Chapter 186 - Zenzele, My Love part 5

"I want to go with you, 'Zele!" Mtundu pipes.

Mother has told me to gather wood for the fire. Father and my brothers have gone hunting, and Patanisha and Zawadi are helping Mother look after the young ones.

"No, Mtundu, you are too little," I say.

Mother's eyes flick in my direction. She is grinding seeds between two stones to make meal, her forehead beaded with sweat. "Oh, take him with you!" she grunts. "He is getting old enough to help out around here. Show him how to do it." She wipes her brow with the back of her hand, then returns to grinding the seeds.

Mtundu grins at me, and I sigh.

"All right, but if he gets eaten by a jackal, it's not my fault!"

Mother flaps a hand at me dismissively. I take hold of Mtundu's arm and start walking from the hut. We leave the shade of the acacia tree and my skin tightens in the heat. In the distance, zebras are grazing on the dry grass, tails whipping back and forth. Their image ripples like a reflection on the surface of a pool. Overhead, the sky is pale blue, with just a couple puffs of clouds easing down some high current of wind.

But Mtundu looks nervous now. "I don't want to get eaten by a jackal!" he says very seriously. He glances back at Mother, his eyes large and frightened.

"I was only joking," I say soothingly. "I won't let a jackal eat you."

"You promise?"

"I promise. You better do what I tell you, though."

"I will, 'Zele!"

I look down at him and I feel my heart melt. He is such a beautiful little boy, even if he is a spoiled brat. He has large soulful eyes with long lashes, a nose like a little brown stone and bright perfect teeth. When I have children of my own someday, I hope they are as pretty as Mtundu!

I yell for the dogs as we walk away from the hut, but the dogs do not come-- not when Mother is cooking.

That's fine, you lazy hyenas, I think. Just don't come sniffing around me for scraps tonight!

It is another hot and dusty day. The dark clouds that gathered in the sky yesterday, after Bobangi came to visit, have moved on without weeping a single drop of rain, but that is normal for this time of year. It is the dry season. In the dry season, there is fire more than there is rain. The clouds come, but all that falls from them is lightning, which sets the dry grass aflame. In the dry season, we must always keep watch for smoke. More than once, we have had to abandon our home and flee to the big river that lies to the west.

We stroll away from home, Mtundu and I, but before we gather sticks, I stop and see if Ombo has returned. My hawk was not inside his little shelter when I checked on him this morning. I squat down and look inside, but the little hut of sticks and grass is still empty. There is no sign of him but for a couple errant feathers. I guess something has eaten him during the night. With a sigh, I rise up. I tug Mtundu's hand. "Come," I say to him, and he stumbles after me, asking what I was looking for in the little shelter.

I teach him how to gather sticks for Mother. I teach him how to watch for predators. I point out the different creatures that are grazing nearby and teach him the name of each of the different animals. I tell him which of the animals are dangerous to people, even though they do not hunt us for food. "Be especially careful of that one and that one," I say, and then I have to lift him up onto my shoulder so that he can see the elephants marching in the distance, and closer by, a lone rhinoceros. "They are very far away, so we are safe, but you must always be mindful of those two. They do not like people, especially if they have babies with them, or if it is their mating season."

"But who is that man?" Mtundu asks, pointing.

I set him down quickly and rise up on my tiptoes to see what man he is speaking of.

Is it Father? I wonder, squinting toward the distant figure. I shade my eyes with my hand, but I cannot tell if the loping man is our father or not. He is too far away, and his image wavers in the heat. I can only see that it is a male, and that he is dark and slim, like Father.

"I think it is Father," I say, but I frown. I cannot tell for sure.

"I want Papa!" Mtundu cries excitedly. "Let's go see Papa!"

"Hush! He is too far away! Besides, he is hunting, and Mother wants us to gather wood. Do you want Mother to whip us when we get back?"

"No!"

"Well, she will if we do not do as she has told us. Here, carry these."

We return to our chore, walking toward the big acacias to the north. There, at the foot of the towering trees, I show him how to weave the bigger sticks together to make a travois, which will allow us to carry much more wood than our arms alone could bear. "You're doing good, Mtundu! Just don't pile too many on it," I tell him. "It will be too heavy to drag home."

"Yes, 'Zele," Mtundu says happily. My praise has puffed his chest with pride. He scampers toward another fallen branch, and I scan the horizon to the south, checking on the figure Mtundu had spotted earlier. For some reason, I am filled with a sense of foreboding. It is like the premonitions I sometimes have. The dreams that come true. Once I dreamed that the grassland was burning, and the next day we had to flee to the river. Another time I dreamed of lions, and a few days later, my brother Wahi was killed by a lioness.

Last night I dreamed that I had gotten lost, and I couldn't find my way back home.

I see buffalo and zebra, antelope and giraffe. In the distance, the elephants are still marching east. They are just tiny gray spots on the horizon. The lone rhinoceros watches me back, twitching an ear. There is no man.

Mtundu squeals in fear and I rush to him, my heart leaping into my throat.

He wraps his arms around me and points to the stick he's just thrown down. His eyes are big and round.

I laugh.

"It is just a rhinoceros beetle," I say to him.

The big black beetle is trundling across the dirt away from the stick. Mtundu must have seen it on the limb after picking it up.

"It looks ferocious, but it cannot hurt you," I say.

I tell him to go pick it up, and he clutches me even tighter, shaking his head no. "Look, I'll show you," I say, prying his arms from around my legs. I walk to the beetle and squat down. Clasping it by its thick abdomen, I pluck the insect from the ground. Its legs continue to waver as I bring it back for Mtundu to look at.

 Mtundu shies away, but I say, "Don't be scared! It cannot bite you! It is just a beetle."

He looks from me to the beetle, and then he inches forward.

"It won't bite?" he asks, blinking rapidly.

"No."

I turn the insect around in my fingertips so he can examine it. Its shell is black, with a glossy green sheen. A large horn curves forward from its thorax. It is a fierce-looking creature, but no more dangerous than a butterfly, and quite helpless in my grasp. If I wanted, I could throw it down and squash the life from its body beneath my heel, but I would not do such a cruel thing.

Mtundu fetches a little stick and extends it tremblingly toward the insect's wriggling legs. The beetle grasps ahold of the stick, and Mtundu flinches. He pulls the stick away, then holds it near again. Again, the beetle grasps ahold of it. Finally, Mtundu laughs.

"I want to take it home and play with it!" he says.

"All right, but only if you carry it," I tell him. "I have to drag the travois."

He begins to nod, still smiling, and that is when he looks to the south and his smile vanishes from his lips. His eyes widen and his body stiffens, and I twist around, looking in the direction he is looking, knowing that it is something bad, and there is the slim dark man again, only he is much nearer now, near enough that I can see he is not my father, and he is running toward us-- running so quickly!

It is the man who came with Bobangi yesterday, the young warrior who stroked his spear as he stared at me. I thought he was handsome yesterday, when we delivered Mother's peace bribe to the men down by the river, but I do not think he is handsome anymore. He is only scary now as he lopes toward us with his spear in his hands. I couldn't have been more frightened if I had turned to see a cheetah racing toward us.

"Run! Run!" I cry to Mtundu, but he is too scared to move, so I grab him by the wrist and begin to haul him after me.

It is like dragging a block of stone. Mtundu begins to cry shrilly as I pull him behind me, and then he falls and I am dragging him, his little brown legs leaving twin trails in the dust.

I can hear the warrior's footfalls growing louder and louder behind us—even over Mtundu's keening—and then he is right behind us, and his open palm collides into my back, and I go sprawling forward into the dirt.

He rushes past, then circles back, and I scramble around on my hands and knees and throw myself protectively over my beautiful little Mtundu.

"Hoa! You are mine now, little beauty!" the man pants as he trots back to us. His eyes are wide, his lips split into a triumphant grin.

I pet Mtundu and try to sooth him as the man's shadow falls across us. My little brother is sobbing hysterically, his tears turning to mud on his dusty cheeks. My body is trembling all over. I cannot help it. I squeeze my eyes shut and wish my kidnapper away. I know why he has assaulted us, and curse myself for being so flirtatious. I know he cannot be wished away, however, and when his hands fall on my shoulder and he tries to pry us apart, I begin to scream.

"Quiet!" he hisses, and when I do not obey, he smacks me roughly on the side of my head.

I turn my face toward Mtundu, and squeeze my eyes shut even tighter, still screaming, and he smacks me again, harder this time, making stars flash in the dark behind my eyelids.

I stop screaming. The side of my face is burning. My right ear feels as if it has burst inside. The warrior yanks me up and away from Mtundu. I fall on my buttocks, but I scramble toward my baby brother and try to scoop him into my arms.

"No! Please!" I cry as the warrior grabs me by my hair and hauls me back.

Mtundu rises to his feet and holds his arms out to me, bawling in terror, and the warrior steps forward and kicks him in the chest. My baby brother is flung back violently by the blow. His head strikes the heat-baked ground with a thud. His arms roll out limply to his sides. His eyes have turned back in his skull so that only the whites are showing.

"Mtundu! Mtundu!" I scream.

The kidnapper sweeps me into his arms. His flesh is hot and slick with sweat. I try to wriggle out of his grasp as he hitches me onto his hip and starts to carry me away. I scratch his face with my fingernails.

Go for his eyes! Try to blind him!

He jerks his head back in surprise and I wriggle loose, but I don't get far. He kicks me in the buttocks and sends me sprawling face first into the dirt, and then he makes a fist and strikes me hard in the cheek. The whole world goes dim for a moment, like a cloud has passed in front of the sun.

I try to push myself up. My arms are wobbly and weak, and then I see my blood pattering into the dirt beneath my face. Several big drops. Bright red. The thirsty ground quickly swallows them, turning black where they have fallen.

I am bleeding, I think, but the thought is distant. It is like someone else has thought it, someone who looks like me, who kneels as I am kneeling, but who is several feet apart from me.

My abductor lifts me and begins to trot away. I hang from his arms, too weak, too far away from myself, to fight him anymore. I am beaten. He has won. I turn my head and look back as my abductor jogs away. I see little Mtundu rise dizzily to his feet. He falls and gets up again, a tiny brown speck in the middle of the great open savannah.

Run home, baby! Run back home to Mama! I want to cry out, but I cannot summon the strength to shout to him. I cannot seem to make my lips and tongue work.

My face feels like it's swollen to twice its normal size, and there is something hot and wet trickling down my chin and chest.

I watch as Mtundu grows smaller and smaller.

He sees me being spirited away. He tries to follow, but he is too young, too slow. He cannot keep up. It is impossible.

Oh, my sweet Mtundu! My poor little baby! I think. How will he find his way back home without me?

Then the land slopes down and Mtundu vanishes into the whispering grass.

It is like he has been swallowed by the earth.