Читать книгу Indaba, My Children: African Tribal History, Legends, Customs And Religious Beliefs - Vusamazulu Credo Mutwa - Страница 25

WHAT SECRETS HATH HEAVEN?

For a few moments we hesitated as the female came running towards us. Then we sprang to obey our owner and barred her way just as she reached the gate.

Lubo pushed her violently and she stumbled backwards just as the master drew back his arm and threw his needle-sharp sword with all his might at her back. We heard the thud and the female fell backwards with the blade protruding from her bosom. ‘Your parent has been avenged, Oh Lumukanda,’ whispered Lubo in my ear.

Never before had I seen a night in which so much happened at the same time. Never before had I experienced a night that left so many memories in my mind. By the time we finished our task of burying the two dead Strange Ones and cleaning up the master’s house, dawn was not far away and in fact, the eastern sky was beginning to lighten. Three very tired slaves descended the stone steps leading down to the underground stalls where other slaves were sleeping.

‘Ka-whew!’ said Lubo. ‘Oh my doddering father! What a night we have had!’

‘Be quiet, my son, and sleep,’ said the old man Obu. ‘We shall soon have to get up, so try and get what sleep you can.’

But I could not sleep and dawn found me tossing and writhing in the vermin-infested grass piled on the damp floor of my sleeping stall. My mind was in turmoil and I could not think straight. But uppermost in my seething, troubled mind was the realisation that I was guilty of the worst crime any man can ever commit – the murder of my own parent.

Pictures, clear and astonishingly real, flashed like thunderflashes through my troubled brain: pictures of my childhood and my mother as I remembered her then – the silly sounds she used to make when I cried. But I recalled most clearly the little toy she had made for me out of wood – a puppet I used to play with in my lonely hours. I cried and moaned in incurable agony and remorse. But I knew that no matter how long and how loud I cried I could never, never bring my parent back again. I knew with a terrible finality that whether I lived a short life or a long one, I would carry my guilt to the grave.

I cursed the masters, I cursed the gods and I cursed myself bitterly for what had happened. But always present in the back of my mind was the realisation that all this would never bring my parent back again. I suddenly found myself longing for death.

Morning came and we all crawled out of our sleeping stalls – twenty male and sixteen female slaves in all – and followed Obu to the lake for our morning wash. As I bathed in the living water one of the younger female slaves Luluma waded up to me and laid her small hand on my chest, asking: ‘How do you feel today, Oh Lumukanda?’

‘I wish I were dead, Oh Luluma,’ I replied. ‘I really wish I were dead.’

‘Try and forget, Oh my brother-in-suffering,’ said the girl soothingly. ‘It was not your fault – it was their fault.’

‘I will never forget what happened last night for as long as I live,’ I said. ‘No water on earth can ever wash my parent’s blood off these guilty hands.’

‘Do not judge yourself, Oh Lumukanda. We are the playthings of fate and can never be responsible for all that we do or what happens to us any more than toys are responsible for what the playing child does with them.’

‘The Old Ones tell us there are gods somewhere,’ I said bitterly, ‘but I am afraid these so-called gods are but figments of some . . .’

‘No, Lumukanda!’ cried she. ‘Do not say that.’

‘I shall say what I please,’ I sneered. ‘If there are any gods, or if there is the Great Spirit, why in the name of all that is foul and rotten do they let such things happen to human beings? Why are we slaves and the Strange Ones our masters? Why is there so much misery, murder, theft and strife under the sun? I dare any of those non-existent, imaginary, somnolent, gods-so-called to . . . to . . .’

‘Lumukanda!’ gasped the girl. ‘You are blaspheming. You might regret your words one day.’

And she was right.

After finishing our morning wash we followed the old man Obu into the master’s house to present ourselves and to do obeisance before him as was the custom amongst slaves. As we entered the master’s great hall we found him sitting on his great couch with his two young concubines, one on either side. But there was also someone else with them in the hall, someone who did not belong there at all – who was a total and unusual and frightening stranger. This was a tall, well-moulded beautiful woman whose skin was almost as dark as my own and who looked like the daughter of a Strange One and a Black woman. This woman wore a tight-fitting garment that reached from her midriff to her ankles. On her arms and forearms she wore heavy, broad and skilfully engraved gold bracelets while around her shoulders she wore a great white cloak made of a woven, shiny material. Around her head she wore a broad golden band and she looked at the world through a pair of deep-set glittering eyes with lashes as long as the first joint of a man’s thumb.

I realised with a shock that she was the white-clad one whom we had seen the night before, climbing over the garden wall. So this was the sorceress – the feared witch Kadesi-Makira – the dreaded opponent of the Emperor Karesu!

From where she sat in the far corner of the hall she flayed us with her pitiless stare as we filed past our master and briefly prostrated ourselves before him and his concubines.

My turn came and I fell on my knees before our owner and crossed my forearms before my face as was the custom. Then I stood up and turned to go.

‘Wait!’

That one single command stung the silent hall like a slave-trainer’s whip-stroke and all eyes turned to the white-clad dark woman who had uttered it.

‘Where did you get that slave?’ she demanded of our master.

‘Your Highness?’

‘I asked you, where did you get that slave?’

‘I bought him as a pup, Oh Great One,’ he replied humbly. ‘Does your Highness know this slave from somewhere?’

‘No,’ said she grimly, ‘I have never seen the dog before in real life. But I do know what you must do to him immediately. Kill him!’

‘Kill him, your Highness?’ gasped my owner. ‘Pray why? He is my favourite fighting slave – he has won many prizes . . .’

‘Fool . . . fool, what a fool you are!’ cried Makira, rising to her feet. ‘Have you never heard of the prophecy about the Dark Destroyer?’

‘The Dark Destroyer!’ cried our owner, his eyes opening wide with horror and astonishment. ‘You mean . . .’

‘Yes, my dear White fool, I mean that this slave of yours is none other than the Dark Destroyer whom the old prophets said would be born one day and would, like the vulture of sunset, destroy our empire,’ the Queen Kadesi-Makira announced sharply. ‘Tell me, has he no strange birthmark somewhere shaped like some well-known thing?’

‘He has!’ cried one of the concubines. ‘A moonshaped mark above his left breast. I noticed it one day when he brought me some wine.’

‘I dreamt about this creature last night. I dreamt of the Sun-God telling me he was in this very house!’ cried Kadesi-Makira. ‘Seize him, you other slaves, seize him! Let me take a closer look at him before he dies. Seize him and bring him here!’

Obu and two other slaves seized my arms and pushed me towards the seated woman who rose and stared fixedly at me for a few moments and then lashed out with her open hand, hitting me hard on one side of the face.

‘Ha!’ she shrilled. ‘It has fallen to me to uncover the foul menace to our empire. We must kill this viper before its fangs can grow.’

They bound me securely hand and foot and they tied two heavy grindstones to my ankles. Then they left me in my sleeping stall under heavy guard until the sun had set and night had crept upon the land like a stealthy panther. I knew that at last death would come and I would soon be with my dear mother. I felt happy and incredibly content. I joked with the slaves and with my owner. I told them to cook a nice dinner for me because I would be back tomorrow. The slaves laughed but the witch Makira and my master were far from pleased. I had the satisfaction of seeing my owner turn pale.

They loaded me into a boat at dead of night and rowed to the centre of the great Makarikari lake. In the boat were Makira, our owner and his two concubines, and the four slaves who rowed the alien boat.

At a sign from Makira the slaves pulled in their oars and lifted me up and threw me into the water.

The cold dark water closed over me, smothering me. I felt myself sinking into the dark depths like a helpless stone, down . . . down . . . down . . . into the watery womb of the lake.

There were sounds in my ears and there was heat on my body. Slowly I opened my eyes and found myself looking into the blinding glare of the midday sun.

Quickly I closed my eyes and allowed my brain to work on this incredible fact: I was alive. But I had no right to be. I should be down there in the green depths of the water instead of lying somewhere on the northern shore of Lake Makarikari! I should be dead instead of hearing the song of the birds in the swamp trees and feeling the heat of the sun on my naked body.

‘Lumukanda!’ The strange silvery voice calling my name suddenly out of nowhere sounded exactly like my mother’s. I felt a rush of incredible strength gush into my body as I leapt up and looked about me.

‘Lumukanda!’ It sounded from somewhere in the forest.

‘Mother!’ I cried. ‘I am coming, I am coming to you.’

Now I was sure that I was dead, that I was not on earth but in the Spirit Land. I knew I was going to meet my parent soon and be happy for evermore. I ran wildly into the forest and the next thing I knew I was flat on my face in the mud, having tripped over a mangrove root. I sprang to my feet again, ruefully, and looked about. I was covered from head to foot in stinking mud and a voice laughed heartily from somewhere behind me.

‘My parent,’ I cried, ‘please show yourself. Do not make me suffer; I have suffered enough as it is.’

Suddenly my mother stood before me, smiling tenderly, with her sword in her hand and her metal headdress on her head. She stood there, tall and straight and very beautiful, and she smiled at me in a strange tender way – just as she smiled when she died. I leapt forward with my arms open to clasp my parent to my breast. My arms encircled her and I closed my eyes and wept, tears of pure heavenly joy that knows no description. But when I opened my eyes I found myself fiercely embracing nothing but a moss-covered mangrove tree.

The ringing laugh echoed through the forest again as I collapsed to my knees, sobbing bitterly.

I was going mad . . . I was mad. Someone or something was playing evil voodoo tricks upon me, trying to drive me into the valley of insanity. I must escape. I had to escape from that evil swampland . . .

I ran madly through the forest. Every tree, every rock seemed to have somehow grown a face – a face that opened its mouth and guffawed at me insanely. ‘Run, you murderer – matricidal slave, thief, beggar, run . . .’ and there followed the laugh again, now distinctly maniacal.

How long I ran through that nightmare forest I do not know. But when at last the sun began to set I found myself lying flat on my face in a grassy glade utterly exhausted. My toes were bleeding from all the tripping and falling and I was caked all over with dried mud.

The grass rustled as something came towards me and I buried my face in my hands and moaned: ‘No, no, leave me alone.’

But when at last I looked up I found it was only a stray impala which leapt gracefully and fled for its life when it saw me raise my head out of the long grass.

Some time later I found a small cave in the forest – a cave whose walls were covered with figures of men and animals painted not long before by the Batwa – the Little Yellow Ones. I cleaned out the abandoned cave and lay down inside to rest. I must have fallen asleep because when I awoke night had fallen long since and I was feeling terribly hungry and thirsty. Silently I crept to a nearby stream and drank my fill of the clear, cool water. Then I caught two frogs and ate both of them raw – having no means of making a fire – and finally returned to the cave where I made myself a bed of green leaves and lay down to sleep.

When I awoke it was nearly midday of the following day and I was feeling hungry enough to eat ten elephants. I left the cave and went down to the lake carefully avoiding the forest. A while later I found a game footpath leading to the lake. Here I dug two pit traps and covered them with grass and twigs, hoping to catch a buck or something for food. Then I proceeded to walk aimlessly along the lake to kill time and forget my hunger.

I had been walking for some time when I saw what I took to be an image made of shimmering silver, standing on a rock on the water’s edge. It was shaped like a woman – tall and unbelievably well-moulded; it stood with its back to me and I was struck dumb by its utter perfection. It reminded me of those statues of alien gods which the Strange Ones had in their god-houses, or temples as they called them.

Because the Strange Ones had the habit of putting statues in the most unlikely places I was positive that this was also one of their works of metal art – probably a likeness of some imaginary water goddess.

But so perfect was the image that I was greatly tempted to have a closer look at it, and so I slowly approached it on the water’s edge. Suddenly I became aware of a very strange thing: unseen waves of pulsating heat seemed to be radiating from the statue, becoming more intense as I went closer. Bolts of fear tore through my body and I turned and ran as fast as I could up the gentle incline away from the lake. When I felt sure I had put enough distance between the silver thing and myself I paused and looked back. An involuntary cry of horror and great fear was wrung from me by what I saw: The ‘statue’ had turned and was now looking directly at me. Even as I watched it slowly began to walk in my direction and then it began to run. With a loud scream, I turned and fled, the mysterious thing in hot pursuit.

I ran along the marshy edge of the great lake, taking care to avoid the forest. But the thing was fast gaining on me. It came so close that I could see it had three heavy breasts, each with a shining green nipple . . . and its eyes were the colour of gold.

Wild with panic I swerved and dived headlong into the lake, swimming away as fast as I could. The thing stood waist deep in the reeds and I heard the ringing laughter I had heard before. Then, most gracefully it proceeded to swim in my direction and the radiance of its body left a trail of steam. What unearthly thing was it? It did not belong to this world – of that I was sure – and it was as out of place as a bird amongst the fish. Abruptly a voodoo voice reached my ears: ‘You had better give yourself up, human being, I will catch you eventually in any case.’

‘What do you want to do with me?’ I cried loudly as I increased the speed of my swimming.

The voice came back to me: ‘I am lonely and longing for companionship . . . I can stand it no more . . . I long for you . . .’

‘No, no!’ I cried. ‘What are you . . . what kind of creature are you?’

‘I am a creature whose existence you have once denied. I am a goddess, and Ma is my name.’

This increased my terror and as she closed in on me I dived under in an endeavour to drown myself. But she hauled me out by my hair and dragged me back to the shore. We had a brief struggle in which I managed to free myself and I made a dash for the depths of the forest. After a while I noticed that I was not being followed. ‘I have shaken her off,’ I quietly and happily mused by myself.

Cautiously I went to look at my two pit traps but found to my great disappointment that I had caught nothing. It was while I was staring in disgust at the second trap that I heard a rustling sound behind me. I froze with fright, took a step forward – and, with a savage curse, plunged into my own trap!

The tall, incredibly beautiful apparition of living silver stood looking down at me where I was lying on my back in the pit. A dazzling smile lit her face and she mused gently: ‘Oh my reluctant lover, most stupid and cowardly . . . do you make a habit of digging pit traps to catch yourself?’

‘Aieeee!’ I cried. ‘Go away and leave me alone, you unearthly monster.’

‘You may not be aware of it, but you are equally unearthly, and in this world I have chosen you as my husband. But what an unfortuante bride I am! My new husband goes running like a madman and he even has the habit of setting traps for himself. Shall we now go to your cave and consummate our marriage?’

‘Listen, you unnatural demon, go back to wherever you come from and leave me alone, do you hear? I am not your husband – I have never heard of such nonsense . . .’

‘Now, now, now, who believes in demons? Did you not once tell a fellow slave that gods and demons are nothing but figments of the imagination? As far as you are concerned I do not exist. I am a figment of your imagination . . . is that not so?’

The apparition sat down on the edge of the pit, her feet dangling an arm’s length above my head. ‘Oh my great grandmother, can’t the thing go away . . . vanish like the unearthly phantom it is?’ I thought to myself.

‘No, beloved one,’ it said with a weary smile, ‘I cannot just vanish into thin air. In this world I am too real – and besides, far too much in love with you – simply to vanish and leave you alone.’ I had forgotten that the thing could read my thoughts.

I was determined to stay in the pit to the end of time and the apparition, growing tired of my stubbornness, stood up and went away. I decided to wait till night came, so as to make my escape under the cover of darkness. But towards sunset she returned with a bundle of writhing mambas in her hands and coolly threw them into the pit in which I was still lying.

I do not know how I got out of the pit – all I know is that it was considerably faster than the way I got into it. ‘Let us go home, Oh my husband, there is much that we have to talk about.’

Outside, the night was alive with the sounds of animals of all kinds, from the faraway roar of lions to the lonely hooting of an owl in the tree at the mouth of the cave. Loudest was the croaking of frogs in the marshes on the edge of the lake. In the heavens above the stars shone like so many lost jewels against the dark expanse of the moonless sky. The Fire River, today called the Milky Way, was one broad band of smoky brilliance that stretched from one end of the heavens to the other, and a dethroned star streaked across it as it fell in disgrace.

I was now looking at creation with new eyes, and everything I looked at seemed to have assumed a new beauty – a new freshness. I had been listening to a very strange story: the story of creation – the story of how life came to this earth and the One who was telling me this story was none other than the Creator herself. She told me all about the First People, about Amarava and about Odu. I was feeling very small, a mere speck of living dust in a universe so utterly incredible.

‘Great Mother,’ I said at long last, ‘but what does one so great as you are want with a wretch like myself. I am hardly worthy of the love of a crawling louse.’

‘Lumukanda, eternity is a vast and incredibly lonely Darkness – and even a goddess has to have someone in whom to confide at times, to escape from the futility which human beings have misnamed Life. I grow tired of roaming the Outer Darkness alone – deceived and rejected by my erstwhile spouse, the Tree of Life – a lost leaf in the Tempest of Eternity. I wish to make a comeback to earth and communicate with the human beings I have created. And I wish to do so through you, Lumukanda.’

‘Goddess . . . I am not worthy of the honour!’

‘Who is, Lumukanda, who is? Who in this mad, evil world is worthy of attention from me? None! But I had to choose someone, and that someone happens to be you.’

‘A blood-stained matricide . . . a slayer of his own parent?’

‘Yes, Lumukanda, a blood-stained parent-slayer. Because your deed has opened your eyes to the falsehood called Life – which is nothing but a lie and a failure from birth to death. You have experienced Life as but a horrid nightmare in which only pain, suffering and death are real. I have chosen you because you are one of the few human beings who have seen Life most closely for the useless, futile nothing that it is. I can see in you the kind who will never use anybody or anything to gain domination over fellow mortals – simply because you have grown to hate life and all its useless pleasures, its mock glories, the senseless futility of it all!’

‘Goddess, how can you, who have brought Life on earth speak thus?’

‘Listen Lumukanda, I did not create the Universe and the earth, and life upon it, out of my own free will. I obeyed the order of a Great Master who, for all that even I know, in turn has to obey the orders of an even Greater Master. The heavens conceal more secrets than even I can understand. Even I was told to do as instructed, and ask no questions.’

‘Then what is the purpose of life on earth, Oh Great Goddess? Do I understand there is really none at all?’

‘The only purpose of Life is Death. A man is born and before he dies he gets the opportunity to ensure that others after him will also be born and die. You may deceive yourself by thinking that there is more to life than birth, growth, mating, old age and death. But, sooner or later, Naked Truth makes itself apparent.’

‘Naked Truth – like you, Oh my Goddess?’ I said, in an attempt to change the subject.

‘Look at the race of men whom you call the Strange Ones. See what trouble they went to, in coming to your country, seizing it, enslaving your people and despoiling themselves. What have they gained by it all? All they have gained is a useless toy called wealth – and softer couches on which to mate and die. They do not know it yet, but within a few moons you, Lumukanda, will go back there to lead a horde of savages, like yourself, to raze their plaything empire to the ground. And men born a mere hundred years from now will look in vain for traces of the Great City of the Empire of Karesu and Makira-Kadesi. You will leave no trace of it; turn it into a legend. Even thousands of years hence people must search in vain for the Lost City of Makarikari.