Читать книгу Indaba, My Children: African Tribal History, Legends, Customs And Religious Beliefs - Vusamazulu Credo Mutwa - Страница 12

THE SACRED STORY OF THE TREE OF LIFE

THE SELF-CREATED

No stars were there – no sun,

Neither moon nor earth—

Nothing existed but darkness itself—

A darkness everywhere.

Nothing existed but nothingness,

A Nothingness neither hot nor cold,

Dead nor alive—

A Nothingness far worse than nothing

And frightening in its utter nothingness.

For how long this Nothingness lasted,

No one will ever know;

And why there was nothing but Nothing is something

We must never try to learn.

Nothingness had been floating

For no one knows how long,

Upon the invisible waters of Time—

That mighty River with

Neither source nor mouth,

Which was—

Which is

And ever shall be.

Then one day—

Or is it right to say ‘one day’?—

The River Time desired Nothingness

Like a flesh-and-blood male beast

Desires his female partner.

And as a result of this strangest mating

Of Time and Nothingness,

A most tiny nigh invisible spark

Of living Fire was born.

This tiny, so tiny spark of Fire could think

And grew conscious of its lonely state;

No one nor nothing could hear its cries

In the lonely depths of Utter Nothingness—

Like forlorn a babe,

Lost and in despair,

In a cold dark forest.

‘I exist – I am what I am!’

Was the living thought that pulsed through the ‘mind’

Of the tiny spark as it wildly flew through the dark

Trying to flee from where there was no escape—

Trying to evade the lifeless,

Empty, dark and Utter Nothingness.

It was like a tiny firefly lost

In a dark cave ’neath a berg

From where it could never escape.

‘I must either grow or end my life,’

Thought the spark at long, long last;

‘If Nothingness wishes to engulf me

In my present size and state,

Then I must increase my size

Till I equal that of Nothingness!’

There was nothing for the spark to feed upon and grow,

So it fed upon itself

And grew in size until at last its mother Nothingness

Became aware of its unwelcome presence

And decided to destroy it.

Nothingness at first had tried

To smother it in Darkness which is

The enemy of Light,

But the spark resisted brighter – and became yet brighter.

Then Nothingness cast a spell of cold upon the spark;

Cold – a deadly foe of heat,

But this induced the spark to grow

Only hotter and yet more hot.

* * *

The Living Spark did grow, and grew until

At last it equalled Nothingness in size,

And to sustain itself – proceed with growth,

It devour’d its mother, Nothingness—

And digested her

With the most awful flash of light

That anyone or anything had ever chanced to see.

‘I am what I am,’ it boasted.

But River Time was very cross with what the spark had done

And quickly sent the Spirit Cold to fight the spark outright.

A mighty battle soon ensued, in which the spark,

Now a universal roaring Flame

Which filled the sky with many soaring tongues,

Tried to melt Cold’s Spirit, and devour it complete,

While Cold its icy Spirit blew,

Its cold wet breath into the Flame;

But it only turned a portion of the Flame

Into cold white ash.

And this ferocious battle, which started so long ago,

Today still rages unabating, and shall yet proceed

Till Time shall cease to flow.

And the Wise Men of the tribes relate

That if the Flame one day shall win,

All that exist shall perish

In one consuming Fire,

While if victory goes to the Spirit of Cold

All living things shall freeze to death!

May the Great Spirit who is Lord Almighty

And Paramount Chief of all

Grant that neither Flame nor Cold

Shall ever win the War,

Because whosoever beats the other—

The sun, the moon, the earth and stars

And all that live shall cease to be!

May both antagonists fight forth for everlasting Time,

Because on their unceasing conflict

All Life depends.

From the still warm ashes – wounds in Flame’s existence,

Inflicted in Battle by the Spirit of Cold,

There arose the Great Mother Ma,

The very first Goddess of human shape.

The All-knowing Omniscient Most-merciful Goddess Ma

Had created herself by the Great Spirit’s wish

Who, displeased with the wasteful and senseless War

Between the Flame and the Cold

Had come from far beyond

The Ten Gates of Eternity

To bring order to the Universe.

Now Ma the Great Mother began to execute

Commands of uNkulunkulu, the Great Spirit:—

From the sparks that Flame shot out

She created the stars, the sun,

And the body on which we stand.

(We shall relate anon, from whence the moon)

Although Immortal, the Great Mother was cursed

With strange desires and feelings

Which afterwards she passed to man and beast alike.

These are feelings, strange to Immortals,

Like anger, hunger, jealousy and misery

Or love and lust and craving for luscious food.

With such desires the Great Mother Ma was cursed

And they were like diseases within her being;

And because of this the Storytellers,

The Wise Men of the Tribes,

Depict her as the Imperfect Undying One.

That is why woodcarvers

Throughout this continent

Always make their carvings of her

Imperfect.

Either a leg is shown deformed

Or one breast much bigger than the other;

Hands of unequal size.

It is from the Great Mother Ma

That we mortal souls and our brothers the beasts

Inherited all our faults—

Imperfect seed bring forth imperfect plants.

When the Great Mother Ma had finished creating the stars,

The sun and the earth,

She seated herself on the Mountain of Iron, Taba-Zimbi,

To rest and await the Great Spirit’s further instructions.

It was while she thus was sitting

That a strange feeling came over her—

A feeling she could not interpret

But loneliness now we know it had been,

And she wept most bitterly.

So long and so loud did the Goddess cry

That the very stars trembled and fell from the sky

While the tears that the Goddess shed

Flowed in a great lake at her feet—

Flowed across the land in all directions

Forming murmuring streams and the mighty rivers we see today.

At last the Great Spirit commanded the Goddess

To end her queer emotional display

And to repair the damage done to earth

By falling stars and floods of tears,

And then continue with creating

A perfect Universe from Chaos.

‘No!’ cried Ma through her flood of tears

Far greater than that of Musi-Wa-Tunya

The falls that tumble in the river Zambesi—

‘No! Never! I shall not move from where I am

Until I have a companion to work with!

Is it not clear that I’m utterly lonely?

Who can I talk to in my lonely hours?

These barren plains – these silent craggy mountains?

Those stupid stars that twinkle foolishly at me?

Aieeee! Where, oh where is the sense in ord’ring me to create

These useless things anyway?

Those stars, the sun, and this miserable bowl called earth?

Who am I,

And how long will I work here, creating all this?

This utterly senseless rubbish!’

From far beyond Eternity’s borders

Where no God, or Goddess, or Demon can e’er go,

Came the Great Spirit’s cold and hollow, and unemotional voice:

It howled like a tempest through the star-spangled skies

Like thunder upon the plains—

Re-echoing through the valleys and gorges

And shaking the great barren crags

Like trees in a gale.

Bolt after bolt of crashing lightning

Tore across the shrieking skies;

Howling cyclones swept the rocky plains

While mighty earthquakes sent the mountains roaring

To level with the ground,

While plains were upwards heaved to form new mountain ranges.

The shattered world—

Not yet defiled by human beings,

By grass and trees, and beasts,

Was cringing and shudd’ring before this awe-inspiring Voice

Of the Highest of the Very High.

‘Being most imperfect – listen to the voice

Of thy Lord and Master.

I beseeched thee to create and my commands

Are not for thee to question.

Thy duty it is to do and not to doubt—

Thy duty it is to obey without a murmur.

Thou shalt do what I commanded thee to do

Whether thou seest the reason or not.

The purpose behind the creation of all the Universe

Is known to ME alone

And with me it shall rest a secret

Till the end of Time.

Proceed to create as I commanded,

Without delay!’

The Goddess rose and stood on the summit of Mount Taba-Zimbi—

The eternal Iron Mountain.

She stood erect, a pillar of incredible beauty

Such as no mortal has ever or will ever see.

Her golden glittering eyes pierced the dark of the starry sky

And peered into the remotest reaches of Infinity

Where, far, oh so far away

She could vaguely discern the blaze of Light,

The formless, ageless, immortal uNkulunkulu;

The Highest of the High.

Slowly Ma raised her luminous hands to the heavens;

The sorrow and pity she felt o’er her great loneliness

Evaporating to the seven winds—

And op’ning her silvery lips she spoke:

‘Thou hast spoken, oh Great Spirit, and I have heard;

As a tool and a toy in thy Hand I shall obey forthwith

The ev’ry command for better or worse.’

A dreadful silence fell upon the earth

And the troubled heavens were stilled,

While the sea which had been devouring

With its waves vast areas of land,

Retreated to the coast, shamefully like a boy

Caught in an act of naughtiness.

For the first time in its existence the Universe

Had heard the voice of the Great, the Supremely High.

As the great red sun went to rest beyond the jagged mountains

And the drifting clouds caught his fiery light on their bellies,

The first Goddess heard His voice once again:

‘Oh, imperfect being, your wish for a partner

Shall soon be granted.’

The silvery Goddess’s golden luminous eyes

Lit with a glow of joy so intense

That only a Goddess can feel – and still live—

While the roaring liquid fire flowing through her crystal veins

Grew hotter and roared through her quivering body

With greater, far greater, fury than that

Of the waters that thunder o’er Kebura-Ba-Sa rapids.

Her chest so heavily laden with four immense breasts,

Each with a sharp pointed nipple of emerald green,

Heaved as she let out a gusty sigh o’er her heartfelt relief.

The heat of her breath which could vaporise elephants

Left her dilated nostrils and wide open mouth

In three shimm’ring jets and which merged in a cloud

Of red-hot searing luminescence.

‘Great Master,’ asked she,

‘What manner of companion wilt thou send me?’

‘You are what in future shall be known as a female

And your opposite shall be your companion – a Male!’

‘A male?’ asked the Goddess, bathing in pools of intense invisible joy,

‘What shall this, Oh my Master, this Male be like in appearance?

Will it share my beauty with me?’

* * *

‘Verily’ – thundered the Almighty Spirit

Across the boundless reaches of Infinity—

‘In my presence nothing is ugly – nothing beautiful.’

‘Great One,’ insisted Ma,

Her curiosity smoth’ring her being complete—

‘Surely your child has the right to know more

About the companion you hold as a prospect for her!

Of what use will he be to me?’

‘He shall bring contentment to you

And both you and he will bring forth

Life upon the earth.’

‘But what will he look like?’ the over-curious Goddess insisted,

‘Will he be something as lovely as I?’

To which the Great Spirit made no reply.

‘What will he look like,’ insisted Ma,

‘How shall I recognise him?’

‘He will be conscious, though unlike yourself,

More I refuse to disclose.’

The Goddess retired forthwith

To her sanctuary under the hill

To rest awhile, but not sleep—

For Gods and Goddesses never sleep.

Her mind was full of lovely dreams

Of her future companion male,

And curiosity burnt through her soul

As she wondered at what he can be

And what contentment he will bring to her.

But above all she wished that he’d be

A being as beautiful as herself

In spite of the diff’rence foretold.

She patiently waited with burning flames of desire

And as the night wore on the Goddess, who ate

Particular kinds of a metal for food,

Felt hungry indeed and leaving her cave

Searched through the plains for her favourite dish.

The first thing she found was howe’er a piece

Of tasteless, unpalatable granite which she spat

In a donga disgruntedly.

She continued to search and her appetite finally stilled

She returned to impatiently await the dawn.

Then when the first rays of light

Burst over the many-fanged range to the east

And the mountains cast sharp shadows over the plains,

The Goddess heard an awful voice

Calling out hoarsely at her:

‘Come, oh my mate, I await thee here,’

And the shimmering silvery Goddess arose

With a cry of immeasurable joy

And, not heeding the regular exit,

She burst through the side of the hill;

And midst roaring boulders, thund’ring clouds of blinding dust

She held her arms outstretched . . .

‘My Mate! My Mate! You have . . .’

Her voice faded out into gasping silence

As hungry limbs reached out with might

From the billowing dust for her lithe silv’ry form

And – Oh Great Spirit – how horrible they were!

They were not arms like her own

But those of great creeping vines

Whose very bark was studded

With jagged pieces of granite

And diamonds and iron ore

A horrible mineral display!

These branches, as they’ll henceforth be called,

Sprang with a host of others

From the top of a monstrous trunk,

Resembling the biggest baobab tree

That ever grew on earth.

From the middle of the monstrous trunk

Bulged dozens of bloodshot eyes

Which burnt with a lecherous hunger,

While beneath them grinned a wicked mouth

With a thousand pointed fangs.

Now and then a long green tongue

Like the hide of a crocodile

Would lick the granite lips.

* * *

From some of the tree’s branches grew

Great udders which oozed a golden honey-like fluid.

Unlike the ordinary tree, this one had roots which it used

Like a crab or a spider to move from one place to another;

And the sight alone

Of those crawling living roots

Scrabbling o’er the rock-hard plain as they moved

Was enough for the mountains to shudder!

‘Come, my beloved, come to me!’

Roared the tree and drew the Goddess close

And with its rock-studded mouth bruised her silvery lips

With a savage kiss!

‘I am the Tree of Life, thy mate, and I desire thee!’

‘Aieeee,’ shrieked Ma – ‘It cannot be!

My mate you are not – my companion – NO!

Release me, you ugly, most monstrous thing!’

‘Release you, while I’ve only just caught you!

You, my heart’s desire!

I did not catch you only to release you!’

‘What . . .?’ gasped the Goddess.

As more and more branches

Held her fast beyond all hope . . .

And here, my dear reader, I shall, as the saying goes,

Cut the fowl’s beak,

Leaving the rest to your most respected imagination!

Suffice it to say that in agonised moments that followed

The Goddess had very good cause to regret

Her folly of requesting the Almighty Spirit

To grant her a wish of her own.

When the Tree of Life released her at last,

The thoroughly frightened Ma

Fled madly across the plains with loud shrieks

To the Great Spirit with entreaties to rid her

Of a most unpleasant mate,

But the reply that the First Goddess got

Was – ‘You have had your wish—

What more do you want?’

You may wonder, dear reader,

How the Goddess managed her escape.

Well the tree had pursued her relentlessly

With all its tremendous bulk.

Like any young man he had no wish to see

Even his metaphysical bride escape

And return to his mother-in-law!

Do not the Wise Ones say

That ‘They who have for the first time tasted

The nectar-filled cup of Love

Never let it drop undrained?’

So, over plain and valley, and over the hills

And down many a cruel mountainside

Fled the terrified Goddess, and racing forth,

Now on the ground on her silvery feet—

Now through the air like a bird of prey,

But no matter how far and how fast she fled

The Tree of Life kept close on her heels

Until at last both pursuer and pursued

Reached the bleak barren wastelands which in future years

Became known to mortals as Ka-Lahari.

By now the great Tree was on fire with love,

But tired ne’ertheless while his quarry,

Urged by the cold breath of fear,

Was still as fresh as ever.

At long last, after many years of flight and pursuit

Both Goddess and tree plunged headlong

In the waters of lake Makarikari

And it was here that Ma streaked through the water

Like some silvery luminous fish,

And then soared like an owl through the night sky

While below, her mate, the Tree of Life,

Waddled in the mud of the lake.

Here it was that the Imperfect Immortal

Very nearly made good her escape,

But here too a flash of pure inspiration

Tore through the sluggish brain of the Tree.

Acting fast on a chance idea, it scooped

A mighty mound of rock and clay and sand

From the bottom of the lake

And he rolled it into a mighty ball,

Greater in size than Killima-Njaro itself.

Then in one lightning movement

Of all his branches combined,

He hurled this formidable missile

Skyward at the object of his love,

Now almost one with the stars.

Straight and true went the soaring ball

And the next thing the fugitive Goddess felt

Was a great blow on the back of her silvery head;

And as she plunged through the air,

Limp and unconscious, but still of unearthly beauty—

The great ugly tree spread its manifold arms

To save her in her headlong fall—

‘My dearest beloved,’ he gurgled.

The great ball rebounded from the Goddess’s head

And went into orbit as the moon of today,

And the Great Spirit in his Almighty wisdom

With radiance declared it the Guardian of Love,

To regulate the Love of Gods,

And of Men and beasts and birds and fishes yet to come.

Today all the Tribes of this Dark Continent

Respect the power of the Holy Missile

And its influence upon all our lives and love.

Drums still beat and most secret rituals are performed

In dark forests in honour of that missile

Which helped to restore the very first marriage

Between our Goddess Ma and our Most Sacred Tree,

The Tree of Life.

Even today, as in all ages past,

The moon makes lovers seek each other’s arms

And wives the company

Of their children’s fathers.

Aieeee! Great is the power of the moon—

And who dares to doubt it?

Lo! thus sing the Holy Singers of Kariba

Whenever the full moon rises

And turns the timeless Zambesi into a dazzling serpent

Of shimmering liquid silver and gold:—

‘Oh missile which through the starry sky

At fleeting Ma the Tree of Life let fly,

Shed still on earth thy heatless silver light

And let all things feel Love’s consuming might.

Shoot burning darts into the lion’s soul

Make him forget to stalk the zebra foal.

And turn him back to where, beneath the trees

His mate awaits, and there to find release

From unpleasant anguish. Bid the warring king

Forget awhile his bloody lance and cling

To his beloved of the pointed breast.

Command the North, the South, the East and the West

To pause from war and thieving, and to LOVE!’