay here and fight bravely with your tribesmen or go out there and die forgotten. It’s all the same when our time comes but will you be celebrated by your descendants?” Uli could not argue with his own grandfather and had asked instead for his blessing to go and start another village away from the fighting.

“Go, if you must.” His grandfather had said. “You have no heart for fighting, no loyalty to your people. Take your useless friends with you. Don’t expect a welcome here again though.”

They had left then, half the village, sick of fighting the tribes from the east, heading south towards the Zambezi where the farming might be good and the game plentiful. It seemed a lifetime ago that he had looked back towards his old home and watched the glow of fire spread across the horizon where his fields used to be.

Mugech took his hand. “Come, my elder brother. This is all your family now. They depend on you and trust you.”

“We can talk while we dig”, replied Uli. “That way they won’t see my worries.” He resumed shovelling and continued. “I worry for my child that is not yet born. If I force my wife to go further, it might harm the baby. I could lose both.”

“Perhaps we can rest here for a few days, if there is any water in this place. We should build up our strength for our descent. Who knows who we may meet, or if they are friendly?”

“You are right, Mugech. But first we must find water. It should be here.” He drove a stake further into the dry sand which collapsed in around it. “It must be here.”

They continued digging till the hole was deeper than Uli was tall before they were rewarded. Then water bubbled to the surface at last settling in a small pool at the base of the hole.

“You see why they follow you”, said Mugesh. “You always find the right ways. The children think you have magic.”

“I think the spirits play with us”, replied his brother. “They starve us for days and then give us just enough so they can play with us some more.”

Mugesh looked shocked. “Oh, you must not speak like that. You might tempt them.”

“Let’s just be grateful for this little blessing then. Fetch a gourd and we shall share our plenty with thanks.”

That night the refugees stayed on the river bank huddled together under the mahogany for comfort and warmth. In the moonlit grey light of the early hours, a sable antelope strayed by their makeshift camp. Uli turned on his mat and saw it looking at him from a few metres away. Without even thinking he threw his axe at it and the lucky strike felled the animal on the spot. It crumpled before his eyes and dropped heavily on the sandy riverbed. The noise roused the group who stared at the feast of fresh meat in front of them and then looked at Uli in astonished wonder.

“The spirits bless you even when you insult them, brother. I also am beginning to think you have magic.” Mugech whispered to his brother.

“Just lucky”, responded Uli with a shrug.

That day the group stayed by the well. The men butchered the carcass and stripped down the animal so that some could be dried for their onward journey and some prepared for a meal that day. They built a drying rack where they were and laid out strips of meat to cure in the sun.

“It will take some time to dry all this meat”, Uli said to his brother. “We shall camp here for a few days. Why don’t you and I explore the area while the women find something to go with the meat? I need my nsima but we have no millet left.”

“I think maybe we should take a look up there.” Mugech considered indicating the hill behind the well. “It would be wise to get a little higher and out of the way of wandering animals we don’t want to meet.”

They clambered up the rocky gully and found themselves on the level top of a high mount. To the south they could see more hills and to the north the higher slopes of the escarpment that they had descended.

“I was hoping to see the big river from here”, commented Uli. “It looks at least two days walk just to get to the next ridge.”

“You know Uli, we do not have to go down all the way.” Mugesh said.

“I want to see the Zambezi. To see if the stories are true.”

“But right now, your responsibility lies here with these people. You must think of them for now and put your dreams aside.” His brother advised. “Did you see the well, this morning? It has filled. I think it is better than the water back at Grandfather’s village.”

Uli looked around him. “We can’t grow anything up here. The soil is too thin and poor.”

“Not right here, maybe. But near where we camped there are plenty of reeds. You know that means water and they hold the soil too, when the rains come. We could plant down on the other bank where it is level.”

Uli became thoughtful and wandered around the hilltop. As Mugesh watched his brother tapping at the trees and glancing occasionally toward the southern horizon, he began to build a small cairn of stones right at the centre of the level clearing. He was not really thinking of anything but occupying himself while Uli pondered.

Eventually Uli came over and joined him, adding his own contribution of stones to the pile. “We seem to be building an altar”, he commented.

“I suppose so.” Mugesh replied with a wry smile. “The spirits have been good to us, this last day or two.”

“Spirits or not, there is wood here, reeds and grass too. There is clay down that side.” Uli indicated a dip behind them that Mugesh had not noticed. “This plateau is high enough to miss the floods and it drains well.” He looked back down the gully. “If you are right about the soil down there, this would make a good place to build a village.”

They continued adding stones to the pile in companionable silence for some time. Sounds drifted up from below. The women were singing a work song; they were washing their clothes at the well. There was also the sound of chopping wood. “I think your followers have already decided for you”, Mugesh remarked.

“Maybe I shall take my son to the Zambezi when he is old enough.” Uli resolved.

“It will be a boy child then?”

“The way the spirits love me, a big strong boy. You wait and see.” Uli took his grinning brother by the arm and led him back down the gully.

They emerged, laughing and dusty, above the gathering of refugees at the well.

“Welcome to your new home!” Uli announced loudly. Clasping his brother close to him, he continued. “We have found a safe place just up here. It will be hard work and we shall start building today.”

Uli jumped down from the ledge and walked across to his wife while Mugesh led a column of curious relatives back up the gully. He knelt beside the tired and weak, pregnant girl and gently touched her swollen belly. She looked at him with damp, grateful eyes.

“We are safe now, my love. The boy is safe.”

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