A Tale from the
Masawani Game Park
You will notice, as you read this book, that I have “created” tribes of African people living on the continent of Africa. This was done, because I have not studied each individual, existing tribe, and therefore I can not write with any authority about their lives. Rather than present inaccurate information to the reader, I have chosen to invent a tribe of people who have the attributes of people from many different tribes. I hope you will enjoy learning about Africa, her people, their beliefs, culture and the beautiful world they all live in.
Gael Whelan
Part 1
The Wisdom of the Mahobohobo Tree
THE MASELLOANE RATTLE
Part 2
Prologue
They came precisely at midnight. They seemed to come on the light breeze that wafted around the eaves of the grass thatched roof that crowned the mud and wattle hut. Their shadowy forms soon filled the old Sangoma’s hut. As he watched, he noticed that each spectre warped into the shape of the animal totem that had guided them when they had walked the earth. From where he sat, the old Sangoma could see there were five of these ghostly animal apparitions. There was a lion, an owl, a tiny field mouse, a crow, and a crested crane.
The venerable Sangoma or Medicine Man had called upon the ancients when he had made the long trek into the Masawani Game Park to the Circle of White Stones. He had arrived there at the time he referred to as “the between time,” when it is neither night nor day. The spirits who had been travelling the earthly plain were just about to disappear before the sun’s rays announced the birth of the new day.
He had sat in silence, sending requests of help to the departed ones for nearly an hour, before he noticed the field mouse running out from behind a log. The mouse ran right up to his feet and then twitched its whiskers at him before running into the undergrowth of the African bush that surrounded the magic circle.
The message had been received! He could leave. With this thought in mind, he started the long walk back to his home in Molelo.
The ancients had come the night after he had requested their help. Experience had taught him that each of them would have a message. He was not afraid of them, for he had asked them for their guidance, to help him lead the tribe. Guiding the members of the Zunu tribe in this modern world had many pitfalls. This was a world where the values of old had been replaced by modern values; values which were hard to understand.
He turned slightly to face their direction, bowing his head in greeting as he did so. “You have come,” he said respectfully.
“It is as you wished,” responded one of the shadowy forms.
Kimaro, Sangoma of the Zunu tribe of Molelo, thought that he recognised the voice of his late grandmother, Mofehli. She had taken the shape of her totem, the crow, a powerful totem known for its intelligence and trickery, as well as bringing signs of good luck and magic to the inhabitants of the planet.
Kimaro listened carefully, for he knew each instruction or message that the ancients conveyed was to be followed exactly as told to achieve the best outcome for his people.
“What is it that you would have me do?”
“Pay attention to the raising of the two children that are to come,” said Mofehli.
“The birth of these two children will happen in the year ahead,” said the lion spectre. Surely this was the voice of Kaladi, his father, who had passed away so many years ago. A tear of sadness ran down the cheek of the old Sangoma.
Kimaro was amused to see that the third wispy form was that of the tiny field mouse. “These children, one who will be your granddaughter, and one who will be the son of the game warden, will be born. It is your granddaughter, Kimaro, who will be the next medicine woman of the tribe.”
The Sangoma nodded his head, acknowledging her words. This was the voice of Zina. Kind Zina; she had cared for him when he was a child. Her news was exciting; finally he was to be a grandfather! Not only was he to have a granddaughter, she was to succeed him as the next Sangoma of the tribe.
At first Kimaro didn’t recognise the voice of this fourth spirit when it leant forward and said sternly in a voice sounding like that of the crested crane, “Not only must she know the traditional ways, she must also learn about the medicine of the Western people. She will have the ability to learn everything easily.” These words came out in a low squawk. Instantly Kimaro knew it was Lodi, a woman who had frightened him very much when he was a boy of only seven summers. A shiver ran down his back at the memory of her scolding him when she was angry. This had happened before she had gone to the spirit world many, many winters ago.
“Their education is your responsibility; you must guide them,” said the owl. A smile crossed the old Sangoma’s lips. This was his old teacher, Uroba, speaking again. Stern in life, and now stern in death. The wisdom of this old owl reminded Kimaro how his old teacher had given him many tips to help him navigate his own way through life.
“It is your granddaughter who is to become the next Sangoma of our tribe, Kimaro. It is you who will teach her everything she will need to know to take care of our people.”
“What of the game warden’s child? What should he do?” Kimaro asked. Now the voice of Kaladi, his father, answered him. “This child will remember how to communicate with all the animals of the planet as our forefathers were able to do. He will assist your granddaughter in her quest to help and protect our tribe and Umama Umphansi.”
Kimaro was just about to ask the ghostly spectres for more information when a gust of wind seemed to blow them right out of the little hut into the dark and starry night, leaving him wondering exactly how he was to help the children.
Kimaro stayed awake a long time that night, pondering the information he had been given. He was determined to begin and maintain the education of the children who the ancients had predicted would come. He tried to remember the beginnings of his own education. What was it his mother had told him when he was a small boy? He thought for a while longer, then suddenly her words from over fifty years earlier drifted into his mind.
“The education of all children should begin with the mother of the child seeking help from the spirit of the mahobohobo tree before the child is even born. The wisdom of the ancient wild fig tree is well known in our culture. The information the tree spirit imparts to a pregnant woman who has consulted it has proven to be very useful in raising the child.” Kimaro knew he would have to persuade the two future mothers to consult the tree for its help in educating their children, once they were born.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Part 1: The Wisdom of the Mahobohobo Tree
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Part 2: The Maselloane Rattle
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
The spirit of the mahobohobo tree stood a little way away from the tree. In the pale moonlight, her ghostly shape could barely be seen. She was waiting for the two women who were to come and ask for her help. The owl who had visited her earlier in the evening had made it clear that she was to help the two mothers-to-be in any way she could, for these mothers would be paying rapt attention to her.
This would be a joy for the tree spirit, as she knew many women did not heed the advice she gave them, and then always blamed her if their children did not reach their full potential. She waited and waited for a long time.
At last she could hear the rustling of the grass as they walked towards her tree, as well as the whispers of encouragement from the old man who accompanied them on their journey through the bush. Hurriedly she slipped back inside the tree, wondering at the same time if they would lean against her. She could only show herself to them if they made physical contact with her.
The old man helped settle the two women on either side of the tree. Both of them leant back to find support for their backs against the trunk of the tree. They closed their eyes and said a silent prayer to The Great Nkosi, asking for his help.
Ah, this is good—they have touched me! I can show them who I am, thought the tree spirit.
The women sat for over two hours, listening to the spirit, as a deep mist rose up around them and hid them from view. One by one each step of their own child’s life was revealed to each mother. However, it was never revealed to Kimaro’s daughter, Namali, that her child would be the next Sangoma of their tribe.
The mothers were told how to prepare their children for the important roles that each child would undertake in their jobs to help their planet and its people, Umama Umphansi, or Mother Earth, and all that live on her.
The wintry African sun rose above the horizon two hours later, revealing the two figures bundled in richly coloured blankets, huddled beneath the mahobohobo tree of the Masawani Game Park. As the sun rose higher and higher in the sky, its distant heat began to disperse some of the tendrils of mist trailing around the famous tree.
Slowly one of the figures stretched out a finger from underneath the red and green blanket that had kept her warm since her arrival over two hours ago. She reached out and tapped her companion gently on the shoulder, saying, “Mollie, it is done. The sun is up now, and we may go!”
Mollie uncovered her head and stretched both her arms and legs and then looking at her dear friend, Namali, said, “Have we completed everything your father told us to do?”
Namali nodded. “Yes, we have asked the Great Spirit of the mahobohobo tree to intervene with the Creator for the good of our unborn children, to give them the strength they will need to help bring peace and prosperity to our people.”
“Did you see and speak with the spirit of the mahobohobo tree, Namali?”
“Yes, I did; did you?”
“Yes. She said that my baby is to be a boy, he will work with your child to help the Zunu nation.”
“Ah! My child is to be a girl, and it is also her destiny to help my people.”
Just then, the two women heard rustling in the bush and the snapping of fallen twigs as someone moved towards them. Suddenly the short, brown figure of Kimaro darted out of the last dregs of the mist. Walking stick in hand, he hurried over to where the two women sat.
“Dumela (Good morning), Namali. Dumela, Mollie,” he said.
Both women returned his greeting, followed by many questions that had filled their heads since they had communed with the mahobohobo tree. The old man threw up his hands and said, “All is within the hands of Nkosi the Great Creator now. The spirit of the tree will convey your questions to him, and he will take them into his consideration. Now it is time to return to the village, for Dan will soon be there to fetch Mollie and take her home before he starts his busy day in the park.” He held out his hands and helped both pregnant women to stand up. Once they had worked out the kinks in their muscles, he led them away from the mystical tree towards Molelo.
The spirit of the mahobohobo tree watched the departing trio until they had disappeared completely out of sight. She seemed pleased with the mothers who had paid sincere attention to what she had revealed. She was certain that they would provide all the learning opportunities for the children, to the best of their ability.
Chapter Two
Six weeks later, when all the jacaranda trees were in bloom, and the skies above were blue and free of scurrying clouds, the old Sangoma set out for the Masawani Game Park at the break of day. It was a momentous month, as new baby animals could be seen trailing their mothers through the brown countryside.
“Feed me now!” demands were coming from hungry bird beaks high in the trees above. The elephant grass remained stunted and dry; everything in the bush was waiting for the first rain to fall. However, the leaves of the msasa tree had already turned a beautiful red, insisting in their own way that spring had arrived.