Chapter 3 Ofentse

Mt. Engwe southern Africa 1984

It was a cool winter morning. With the season just beginning, time hadn't passed enough for it to sink its talons into the flesh of the african lands.

A crowned eagle flew up above in an almost cloudless sky, free and yet attached to a man far down below who stood high up on a mountain facing south. From his position on a rock jutting out from the cliffs platform, he stared into the distance seeking the edge of the horizon. He had an all-round view unhindered by any of natures many forms, but his interest was strictly on the direction in which he faced. Something near the edge caught his attention. It was faint, faint enough to cause him to doubt. Just beyond a forest of trees he thought he saw the river suddenly disappear.

He had been traveling for sixteen weeks on foot, all on the word of a dying man who had last travelled this way nineteen years ago. The stern mould of his face broke, and a more gentle facade appeared as a replacement. He took a deep breath in and touched the large scar on his face, and what was almost a smile, vanished. He suddenly felt saddened by a memory, the death of the man who had taught him all he knew; survival in the wild, about his ancestry and how his people, the Aye, became buffalo hunters of the highetst pedigree.

Ofentse though, had other people, those of his mothers lineage, people he did not know, or rather had no recollection of.

The sun rose a little and his ability to see further improved. He felt the doubt decrease within him. He was now sure that he could see in the distance the forests that seemed so small surrounding his destination.

'As soon as you come out of the desert, you will see a mountain in front of you. Climb this mountain to its peak and when you reach the top, look in the direction of the river facing south. Then, as far as the eye can see where the river is no longer, that is where your journey will end.'

The large man touched his face, this time his thoughts transported him to the moment the flesh was torn from his left cheek. He sighed, "if only I had been more aware, I would have seen my father in trouble long before that animal cracked the first rib."

The buffalo that had scarred him was dead. It had fought ferociously for its life, he respected that, but the anger at seeing his father lying in Aye blood won out over the Buffalos will to live.

He had gotten to his father before the herd could kill him outright, but the wounds inflicted were far too severe for him to survive beyond the twelve days he did.

'Ofentse, you must go back to the lands of your mother, promise me Ofentse.'

He had nodded vigorously as he held onto his father's weak hand with tears in his eyes.

'Yes Papa, I promise.' These were the last words spoken between father and son. Papa Fentse died immediately after, his eyes stuck on those of his offspring.

Thus he came to be on the mountains upon which he stood, having travelled hundreds of kilometers from the plains of his father's ancestors, the buffalo hunters of Ayu. Two rivers were fed by the many pools and dams, one heading south and the other flowing east. He looked back over his shoulder hoping to see the lush grasslands and the buffalo, but all he saw was mountains of sand dunes.With all the determination displayed to get to his destination, one wouldn't guess that he was filled with trepidation. He didn't know what to expect and that unsettled him.

Over the years his father had tried to educate him about life in a city but these were mere concepts Ofentse had no affiliation with. He was a nomad who had roamed a region with two weather patterns and in that area he had not so much as come into contact with a traveling salesman, let alone a city.

He looked up, rotating his head as if searching the skies. Then, as if a decision was made, the big muscularly built man took up a large hooded coat from a nearby rock; as well as a big haversack with straps all made from buffalo hide like the clothing he wore, picked up his spear and began the descent.

He had been walking steadily for a number of hours only pausing to take a drink of water, when suddenly a bird fell at his feet with a harsh thump. A medium-sized bird with a grey body and a blue and red head. Ofentse didn't know it but it was a helmeted guineafowl. It showed no signs of life and seemed to have simply fallen from the sky. He looked up and spotted nothing unusual. The trees about him were tall so he didn't get much of a view, as well the glare of the sun and their reflections on the glossy green leaves reduced whatever possiblity he had of seeing anything, if he had anything to see. Without giving it any further thought, he knelt down and picked the bird up by the legs, walked over to a nearby tree and unhitched his load.

It wasn't long before he had a fire burning and an unfeathered meal on the roast. He sat on a log and drank in his surroundings.

He could hear the water splashing against dead branches and smashing into the river bank as it made its way. He could see the many insects as they flittered and buzzed merrily, each species at its own pace, working and playing. Birds chirped and whistled tunes and melodies together and alone. There were a few ferns and accacias sporadically dispersed in between tall Henkel Yellowwood. The ground was littered with twigs, dead leaves and broken pieces of bark; while a line of ants marched to a place or an object that demanded their attention. Ofentse took all in as he did the fresh air, dosed with the forest aroma of living and dead tissue.

He felt at union and would have continued absorbing in pleasure had it not been for a large bird with blue-black rear feathers landing nearby. The bird had wings out midair, revealing black and white spots arrayed alongside white, making it look like stripes. This colouring began on powerful legs, up along the wings beyond the chest where it was arrested by bright chestnut feathers. The bird quickly remedied this by folding them into a resting position. It had a tuft of feathers standing up on its head, the unmistakable double crest of the crowned eagle. Big yellow eyes focused on Ofentse.

"Ayu!" Ofentse's face lit up and a huge smile appeared on his face, he was indeed glad to see his companion.

Raised from a weak, barely feathered chick on milk and mashed buffalo meat, the hen named Ayu knew no other bond than the one she had with friend and mother, Ofentse. She moved closer to him. Ayu liked being rubbed at the back of her neck and between the wings. At times she would want some physical attention, and if Ofentse couldn't for some reason or other provide for this need, Ayu would then peck him with her sharp beak hard enough for him to feel a jolt of pain but never breaking his skin. Sometimes he would indeed be busy with something that required his full attention and as if Ayu was intuitive, the bird did not disturb him.

This time she needn't force for attention, because Ofentse obligingly began to gently caress her on the spots she enjoyed most.

"Thanks for the bird."

"Keek."

He laughed, "you know sometimes I think you understand everything I say."

"Keek-ke-keek."

"See."

Ayu bent her neck in different directions, as if she were stretching. Ofentse looked up to check on his meal.

"Ayu!" he shouted and sprang to his feet. He took hold of the stick on which the now almost burned guineafowl had been secured and then yanked it away from the flames.

"You see, I almost didn't have this awesome meal you've caught for me, look at it." He thrust the bird toward his companion, to which Ayu responded dramatically by immediately turning her brown head away from the food as if she didn't like the smell. Ayu then opened her wings and flapped them so that she lifted off the ground and flew backwards far enough for her nostrils to breathe fresh air. Ofentse laughed. He knew Ayu didn't like cooked meat, she insisted on her food being presented alive. Instead of sticking around and as if she took offense, Ayu opened her wings and headed for the skies, leaving Ofentse to finish his meal alone.

He was packing the hand-made knives, iron pyrite and flintstone, when he decided to open a small compartment that held a small draw-string bag. He pulled the leather strings, and shed light into the small space.

A silver scroll shone as if as if it held light within that glowed a silvery aura. He had looked at it many times before and yet it held a mysterious hold on him. He decided that it was because he didn't know what it said inside and not because he couldn't read, it was because it couldn't be opened.

Papa Fentse had taught his son to read on exactly eight books. There were only nine books in the entire camp, a tribe of about one hundred and fifty, and Papa Fentse owned eight. The other book was owned by a man who couldn't read, and refused to part with it under any circumstances. Both father and son had tried to teach him to read but he refused that as well.

He pulled the scroll out of its compartment. It was a thick page of silver about five millimeters thick rolled into a scroll. The thing that got to him the most was that he was told that the scroll would open on its own. He couldn't understand how this obviously inert object could suddenly decide that now the time is right. It was what his father had told him, and nothing his father had ever told him had turned out to be an untruth. To him his father was an honest man. He put the scroll back, tied and strapped, packed up all his earthly possessions and headed for the river where he filled his skins.

Having only walked a short distance, Ayu landed easily on his shoulder, and the two continued their journey together.

The day was reduced to only a few hours, the natural light on it's down phase, when Ofentse and Ayu finally arrived at the forests he had caught sight of in the morning. It was densely populated, the soil was darker and seemed richer in nutrients because the flora had increased dramatically. Mahogany, Mimosa's, mangroves, and yellowwood were in abundance; slugs, beetles and the like stood out for the fauna, while the skies were painted with plenty of colourful winged creatures. Even though winter was still only in the first stage of her visit.

After traversing unforgiving mountains, crawling over slippery boulders and jagged rocks; eaten scorpions in the desert while experiencing both extremes in temperatures in one day. Wet to his leather draws in a wild storm, at times nursing an empty stomach. The months on his feet had been a true test of his mettle, and he had passed dramatically, worthy of a medal. On his trek he had blisters, bruisers and many other minor injuries. The unseen injuries he kept to himself, mental strain was his secret. He had left lifelong friends, family and people he had known since a toddler; to face harsh conditions on a journey that would obviously lead to many challenges amongst a civilization he couldn't remember. With only a short way to go, he felt good. Relief, he would be able to keep his word. He could see the large white flag with a blue image of a lake on a white background waving in the wind. He could hear the water as it rumbled and roared, the force of a collision from a vast height. It was the distinct sound, he couldn't see it, being blocked by trees in his way. He felt both elation and fear, opponents in the race to capture his emotional state.

He was about to move closer to the waterfall, when suddenly Ayu took flight.