Her mother laughed aloud. “You are as good a shot as your brothers. You would be a good hunter.”
“I would rather be a good hunter than be allowed to wear a grass skirt,” confessed Nomusa.
“Perhaps you can do both; but you will learn that it is good to be a woman, too. How are the crops? Are any pineapples ripe yet?”
“No, my mother. They are still hard and green. I felt all of them. But the beans will be ready by tomorrow, I am sure. I go now to gather wood for your fire.”
“Very well, Nomusa. Hurry with your chores so you can prepare yourself for the party.”
Nomusa smiled at her mother, grateful to her for understanding what was in her mind.
When she had returned with the firewood and ground some corn, her mother said, “You have done enough. The sun is now high, and it is time for you to paint and grease yourself.”
Nomusa did not have to be urged twice. She took out her little piles of ground stone, which were lying neatly on large leaves, carried them carefully outdoors, and laid them on the shady side of the hut while she got some water and lamb fat. Leaving each color on its separate leaf, Nomusa poured water, drop by drop, first on the red powder, then on the black, then on the white, mixing each with a different thin twig. Into each color she stirred a little fat until it was just the right thickness. As if she were a chemist, she examined each color with the tip of her finger to see that it was neither too thin nor too thick, neither too light nor too dark. From time to time she tried a little of the color on her arm in order to see if it was just the right shade and would stay on well.
Finally Nomusa was satisfied. With some soft dried rabbits’ paws that she used as paintbrushes, she began smearing her body, first putting on the red coat that made her skin a lovely warm copper color. She waited a few minutes for it to dry well. On top of the red paint she began putting the designs she had decided on long ago. The white circles were painted on first, then black circles put around these. Radiating from these she drew shapes of diamonds, squares, a series of wavy lines, and then dots. It was such a balanced pattern of design and color that an artist could not have done better. For her back she needed some help; so she called Sisiwe, who was coming out of her hut.
“What, you are all ready?” asked Sisiwe. “Why, I haven’t even finished my work yet. I still have to get wood and grind some corn. It’s a good thing the tattooing is done.”