DEllihurt

In a time in ancient ZImbabwe, Africa, before the colonial era, savage wars were prevalent in Bulawayo. Wars between the Shona tribe and the Ndebele tribe, two cultures that fought over land in order to attain dominance over the "City Of Kings". This was a time when all was fair in war, all was fair in the name of victory. This was the era that birthed the strong, and separated them from the weak with an iron axe. An era of myths and stories of mermaids, ntokoloshi/zvidhoma (goblins) , and demons and It is during this time that Tawana Masimba, the teenage son of Farai and Tsitsi Masimba, learns the hard way that the chief's word is law when his mother is ripped from his family right before his eyes. The bloody, callous and inhumane events that follow cultivate the young boy into something no one had ever anticipated, a force both the Shona tribe and Ndebele tribe would come to know, respect...and fear...
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Mighty Brahmuhn

Hippo looked to be even more up for serious business when he greeted Tawana.


Tawana had managed to grab hold of the black mamba's head but that was after it had attempted to bite him thrice. He was now in a great deal of shock and wondered what kind of inhumane "training" Hippo had in store for him.


'I know you're royalty, but when I'm training you, you're a dog!'


This insult caught him by surprise. His bladder betrayed him and let loose a few drops to the ground.


Hippo led him around a mountain and they stopped in front of a very large boulder. It was the same height as Tawana but as wide as three Hippos standing side by side.


'You see that tree over there?' He was pointing at a tree about a hundred meters from where they stood. 'Every day, starting tomorrow, I want you to move this rock an inch a day. Failure to do that and I will give you five strokes on your calves with a whip.'


His heart sank with fear and disappointment. He had heard that the training of the Vadhindi was brutally gruesome but could it even match the Gorivas'? This was definitely the definition of inhumanity: the devil's practice. Though greatly disappointed, not for once did he regret his decision. To be trained by such an elite group of warriors had always been his dream and he was willing to die for that dream, even if the dream seemed to be mutating into a nightmare.


Tawana now found himself rolling in the dirt trying to get past a pride of lions.


This was Shumba's version of training. He was lying on the branch of a thorn tree nearby, looking up into the sky and humming a song as if he did not care of what might happen to the boy.


Meanwhile, Tawana's heart was thumping away. He was expecting a ravenous mauling anytime soon. The lions watched him in curiosity as he rolled in the dirt. 


One of the females stood up and pranced up to him.


She began poking him with her large soft paw.


He did not stop rolling, afraid that if he did then this would trigger even greater curiosity from other members of the pride.


Of all the trainings that day, Tawana found Tortoise's to be a whole lot better. The two only sat together while they watched the sun set, talking. Tortoise would ask Tawana a question, listen carefully to his response and offer advice where necessary. Each of them was actually fascinated by the other's responses. Even at such a tender age, Tawana was exposing such wisdom which Tortoise found intriguing. The conversation they had also served as a distraction to the pain, fatigue and humiliation that Tawana had gone through that day. The distraction though was short-lived as he was reminded by the slowly slipping sun that he had to go through the same process again the following day. He gave a deep sigh and looked towards the sun as it closed its eyelid. 


I will not give up, he thought. I should not give up. I will never give up!


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