Assegai

‘A kiss? Now you have my interest.’ He lifted his hat and scratched his head thoughtfully. ‘Eureka! Got it!’ he exclaimed. ‘I might want to bring you up here for a champagne picnic on our honeymoon.’

‘Come and get your kiss, clever boy!’

As they left the clearing it started to rain, but the drops were as warm as blood and they didn’t bother to take shelter. An hour later, with dramatic sudde

‘Such a stirring sound.’ Eva cocked her head to listen. ‘It’s the very pulse of Africa. But why are the drums beating in the middle of the day?’

Leon spoke quickly to Manyoro, and then he told her, ‘They are welcoming us.’

‘But how could anyone know we’re coming?’

‘Lusima knows.’

‘Another of your little jokes?’ she demanded.

‘Not this time. She always knows when we’re coming, sometimes before we know it ourselves.’

The drums urged them forward and they quickened their pace. The sun was low and smoky red when they emerged from the forest and smelled woodsmoke and cattle pens. Then they heard voices and the lowing of the herds, and at last they saw the rounded roofs of the manyatta and a crowd of figures in red shukas coming towards them, singing the songs of welcome.

They were swept up by the crowd and carried along with the laughing, singing throng to the village. As they approached the large central hut the others hung back and left Leon and Eva standing alone before the hut.

‘Is this where she lives?’ Eva asked, in an awed whisper.

‘Yes.’ He took her arm possessively. ‘She will make her entrance after keeping us in suspense for a while. Lusima enjoys a little drama and theatrics.’

As he spoke she appeared before them through the doorway of the great hut, and Eva started with surprise. ‘She’s so young and beautiful. I thought she’d be an ugly old witch.’

‘I see you, Mama,’ Leon greeted her.

‘I see you also, M’bogo, my son,’ Lusima replied, but she was staring, with those mesmerizing dark eyes, at Eva. Then she glided towards her with regal grace. Eva stood her ground as Lusima stopped in front of her. ‘Your eyes are the colour of a flower,’ she said. ‘I shall call you Maua, which means “flower”.’ Then she looked at Leon. ‘Yes, M’bogo.’ She nodded. ‘This is the one of whom you and I spoke. You have found her. This is your woman. Now, tell her what I have said.’

Eva’s expression lit with joy as she listened to the translation. ‘Please, Badger, tell her I’ve come to ask for her blessing.’

He did so.

‘You shall have it,’ Lusima promised her. ‘But, child, I see that you have no mother. She was carried away by a terrible disease.’

The smile faded from Eva’s face. ‘She knew about my mother?’ she whispered to Leon. ‘Now I believe all that you have told me about her.’

Lusima reached out with both hands and cupped Eva’s face between smooth pink palms. ‘M’bogo is my son, and you shall be my daughter. I shall take the place of your mother who has gone to be with her ancestors. Now I give you a mother’s blessing. May you find the happiness that for so long has eluded you.’

‘You are my mother, Lusima Mama. May I give you a daughter’s kiss?’ Eva asked.

Lusima’s smile was a thing of such loveliness that it seemed to light the gloom. ‘Although it is not the custom of our tribe, I know that this is the mzungu way of showing respect and affection. Yes, my daughter, you may kiss me, and I shall kiss you back.’ Almost shyly Eva went into her embrace. ‘You smell like a flower,’ Lusima said.

‘And you smell like the good earth after rain,’ Eva replied, after a pause to hear Leon’s translation.

‘Your soul is full of poetry,’ Lusima said, ‘but you are hurt and tired to the depths of it. You must rest in the hut we have built for you. Perhaps, here on Lonsonyo Mountain, your wounds will be healed and you will be made strong again.’

The hut to which Lusima’s handmaidens led them was newly built. It smelled of the smoke of the herbs that had been burned to purify it, and of the fresh cow dung with which the floors were plastered. There were bowls of stewed chicken, roasted vegetables and cassava meal waiting for them, and after they had eaten, the maidens led them to the bed of animal skins with carved wooden headrests set side by side. ‘You will be the first to sleep here. Let our joy at your coming be your joy also,’ they told them as they withdrew and left them alone.

In the morning the girls came to fetch Eva and take her to the pool in the stream that was reserved for the women. When she had bathed they braided her hair with flowers. Then they brought her a fresh unworn red shuka to replace her own torn and dusty clothing. Giggling and caressing her as though she was a pretty child, they showed her how to fold and arrange the shuka like a Roman toga. Then, barefooted, they took her to the great council tree under which Lusima was waiting. Leon was already there, and the three shared a breakfast of sour milk and sorghum porridge.

After they had eaten they talked together for the rest of the morning. Eva and Lusima sat side by side watching each other’s faces and eyes, every now and then holding hands. They were in such complete accord that Leon’s translations were mostly superfluous, for they seemed to understand each other implicitly on a level above that of speech.

‘You have been alone for a long time,’ Lusima said at one stage.

‘Yes, I have been alone for too long,’ Eva agreed, then glanced at Leon and reached out to touch his hand. ‘But no longer.’

‘Loneliness erodes the soul as water wears away rocks.’ Lusima nodded.

‘Will I ever be alone again, Mama?’

‘You wish to know what the future holds, Maua?’ she asked.

Eva nodded. ‘Your son M’bogo says that you can see what lies ahead for all of us.’

‘He is a man, and men try to make all things simple. The future is not simple. Look up!’ Eva raised her head obediently and gazed at the sky. ‘What do you see, my flower?’

‘I see clouds.’

‘What shape and colour are they?’

‘They are many shapes and shades, changing even as I watch them.’

‘Thus it is with the future. It takes many shapes and it changes as the winds of our lives blow.’

‘So you ca

‘That is not what I said. Sometimes the dark curtains open and I am given a glimpse of what lies ahead, but I ca

‘Look into my future, please, Mama. Tell me if you find a glimpse of happiness there,’ Eva asked eagerly.

‘We have been together only a short time. As yet, I know little about you. When I have looked deeper into your soul, perhaps I will be able to scry your future better.’

‘Oh, Mama! That would make me so happy.’

‘Do you think so? Perhaps I will come to love you so well that I will not want to tell you what I see.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘The future is not always kind. If I see things that would make you sad and unhappy would you want to hear them?’

‘All I want is that you tell me M’bogo and I will be together for ever.’

‘If I said that will not be, what would you do?’

‘I would die,’ Eva said.

‘I do not want you to die. You are too lovely and good. So if I see in the future that the two of you will be parted, shall I lie to you to keep you from dying?’

‘You make it very difficult, Mama.’

‘Life is difficult. Nothing is certain. We must take the days allotted to us and make of them what we can.’ She studied Eva’s face, saw the pain and took pity on her. ‘This much I can tell you. As long as you are together, you and M’bogo will know true happiness, for your hearts are linked like these two plants.’ She laid her hand on an ancient vine that twisted around the trunk of the council tree like a python. ‘See how the vine has become part of the tree. See how the one supports the other. You ca