Chapter 4
Yasuka rode out of the city alone with the few belongings that he had accumulated over the years. All the had was a bedroll, a cape, his spears and shield and a pair of sandals. As he had gathered them up from the corner that he occupied in the southern guardhouse, Gamba had shown up to bid him farewell. News about what had happened a few hours earlier had spread quickly, no doubt due to the guards who had witnessed it.
"So, where will you stay?" Gamba asked, leaning against the wall and watching Yasuka tie his few belongings into a bundle.
"I don't know. Somewhere in the forest."
"Like a mchawi?"
"Do I look like a sorceror?"
"What if you got attacked by one of them, and they bewitched you and turned you into a zombie?"
Yasuka grinned. Gamba had always had an overactive imagination. They had known each other since they had been boys. Gamba had taken pity on Yasuka, and had snuck him little morsels of choice meats whenever they had a festival or a celebration. Whenver Hondo was away, he would visit Yasuka, bring him food and set off on little hunting expeditions with him. At night, he would regale Yasuka with tales by the fireside at night about zombies, hyena-men, and ogres. It was because of those moments of friendships and companionships that Yasuka had managed to remain more or less normal despite the torture that Hondo exposed him to.
Hondo had treated Yasuka worse than a slave. He had called Yasuka his Wild Dog and made it very clear that he was the replacement for the beast that Yasuka's father had killed all those years earlier. From the moment that Hondo had taken him in, if that was what one could call the forced labor he was put under, he had trained Yasuka how to fight.
He was not allowed to sleep in a normal hut, with the children of Hondo's servants. His room was the weapons store. Hondo had tossed him in there as a young child and told him that that was his new home. That first night had been the hardest. As he lay on the cold, hard dirt floor, staring at the spears and shields that lined the walls, he found himself crying as he thought about his parents. He had never known his mother. She had died while giving birth to him, and his father, Banga, going against all traditions and cultures, had refused to remarry. The few months of married life that he had enjoyed had convinced him that he simply did not have time for it. After her death, he had ignored all the suggestions from his mother's family to take one of her sisters or cousins as her replacement and had given Yasuka to one of his own sisters to be brought up. His aunt, Bogusa, had several children of her own to look after, which meant that for the first ten years of her life, Yasuka was pretty much left to his own devices. The only people he could call his friends were Gamba, the son of Hondo's neighbour, and the little girl whom he met one day beside the river. Her name was Dzugudini.
It had been a hot, sunny afternoon when he had first met her. Only seven harvests had passed since his mother had passed away. When his aunt realized that he was physically stronger than the other boys of his age, he was immediately put to work fetching water from the river, which wasn't too far from her homestead. He hated those trips, which he had to make twice a day. But soon, he learned to find enjoyment in them. Whenever he would be sent down the river to fetch water in the little leather bucket with a sisal string handle, he would leave the house at a steady walk. As soon as he was out of sight, he would break into a run and get to the river banks sooner than was expected. That would buy him some valuable time when he could be all by himself and play in the shallows. It was there that he had taught himself how to swim. The swirling waters at that section of the river were relatively safe from hippos and crocodiles, which infested the waters further downstream where the river was wider and slower, and more animals came to drink. As a result, that particular stretch of the river was quite popular for fetching water, washing clothes, and swimming. As he would hide in the shade of a little bush that grew out over an overhang over the river, he would stare at the river and try to remember his mother and imagine what she was like. In his mind, she was the most kind and loving person that he had ever met. She would cook him millet bread and milk every day and never ever give him any chores. She would let him go to the river and spend many happy hours playing by the water's edge.
Most children were not allowed into the river. Not until they were almost men. They were told stories about the evil water spirits called tikoloshi. The tokoloshe were the spirits of evil men who had been drowned in the rivers many centuries ago by Mwari to purge the world of their evil. But their spirits remained in the water and would drag anyone whom they could down to the depths, where they would drown and join their ranks. The stories had not scared him, nor would they have scared his mother. She would always let him go down to the river whenever he wanted and would make sure that he learned how to swim from the older boys. That was why he always made sure to watch carefully whenever the older boys swam in the river. He would watch them, memorize their movements, and once they had left, he would step into the waters where they had swam and try the moves for himself. Once or twice, he had nearly been pulled down by the tokoloshe, but he quickly realized that the less he struggled, the less they tried to pull him down. So that was what he did. Whenever he started feeling tired, he would let all his muscles relax so that the tokoloshe would not be able to drag him to the bottom. Then, the water would carry him to the top, and he would drift to the shore or to a sandbank in no time.
It was on a hot, lazy afternoon when he first met the girl who was about his age. He had waited for the bigger boys to leave, then he jumped into the river and started swimming across it. The sapphire-blue stream sparkled in the sun. The spray danced over the glossy rocks on the other side. Suddenly, he heard a loud racous laugh rise from the bush on the opposite bank. He tread water and gazed at where the sound had come from. A little girl emerged from the bushes, a waterpot delicately balanced on her head. She watched him for a moment, waiting for him to carry on swimming. As soon as Yasuka did so, she burst out laughing again. Yasuka got to the water's edge, and waded onto shore.
"What's so funny?" he asked.
"The way you swim," the girl answered. Yasuka glared at the girl, wondering what she knew about swimming. Her caramel skin, untouched by the sun's harshness, was smooth and unmarked. Her light brown eyes, wide with childhood mirth and wonder, shone brightly beneath eyebrows that hadn't yet fully arched. Her hair, a playful jet black, was braided into tight coils and her voice, silvery and pure, had a tough edge to it that implied some kind of a challenge.
"Then why don't you show me?"
Without a moment's hesitation, the girl swept the pot off her head, waded into the water, then dove beneath the surface. She emerged in the middle of the river, where she struck out powerfully for the opposite bank. Yasuka gawked in awe as she got to the other side, then swung round and swam back. She swum better than any boy he had ever seen.
"Where did you learn to swim like that?" he asked.
"My mother taught me."
"Your mother taught you how to swim?" Yasuka asked, finding it hard to believe what she was saying.
"Yes. I can teach you also if you want."
"What's your name?"
"Dzugudini. And you?"
"Yasuka."
The two children became fast friends, and spent many countless hours by the river together. Their friendship, however, was not to last. It all came to an end far too quickly for Yasuka. He had often wondered what became of Dzugudini, as he spent those years under Hondo's care, if that is what it could be called. Her mother had been killed. She was not accounted for. Hondo had taken him in and treated him like an animal. Every day followed the same routine: chores and training and whippings whenever he did anything wrong. Had it not been for Gamba, and for the memories that he treasured of times when things were better, he doubted he would have lived as long as he had.
He now looked at the two spears that stood by his corner of the guardhouse and the buffalo hide shield. Over the years, the spears had become an extension of his arms, and he didn't quite feel himself without them. The shield had always raised eyebrows. It was jet black and did not have a single marking on it, unlike those of the other soldiers, which were painted with symbols that identified their regiments. But Yasuka belonged to no regiment. Being an assassin, he operated directly under Hondo's command and would carry out whichever missions Hondo needed him to do. Most of them were carried out in the dead of night and involved eliminating someone who was troublesome to the empire. In order to move in the night and evade detection, Yasuka had found that it was best to let his shield retain its plain, jet-black color and not decorate it with any white paint as the other soldiers did.
"If you're going to live in the forest, you'll need to build a house," Gamba said. "That means you'll need an axe."
"It's too bad I don't have one," Yasuka said.
Gamba out of the guardhouse and returned a moment later with an axe and a shovel.
"What's the shovel for?" Yasuka asked as Gamba shoved the tools into his hands.
"Just take it," he said. "You never know what you're going to need. Do you have enough rope?"
"I think so," Yasuka said as he coiled a sisal cord around his mat. Gamba shook his head and stepped out. A moment later, he returned with several armlengths of rope for Yasuka.
"Thank you," Yasuka said as he stuffed the cords into his roll.
"You've got bows and arrows, right? And some gourds and calabashes?"
Yasuka couldn't help but smile. He found it amusing that Gamba took such an interest in his welfare now. He has never seen this side of him. With Gamba, the conversations had always revolved around the stickfighting and wrestling contests in the city and neighboring towns. That and girls. Nothing else. Maybe the prospect of him never seeing Yasuka again had brought out the best in Gamba.
"Stay near the city," Gamba said. "That way, if you ever run out of food, you can always come back and trade during the market days."
"What would I trade?"
"I don't know. Herbs. You can pick up herbs in the forest and bring them on market days. You could get a couple of cowries for them from the healers."
Yasuka nodded. He didn't intend to return to the city, though the spot that he had chosen to stay in was not as far from the city walls as he would have liked. He had picked on the northern edge of the woodlands that started about half a day's journey from the city. A tributary of the Great River wounds its way relatively close by as it makes its way to the dams outside Zvongombe. The dams fed water into the city through numerous aqueducts. Once a year, the young recruits into the Barwe Tonga would travel through the woods at night on their way to the waterfalls upriver, where they would carry out a part of their initiation ceremony. Other than that, the rumors had kept the woods sparsely populated. It was said that several evil herbalists, or wachawi, had taken up residence in those woods, though Yasuka not to be true. He had traveled alone through the woods many times on his missions from Hondo. On one occasion, he had come across a little glade that had once been a millet farm but had since been abandoned. The trees cast their branches over one edge of it, creating a cozy little shaded corner. It was far from any footpaths, yet clear enough to afford a clear line of sight all around. That was the perfect place for his new home, and that was where he set out to go.
"Are you really sure you want to do this?" Gamba asked as he walked him out of the guardhouse and helped him tie his bundle onto his horse.
"YOu could always get work as a guard for the caravans. It's good pay, and we'd get to see you more often."
"I never want to see Hondo again," Yasuka said. He had to make a clean break. Hondo still exercised a hold over his mind. It had taken all his courage to cast his spear at Hondo's feet and walk away from him. In fact, he had half-expected Hondo to refuse to let him go and remind him that his debt to him had not been repaid. He hadn't planned on what he would have done in that event. Had Queen Jendayi not stood up for him and practically commanded Hondo to let him go, Yasuka would still be Hondo's slave. He had to get as much physical distance from the man as he could for as long as he could.
Yasuka got onto his horse and rode it through the streets of Zvongombe one last time. The serrated rooftops lined the skyline, already a bright sapphire in the morning sun. The streets were bustling with life.The bellowing call of vendors rang through the air and chatter filled the market square. The gates loomed large, welcoming travelers and bidding him farewell. He rode out of the city gates slowly. The guards didn't give him a second look. Having seen him come and go many times, they didn't pay any attention to him. He wondered if they would have had they knew that was probably the last time they would ever lay eyes on him. Gamba was right. He would probably need to visit the town on market days to get some mile or some cow meat from time to time. He couldn't live off game and herbs for the rest of his life. Perhaps there were some villages near the town where he could trade duiker meat for beef and milk and maybe a bit of millet. He had seen lots of duikers in the woods. They were hard to catch and were considered a delicacy. That was probably what he would do.
The dappled shadows of the branches overhead were a relief to his skin, which was burning under the scorching heat of the midday sun. He had been walking his horse slowly all morning long and now came to the woodlands that he was aiming at. He would have arrived there much earlier had he trotted the horse instead of walking it, but he was in no hurry. For the first time in his life, he felt truly free. No deadlines. No missions. Nobody to report to but himself.
When he got to the glade, he took a few minutes to stretch out in the shade and take in the birds and the trees all around him. The ancient trees stretched away from the crinkly floor, rendered dry and yellow by the prolongeued drought. Berries lay ripening under the leafy dome of the forest, a pleasant surprise to him. He wondered how far the tree roots had to go to get water and give forth fruit. The rainy season had come to consist of several days of continuous, light rain instead of the three or four weeks of steady downpours. He had never seen the downpours himself, though he had heard the old men in the city speak about those days with nostalgia.
"You boys don't know what rain is," the older men would say as they sat drinking at the tavern and staring out the windows at the drizzle that was the rainy season. "Back in our days, it would rain heavily for weeks. We would have harvest dances after six months. Do you even know what a harvest dance is?"
Yasuka would never mix with the old men, nor with anyone else. They were all too afraid of him. But he loved to listen in on their conversation. He, and all the others his age, had never witnessed a harvest dance, and they listened with wide-eyed excitement as the older men described the rituals involved in offering the first fruits of the land to Mwari before a night filled with song and dance.
A bird cawed loudly then perched on one of the branches overhead. Then it called out again.Yasuka sat up and stared at the tall, yellowing grass, swaying in the soft breeze, then sneezed a couple of times. The grass always made him sneeze. One day, he would find a herb that would reduce the sneezing, but for now, he would have to get used to it. The sneezing always reduced when he spent time outside in the open, but if he spent time in the city, it would get worse. He tried to imagine what the grass would look like if it was all green. The only place he had seen green grass was beside the river and near the lakes that fed the city. There were some fish to be found in the lakes. He could build some baskets out of cane, catch a few, and maybe trade them for beef after he had dried them. That was a good plan for the future. For now, he had to build himself a small enclosure where he could keep his few belongings safe. He himself didn't mind sleeping out in the open. He had done it many times before. Rain was never a threat, and in fact, it was often more comfortable out in the open unless the mosquitoes decided to visit. He would have to wait until nighttime to judge just how much of a nuisance they would be.
He set to work with his axe and knife and cut several branches from the trees nearby, planting them into the earth and building a little enclosure. The sun was already setting before he was half done. He looked at his horse, nibbling at the grass around the base of the tree where he had tied him, and wished that the damn animal could make itself useful and give him a hand. Still, he was grateful for the little company it provided as darkness descended on the forest, making it gloomy and silent, except for the chirping of the crickets and distant calls of the hyenas. He dug a small hole in the ground with his shovel, encircle it with rocks, and lay some firewood and brush within it. Gamba had handed him a small piece of flint as he mounted his horse, and now he was grateful for it in the gathering gloom of the night, and he edged closer to the little fire that flickered before him.
Jendayi watched her co-wives mill into the Emperor's Council Hall and felt a pang of resentment. As they floated in, chattering and laughing, it seemed to her that they had gotten over their grief at the death of her son Mutapa Chimedza, in record time. Everyone knew that they didn't really love him, starting with the Mutapa himself. All his marriages had been entered into to keep that various tribes within the empire satisfied. His first wife,
(INSERT THE QUEENS)
He had married her out of true love and had gone against the wishes of his entire family to marry the daughter of a commoner. The other wives looked down on her because they felt that their diplomatic marriages were more important than hers. There were Sangeya, Kambo, Mudiwa and Rufaro.
{inserrt names and their physical descriptions and the chiefdoms from which they came - the Kalanga, the Butua, and the Chidima.]
Only fear had kept their marriage beds undefiled; anyone who was caught philandering with a queen would endure the most gruesome of deaths. If that hadn't been in place, none of the queens would have remained faithful to their husband. Many times, she had complained to him about her daughters-in-law looking down on her, but he had put it down to simple jealousy because they all knew that she was the only one he truly respected and listened to. Now her son was dead, and his wives were assembling in the emperor's hall, after the time of mourning had come to an end, to cast their votes for his successor.
That was the custom of the Dande empire. Their great forefather, Nyatsimba Mutota, had come up with the custom towards the end of his life when he realized that his empire would probably be torn apart by civil war amongst his sons if he left it to one of them. So, as his life was nearing an end, he passed a law that would prevent his Empire from disintegrating as the one that had come before it, Great Zimbabwe, had. He decreed that the rule of the empire would pass to one of the emperor's cousins, not one of his sons, and the cousin would be voted in by the queens of the deceased emperors. The royal council would nominate the candidates. This would reduce the threat of civil war. Every Mutapa had so many cousins that the chances of any of them laying a claim to the throne that was substantial enough to gather a significant following was minimized. Right from the very beginnning, the custom had been observed, and the empire had been preserved.
The voting was by a secret ballot. The queens would drop different colored beads into a vase, each color representing a different candidate. There had never been more than five candidates put forward for the position of emperor. Most of the time, only three different colored beads were needed. The vase was of fine china and was set within a bowl that resonated loudly whenever a bead was dropped inside to ensure that no queen dropped two beads in. That had happened only once, after the death of Mutapa Gatsi Rusere. One of his wives, in an act of defiance that was blamed on extreme grief, spoilt the vote by throwing in two beads. It had resulted in a tied vote, and the queens had to carry out multiple rounds of voting until her trick was discovered. She was pardoned on the grounds that her grief had driven her to madness because nobody in their right mind would have wanted to spend the entire day tossing beads into a vase to select a new emperor. There were far better ways for the queens to spend their time.
The sitting slaves came in after the queens and went down on all fours before each one of them. The queens then sat down on their backs, arranging their robes around them and fanning themselves with their Wachini paper fans because of the heat. Jendayi had tried to do away with the custom of the sitting slaves. She found it a bit exaggerated. But she had been overruled by the councilors, who cited tradition. That was what they always cited when they didn't quite have a logical rebuttal to an argument.
Next came the councilors. As the Emperor's hall was their usual meeting rom, they had their seats installed there permanently. Gorodenna sat down first, then Mwanyisa, Petiri and Sundayi. Chenzira came in last of all. He bore incense in one hand and a porcelain bowl in another. He paused before the queens and bowed. Then he placed the incense within the bowl, and walked slowly across the hall to the fire that raged in the fireplace at the opposite side of the hall. There, he took a piece of coal with a pair of tongs and placed it in the bowl. Clouds of grown smoke floated into the air, filling the room with their pungent odor. Chenzira wrinkled his nose. In all those years of being a priest, incense smoke still irritated him, a fact that he was somewhat ashamed of. He felt that it somehow reduced his legitimacy as a priest. But he tried to never let it show. Now, he carried the smoking bowl to the center of the room and placed it before the porcelain vase, where he went down on his knees, clenched his hands together, and raised his voice in loud supplication.
[INSERT prayer to the ancestors... list all the names of the past Mutapas... end by asking them for guidance.]
He stood up, turned to the queens, and bowed. Then he resumed his seat.
Now, an old grizzled councilor stood up. He cleared his throat, then bowed as far down as his belly would allow. He squinted at the queens through his puffy eyes.
"The first candidate we have decided on is Mabitse, son of Yiramba, cousin of the Great Elephant. The second one is Ngoli, son of Imbarwe, cousin to the Great Elephant. We have no third candidate. The two candidates are well-known to the queens. Both are young, having only witnessed twenty harvests. Both have recently married their first wives. Mabitse has already shown himself skilled in statecraft, having brought a peaceful resolution to the cattle raiding between the clans of the Chidima in the north. Ngoli shows great promise as a military commander. After the captain of his regiment fell in the battle to retake Kizombwe, Ngoli took charge of the men and led them to victory at great personal cost. Though he was injured and is still recuperating, we trust that the medicines he is taking will soon have him cured."
He sat down again.
"Then let the voting commence," Jendayi said. "Mabitse will be the white pebbles, and Ngoli the black."
"Just a moment, my queen," one of the councilors said. He stood up and ran a hand over his wrinkled forehead.
"If I may?"
"You may."
"I know what traditions hold, and I am remiss to go against them, but these are serious circumstances. The drought that has persisted all these years has brought many to the brink of starvation. People are unhappy. We hear of rebellions and schisms every day. The other there was the rebellion of the slaves in Kizombwe. Now, there's this new group called the Eagle Claw. Not to mention the children of the drum, vana va Lungundu. They pose the most serious threat the empire has faced since the times of Nyatsimba himself. Perhaps traditions did not envision such a situation?"
The rest of the council eyed him silently, waiting for him to get to what he was driving at. The councilor's eyes swept around the room and rested on Hondo, who was staring at his feet.
"We need a person who is experienced. A man of proven loyalty. A man is skilled both on the battlefield and on the negotiation floor. I would like to propose the Great Elephant's brother - Hondo."
The silence hung on the room heavier than the pervading heat. Someone stirred. Another coughed. It was Chenzira who spoke up eventually.
"You know that cannot be. Neither the brothers nor the sons of a Mutapa can rule."
"Yes, but consider the circumstances," the counselor said.
"Sit down Petiri. We have heard you speak," Jendayi said. The man sat down as Jendayi continued.
"Were it not for your loyalty, I would suspect you wanted to overturn the order of things."
"I refuse the nomination," Hondo said.
"We appreciate your gesture, black Leopard. You are a true son of your people."
Hondo stood up and bowed. The councilor kept his eyes firmly fixed on the floor before him, avoiding the gaze of everyone in the room.
Chenzira stood up and walked to the tray of pebbles that rested on the floor beside the porcelain vase. Beside it was another tray. Both trays were carved of brown mahogany wood. The second tray was empty. He lifted the porcelain vase and upended it over the empty tray. The vase was empty. Nothing came out of it. He picked up the other tray, the one with the pebbles, and passed slowly along the row of queens, dropping a white pebble and black pebble into their cupped hands. He then ascended the short flight of steps and placed two pebbles in Queen Jendayi's hands. Jendayi was the first to cast her vote. She descended the steps, then dropped one pebble into the vase and dropped another one back onto the tray. After her, the other queens followed suit, dropping a pebble into the vase and then dropping the other one back onto the tray.
When the last one had finished, Chenzira stood up and picked up the porcelain vase. He carried it to the middle of the room, where he upended it, spilling the pebbles across the floor for everyone to see. Then, he counted them aloud. There were three white pebbles and one black.
"The queens have chosen Mabitse to take the place of the Great Elephant Chimedza. May the ancestors guide his path and grant him a long life."
Everyone in the room stood up and repeated the words of praise: "May the ancestors guide his path and grant him a long life."
After that, arrangements were made to summon Mabitse to the capital and ensure that the inauguration happened as soon as possible. Riders were dispatched to the furthest ends of the realm to summon all the nobles for the inauguration, which would happen three days after the election. Preparations within the city accelerated. The royal granaries were emptied, and the emperor's herds of cows, maintained at great cost in some grazing lands near the city, were brought back into the city, where a hundred prize bulls were slaughtered ahead of the ceremony.
By the evening before the inauguration, the city's population had swelled to thrice its normal size. People had flocked to the city from far and wide, not so much to celebrate the new emperor but to get their fill of free food. The soldiers had a hard time maintaining order, and reinforcement was brought in from the neighboring towns. Mabitse arrived the evening before the inauguration, along with most of the nobles from the neighboring tribes and villages. He was hurriedly prepared for the ceremony. Chenzira personally walked him through the entire ceremony so that everything would take place without the slightest hiccup. The heart of the rite of inauguration involved the new emperor placing his hands on ngomalungundu and swearing to protect it, the land, and the people under pain of death. After that, the army would swear allegiance to the emperor, then the queens, the councilors, the priests, and the people, in that order. The rite would conclude with the praise singer naming all the past Mutapas and adding the name of the new one to the roll, along with his praise name right at the end. The royal musicians would then come in and begin the song and dance, whilst the royal slaves would serve the people with food and drink.
The dust rose thick in the air as the people congregated in the Yard of the Ancestors, a vast arena that stood between the entrance to the Stone of God, Mwariwe, and the gates of the Emperor's Hall. The temple stood tall, square and majestic. Loose gravel crunched beneath the bare feet of the thousands of pilgrims who assembled in the yard and gawked at the conical dome that jutted into the sky, it's silhouette forming a graceful, elongated curve.
A row of armed soldiers kept the crowd back from the entrances of both the temple and the emperor's hall. A small dias had been erected just outside the emperor's hall. The people stood waiting in hushed expectation, soft murmurs of impatience floating upwards with the dust. The doors of the emperor's hall swung open, and a small, wiry man leaped out, blowing with all his might on a kudu horn. The horn blasts blasted the people into silence. Then, in a hoarse, loud voice that carried all across the arena and over the heads of the hundreds of people assembled there, he began to chant the names of all the past emperors.
"[INSERT list of emperors].
And now, we ask you to guide the hand of the young lion who is about to join your ranks."
He fell silent, breathing hard, and wiped his brow with his hand. Then he bowed and retreated a few steps, and blew a short blast on his kudu horn. The people looked on eagerly as the train of councilors walked out of the royal hall, closely followed by the queens and then the young Mabitse himself. He wore a long, loose tunic, made brightly coloured silk that shimmered in the sun, making him look like a god, as did his head, shaved clean for the occasion and anointed with oil. His movements though betrayed his discomfort with all the clothing he had to wear in that sweltering heat, and two slaves walked close behind him, hoisting a canopy over his royal brow.
He proceeded to a throne that had been erected in the middle of the dias, flanked by other seats. Once he sat down, the councilors and the queens also sat at their appointed places.
Then, the praise singer brought the horn to his lips and blew a long, low note.
The doors of the temple opened, and four priests stepped out, carrying a litter on their shoulders. All in the middle years of their lives, the Priests of Mwariwe walked with an aura of solemn grace. Their dark faces were distinguished by intricate scarifications, marks of devotion. Deep-set eyes, compassionate yet piercing, gazed upon the congregation. Their ebony skin contrasted their white ceremonial robes. Each priest's voice, deep and resonant with a Chidima accent, harmonized in sacred chants.
(INSERT THE SONG OF THE PRIESTS)
Hushed awe descended over the pilgrims as they set their eyes on ngomalungundu, perched on the litter that the priests carried. Its skin bore the deep brown of aged mahogany. Vibrant beadwork adorned its sides in shades of red, green, and gold. Faint hints of blue shimmered on its surface, as if reflecting the skies that it could summon. Chenzira, the High Priest, walked behind them. The people watched in silence as the priests made their way, chanting, from the Temple of Mwariwe, up the stairs, and onto the dais, where they set the litter down on the floor a few paces before Mabitse. Mabitse rose to his feet, as did the councilors and the queens. The priests ceased their chanting, and waited in silence. Chenzira stepped forward, and cleared his throat.
"Oh, Mwari, we stand before you today seeking your guidance and your light and your favour."
But then a louder, harsher voice rose from the crowd and echoed all around the arena.
"Vana Va Lungundundu, arise!"
At the same time, several men in the crowd whipped out masks from beneath their robes and slipped them on. They raised their right hands high over their heads, the gleaming blades of daggers in their hands catching the reflection of the sun. revealing the gleaming blades of daggers that caught the reflection of the sun. In one voice, they all shouted,
"Vana Va Lungundu, arise!"
Then, as one man, they all rushed towards the sacred drum.