Mang’ombe- These are ngoni generals, the soldiers with most experience who now strategise but don’t go into the field.

Khuze

I covered Nyasha’s gushing wound with one of my robes. Ayamba and Mazaza placed him in the cart.

“This wound is too big for me to treat.” I said seating on the driver’s seat. I directed the cattle towards Nyauzembe’s hut. “I know a healer. She should be able to stitch him up.”

Oh Chauta please let her still live in the cave that I last saw her in. The boys must have thought me mad leading them into a cave. They both didn’t say anything. Nyauzembe though still sleepy, immediately gathered her herbs directing us to put him on her kama. The boys waited outside the cave, me and her worked on his body. Me passing her different herbs she asked me to give her. If the council was as wicked as Khataza said it was, why did its agents risk their life to save me? They did it because of mwaluve. No. I saw the glee in their eyes when they saw that I was alive. They cared for me.

“He has lost a lot of blood but he will live.” Nyauzembe said continuing to stitch where the spear had pierced.

“Okay,” I nodded. Look at Nyasha and Mazaza they were both rescued by the Council. Despite their sordid beginnings they had made it to the most elite defence group in Mchengautuwa.

“I am done,” her words slashed through my thoughts. I walked outside the cave and told the boys that she was done and he would live. The look of angst Ayamba had as we brought Nyasha to Nyauzembe was still there the next morning, despite the assurances from both Nyauzembe and myself. I offered to take him and Mazaza for a walk to stretch our legs, he declined.

“Ayamba in his first years at Mchengautuwa was depressed.” Mazaza said.

I turned around to face him. Our path was on the edge of the mountain. If we took a step in the wrong direction we would fall through the trees and rocks forming the side of the mountain.

“He was very withdrawn. Elder Zidana brought Nyasha in to spar with him, just so he could have someone his age to make him come outside of himself. Unlike many his fellow elders’ protégé, Nyasha did not mind Ayamba’s hostility. He persevered. That brought Ayamba out of his thoughts. Nyasha had also been physically abused as part of his Vukutu training. They really bonded. Outside of Zidana, who is more of a father figure to Ayamba, Nyasha is his only friend.”

“I had no idea.”

Nyasha finally awoke, we briefed him on everything going on with the bounty on my head.

“I have dipped these two spears in my portion. If we meet witches, you will be able to stab them with this.” Nyauzembe said giving me my spears.

“Good luck.” Mazaza said.

“Yeah Good luck.” Ayamba said.

“Life is unpredictable as a river, sometimes out of nowhere the course changes.” Nyauzembe said.

I carefully walked through the graves. “What do you mean?”

“You may not understand my words now but soon you will.” Her voice was soft and cheerful. She halted. What did she mean? I pushed my thoughts aside and started to dig into the soil. We worked as quickly as possible. We did not want to meet the witches which came shortly after midnight. After we finished digging, I jumped into the grave. I lifted the body to stand. Then Nyauzembe helped me pull it up. She helped me out the grave. She poured a liquid on the dead body which shrunk it to the size of a newborn. She cradled it in her arms. It was midnight. We had to get out of here. We walked carefully through the moulds of dirt. A flying winnowing basket landed from the sky. In it were three witches, they were the sizes of cats. As soon as they stepped outside the basket, they returned to their human sizes. Their ears, which were large and pointed, were the first thing I noticed. I had never seen a witch before. Their nails were longer than their hand and their feet were elongated. I covered my agape mouth with my hands. They were even more frightening than tales described. They moved towards us. At least they were clothed. The stories always said they were naked.

“Why are you taking our meal?” The male witch growled.

I took a step back. Nyauzembe was calm.

“There are many bodies here.” Nyauzembe retorted.

“You know this is our domain.” A female witch said.

“Like I said there are many bodies.”

“Maybe we should turn your milky skinned companion into a corpse. Then you may take our body.” The tallest male in the group said.

I recoiled, hiding behind Nyauzembe.

“Use your weapons!” She said, with that she ran ahead getting past the witches. I tried to follow her but the three witches blocked my path. I wish I had my blades. I took out my enchanted spear. Something pierced my skin, it was the female witches long nails. I stabbed her with my spear in the neck. She fell to the ground. Her body morphed back into her human form. I dodged a blow from the tall ones’ fist and jumped out of the way of a leg sweep from the one who spoke first. I hurled my spear into the tall one, he ducked. The other male one swung his nails at me, I stabbed his hand. He retracted, crying in pain. The tall’s eyes reflected fear. He moved towards me in circular movements. I threw my spear into his mid-section. He fell to the ground. The grotesque body of the witch transformed back into its human form. I rushed to where Nyauzembe was. In the sky, I saw more winnowing baskets coming down.

“They are coming to harvest your bones.” The male one I had stabbed in the hand called with a laugh.

“Why did you abandon me?” I asked when I had caught up to Nyauzembe who was seated at the border of the graveyard with charms.

“I knew you could handle those fools and I wanted to set up a boundary spell.” She retorted. We ran out of the graveyard. Two winnowing baskets landed on the graveyard side. Ten witches jumped out the winnowing basket rushing towards me. When they reached the boundary of the grave, they were pushed back by an invisible gate. Nyauzembe and I made our way back to the cave. Ayamba was awake watching the entrance. He stood up when he saw us come in. Why did he stay up?

Mazaza left with the now enchanted body. Soon afterwards we also left Nyauzembe’ cave. We walked silently down the mountain through of trees. The faces of the men who kidnapped me flashed through my mind. I kept thinking I would die at the hands of the Vukutu just like my parents had.

“I can’t believe there is a bounty on my head.” I said breaking the long silence between me and Ayamba.

“I can.” He retorted. “Your father hurt a lot of people.”

“My father is fighting a just war. After he succeeds Malaria and Ebola will be things for the past like they are in Zamania.”

“You are not serious. Even if his cause was just, this is not the way to do it.” Ayamba’ voice was charged with anger. “The Council had Malaria and Ebola under control till he destroyed the cure for Ebola and caused an outbreak. Moreover many of us like the way things are. Your father just wants power. This is not about nobility. If he was noble, he would have killed so many people and he would not have abandoned you.”

Colour rushed into my face. “He didn’t abandon me.”

“Where is he then?”

My trembling lips pursed, I could feel tears weighing down my eye lashes. “Some sacrifices have to be made for the greater good.”

His red-eye glare burned into me. “Like Nyasha, like the fifty people dead in Songani, like you. He had no guarantee you would be safe yet that did not stop him from leaving you.”

I ran ahead into the dark thicket of trees.

“Khuze wait!” Ayamba called. I shut my ears and continued running. I stopped, my eyes blinded by tears and the poor light in the thicket. I leaned back on a tree. Blackness.

I saw my father seated on a stool in the smuggler Ngoza’s hut.

“So passage for one?” Ngoza asked, she was seated across from him. Between them lay a multitude of gold ikwas. The type only Mang’ombe got.

My father nodded his head.

“I am surprised. I thought you always travel with your youngest girl.”

“She will slow me down.” He replied. My father exited Ngoza’s hut and walked into the woods. I gasped as my mind returned to the thicket of trees. I touched the tree in front of me. Blackness again.

I was in a Chewa hut, a man and woman were on their knees. Seating on a stool was my father. Behind them was a soldier.

“You two are the last witnesses of the raid me and men carried out on Gomero.” My father said.

The woman whose voice was almost drowning in tears, held Khataza’s hand. “We won’t tell anyone.”

“Good because if the council finds out, it was not the Vukutu who massacred the populace of Gomero, we will be annexed by them.” My father said stroking her hand.

“We promise to be silent.” The man said.

Father flashed out a soft smile. The tense expression on the man and woman softened.

“I am sure you think you will do that but the truth eats at your insides demanding to be set free.” Father got up from the stool, took out a blade and sliced the man’s neck. He plunged the same blade into the woman’s heart. Her scream vibrated in my mind.

“Search the premises for anyone,” He called out, kicking the woman’s body down. The soldier nodded his head. “Burn the house down at the end.”

My father walked outside the hut. A soldier holding a baby rushed out of the hut. The baby had ivory skin.

“I found her, hiding under her parents’ kama. Should I throw her in the fire?”

Father took the baby in his arms. She grabbed his thumb. “Pale skinned and beautiful. No I will keep her.” He took her home that evening. The baby giggled when he placed her in Mother’s arms.

“That’s the first time I have seen you smile.” Father said.

“And you, she has lightened your mood.” Mother replied rocking me in her arms.

“I will call her Khuze.”

I lay down on the ground underneath the many branches of interwoven trees. The woman from my previous vision placed the pale skinned toddler under her kama.

“Zimatha, hide here. Don’t make a noise little one.”

It could not be. Khataza had killed my parents. I felt a weight on my shoulder I flinched I spun my head to see who touched me.

It was Ayamba. “Are you okay?”

I pulled myself up from the ground which was wet with my tears.

He sat down beside me. “What did Chilema show you?”

“What do you mean?”

“All these trees you see in this thicket are branches of the same tree. Every time the mother tree’s branch hit the ground another tree would sprout. The ground we stand on was once a dumping site for babies born with disabilities. Thrown away by their parents. It is from that blood these trees sprouted. That’s why its called Chilema which is the yao word for disability. They are supposed to show you what you need to know when you touch them.”

I told him what I saw. The sorrow in my heart flowed outside of me. Ayamba placed his hand on my back, soothing it in circular motions.

“My whole life is a lie.” I sobbed.

I rested my head on his shoulder and we sat in silence.

“Chauta brought us for a reason.” He whispered.

“I suppose so.”

He stood up. “We should leave, it’s getting dark and this place creeps me out.”

I wiped my tears. Ayamba pulled me up. We walked northwards.

“What did the trees show you?”

“It showed me why my father rushed into the water to avenge my mother’s death. They struggled to have children. Finally they had me, just before they thought of hiring a Fisi . Then a few years later my mother fell pregnant again. She was five months pregnant when the crocodile ate her.”

Fisi- A man who is hired to sleep with the wife of a barren man so she bears a child. The child is considered the husband’s.

Ayamba’s eyes were glistening red. The next words came out of him like they had just escaped the clutches of emotion. “That’s why he went to avenge her…them.”

I scooped up his hand. “You were enough.”

Ayamba ran ahead of me, delinking his hand from my own. He ran till he got out of Chilema.

“I needed to get out of there,” He said when I caught up to him.

That night we slept in a cave by the base of the mountain.

“You don’t eat rats?” Ayamba asked holding out the two rats that he had caught.

I laid down my mat. “Father says that …Khataza says that only poor tribes eat rats.”’ I starred at the darkness outside the cave. “My name was Zimatha not Khuze. I want to go by that now.”

Ayamba nodded his head. “It’s a good name.”

“Thank you.”

“That’s what it means.” He said.

“Huh?”

“Zimatha means thank you.”

“Oh.” I searched through our food satchel for some honeycombs I had acquired. I offered one to Ayamba, he refused. I placed the honeycomb on my tongue letting the sweetness saturate it. “I need a little sweetness on bitter day.” Who was I? Who were my parents? I munched on the honeycombs silently. When I had finished eating about four of them. I turned my gaze to Ayamba. “You guys do history right?”

“Unfortunately,” He said with a smile.

“Why did Khataza massacre the residents of Songani?” I asked in a solemn tone much unlike his casual tone.

“I don’t know. But I can find out. I will check our records.”

I nodded. “I will appreciate that.” My lips were trembling. I walked outside the cave. “I need some air.”

I sat on a rock outside the cave. I was hoping that he would follow me but he did not. 

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