Part 4

Nomusa and Intombi entered the hut. Nomusa smiled as she caught sight of the new baby, who was still moist from her bath.

“It is Nomusa,” said Intombi simply to the baby’s mother.

Nomusa’s delight in the baby was plain to see; in a few moments she took off one of her necklaces of small shells and hung it around the baby’s plump neck.

“It is a present for the baby,” Nomusa said to the mother. “She is strong and big for her age. I hope she will grow up to be clever in boys’ work as well as in girls’.”

“We had not chosen a name for her,” said the mother, surprised at Nomusa’s wish, “but now I know what it will be. We shall call her Nomusa, which means kindness, for you.”

At these words Nomusa blushed so that her face had an even more beautiful color. It was the first time such an honor had been done her, and she was pleased and proud.

Soon after, Nomusa and Intombi left to join the other children. They found them all assembled in a huge circle in the kraal space. Damasi was in the center going from one child to another examining body designs.

“Hurry, get into the circle, or it will be too late,” shouted Kangata impatiently when he saw Nomusa coming along.

She and Intombi lost no time in squeezing in next to some of the bigger girls, adding their laughter and chatter to that of the others as they waited for Damasi to finish judging the designs.

“Among the boys,” announced Damasi finally, “the prize goes to Fanase. Among the girls”—and he hesitated for the moment as if making up his mind—“the prize goes to Nomusa.”

Unbelieving, Nomusa looked at Intombi and then turned her head in the direction of Kangata. His face was full of disappointment and misery. Sad for her little brother, Nomusa could take no pleasure in having been awarded a prize. Just as she was thinking, “I shall give Kangata my prize,” she heard Damasi shouting out loudly, “The prize for the funniest design goes to Kangata!”

There was a roar of laughter. The children clicked their tongues, “_tsick tsick_,” in congratulation. For a few moments Kangata did not know whether to laugh or to cry, but when Damasi called him into the large ring of children and handed him a basket full of roasted winged ants, locusts, and caterpillars, his face broke into a cheerful grin, and he began to laugh, too. This caused the other children to laugh still more, and soon the kraal echoed with their pleasure. Nomusa expected to hear some of the mothers shout “_Tula!_” from their huts, but no one did. It was Damasi’s party, and the children could do as they pleased for this one day.

“Come into the ring, Nomusa,” called Damasi, “so everyone can see your designs.” More emphatic “_tsick tsicks_” clicked around her. A little embarrassed, she took Kangata’s hand and then looked down toward her wriggling toes.

“I wonder what you’re going to get,” whispered Kangata. But Nomusa neither answered nor looked up. Her only desire was to be allowed to get out of the middle of the ring and go back to Intombi’s side at once. What took Damasi so long? This was a poor joke—leaving her there next to Kangata with all those children staring at her. Kangata, however, was unconcerned. He was eating a locust with great relish and trying at the same time to count the number of delicacies he had won.

All at once the children grew silent. Nomusa looked up to see Damasi coming toward her with a very small gray striped monkey clinging to his neck with both little hands. When she saw the monkey, Nomusa’s heart began to beat faster.

“For you,” she heard Damasi saying, as he gently unclasped the monkey’s arms from around his neck and handed him to Nomusa.

She murmured her thanks and tenderly took the little animal in her arms. She could hardly believe she had won such a marvelous prize.

The girls crowded around Nomusa, trying to pet the little monkey. But he clung to Nomusa.

“See, he loves you already,” said Intombi. “What are you going to call him?”

“He is striped like a zebra,” Nomusa said, still in a sort of daze. “I think I shall call him Dube.”

“I am happy because you like your prize,” said Damasi in a low voice.

“Oh, thank you, Damasi! Indeed I like him very much! It is the best present I have ever had.”

The sun had set long ago. Whatever the mellow light of the moon did not reach was bathed in darkness. As Nomusa stood holding Dube and petting him, Sisiwe came to her.

“Look, Nomusa. They are bringing out the drums. That means we shall soon begin to dance.”

“Oh, I had better go right away and tie Dube in one of the huts so he won’t run away.”

Nomusa carried Dube into one of the empty party huts. He did not like it when Nomusa put him in a corner and tied a cord around his neck. The sound of drums from outside frightened Dube. He clung to Nomusa’s leg as if begging her not to leave him. The drums sounded again.

“Oh, the dance!” cried Nomusa. Torn between her desire to stay with Dube and her eagerness to go to the dance, she pleaded. “Oh, Dube, I really can’t stay any longer!”

Dropping the monkey on the floor, she rushed out to join the dancers. She fell in with one of the rows of children who were already hopping along rhythmically on one leg and chanting “_khelekhelekobe ngajlatshwa ameva_” to the beat of a pot drum.

[Illustration: [Girl]]

It was nothing but a large earthenware pot with a goatskin drawn tightly over the mouth of it. Damasi’s cousin, Bongoza, was playing it by tapping it with the palm and fingers of his hand. The excited and varied rhythms he produced threw the dancers into a joyful frenzy; they hopped first on one leg, then on the other, shouting and chanting.

After this dance had stopped, Damasi appeared with a bow made of a bent reed which he had strung tight with an ox-tendon string. He held one end of the bow in his lips and twanged the string with his thumb. This was the signal for another dance, and the children sprang up again.

[Illustration: [Guitar]]

The dancers got in a long line, and this time they composed their own dance. They turned to each other, grunting and screwing up their faces. Such hideous grimaces as they made! It was terrifying enough to scare away a lion, Nomusa thought. Soon she decided it was more fun to drop out of the dance and watch it. She singled out Kangata, whose movements and dreadful faces were so comical that Nomusa’s sides ached from laughing.

“Oh, that Kangata!” she exclaimed. “What awful faces!”

Intombi had dropped out, too. “Let us get some corn kernels so we can play the game of guessing bird names,” she suggested.

Nomusa went with her to a pile of dried mealie cobs. They began stripping off kernels and dropping them into a basket. When they had enough, the girls carried the basket out to an open space. Together they laid the kernels in rows on the ground.

From all sides came the children, eager to take part in the new game. “_Bula Msense!_” they called to each other, announcing the game.

“Boys on one side, girls on the other,” cried Intombi.

The smaller children did not take part in this game; so they stood to one side watching the others. Each child was given a turn at naming a bird for each kernel, picking up a kernel if he could offer a name no other child had yet given. If he could not name a different bird, he had to drop out of the game.

At the beginning the corn kernels disappeared quickly as a child from one side would call out “finch,” and the other side would cry “honey-bird,” or “white-eye,” or “woodpecker,” or “nightjar.”

Nomusa marveled at the number of birds the children knew. She was ashamed of having been eliminated when the game was not yet half over. Mdingi was still going strong against Damasi, Zabala, and Bongoza. Nomusa was very proud of him. Excitedly the onlookers cheered on the remaining contestants.

Presently it was announced that Mdingi was the winner. Intombi brought him a narrow belt of oxhide, with beads dangling from it; and everyone cheered as Mdingi delightedly fastened it around his slim waist.

It was now the turn of the smaller children to have a dance or game of their own. Kangata boldly walked into the empty space and began showing a new dance he had invented. As he chanted, he jumped up, at the same time kicking his buttocks with his bare heels. The other children imitated him.

It was a strenuous dance, and as the children grew tired, their throats became parched and they uttered their songs in short gasps. Weak corn beer and _amasi_ were passed around to quench their thirst.

One of the older boys now came up, playing a flute made of the chinbone of a reedbuck. He sat on the ground and made up plaintive tunes while the children gathered around him, munching kaffir plums, blackberries, wild figs, or roasted caterpillars. The soothing music of the flute calmed the children and made the little ones so sleepy that they dozed off and had to be carried into the huts and laid on mats to sleep.

It was now midnight, and the moon floated behind some wispy clouds, making them luminous and gray. The older boys left the kraal and went off by themselves. Nomusa decided that instead of joining a girl’s game she would go to the hut where she had left Dube.

Softly she groped her way among sleeping children to Dube’s corner, expecting him to jump into her arms. But he did not come to her. He must be asleep, Nomusa thought. She was glad, for it made her feel less selfish for having left him.

It was quite dark in the corner, so she began feeling for Dube. At last she found the cord. But there was no monkey attached to it. With a sudden pang Nomusa realized that Dube might have run away.

Quietly, so as not to waken the sleeping children, she moved about the hut, hoping to find Dube hiding. But he was not there. Nomusa left the hut, wondering what to do. She decided to search in all the huts, and began by entering the main one, where the girls were busy playing _ngelitshe_.

“Yo, Nomusa!” they called. “Have you been in the hills with the boys, or have you been asleep in one of the huts with the little ones?”

Nomusa smiled wretchedly, and Intombi said, “Come and play with us, Nomusa. You will beat us all at this stone game. Here, take my stones for a while. I am tired.” Nomusa wanted to say that she was weary of all these boring girls’ games, but instead she squatted beside Intombi, taking the five stones.

Her heart was heavy as she held the stones in her hand. The game was to hold all the stones in one hand, tossing one into the air while holding all the others and catching the stone in the same hand. Each time a different stone was thrown. When a player failed to catch a stone, she was eliminated from the game. It was easy for Nomusa. She did not feel like playing, and as soon as the attention of the girls was turned from her, her eyes roamed over every part of the hut, searching for Dube. In an absent-minded way she tossed her stones, turning her head from side to side and then back, just in time to catch the tossed stone in her hand again.

After a while Nomusa decided to leave the hut. She gave the stones back to Intombi and crept out into the cool air of the starlit night. The girls continued with their game, forgetting about Nomusa.

[Illustration: [Huts]]

NINE: Wild Boar

Outdoors it was dark and still. Who could find a monkey now? From somewhere far off Nomusa could hear the shouts of the older boys. In the waning moonlight she began walking toward the huts in which she had not made a search. How thankful she was that there were still places to search.

Walking toward the hut nearest the kraal entrance, she was suddenly startled by a long black shadow that seemed to withdraw hastily as she approached. Nomusa stood still, frightened but curious. Something was prowling outside the kraal fence. There was no doubt of that.

Again the shadow passed the kraal entrance, as if deciding whether it should come in or not. Nomusa felt goose flesh creep over her whole body. Was it a wild animal about to attack them? What should she do? She had no weapon with which to drive it off or kill it. She wanted to run or shout for help. The children might be in great danger if she did not act quickly. But if she screamed to attract the attention of Damasi’s father and uncle, she might cause whatever it was to rush in at once and attack.

[Illustration: [Girl]]

Again she saw the indistinct form. At the same time, as the moon reappeared from under the clouds, Nomusa’s eye caught the glint of something long and pointed lying next to one of the huts. Could it be a spear? What a lucky thing if it was a weapon of some kind! When the shadow disappeared again and the moon floated under the clouds once more, Nomusa dashed to the object she hoped was a spear. Yo! It was. She picked it up just as if she had been accustomed to holding such weapons all her life. Nomusa did not doubt for a moment that she would know how to handle it. Often enough she had watched the men and boys throwing spears. Secretly she had even practiced with long, heavy sticks.

She felt the point of the spear with her finger. It was very sharp. She began moving cautiously. Nomusa’s hair fairly stood on end as she saw that the black thing was a wild boar. Only too well she knew how fierce a wild boar could be. Every Zulu feared and hated this vicious beast with his dangerous tusks. Standing with her back flattened against the kraal fence, close to the entrance, with spear up and ready, Nomusa hid in the deep shadow. She waited tensely for the boar to venture in. The wind, fortunately, was blowing in such a direction that the boar couldn’t get her scent. Her upraised arm trembled a bit, then became steady as she waited.

Soon the boar’s ugly head appeared within the kraal entrance not far from Nomusa. He had decided to come in. It was a rare chance for him. Ordinarily the kraal fence was entirely closed, but tonight, because the older boys were out, the kraal gate was left open for them. Slowly the beast moved his clumsy body through the kraal entrance. Once within, he lowered his head as if he had got a whiff of something and, with a snort, got ready to rush in the direction of the hut where the girls were playing _ngelitshe_.

There was no time to lose. With all her might, Nomusa hurled her spear at the neck of the boar. _Hau!_ The spear caught him in the throat. With an enraged snort, he rushed toward Nomusa, the spear still sticking in his neck. He stumbled, and got up again. His roars, mingled with grunts of pain, woke up Damasi’s father and uncle, as well as everyone else who had been asleep. Intombi and Sisiwe rushed out of the hut, followed by the other girls. When they saw the wounded boar they ran behind the hut.

The boar had now fallen, close to one of the huts. He made powerful efforts to raise himself and almost got up, when Damasi’s father dashed up. He let fly an arrow from his bow, and the boar fell dead.

Nomusa ran to the side of Damasi’s father. “How glad I am you came!”

Amazed, he asked, “Was it you who hurled the spear?”

Nomusa nodded.

Everyone crowded round the dead boar in astonishment.

Damasi’s father said: “Nomusa is a brave girl. It was she who discovered the boar and wounded him. She has saved us from great danger. I shall tell her father, Chief Zitu, about her bravery.”

There were loud cries of agreement. “Hau! Yo!”

Damasi’s father put his arm around Nomusa’s shoulder. “Come and rest. You are weary.”

She followed him obediently. Unrolling a mat in the little hut occupied by Damasi’s mother and his baby brother, she threw herself upon it, exhausted. Only now did Nomusa realize fully the great danger she had been in and how lucky she had been. Oh, how tired and sleepy she was! Yawning, she put her arm under her head as a pillow and was about to fall asleep when there flashed through her mind the memory of her lost monkey, whom she had forgotten in all the excitement.

Her eyes filled with tears and she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She buried her head in her arms. The joy of the day was entirely gone. Though she had been a brave hunter but a short time before, now she was only a small girl crying bitterly over a lost pet.

At last she dozed off and fell to dreaming of her search through deep and dangerous forests for her little monkey.

Muttering restlessly, Nomusa tossed from side to side in her sleep. She put her hand on her neck to scratch herself. Suddenly she felt something soft and warm moving across her shoulders and the back of her neck. She woke up with a start and clutched at the thing with both hands. There was a squeal of pain as she pulled it forward. Her fright turned to joy as she saw that what she held in her hand was the tail of a monkey. Dube!

“Oh, I have hurt you!” cried Nomusa, taking Dube in her arms and hugging him.

Damasi’s mother smiled and said, “I am glad you like the little monkey. Damasi went to a great deal of trouble to get him when he was tending the cows in the pasture. He kept him as a pet for himself until you won him as a prize.”

Just then Damasi’s baby brother wailed. “_Tula!_ We must be quiet now,” warned Damasi’s mother, and then, lying down on the mat next to the baby, she began nursing him. Soon he fell asleep again. Nomusa lay down on her mat, too, drawing Dube close to her.

“Where did you go to, you bad little Dube?” she whispered to him affectionately.

“Tchirk? Tchirk?” Dube answered, snuggling beside her. The warmth of his body next to her shoulder soothed Nomusa into a sleep from which she did not waken until she heard loud calls of “Come! Come! Time to go back to our kraals. Hurry, we are going!”

The sun was just rising above the horizon. The sky was lined with rose and deep blue, but the early morning air was cool, and the waiting children jumped about to keep warm. Pink and red flowers dotted the fields a short distance away, and a few birds were beginning to twitter.

The older boys straggled back into their groups exhausted and irritable because they had not slept all night. But they were aroused into curiosity by cries of “Did you hear? Don’t you know?”

“What? What? Tell us,” they demanded eagerly.

“Nomusa and her wild boar. She hit it with a spear. You can see it over there—behind the cattle kraal.”

Those who had not yet seen the dead boar ran off at once, to return full of astonishment. They all agreed Nomusa was as good as any boy. Sisiwe had to admit that it was lucky for all of them that Nomusa liked shooting and hunting.

Nomusa was surrounded by the girls in her group, who gazed upon her with pride and envy. What a lot she would have to tell Themba! She could hardly wait to see his face when she showed him the monkey. She knew he would ask her to tell him the story of the boar over and over again.

There was a loud whistle. The children fell into lines, waving good-by to Damasi and his brothers and sisters and cousins. Tired and bedraggled, the children marched off. Some pushed each other ill-humoredly and quarreled on the way home, but finally they reached their kraals in time to begin their various duties—the boys going off to the pasture, the girls to their tasks. The boys hoped to make up their lack of sleep while tending the cows; but the girls knew they would have to wait until evening before they slept again. As soon as Nomusa entered her kraal with her brothers and sisters, she went directly to her hut to start her work.

In a few moments Nomusa was out of the hut again, headed for the stream with Dube perched on the empty water jar that rested on her hip. She fairly danced along the path as she looked at Dube and thought, “Never will my trips for water be tiresome again.” She tweaked his ear gently, and Dube looked up at her and said, “Tchirk, tchirk.”

[Illustration: [Huts]]

TEN: Zitu’s Messenger

For most of the children, the days that followed the party seemed like all other days. But not for Nomusa. She had Dube.

Sometimes she took him with her when she went to the stream. But often she left him behind with Themba, who loved the little monkey almost as much as Nomusa did.

One morning Nomusa was sitting with Themba and Dube outside their hut, telling her little brother the story of Damasi’s party and the wild boar. Already she had told it to him dozens of times, but Themba still loved to hear it.

“Nomusa!” called Makanya.

Nomusa crawled inside the hut. Her mother was feeding Bala.

“When you weed the garden today, I want you to see what vegetables and fruits will be ready to pick in the morning,” said Makanya. “Tomorrow is the day for your father’s visit. He may not be coming again for some time, and I want him to remember this visit.”

“Is my father going on the elephant hunt soon?” Nomusa asked.

“Yes, but I do not know when. He will send a messenger to the headmen of the neighboring kraals.”

“How I wish I could go with him!” Nomusa said.

“This is foolish, Nomusa,” her mother said, almost sharply. “You know girls do not go on elephant hunts. If anyone from our hut went, it would be Mdingi.”

“I know,” answered Nomusa, softly.

“Why can’t you be happy with girls’ work like Sisiwe and the others? What your father hears about your skill and courage may please him, but it would be better if he heard it about your brother than about you. When it is time for you to marry, people will say, ‘I wonder how many cows Nomusa will have to give for a husband,’ rather than how many cows a husband will give for you.”

Nomusa laughed. “I do not wish to marry at all. I wish always to stay with you.”

The mother smiled as she fed Bala clotted milk. “Yes, yes, you think so now,” she replied.