Child of Storm

After recovering from his alleged sickness Saduko gave a kind of

thanksgiving feast, at which several oxen were killed. I was present at

this feast, or rather at the last part of it, for I only put in what may

be called a complimentary appearance, having no taste for such native

gorgings. As it drew near its close Saduko sent for Nandie, who at

first refused to come as there were no women present--I think because he

wished to show his friends that he had a princess of the royal blood

for his wife, who had borne him a son that one day would be great in the

land. For Saduko, as I have said, had become a "self-eater," and this

day his pride was inflamed by the adulation of the company and by the

beer that he had drunk.

At length Nandie did come, carrying her babe, from which she never would

be parted. In her dignified, ladylike fashion (although it seems an odd

term to apply to a savage, I know none that describes her better) she

greeted first me and then sundry of the other guests, saying a few words

to each of them. At length she came opposite to Masapo, who had dined

not wisely but too well, and to him, out of her natural courtesy, spoke

rather longer than to the others, inquiring after his wife, Mameena, and

others. At the moment it occurred to me that she did this in order to

assure him that she bore no malice because of the accident of a while

before, and was a party to her husband's reconciliation with him.

Masapo, in a hazy way, tried to reciprocate these kind intentions.

Rising to his feet, his fat, coarse body swaying to and fro because of

the beer that he had drunk, he expressed satisfaction at the feast that

had been prepared in her house. Then, his eyes falling on the child, he

began to declaim about its size and beauty, until he was stopped by the

murmured protests of others, since among natives it is held to be not

fortunate to praise a young child. Indeed, the person who does so is apt

to be called an "umtakati", or bewitcher, who will bring evil upon its

head, a word that I heard murmured by several near to me. Not satisfied

with this serious breach of etiquette, the intoxicated Masapo snatched

the infant from its mother's arms under pretext of looking for the hurt

that had been caused to its brow when it fell to the ground at my camp,

and finding none, proceeded to kiss it with his thick lips.

Nandie dragged it from him, saying: "Would you bring death upon my son, O Chief of the Amasomi?"

Then, turning, she walked away from the feasters, upon whom there fell a

certain hush.