“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.”
