Mighty Brahmuhn

As soon as the Ndebele had driven off the Matanda warriors, they returned singing loudly in their tongue.

The remaining Matanda villagers cowered in fear when they saw the Ndebele approach.

‘Do no harm to them,’ Brahmuhn told the Ndebele warriors. ‘These…these are my people.’ He fell onto the ground.

‘Tawana!’ Tsitsi raised his head up into her arms.

‘My chief!’ Cheetah also shouted in concern.

Leading the Ndebele warriors was Bhekumuzi, the chief of the village Brahmuhn had saved from the ntokolishi (goblins). He came and stood before Brahmuhn with the entire army behind him. He smiled. ‘I guess my debt is paid, Brahmuhn.’

From within the Ndebele army emerged Shumba and Tortoise.

Tortoise stepped forward. ‘My chief, word of how you liberated a lot of the Shona villages and the Ndebele villages in your journey spread like wildfire. You are now a hero among both the Shona and the Ndebele!’

He managed a weak smile, ‘How is Buhlebenkosi?’

Shumba stepped forward this time. ‘Your Greatness, after the people of Chaponda Village got wind of your heroic deeds, they turned against the Elders and imprisoned them. Buhlebenkosi is now safe from them. However..,’ he gulped and looked at Tortoise.

Tortoise cleared his throat, ‘The diviner informed us that the child she is carrying is not a male. You have no heir, my chief.’

Brahmuhn coughed violently, spitting out drops of blood at the same time. ‘Nonsense. Of course I do. Whether male or female, the child Buhlebenkosi is carrying shall grow up to take my place. In the meantime, Tortoise- you are to be acting chief until that happens. Shiri is to be given his post back as advisor…the only advisor. I no longer see any need for our people and the Ndebele to continue to be at odds with each other. Just because we talk different and look different it does not mean we are different. We all come from a woman’s womb, grow old and die.’

The few Ndebele that understood Shona nodded their heads in agreement, before quietly translating to their comrades beside them.

‘It has been an honor fighting alongside the bravest, fastest and wisest warriors I have ever known,’ Brahmuhn said nodding at Cheetah, Tortoise and Shumba.

They beat their chest in gratitude and pride, ‘Brahmuhn!’

He turned to his mother. ‘Now I know, mother, that it has been your love that has kept me safe these past fourteen years.’

She could not stop crying, ‘Oh, my son!’

‘You have been more than just a mother to me. You have been a part of my soul. And now that I have fought for your and my father’s honor and dignity, I must bid you goodbye. I shall take with me your memories into the depths of hell. They shall cool my skin against the searing flames.’ With those words, he closed his eyes.

She pulled his head ever closer into her bosom, showering him with tears.

‘Long live The Mighty Brahmuhn!’ one Ndebele warrior shouted from within the army and soon enough, it was now a chant, an echoing chant from the lips of both the Ndebele and Shona. It was a worthy and appropriate chant, for the invincible warrior had left his people.

Word of Brahmuhn’s death spread like a hasty and infectious disease among the Shona and the Ndebele, even the rumors as well. Some believed that his death came about because of how he blasphemed Mwari’s (God’s) existence. Others assumed that as soon as he questioned the power of his medium tattoo, the sooner the power it gave him left him. Others were for the idea that as soon as love replaced his bloodlust, he became weak and opened up a door for death. Assumptions, opinions and guesses; these circulated rapidly, but one truth everyone agreed upon was that truly, Tawana Masimba, The Mighty Brahmuhn, was the greatest warrior they had ever seen.