EIGHT: Runaway Prize
Nomusa went into the warm hut for some pumpkin, but she came out quickly. She drew in a long breath of fresh air and wiped her perspiring brow.
“Oh, how good the night air feels!” she said to Intombi. “The moon is high, and the stars are sparkling already.”
The cry of a very young baby was heard. Nomusa looked at Intombi.
“My uncle’s wife has a new baby, born eight days ago. Should you like to see her?”
Nomusa was glad to accept the invitation. She loved babies, and she was glad to get away from the gossiping girls.
Together they walked over to the hut. In front of the entrance, Intombi turned to Nomusa. “Here are the ashes of the magic herb in which you must rub your feet before entering. You have come a long way, and you may have got something evil on them. With new babies we have to be very careful, you know.”
Nomusa obediently rubbed her feet in the ashes while Intombi gave a polite cough, which was answered from within by a quiet, friendly “Bayete.”
Nomusa and Intombi entered the hut. Nomusa smiled as she caught sight of the new baby, who was still moist from her bath.
“It is Nomusa,” said Intombi simply to the baby’s mother.
Nomusa’s delight in the baby was plain to see; in a few moments she took off one of her necklaces of small shells and hung it around the baby’s plump neck.
“It is a present for the baby,” Nomusa said to the mother. “She is strong and big for her age. I hope she will grow up to be clever in boys’ work as well as in girls’.”
“We had not chosen a name for her,” said themother, surprised at Nomusa’s wish, “but now I know what it will be. We shall call her Nomusa, which means kindness, for you.”
At these words Nomusa blushed so that her face had an even more beautiful color. It was the first time such an honor had been done her, and she was pleased and proud.
Soon after, Nomusa and Intombi left to join the other children. They found them all assembled in a huge circle in the kraal space. Damasi was in the center going from one child to another examining body designs.
“Hurry, get into the circle, or it will be too late,” shouted Kangata impatiently when he saw Nomusa coming along.
She and Intombi lost no time in squeezing in next to some of the bigger girls, adding their laughter and chatter to that of the others as they waited for Damasi to finish judging the designs.
“Among the boys,” announced Damasi finally, “the prize goes to Fanase. Among the girls”—and he hesitated for the moment as if making up his mind—“the prize goes to Nomusa.”
Unbelieving, Nomusa looked at Intombi and then turned her head in the direction of Kangata. His face was full of disappointment and misery. Sad for her little brother, Nomusa could take no pleasure in having been awarded a prize. Just as she was thinking, “I shall give Kangata my prize,” she heard Damasi shouting out loudly, “The prize for the funniest design goes to Kangata!”
There was a roar of laughter. The children clicked their tongues, “tsick tsick,” in congratulation. For a few moments Kangata did not know whether to laugh or to cry, but when Damasi called him into the large ring of children and handed him a basket full of roasted winged ants, locusts, and caterpillars, his face broke into a cheerful grin, and he began to laugh, too. This caused the other children to laugh still more, and soon the kraal echoed with their pleasure. Nomusa expected to hear some of the mothers shout “Tula!” from their huts, but no one did. It was Damasi’s party, and the children could do as they pleased for this one day.
“Come into the ring, Nomusa,” called Damasi, “so everyone can see your designs.” More emphatic“tsick tsicks” clicked around her. A little embarrassed, she took Kangata’s hand and then looked down toward her wriggling toes.
“I wonder what you’re going to get,” whispered Kangata. But Nomusa neither answered nor looked up. Her only desire was to be allowed to get out of the middle of the ring and go back to Intombi’s side at once. What took Damasi so long? This was a poor joke—leaving her there next to Kangata with all those children staring at her. Kangata, however, was unconcerned. He was eating a locust with great relish and trying at the same time to count the number of delicacies he had won.
All at once the children grew silent. Nomusa looked up to see Damasi coming toward her with a very small gray striped monkey clinging to his neck with both little hands. When she saw the monkey, Nomusa’s heart began to beat faster.
“For you,” she heard Damasi saying, as he gently unclasped the monkey’s arms from around his neck and handed him to Nomusa.
She murmured her thanks and tenderly took thelittle animal in her arms. She could hardly believe she had won such a marvelous prize.
The girls crowded around Nomusa, trying to pet the little monkey. But he clung to Nomusa.
“See, he loves you already,” said Intombi. “What are you going to call him?”
“He is striped like a zebra,” Nomusa said, still in a sort of daze. “I think I shall call him Dube.”
“I am happy because you like your prize,” said Damasi in a low voice.
“Oh, thank you, Damasi! Indeed I like him very much! It is the best present I have ever had.”
The sun had set long ago. Whatever the mellow light of the moon did not reach was bathed in darkness. As Nomusa stood holding Dube and petting him, Sisiwe came to her.
“Look, Nomusa. They are bringing out the drums. That means we shall soon begin to dance.”
“Oh, I had better go right away and tie Dube in one of the huts so he won’t run away.”
Nomusa carried Dube into one of the empty party huts. He did not like it when Nomusa put him in a cornerand tied a cord around his neck. The sound of drums from outside frightened Dube. He clung to Nomusa’s leg as if begging her not to leave him. The drums sounded again.
“Oh, the dance!” cried Nomusa. Torn between her desire to stay with Dube and her eagerness to go to the dance, she pleaded. “Oh, Dube, I really can’t stay any longer!”
Dropping the monkey on the floor, she rushed out to join the dancers. She fell in with one of the rows of children who were already hopping along rhythmically on one leg and chanting “khelekhelekobe ngajlatshwa ameva” to the beat of a pot drum.
[Girl]
It was nothing but a large earthenware pot with a goatskin drawn tightly over the mouth of it. Damasi’s cousin, Bongoza, was playing it by tapping it with the palm and fingers of his hand. The excited and varied rhythms he produced threw the dancers into a joyful frenzy; they hopped first on one leg, then on the other, shouting and chanting.
After this dance had stopped, Damasi appeared with a bow made of a bent reed which he had strung tight with an ox-tendon string. He held one end of the bow in his lips and twanged the string with his thumb. This was the signal for another dance, and the children sprang up again.
[Guitar]
The dancers got in a long line, and this time they composed their own dance. They turned to each other, grunting and screwing up their faces. Such hideous grimaces as they made! It was terrifying enough to scare away a lion, Nomusa thought. Soon she decided it was more fun to drop out of the dance and watch it. She singled out Kangata, whose movements and dreadful faces were so comical that Nomusa’s sides ached from laughing.
“Oh, that Kangata!” she exclaimed. “What awful faces!”
Intombi had dropped out, too. “Let us get some corn kernels so we can play the game of guessing bird names,” she suggested.
Nomusa went with her to a pile of dried mealie cobs. They began stripping off kernels and dropping them into a basket. When they had enough, the girls carried the basket out to an open space. Together they laid the kernels in rows on the ground.
From all sides came the children, eager to take part in the new game. “Bula Msense!” they called to each other, announcing the game.
“Boys on one side, girls on the other,” cried Intombi.
The smaller children did not take part in this game; so they stood to one side watching the others. Each child was given a turn at naming a bird for each kernel, picking up a kernel if he could offer a name no other child had yet given. If he could not name a different bird, he had to drop out of the game.
At the beginning the corn kernels disappeared quickly as a child from one side would call out “finch,”and the other side would cry “honey-bird,” or “white-eye,” or “woodpecker,” or “nightjar.”
Nomusa marveled at the number of birds the children knew. She was ashamed of having been eliminated when the game was not yet half over. Mdingi was still going strong against Damasi, Zabala, and Bongoza. Nomusa was very proud of him. Excitedly the onlookers cheered on the remaining contestants.
Presently it was announced that Mdingi was the winner. Intombi brought him a narrow belt of oxhide, with beads dangling from it; and everyone cheered as Mdingi delightedly fastened it around his slim waist.
It was now the turn of the smaller children to have a dance or game of their own. Kangata boldly walked into the empty space and began showing a new dance he had invented. As he chanted, he jumped up, at the same time kicking his buttocks with his bare heels. The other children imitated him.
It was a strenuous dance, and as the children grew tired, their throats became parched and they uttered their songs in short gasps. Weak corn beer andamasiwere passed around to quench their thirst.
One of the older boys now came up, playing a flute made of the chinbone of a reedbuck. He sat on the ground and made up plaintive tunes while the children gathered around him, munching kaffir plums, blackberries, wild figs, or roasted caterpillars. The soothing music of the flute calmed the children and made the little ones so sleepy that they dozed off and had to be carried into the huts and laid on mats to sleep.
It was now midnight, and the moon floated behind some wispy clouds, making them luminous and gray. The older boys left the kraal and went off by themselves. Nomusa decided that instead of joining a girl’s game she would go to the hut where she had left Dube.
Softly she groped her way among sleeping children to Dube’s corner, expecting him to jump into her arms. But he did not come to her. He must be asleep, Nomusa thought. She was glad, for it made her feel less selfish for having left him.
It was quite dark in the corner, so she began feeling for Dube. At last she found the cord. But there was no monkey attached to it. With a sudden pang Nomusa realized that Dube might have run away.
Quietly, so as not to waken the sleeping children, she moved about the hut, hoping to find Dube hiding. But he was not there. Nomusa left the hut, wondering what to do. She decided to search in all the huts, and began by entering the main one, where the girls were busy playingngelitshe.
“Yo, Nomusa!” they called. “Have you been in the hills with the boys, or have you been asleep in one of the huts with the little ones?”
Nomusa smiled wretchedly, and Intombi said, “Come and play with us, Nomusa. You will beat us all at this stone game. Here, take my stones for a while. I am tired.” Nomusa wanted to say that she was weary of all these boring girls’ games, but instead she squatted beside Intombi, taking the five stones.
Her heart was heavy as she held the stones in her hand. The game was to hold all the stones in one hand, tossing one into the air while holding all the others and catching the stone in the same hand. Each time a different stone was thrown. When a player failed to catch a stone, she was eliminated from the game. It was easy for Nomusa. She did not feel like playing, and as soonas the attention of the girls was turned from her, her eyes roamed over every part of the hut, searching for Dube. In an absent-minded way she tossed her stones, turning her head from side to side and then back, just in time to catch the tossed stone in her hand again.
After a while Nomusa decided to leave the hut. She gave the stones back to Intombi and crept out into the cool air of the starlit night. The girls continued with their game, forgetting about Nomusa.
[Huts]