Where were Madolo, Nomayeshè, and the children? I asked. Alas! Nomayeshè and the little girl Nodada were both dead, Madolo had left the neighbourhood, and the boy Dhlaka had gone to stay with an uncle at another kraal. Of the happy family I had so often thought of, only this old man remained. A nephew, with his two wives, had come to dwell at the kraal, but I gathered from Zwilibanzi that they were not kind to him, that the nephew was idle, and too much in the habit of going to beer-drinks, and the wives lazy, ill-tempered, and fonder of emptying than of filling the milk-sack and the calabashes.
There was much that was tragic, and some that was sordid, in the old man’s tale. What follows is an account of the tragedy.
Two
It was just at the merging of autumn and winter; the last of the maize crop was being gathered in, and the first touch of frost was browning the hill-tops. The field cultivated by Zwilibanzi’s family lay in a ravine a few hundred yards below the northern side of the ledge on which the kraal was built. Thither Nomayeshè, with another woman who came to assist at the harvesting, went every day for the purpose of stripping what remained of the maize-cobs from the withered stalks, and carrying what they gathered in baskets up to the kraal. At this work Madolo was not supposed to assist, so he took his departure for the “great place” of the paramount Pondo chief, for the purpose of attending an “umkandhlu,” or “meeting for talk,” of which general notice had been given.
Early in the afternoon of the second day after Madolo left, there remained little more than two basketfuls of grain to remove, so Nomayeshè, with the other woman and Dhlaka, went down with baskets to fetch it. Some little gleaning had to be done, so they expected to be away, more or less, for the whole afternoon.
The day was cold, and old Zwilibanzi was lying asleep in his hut, where a fire had been lighted. Little Nodada, who was very intelligent for her age, was left behind with instructions to attend to the fire and see that it neither went out nor endangered the hut by blazing too freely. This was an occupation to which she was quite accustomed. Thus, when Nomayeshè and her two companions went to the field, the old man and the child were the only ones left at the kraal.
The cattle were within sight on the hill-side, and the little flock of goats was close at hand. Just before he disappeared over the lip of the ledge, Dhlaka called out to Nodada, asking her to keep her eye on the goats, among which were a few strange ones that might be liable to stray.
The sun was still shining when Nomayeshè returned. She found old Zwilibanzi asleep next to the fireplace, which was quite cold, but little Nodada was missing. At first she felt no alarm, but rather anger at the child’s disobedience in thus absenting herself, but after the sun sank behind the ’Ngwemnyama Mountain, and the child was still absent, she began to feel uneasy. When the shades of night began to darken over the valley she became alarmed, and began searching all around the edge of the plateau, calling loudly the child’s name. The woman, her assistant in the harvesting, helped in the search. Up and down the stony gullies, among the narrow rock fissures, below the precipice with which the ledge where the kraal was built ended, the frantic mother and her companion sought with flaming brands throughout the greater part of the long, cold night, but no trace of the child could they find.
The kraal nearest to that of Zwilibanzi was about three miles away, and thither Nomayeshè hurried some time before daybreak, upon her companion’s suggestion that the child might have taken refuge there. At this kraal, however, nothing could be heard of her. When day broke all the men, women, and children turned out and scoured the country. The alarm was wailed out to all the surrounding kraals, and the inhabitants of these joined in the search. When the all too short day drew towards its close, little Nodada was still missing. The hills resounded with the shouts of the seekers, and dwellers in the more distant valleys, flocking in to see what was the matter, had swelled the number of the searchers to a considerable crowd. But all in vain. The sun again sank, and night descended from an untarnished sky of throbbing stars, and the poor little child was still lost in the maze of bare, frowning peak and yawning chasm.
The unhappy mother was now nearly insane. Throughout the whole day she had never rested for a moment, and since the previous noon she had not tasted food. When darkness fell and the seekers returned to their homes, she kindled a large fire on a stony ridge just above the kraal, and all night long she wandered about carrying firebrands, and calling the name of her lost Nodada into the cold ear of the night that mocked her with wild echoes.