Post by yakubu on Dec 16, 2006 21:52:34 GMT -5
A Shared Campfire
I am Yakubu, son of the Shombe, member of the Clan Shumaza, aspirant of the Lion’s Mane warrior society, and I am a man. Before today I was a boy at my family’s fire, a simple herder of cattle, free of the burdens of adulthood. My spear and knife are my own. I have fallen in battle and I do not fear death. If I live and die bravely I will join my ancestors. Their orisha guide my steps and spear.
The path which leads us through the foothills of the Kuba Taaba Mountains would be the last place I knew prior to being rent apart by the magnificent ape. I bear him no ill will. Indeed, I struck him with a mighty blow from my heavy spear before he killed me. I should be grateful to the beast for what followed could not have happened without his fortunate if ungentle attack. Later I would find Hualib had killed the animal which had killed me. A worthy opponent, he gave me a good death. I hope he died well.
Time did not pass for me. The brief pain was gone, replaced by a sense of calm. I became aware of the light from a campfire burning in the night. My surroundings had changed. I was no longer in the forest. The tUbi grassland stretched out around me. I could hear the familiar songs of night creatures, smell the aromatic burning brush, and feel the warmth of the flames. A strong sense of place and of belonging settled over me and I took a seat beside the fire. Staring into the campfire my mind saw the breadth of the grasslands and the Shombe people inhabiting them. Clan Shumaza crystallized in my vision. Friends, elders, clansmen and women all went about their daily routines. They appeared well, still safe at the kraal we had helped to win from the Moro Clan. They seemed very close to me, as if all I had to do was call out and any one might answer. My heart longed to join them. However, all but Msiba seemed unaware of my presence. She had been grinding herbs on her mortar when she turned, stared directly into my eyes, and clucked “no child, it is not your time.”
The fire was again a fire. I was pondering the meaning of all I had seen when I became aware of a warrior seated next to me. He was wearing a fine shuka. His many scars commemorated a history of great battles and victories but his skin was young and he was clearly at the height of his power. His broad grin was familiar and welcoming but I did not recognize him. He held neither weapon nor bearing of ill toward me but I do not doubt he was my superior at arms. His voice was deep and warm as he spoke: “Yakubu, you have grown from cub to youngling since we last shared a campfire. I have watched you fight bravely and serve our people well. It gives me joy to see the man you are becoming.” He had used my name but surely I had never met such a great warrior. I struggled for a reply but found none. A questioning glance was my only response. “You are new to this campfire,” he spoke, “there will be time for questions and explanations in the future. We will be reunited around this fire again. You will take your place here when your time has come. Your task with the Oryx and your service to our people are not finished. Know that your grandmother and I are proud of our ‘Little Lion’.” My mind reeled to be addressed as I had as a small boy by a man I had only known past the height of his powers. I reached for him and fell.
Darkness and pain returned but I sensed that I was being handled with gentle hands. The pain lessened and I opened my eyes to the Oryx, different now, with the body of a woman. I drew breath and met the Imbulu.
I am Yakubu, son of the Shombe, member of the Clan Shumaza, aspirant of the Lion’s Mane warrior society, and I am a man. Before today I was a boy at my family’s fire, a simple herder of cattle, free of the burdens of adulthood. My spear and knife are my own. I have fallen in battle and I do not fear death. If I live and die bravely I will join my ancestors. Their orisha guide my steps and spear.
The path which leads us through the foothills of the Kuba Taaba Mountains would be the last place I knew prior to being rent apart by the magnificent ape. I bear him no ill will. Indeed, I struck him with a mighty blow from my heavy spear before he killed me. I should be grateful to the beast for what followed could not have happened without his fortunate if ungentle attack. Later I would find Hualib had killed the animal which had killed me. A worthy opponent, he gave me a good death. I hope he died well.
Time did not pass for me. The brief pain was gone, replaced by a sense of calm. I became aware of the light from a campfire burning in the night. My surroundings had changed. I was no longer in the forest. The tUbi grassland stretched out around me. I could hear the familiar songs of night creatures, smell the aromatic burning brush, and feel the warmth of the flames. A strong sense of place and of belonging settled over me and I took a seat beside the fire. Staring into the campfire my mind saw the breadth of the grasslands and the Shombe people inhabiting them. Clan Shumaza crystallized in my vision. Friends, elders, clansmen and women all went about their daily routines. They appeared well, still safe at the kraal we had helped to win from the Moro Clan. They seemed very close to me, as if all I had to do was call out and any one might answer. My heart longed to join them. However, all but Msiba seemed unaware of my presence. She had been grinding herbs on her mortar when she turned, stared directly into my eyes, and clucked “no child, it is not your time.”
The fire was again a fire. I was pondering the meaning of all I had seen when I became aware of a warrior seated next to me. He was wearing a fine shuka. His many scars commemorated a history of great battles and victories but his skin was young and he was clearly at the height of his power. His broad grin was familiar and welcoming but I did not recognize him. He held neither weapon nor bearing of ill toward me but I do not doubt he was my superior at arms. His voice was deep and warm as he spoke: “Yakubu, you have grown from cub to youngling since we last shared a campfire. I have watched you fight bravely and serve our people well. It gives me joy to see the man you are becoming.” He had used my name but surely I had never met such a great warrior. I struggled for a reply but found none. A questioning glance was my only response. “You are new to this campfire,” he spoke, “there will be time for questions and explanations in the future. We will be reunited around this fire again. You will take your place here when your time has come. Your task with the Oryx and your service to our people are not finished. Know that your grandmother and I are proud of our ‘Little Lion’.” My mind reeled to be addressed as I had as a small boy by a man I had only known past the height of his powers. I reached for him and fell.
Darkness and pain returned but I sensed that I was being handled with gentle hands. The pain lessened and I opened my eyes to the Oryx, different now, with the body of a woman. I drew breath and met the Imbulu.
