“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.
