Read Acacia - Secrets of an African Painting Page 21
CHAPTER TWENTY - THABAS INDUNAS
The early morning mist shrouded the hill, several miles to the southeast of Bulawayo, the old heart of the Matabele nation. There were no tourists at this time of the day; they wouldn’t start heading into the area for another two or three hours, so Gatsheni was relaxed as he sat and waited for the others to arrive.
On his arrival in Bulawayo, he had wasted no time in making contact with the indunas, such as they were these days and calling for an indaba, a council of leaders here at the Thabas Indunas, the Hill of Chiefs. This group of men were relics of a long forgotten past, but they clung on to their beliefs that one day the Matabele nation would rise again and rule the lands of their forefathers, ridding the people of the yolk forced upon them by the Mashona jackals.
Gatsheni looked up as the first of the old men arrived and stood to greet him.
‘I see you Zawane, son of Chakundwa, there are deep matters to discuss here and we must be firm in our decisions.’
The induna responded in the traditional manner and one by one six further old men joined them until there were eight of them, seated in a circle, conferring leadership on no one man, allowing each to speak and judge as he saw fit.
‘The time Mlimo prophesied has come to us, my brothers.’ Gatsheni spoke first. ‘The great treasure of Lobengula is threatened by the approach of the bunu. The white man is here already with a woman who is of his blood and they search for Mboku’s place.
We, the remaining indunas, the blood of our ancestors, the warriors of the Matabele, must act soon if we are to stop these people, for I know that they will destroy the secret we have kept for so long. I have already sent some amadoda against them, but these warriors are little more than boys and I fear they will only slow the intruders for a short time.
I say that we must summon Mlimo once again and use the power of the spirits to help us protect the stones.’
He sat down, head bowed for a second before raising his eyes and looking at the other men one by one in turn, waiting for them to speak. There was a nervous pause, though, and he sensed that the old men had lost their heart for a fight. They looked at each other, hoping that someone else would be the first to stand and speak. Despite his age, they all feared Gatsheni, as they believed that he could talk with the spirits and wondered at the retribution they could face if they chose to ignore the threat he spoke of.
‘Nkosi, we, the men of the Matabele are unsure of the course of action to take. The man you speak of is only one person and the woman can’t pose a threat to us. Please explain to us why there is a need for Mlimo, when the amadoda could deal with them. Help us so that we can understand.’ The first man to arrive, Zawane, spoke, trying to appear conciliatory and not wanting to antagonise Gatsheni.
Gatsheni took some minutes to speak, holding his head low and breathing deeply until the others feared that he had fallen asleep right there in front of them. They murmured and fidgeted, unsure whether to wake him or not.
Then he stood, rising from where he had sat in a single strong, fluid movement, which if they had not seen it with their own eyes, the other men would not have believed Gatsheni to be capable of such a thing. His head was still bowed and his eyes fluttered as his arms lifted above his head. His frail body seemed to almost vibrate with life and energy; muscles rippled and crooked joints straightened, as he stood there silent in front of them.
‘You are like the amekazi of the Matabele.’ The words came from Gatsheni’s lips, but the sound was terrifying to the old indunas, loud and shrill, echoing around them, seeming to emanate from the very earth itself. Being likened to mothers of the tribe, worrying about the children and the goats was galling, but not one man spoke out against it.
‘You would let the bunu destroy us all? I spoke once of this threat and now you must act to guard against it or I will act against you, erasing you and your families from the earth.’
The men trembled and cowered as the words echoed around them.
‘This man’s family have come before and each time there has been death, but still they come, but no more, you must stop them for good now. Bulala umbuna, bulala kusasa.’ they shrunk back even further at the Ndbele instruction to kill the white man, knowing how it could destroy them if they were discovered, but that the spirits could destroy them if they failed.
As his words echoed and faded into the earth and trees around them, Gatsheni collapsed back to the ground. He once again looked like an old man with rheumy red eyes and he looked up at them challenging anyone to speak out against him now.
No one moved spoke, or dared look him in the eye as they contemplated what they must do.