Mighty Brahmuhn

Tawana had been having an unpleasant dream when he was woken up by a loud commotion outside. He turned around on his sleeping mat. His father was absent from the hut. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he stood up and peeked through the window. It was already dark and in a distance he could see a group of people with flaming torches in their hands. They were ranting and barking like rabid dogs.

He frowned harder to get a closer look but the scenario was too blurry. The door of the hut was suddenly banged open. It was his mother, Tsitsi. ‘Mother, what is going on? What is happening outside? Where is father?’ he asked her in concerned curiosity.

Without even bothering to answer him, she pulled him to the side.

He noticed that she was carrying in her hand some sort of burning incense.

‘Lie down on your back on the floor, Tawana.’

‘But, mother…’

‘Just do as I say!’

She looked as glum as she did earlier when she had fought with his father. Not wanting to awaken her wrath, he did as instructed.

She kneeled over him and began chanting some words which he did not understand. The whole scene seemed like an illusion. He could see tears fresh on her cheeks. ‘Mother, what is going on?’ he asked her again.

She reached for his hand and turned it over. She looked at him. ‘I love you, my son.’ She placed the tip of the burning incense at the back of his hand- the one with the mark of the sun.

The pain was intense but brief. He began to slowly drift into sleep. ‘M…Mother…’ the room was becoming hazy to him. He could not control himself. The last words he heard her say were very clear and distinguishable: ‘Run, Tawana!’

It was like a dream. Tawana found himself in full speed running from the chief’s home. The arrival of two of the Gorivas had lit up his adrenaline. He had sprung up like a hare and noticing his father’s knobkerrie lying on the floor, grabbed it and fled. He did not remember if his mother was still in the room. Here he was, with at least four men hot on his tail, wielding their villainous torches as they pursued him. He was confused. Why was he running? Why were the Gorivas chasing him? Where was he running to?

He had no time to ponder over these questions. What he had to worry about was getting as far away from his pursuers as possible. He ran as fast as he could into the forest a few kilometers from the chief’s homestead. His pursuers were gaining on him. Did they want to kill him? But what for? He zigzagged as much as possible in an attempt to throw them off his tail. It seemed to work but only for very short moments. He was losing speed and his body was giving in to fatigue. He could not take it any longer. It was too dark but he did not care if he crashed into a tree anymore. His body finally gave up.

He tripped over a stone and fell…but kept falling…and falling. He felt his body stop with a thud. The footsteps of his pursuers could clearly be heard getting closer and closer. He could vividly see the light of the torches above him then disappear. What was going on? he thought. He began to think of his parents. Were they even safe? What did he do wrong that the Gorivas were chasing him? Even these questions were wearing him down. He could no longer gather the energy to think. He felt tears swelling up in his eyes. He had no choice but to give in to exhaustion.

*

Tawana was curled up in a fetal position. He could feel the blinding light of the sun torture his eyes despite that they were sealed. He felt a sharp jab in his rib. He tried to tolerate the first few pokes but it soon became greatly uncomfortable…and annoying! His eyelids were heavy with sleep but he managed to force them open. He could see a blurry image way above him. Though blurred, he could tell that it was human. Reality struck him like lightning. He began to jerk his head violently around him in ignorance. He had fallen into a deep pit which could have been an old abandoned well or an animal trap.

The man at the top of the pit looked young but frail. In his hands was the long stick he had been using to poke him with.

Tawana grunted, moaned and stretched.

‘What are you doing in there?! How did you fall in?! Can you manage to grab onto the stick?!’

The man was asking too many questions which banged on Tawana’s head. He lazily grabbed onto the stick. His hands slipped on the first attempt but he managed to get a good grip on the second.

The man began to pull him up but with great difficulty.

As he was pulled to the exit the sun’s rays got more torturous upon his young eyes.

The man did not look much like a man at all but more of a boy. Despite his frail appearance, he had sparse strings of beard on his face and tuft, dirty hair.

Despite these pathetic features, Tawana could not help but feel courage and pride radiate from this man.

‘What were you doing in there?’