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Ingqumbo Yeminyanya/The Wrath of the Ancestors
AC Jordan
(First published 1940)
On Sunday the cricketers returned with the news that they had been beaten at Umtata, and their chief complaint was that though they had made a fine stand in batting, they had been let down by the attack, which was weak in the absence of the teacher, Mthunzini. Mphuthumi was glad to see Mthunzini on his return, and said he had been anxious about him all the time he was at Umtata. As to his suitcase, he noticed nothing, Mthunzini laughed in his heart.
Before the weekend word came from the Great Place to the effect that Mthunzini must not fail to go there on the following Friday. By this time, of course, he had completely recovered from his mysterious illness. This stomach trouble of his, as a rule, lasted only two or three days and then he was as well as ever. As Mphuthumi was also due to go home that Friday, they agreed to set out from the mission together. Mthunzini did not tell Mphuthumi that he was visiting the Great Place but only that he had to go to town. As a matter of fact, Mphuthumi himself was not just paying an ordinary visit home. On that same Friday night a meeting of certain picked men was to be held at Dabula’s house, the matter to be discussed being the last letter from Zwelinzima.
When the school broke up the teachers’ horses had already been saddled by the boys. Now, whenever the teachers rode out of the mission, the whole community used to come out and watch the proud cavorting of their horses. Both of these were strong, tall, beautiful animals and equally handsome tripplers. As soon as the riders were mounted the horses would snort and paw the ground impatiently.
On this particular day they promised a fine display, for they were in excellent fettle and there were plenty of spectators since school had just broken up and teachers and school-children were all over the place. Everyone stopped to gaze at the spirited horses, now plunging their heads between their forelimbs, and now pawing the ground or jerking their necks and tossing their manes. Now they would amble sideways or stamp with their hoofs repeatedly on one spot, and now they would rear into the air so wildly that anyone who was not familiar with the tricks of a young man’s horse might think it was trying to throw him.
You might have said that Mphuthumi’s horse, Goloza, (the Lingerer), was actually conscious of the admiring eyes which followed his cavortings. He even had a trick of affecting lameness, the rogue, and it was such a convincing performance that more than once his rider had been held up by the police for riding a lame horse. Mphuthumi derived so much satisfaction from thus making fun of the police that he had named the horse ‘Destroyer of the peace’. He would tell the tale of this clever trick when he sang his praise-song.
When he was really in a happy mood and got talking about his horse to the other teachers, Mphuthumi used to set everybody laughing. There was one particular occasion on which he surpassed himself. He had set out late from St Cuthbert’s, having overslept, and arrived at Somerville for a teachers’ meeting considerably behind time. The teachers were standing in a group waiting, when his horse appeared in full career and came to an abrupt stop on its hocks right in front of them. Mphuthumi leapt down and, without so much as a greeting, said: "Fellows, this is a marvel of a horse, I tell you! No sooner had I placed my foot in the stirrup than he let fall a pellet of dung and – would you believe it? – by the time that pellet struck the ground I was already crossing the Mqunya. As soon as I reached the other side of the river I swore at him. I said:
‘You who linger at the trysting-place in vain,
You shameless serpent who destroyed the peace of paradise,
Hear the chickens screeching, terror-stricken
As the hen-mother skids away, out of your path!
Scamper away, baby-fowl, scamper after your mother!
Howl away, dog’s head, and tonight I’ll feed you on Mphothulo.’
"You should have seen how high he lifted his hoofs at this. I threw a glance at his hindquarters and saw his hoofs turned up like saucers, and his tail cocked high. I seized his tail and thrust it into my coat pocket!"
The other teachers roared with laughter, and the president forgot even to reprimand him, as secretary of the association, for being late.
On this particular day, Goloza did not perform any of these miraculous feats. He did no more than go through his paces in the manner just described, an even this was forgotten by the time the young men disappeared over the Bele ridge, for their thoughts were not on their horses. On reaching town they shopped together and parted, Mphuthumi proceeding to Mbokothwana and Mthunzini returning ostensibly to St Cuthbert’s, but actually going on to the Great Place.
On his arrival there Mthunzini was again attended to by the man of the meat who off-saddled his horse, knee-haltered it and gave it over to the boys to look after it. Mthunzini was careful this time not to hasten to ask to see the Chief. But in any case the situation was rather different this time. He noticed that he was an expected visitor.
Only four men were to be seen about the place. To all appearances the Chief was not at home, and Mthunzini surmised that the business to which he had been summoned, whatever its nature, was going to be attended to during the night. Throughout this period of waiting he lay at ease in the courtyard along with the other men. There was meat, too, which the man of the meat roasted on the spot.
As time went on, a number of men arrived, some singly, some in groups, until there were well over ten. The first to come was Jongilanga, the son of an uncle of Zanemvula and a petty chief of Matyeba. He was accompanied by two of his own counsellors. Next to arrive was Mabhozo of the Mlungwana clan, head of the Xabane ward. He was attended by one counsellor. Then came Zamani of the Gcaga clan from the Nzebe ward. He came all by himself. He was followed by Mthonzima of the royal house of Ngwanya, with his own counsellor from Jenca; then Bhula from the Mnga ward and Zweliyatsha from Lujecweni, each attended by two counsellors. By this time night had fallen, but the men continued to sit out in the open, their saddles all in a row not far from their owners. They sat chatting for a long time, but there were intermittent spells of silence when the men evidently would have liked to ask one another why they had been summoned by the Chief, for it was obvious to them that they had all been called for one and the same purpose. What aroused their curiosity was the presence of the young man. The rest of them were petty chiefs with their counsellors. But when it became known that he was the grandson of Ntakana, they were not so puzzled.
The man of the meat had meantime been bustling about, coming and going, though it was not quite clear what he was doing. At last, however, two young men were seen bringing two fully grown sheep to the courtyard, while the man of the meat followed behind. He went up to a man of the Dosini clan who always took charge of affairs at the Great Place in the absence of the Chief, and after they had spoken in undertones, biting each other’s ears, Dosini rose and addressed the group in the following manner:
"Countrymen, night has descended upon us, and our father is not yet home. But while you are waiting, we do not consider it fitting that you should die of hunger when you could have some hard-boiled mealies and at least take the edge off your hunger. You are not here as members of your clans, and so I shall not divide you up. Come, eat out of the same dish as children of one and the same family. Here, then, are the mealies. Get your teeth into them, hard as they are". So saying, he pointed to the sheep.
Two of the men sprang upon the sheep and slaughtered them. Boys were there in large numbers to help them. So there was roasting and eating far into the night.
They did not notice the arrival of the Chief. In fact, Mthunzini drew the conclusion that the Chief had been home all the time and regarded his non-appearance as just one of those mysteries that one must expect to encounter when dealing with royalty.
At last the men were invited to a big hut where private councils of this nature were usually held. They sat without exchanging a word till the Chief appeared. Without waiting for the royal salute, he went round shaking hands with each man in turn and thus put them at ease and made them feel at home. He took his seat and proceeded to talk about things in general, such as the state of the crops and the prices of wool, for the shearing season was just over.
After these preliminaries, a dead hush fell on the assembled group as the man of the Dosini clan was seen to rise to his feet and prepare himself to address them.
"Worthy countrymen", he said, "you must be asking yourselves why you have been called here today. You are here at the call of the Child of Kings, and he has summoned you on a very grave matter. We shall be glad if you will listen carefully when we explain it to you, so that you may be in a position to decide how best to act. After a great deal of looking around, the Excellent One decided that in all this domain of Majola it is you who are capable of dealing with the situation. Indeed in the present untidy state of affairs of this House, you are the only men who immediately seize your weapons when the Excellent One gives the alarm."
Dingindawo now rose to his feet and spoke.
"I am not going to address you by your clan names, my countrymen, because it was not by reason of your being Mpondomise that I called you here today. If that had been the reason, Dabula would have been here, Ngubengwe would have been here, Danisa would have been here, Ngxabane would have been here. Well, they are not here".
The mention of Ngxabane’s name startled the men. It was nearly twenty years since he left the district of Tsolo, and many people had even forgotten his existence. At the mention of his name the men gave a groan, for when long-forgotten corpses are unearthed, it is a sign that all is not well.
"I say, they are not here," he repeated. "And that confirms what Dosini has just said that this house is in an untidy state. In addressing you, therefore, I am not going to call you ‘Mpondomise’. I should be misnaming you if I did. The Mpondomise nation is dead and finished. You are here simply as my brothers, the brothers of Dingindawo. So it is fitting that I address you as ‘Brothers, Children of my father’."
With these words he paused, cast a sweeping glance round the assembled company to see the effect of his appeal, and judged that he had not spoken in vain. Then, pointing at Mthunzini, the Chief continued: "This young man whom you see amongst you – you know his grandfather very well. Yes, this is the grandson of Ntakana, and Ntakana you all knew, since your father and he were men. All of them were my faithful counsellors, but Ntakana outlived them all and served this house of Majola until the day of his death. But indeed I am wrong to say he is dead. Behold, this is he!" He stretched out his hand to Mthunzini, and every man turned to look at him.
The Chief repeated his words: "Ntakana is not dead. This is he! Had he been dead, we should not be gathered here in this hut tonight. You would all have been sleeping in your own homes. It is because of him that we are here. It is because Ntakana continues to serve the house that he was wont to serve. When you have heard what he has to say, you will agree that I spoke the truth when I told you Ntakana is not dead. Children of my father, I say to you that the land is upside down, yet in spite of that you and I have been in a deep sleep. The only man who is wide awake is this grandson of Ntakana! Young man, stand up and rouse these your fathers out of their untimely sleep! Do not be afraid. Ntakana was never a coward!"
Dingindawo knew human nature. A glance over the gathering had shown him that the young man was overawed by the presence of the older men. His intention in speaking in this way was to put some spirit into him. After all, were they not "in a deep sleep?" And was he not "the only man who was wide awake"?
Inspired by these words, Mthunzini stood up, but still he was at a loss how to begin. Again it was Dingindawo who gave him the clue:
"My son," he said, "tell these men about the foul things that are being done by Dabula and Ngxabane." At these words the men exchanged significant glances.
Mthunzini told the whole story of the correspondence that was going on between the conspirators and the unknown man of Sheshegu. He had already understood that the men who were gathered in the hut were Dingindawo’s most trusted followers, and from the outset he made it clear that he was one-in-spirit with them. He presented the facts with great skill, unfolding the plot vividly, step by step, and producing irrefutable evidence that it was a true story. With the instinct of a born story-teller, he held back the name of the chief character concerned. Then, right at the end, he disclosed it, pronouncing the terrible name – ZWELINZIMA.
It is not for nothing that we speak of their ‘manhood’ when we praise courageous men. It is a term that becomes them well. For such men are capable of receiving news, however terrifying, without display of emotion. And though they may be deeply moved, yet they show no visible signs. On this occasion, however, the men behaved very differently. When Mthunzini had finished his tale, they rocked in their seats and uttered sounds of consternation. Then there was a dead silence in which no man moved nor looked at his neighbour, but each one stared at his own feet.
Suddenly this hush was broken by Mabhozo, whose voice rang out as if he were speaking from the roof-top.
"Be at peace, great ones! I shall not keep you long, for there is no time to waste. For myself I have shaken off the sleep that held me. It is true, as our Chief has told us, that Ntakana is not dead. Here his in our midst! There is no need for me to say more. But there is this one thing I would like to impress on you, Excellent One, and you, my brothers. We must not allow the hearthstones to cool! We must be up and doing! Christmas is already treading on our heels. It is only a matter of days before this stranger arrives. I say therefore, my countrymen, that if there by any one among you who is a coward, let him reveal it now. We of the house of Nobhula, of Mlungwana, at Xabane, we know no Zwelinzima! The Zwelinzima we knew died at Mngazi many years ago. If then there should be some other Zwelinzima coming, maybe he will break through Matyeba and climb over the Nqadu Mountain. But he will not go up the Xabane fastnesses. I vanish!"
As he sat, he cast a challenging glance at Jongilanga. Thereupon Jongilanga sprang violently to his feet and said: "No stranger will set his foot on the land of my father. But perhaps this Zwelinzima will come down Ncembu and through Jenca. I say no more!"
Thus did Jongilanga in turn throw his challenge to the next man.
At this Mthonzima leapt and spoke.
"Possibly he will cross the Mnga river, but he will not set foot on the land of my fathers!"
Bhula answered the challenge and said: "The dogs of Mnga village still bark and bite, and the thorns of the mimosa prick deep. How then shall a man who is unfamiliar with the country pass through? His best plan would be to come down the Ntywenka Heights and approach along the borders of Magutywa."
Then rose the man of the Gcaga clan who had come unattended. "Do not think because I came here alone I was born alone," he said. "The people of Ndongazilubhelu still live beyond the hills yonder, above the waters of Habalalashe. If the so-called Zwelinzima crossed the Nxu river, he would carry his insides in his hands!""
On the same night at the same hour there was another meeting, considerably bigger than this one. Here too, the letters were the main topic, and the leader of the discussion was also a young man. Moreover the same figure was the centre of their argument. But to the men gathered here he was not "the so-called Zwelinzima". No, to them he was "the Excellent One". This meeting was being held at Mbokothwana, at the home of Dabula, in the heart of the Tolo clan. Here solemn pledges were being made, for men were being selected for the task of bringing Zwelinzima, the Excellent One, from Sheshegu. This was to be at Christmas time. Of the men who were present, the most prominent were Dabula of Mbokothwana, Funcuza, who had come from Ntshiqo accompanied by four men closely related to the roayal house, Thembeni from Ncambele, Danisa from Magutywa, Xhalisa from Mjika, Ngubengwe from Ngcolosi. Then there were also Dlelaphandle from Gungululu and the aged Mpondomise wearer of the ivory arm-ring, Ngxabane from the Thina, Dumakude father of Mphuthumi, and lastly Mphuthumi himself. Each petty chief was attended by two trusted man; Xhalisa was attended by Khalipha, the father of Thembeka!
All these men would have been astounded if they had known that there was another gathering at which the selfsame topic of Zwelinzima’s return was being discussed, for they had not the slightest suspicion that anyone in the district of Tsolo outside this meeting so much as dreamt that a person by the name of Zwelinzima Zanemvula was still alive.
The men took their oaths, the swearing-in being conducted by Dabula and Ngxabane, and the following were selected to go to Sheshegu: Dabula, Ngubengwe, Thembani, Dlelaphandle, Danisa and Funcuza. On the same ight this group took the name of "FELANDAWONYE", "inseparables-to-the-death".
