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.
When Nomusa left the hut, Themba called eagerly, “Are you going to play with me, Nomusa?”
“No, I must weed our mother’s garden.”
“Well, tell me a story, then,” pleaded Themba.
“When I come back. I shall take Dube with me, and you play with Umpondo.”
When she returned, there was Themba waiting for her. “What about my story?” he demanded.
“Oh, I am so tired now!” said Nomusa.
“You can rest while you tell me the story,” Themba suggested.
“All right. Wait till I get a drink for Dube and me.”
When Nomusa came out, Themba quickly made room for her next to him. “Well, what’s the story going to be about?” he asked, eyes bright with anticipation.
Nomusa thought for a moment, wondering what story to tell. “How would you like to hear about the hyena that tried to eat the moon?”
“Oh, I should like that,” Themba assured her.
“Once upon a time,” said Nomusa, “a hyena chanced upon a bone. She took it up in her jaws and carried it away.
“It happened that the moon was shining very brightly and the water in the stream was very still. The greedy hyena saw the moon’s reflection in the quiet water. Thinking it was a fine big piece of meat, she threw aside her bone in order to grasp it.
“Into the water the hyena plunged her head. But she withdrew it with her mouth empty. The water was now disturbed, and the disappointed hyena could see nothing.
“She sat quietly on the bank, watching the stream. The water became clear again and reflected the image of the moon. The hyena made a fierce spring into the stream, trying to grasp the moon and hold it fast. But she seized only water and returned to the bank with her jaws empty, while the stream became muddy again.
“In the meantime, another hyena had picked up the bone from the bank and had quietly gone away with it. The first hyena kept on snapping at the water until morning came and the moon grew pale and could no longer be seen in the stream. Only then did the hyena look for the bone she had thrown aside to grasp for the moon. The bone was gone.
“Day after day the angry hyena returned to the stream, tramping the bank and muddying the water. Everyone laughed as they saw her run into the stream again and again, snapping and snapping her jaws and catching only water.”
Nomusa looked at Themba, who was leaning drowsily against the hut. “Did you like the story?”
“Hm?” murmured Themba, rousing himself. “If that is the end of the story, I have heard you tell better ones. But thank you,” he added, rising. “I see Somcuba. I am going to play Ama-hu with her.”
The next morning when Nomusa and her mother were preparing the food they heard an odd commotion outdoors. They went out to see what it was about.
“Look at Kangata!” cried Themba.
Kangata was indeed a sight to see. His arms were covered with red circles, and he carried branches of wild cabbage in his arms.
“My father has chosen me to deliver an important message to all the kraals in our neighborhood,” said Kangata, proudly holding aloft his branches of wild cabbage. “I am big now; so I am allowed to run and tell them that the elephant hunt is to be two sleeps away.”
“You must tell them where the hunters are to meet and when,” advised Nomusa. “As soon as they see the wild cabbage in your hand they will know your errand. Remember you must not speak until you are asked. Then tell when and where the hunters are to meet.”
“And how does my boy-girl know all this?” asked Makanya, amused. “It is a pity your father did not choose you as messenger, since you know so well how hunting messages should be given.”
“I know what to say,” Kangata assured them. “I must go quickly to the other kraals and return in time to help Mdingi with the cows.”
