Chapter 6 — Even When Seated, I Still See Further Than You

The dry, bare grass on the hilltop rustled in the cool dawn wind. Hondo gazed at the valley below. The yellowing woodland was holding out against the drought, like a stubborn old man who no longer wants to live but is not yet prepared to die. A moyozi bird flew past, singing out its melodious call. Hondo smiled. The songbird was a good omen. He opened the pouch slung across his neck, and took out the heavy stone tablet. He ran his finger over the cracked edge. He had lost a portion of the stone map in his fight at Inzalo Ye Langa with Dande. That had delayed him somewhat. He had spent a lot of time going around in circles, trying to find the exact location of the Lost Temple. At first, he’d thought the ancestors were against him. Then the drum had fallen straight into his hands. And after that, the victim he needed for the sacrifice. He stared at the sky. Nyatsimba’s comet shone bright green in the morning sun. He was confident they would find the temple in time for the sacrifice. Even the moyozi bird agreed with him.

He studied the map for the umpteenth time. They were close. There was no doubt about it. From his vantage point, he could make out his soldiers systematically beating the undergrowth. Flocks of zvifombo swallows, disturbed by these intruders, took flight, uttering shrill cries of disapproval as they wheeled above the branches and settled in another spot of the forest. There was the crunching of boots on the hard, hilltop soil. It was Gamba.

“What news?”

“Nothing yet, Grey Leopard. But we have circled in on the most likely section. I want the men to move in closer and spread out less. We'll move faster that way. I am certain.”

“Give the order.”

Gamba nodded and retreated. Then he paused, and turned back to Hondo.

“Grey Leopard.”

“Yes.”

“Something has been troubling me.”

“What is it?”

“The map, please. Could I take a look at it?”

Hondo handed him the stone block. Gamba peered at it and frowned.

"What is it?"

Gamba pointed at the broken-off corner. "If you hold the map up this way," he said, spinning it over, "then the temple would be on this hill, not down there in the valley."

"Are you saying I'm wrong?"

Gamba bowed low.

"No, Grey Leopard. I'm just saying that our forefathers would never build temples in valleys. They were always on hills. Closer to Mwari. That's why I think that- “

"What do you know about the ways of our forefathers?” Hondo interrupted him. He took back the tablet from Gamba and jabbed a finger at it. "This was from a time before our people - before the Butua and the Dande and the Chidima. Before our empire and before that of the houses of stone. Do you know how those people lived?"

Gamba shook his head.

"There is a power here," Hondo continued, "that we cannot explain, that does not fit into our way of doing things. It is the power of Mwari himself."

Gamba nodded.

"Never ever question me again, Gamba. If I say you search the valley, you search the valley! Understood?"

Gamba stuttered. "It's just that ... the solstice is two days away."

“And I don't know that?"

Gamba thought it best not to respond. Instead, he bowed low again.

"Leave me. And come back only when you have found what we are looking for."

Gamba bowed again and retreated.

"Gamba!"

Gamba paused.

“Even when seated, I still see further than you. Never forget it.”

"Yes, Grey Leopard," Gamba said, understanding the familiar proverb. He bowed a third time and departed.

Dande sat on a log and stared at the pile of rocks a few paces away. It was hot, but the grass and the trees seemed to handle the heat with a stoicism that Dande did not feel in his heart. They had buried Chenzira beneath the pile of rocks, hoping to not only mark his grave but to also make it impossible for the hyenas to get at him.

He stared at the pile long and hard. It was tough to imagine. It felt as if the old man would at any moment emerge from the bushes nearby and walk up to him with his usual stern look and unwanted advice. He thought of Chenzira's last words to him - his plea for forgiveness. He remembered his father. The look that he had in his eyes as he stared at Dande for the last time, as he got him to promise to return the drum to its rightful owner. Even in that, Dande had failed. He had spent most of his life being a failure. It was only recently that he had worked up the courage to turn his back on all he’d ever known, to set out on his own path. To be his own man. And even in that he had failed. Chenzira had found him and reminded him that there was something that he needed to finish. Dande had known then that he would never rest easy until it was fulfilled. But now, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Why not just give up? He could go back to his old life. That life that he had enjoyed for such a short time. All alone. In the forest glade. Though he’d been alone, he’d never felt lonely. But now, with Chenzira gone, the world felt empty again. It had been a long time since he’d felt that, since that empty feeling had gnawed away at his insides. Not since his father died. His father had died and left him alone and Dande had gone on to be a failure in everything he tried. So why even bother? His heart fell to the pit of his stomach. He could feel his father and Chenzira from a distance, watching him, urging him to get up and continue on his mission. But what was it worth? He had lost all faith in the drum. It had brought so much pain and misery. It was always taking people away from him. First his father. Then Zugudini. Now Chenzira. Maybe he would be next? Or maybe he could just go away. Disappear. Make a fresh start somewhere else, where nobody knew his name. A place where he could spend the rest of his life disconnected from his past as well as his present.

The dull thud of footsteps came up behind him. He spun around, startled out of his reverie.

"Sorry I disturbed you," Luba said. She bore a large calabash in her hands. She perched next to him on the log, glanced at Chenzira's grave, and then pushed the calabash under his nose.

"Smell that. Doesn’t it smell delicious?”

"I'm not hungry."

“I’ve spiced the horse meat as best as I could. And the cassava goes well with it.”

Only after they had stopped riding had they realized that their horse was badly injured. A spear meant for them had torn into its flank. The horse’s blood had mingled with that of Chenzira’s, making it hard to spot the wound. All along they thought that the horse was struggling because of their combined weight as well as a possible knock. But when it stopped and wouldn’t go any further, they had to dismount and see what was wrong. The horse had lost too much blood and was too weak. It was Luba that had decided to slit its throat and let its meat feed them for the next few days.

“I told you I’m not hungry.”

"You've got to eat something. You haven't eaten in two days.”

Dande pushed the calabash roughly away, spilling the cassava and roasted chunks of horse meat. Luba got up and picked them up. She blew the dust off the food and put it back in the calabash. Dande stared at the pile of stones over Chenzira’s body.

“So you want to join him that badly?”

Dande ignored Luba’s question.

“You’re foolish. Maybe you will be more useful dead than alive.”

She trudged back to the their camp, nestled in a nearby clump of bushes. A small fire crackled in a pit lined with stones. More cassava was roasting beside it, along with some horse steaks, already roasted but now lying on some mbuyi leaves and drying by its heat. Luba sat down beside the flames, stretched out her legs, took a cassava from the calabash and bit into it.

“Eat,” she said. Dande took the calabash. He sat down beside her and ate.

“This needs salt. Have you got some?”

“In my pouch."

He got it and rummaged about inside. Something gleaming caught his eye. He placed it in his palm and studied it. The gilded butterfly caught the rays of the afternoon sun and shone. Luba noticed him Dande’s stunned face.

“What?”

"Where did you get this?"

"Hey, what are you doing going through my things? I thought you wanted salt."

“Where did you get this?”

“Zugi asked me to keep it for her.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe that’s why things went badly for us. It was her lucky charm. She said it belonged to the only man she ever loved.”

Dande fell silent. He stared at the amulet and turned it over in his hand. His head was spinning. Zugudini had kept the amulet all those harvests. She had lied to him when when she told him that she had lost it. Why would she have lied to him? It was too much to take in. A wave of exhaustion swept over him. His knees went weak, and he plonked down onto the ground.

“Are you okay?”

Dande said nothing.

“Why are you looking at that thing like that?”

Dande didn’t reply. He wasn't listening. He was in a world of his own. He didn’t see Luba sit down beside him, nor the concerned look in her eyes, nor her hand as she rested it gently on his shoulder. All he saw was the beautiful young girl standing before him, with the broad forehead, the high cheekbones and the almond eyes. He saw her beaming smile as he put the amulet around her neck. Her eyes bore into his.

“It belonged to the only man she ever loved.”

Luba’s hand reached into his open palm, reached to take Zugudini’s amulet. He closed his fist around it.

“No.”

“Give that back,” Luba said. “It belonged to Zugi.”

“No. It was mine. I gave it to her many harvests ago.”

Luba’s eyes widened in surprise. He rose to his feet and put the amulet round his neck.

"I'm going to find her. I’m not going to lose her again."

Without another word, he picked up his spear, and marched off. Luba leapt to her feet.

“Dande son of Banga!”

Dande paused.

“You don’t know how far you have to go. You’re going to need some food, and you cannot carry all of this alone.”

Dande nodded. He turned back to the fire, wrapped the leaves around the horse meat and stuffed them into his pouch. Luba stamped out the fire, and stuffed her pouch with as much food as it could carry. They took one last look at Chenzira’s grave, then marched into the forest.

Hondo watched the sun descending in the sky. Its golden hues painted the horizon in streaks of orange and yellow. He imagined rain clouds on the horizon. It had been decades since he had seen a storm. He wondered what the first one would be like. It would be beautiful. He shut his eyes and smiled, turned his face up to the sky and imagined the rain pattering down on him as he stood before the people and took the oath of the Mutapa. He opened his eyes. His dream would have to wait a bit longer. He would have to find the temple first. Time was running out. The following day would be the solstice. The coldness of despair crept over him along with the chill of the evening. There was the pattering of footsteps in the undergrowth behind him. He turned around as Gamba emerged out of the bushes and ran up to him.

"Grey Leopard," he said. "We have found it."

Hondo’s breath hitched in his throat.

"Where?"

“Where you said it would be. In the valley. But it’s underground. The trees on the southeastern edge cover its roof. It took us some time but we have also found the way in.”

“Take me there.”

Gamba nodded. The two men descended and pushed into the sprawling woods a the base of the hill. The forest still retained the heat of the day. The two were soon sweating. Hondo followed Gamba with eager anticipation. Soon, they came to a part of the forest where the trees seemed older than the rest. Their ancient trunks stretched high above the crinkly floor. Massive spider webs, shredded to pieces by the soldiers, swayed softly in the evening breeze. Hondo pushed past the ancient trees as Gamba led him to a clearing. There, the Vana Va Lungundu tugged at thick vines which, like ancient guardians, had wound themselves around carved stone columns and arches. Their vibrant green leaves contrasting with the weathered gray of the stones.

“That’s the entrance,” Gamba said. He pointed at the vines.

“I see nothing.”

There was a loud rip. The vines came off, and a boulder tumbled to the ground. It left in its place a gaping hole in the stone column.

“There,” Gamba said.

The soldiers hung back, not daring to go any further. Hondo approached the boulders that surrounded the doorway, and ran his fingers over them. In the fading light, he could vaguely make out the bas-reliefs that adorned them.

“What do you make of these, Gamba?”

“Battle scenes, Grey Leopard. And writing too ancient to read.”

“Wait. Look at that.”

Hondo pointed at one specific carving, slightly larger than the rest.

“Bring a torch,” Gamba called out. One was brought. Hondo held it against the carving. Despite being weather-worn by the centuries, it was unmistakable.

“The ngomalungundu,” Hondo whispered.

He ran his fingers over it. The real one, nestled in the pouch slung across his shoulder, thrummed as though it an invisible hand were beating it. Hondo stepped back. The thrumming in his pouch died down. He gazed at the threshold of the doorway, partially buried beneath the forest floor, camouflaged by a carpet of fallen leaves.

"Clean out this area," he said. “I want a clear perimeter. Then make camp for the night. We will go in tomorrow."

The men set to work. Hondo’s eyes scanned the supply carts, hidden in the branches of the trees nearby.

“Where is the girl?”

“There,” Gamba said. He pointed a tall tree. A figure lay sprawled in the leaves at its base. “She’s still asleep.”

Hondo went over to Zugudini, and glanced over her. She lay motionless and barely breathed. Had he not known better, he would have thought her dead. The yerati root that he had given her was a powerful sleeping drought. She would not begin to recover until the next morning. He sat down beside her, and watched his men as they worked. The exhaustion of one who had finished a long and arduous journey set in. His muscles and bones ached. His heart beat faster as his nerves clutched at him one last time. He breathed a silent prayer to his ancestors, leaned his head against ngomalungundu, and shut his eyes.