The heart and the stone.

This story is set in ancient Africa so i will provide some terminology first. 1

'Baba' Shona word (language from zimbabwe) for father as in 'God'2

'mbira' ancient african musical instrument called 'thumb piano' 3

'Mutapa' shona word for emperor.4

-Chapter one opening-5

I remember the rain dance, the procession of Baba, the water as it washed us both in and out. The music, the sweet sounds of untainted mbira, drums beating so calm yet so strong. We danced to this rhythmic, powerful sound in extraordinary unison, beating the shields to our assegais in never so crystal clear uniform. ‘Shoo!’ Waves of powerful exhales that seemed to shake the world inducing even the spirits into a trance was the result. The maidens of the noble houses were never exempt; the dance was a cry of the nation, away from home, away from the great enclosures that divided us from birth. Before Baba we were a single being. They danced in the rain with us as if we were one yet everyone was in a world of their own. One was always in his own reality, but we were one; magic. We were different. How could we not be? Change had stood its ground, never to be shaken off so one came out not the same, but a different being, maybe we had left something of ourselves behind, maybe we had took something, only Baba knows the secrets. As the girls prepared for their dance they prayed with the older women for blessings and when they finished they came out of the enclosure with the priests..6

The trees were so surreal in the rain, looking up was like looking into a dream, a vision about to be revealed, so in my trance, sometimes I saw what may not have been there, or maybe it was there for me to see. The mist of the rain made the tops of the trees hardly seen. The silhouettes were mesmerising, A vague shade of green with a white wash of mist partially blanketing it. If they had speech in them, they would have been singing that day. Purity was never far from us in spirit and the water made us reach it. For us, it had become more than asking for rain, were asking for Baba himself and we felt him within our being. Even the ancestors came out of their matare, their courts, wars and spiritual kingdoms to worship with us. Such was this day. 7

For me, it wasn’t jus my essence I felt being cleansed, Nyimi, I remember feeling her purity, yes it’s outlandish but, I felt it that day. Although it wasn’t those droplets of the calm October summer that showed her purity to me, well partly. Such is why I remember the rain that day, it’s strange but, out of the most things, that is why I remember the rain the most. I remember it drizzling lightly, falling on her face and dispersing more into the air as though it new its purpose had been some what fulfilled, taking all the wickedness and sin sent to her by wretched souls from within our selves full of contempt for her beautiful essence. I remember she would always face up towards the clouds as though to invite more, then I watched as she become one with every drop that touched her face for those few moments when they ran down her skin until they drop to the earth. No, it was not this that showed her purity to me. It was those the rare few moments when the sun came out from behind the clouds as the light rain fell and I would see the droplets on her face burst onto smaller rainbow coloured droplets before they became part of the air. That is when I saw her purity, as I look at it now, only Baba can bestow such a rare sign of purity. I felt her whole heartedness and warmth. I had always thought that those were the colours of her spirit, or what ever that thing is, that makes us kind and gentle, and that makes us care about people. I remember slipping away into the other people before finding a small crest of salvaged rock as soon as I saw her wiping her face as she had finished her prayers to Baba. I watch her eyes race through the crowd with that look on her face, as though she couldn’t wait to tell me something, then with a frustrated outburst
“Gatsi! I’ll find you!”
Yet her shouts were diluted into the voices of the older people who were still dancing and singing away in praise, some stood quietly, humming and smiling as though they were in deep satisfactory thought as the rain tricked down their faces, asking and thanking for the blessing of the rains. As I looked back to her I saw her frustrated face, she would tense her eyebrows and her small lips and mumble something that looked very serious to her, possibly cursing me to the ends of the world, maybe even beyond, I never did ask her about that, I didn’t mind. I loved to frustrate her, I couldn’t help but to put on a grin as I saw her slapping her legs and bow her head in defeat, today was my turn to get her. The ceremonial red earth on her body had given way to the cleansing yet some of it remained in her hair and jewellery. Her red and white maiden royal couture on her chest and waist was dripping wet and heavy and her hair shone from the specks of sunlight that made its ways through the trees making her seem ethereal amongst the masses. I new she was going back to the royal tents throwing stones lightly at a distance with her two maids whispering and giggling with reassurance. It was not long before she started smiling again. I knew I would not be able to see her for a while.8

I waited a few minutes before I was sure that none of her other maids were still lucking around before making my way down the hills to change, I had learnt from earlier experiences that trying to deceive her took more effort than you might think. By this time, most of the people had started to make their way to their designated places of worship at the Madombo hills. These were done by the clans and totems of the chieftainships in the various states of Madzimbawe, some who were not obligated to go to the hills had other places to go. Some lived simply too far from the hills and could not make this journey that would last them many moons. This was also a time of fighting in the empire. Some states run by strong noble houses declared independence from his Majesty Tsimbe Mutapa, not wanting to recognise him as the rightful emperor by blood, totem ship and lineage. This prevented most of the people in those states coming to worship at the holy place of Madombo since it was controlled by the Mutapa. 9

I waited for Runeni by the river flowing from the Sena Mountains were I bathed and swam. I could hardly see anyone, all I heard was their sound at a far away distance, I loved the seclusion of this place so ever since we were younger the prince and I would meet here away from everything, away from the world you might say. I grew up with him, amongst all the princes he is the one I grew close to I guess you might say he is a brother. He is the son of the nengomasha of the empire, the governor who sees me more as something else other than family. Prince Shiri is the Mutapa’s younger brother which makes Runeni three lines away from the crown, he was never interested in the crown though, he always says he is drawn to something else, looking for life's answers, live for himself even if it meant running away from destiny. He searches for something maybe, just like me. I could make him out in a distance, ready to conquer the procession, he had changed for the later part at the Madombo hills, he wore the lion court of arms of his father underneath lion skin wrapped around his shoulders and rich linen around his waist. As we got closer I greeted him
“You and my cousin should just get married and get it over with” he shouted as he threw a wrap with my change of clothes
“I see no better future for her, General” he says with a menace smile on his face.
“Who says I will make general, besides she is a pain, I wont be able to live with her for the rest of my life.” returning the smile, he looked at me trying to look offended.
“you know its true, majesty” he chuckled,
“dress yourself Gatsi, I ditched the guards in the rain, I don’t wish for them to catch up with us.”
I oiled my body and wrapped around the leopard skin he brought for me around my waist to my ankles and carried my bow, Chijaka. Chijaka was carved by a carpenter who worked in the royal courts of the last Mutapa, my uncle, he carved it for me the day I came of age. 10

We made our way down the river, it was a long way to the Madombo hills but the nature, warmth and gentleness of the space made it worthwhile. We enjoyed it. As we walked, I noticed that I was talking to someone a distance away.
“Majesty?” I whispered, he remained quiet for a while, walking and looking afar.
“Gatsi, what do you feel when you close your eyes at night?” I posed for a while, I knew what he was talking about, I looked at him but he kept his eyes at the far distance.
“Gatsi, you have been more than a friend to me, I am loyal to you but, you should trust me. You feel it don’t you?” ‘sigh’ “Yes I do.” “What do you feel?” I looked at him again for appeal. “Something coming maybe, something is wrong, I just can’t explain it, I don’t even know were this feeling is coming from”
“I know Gatsi.”
“How, you can feel it?”
“I can see it, every time I close my eyes, I just don’t know what it is.”
“Is it something bad?”
“Maybe". 11

.....................to be continued