“Nomusa! What are you saying!” reproved her mother.
But Zitu smiled good-naturedly and caught her arm in his powerful hand, feeling her hard little muscles. “Nomusa is strong—as strong as many boys older than she is. And she is clever and brave.”
He looked at his daughter again, and then at his wife. “If Nomusa wishes, she may come on the hunt. But she must be sure to cause me no shame.”
Nomusa’s eyes widened with surprise. Makanya was speechless. “Oh, my father, thank you!” Nomusa burst out. “Please let me go with you, yes, yes!” She turned to her mother. “I know Sisiwe will do some of my work.”
As if her father had already arranged everything, he declared, “Mdingi lost the cow, and you found her, so he will not go on the hunt this time. Kangata, of course, is too young. Between your brothers and Sisiwe, your mother will be able to get her work done.” Zitu pushed away his bowl, saying, “I have finished.”
Makanya handed him some white clay with which to remove the grease from his fingers. When Nomusa brought him the water gourd again, he rinsed his mouth and with his fingers rubbed the food from his teeth. He was clean again.
The business of the hunt settled, Zitu gave his attention to his wife and baby. Nomusa slipped quietly out of the hut.
She felt as if she would burst with joy and looked for someone to tell. Themba was standing outside the hut, looking lonely. To relieve her feelings, Nomusa picked him up, pulled his hair gently, and turned him upside down until his little pink heels wriggled in the air. Themba squealed with delight, and Dube hopped up and down, bewildered at this curious kind of play.
Sisiwe came along, bearing vegetables from her mother’s garden.
“Oh, Sisiwe,” Nomusa cried, “our father says I may go on the elephant hunt!”