Mighty Brahmuhn

The next day, the Masimba family prepared for the journey to the chief’s home.

Farai had finally given up. He knew that the situation was beyond his control. Even if he had decided to kill the chief, he would have still not been successful in his mission. In fact, he would not have come within a mile of his reach. With the Gorivas carefully guarding him, he would be dead before he even said a word. Besides that, Tawana would be left fatherless and Tsitsi would still remain married to Mbada. He boiled inside in anger.

The cart moved on along the dusty rocky road, drawing them ever closer to their fate. He looked to his left at Tsitsi who was sitting beside him.

She had her chin in her palm, blankly staring at the trees as they passed by.

He could not tell what she was thinking but he could tell that she was distraught. He looked to his son who was sitting at his right side.

Tawana was frowning as if he had been punched in the belly by death and left to feel the excruciating pain.

To Farai though, Tawana still looked innocent. As innocent as the butterfly who makes no sound as he flatters his wings, silently but fast. A painful realization suddenly hit him. His son was about to be raised by a stranger. A dog, a mongrel of a man who only knew blood and wars. Would the dog even keep Tawana around once he got Tsitsi? ‘No,’ he mumbled, ‘No!’ He began to turn the cart around.

The donkey was now gyrating in confusion, ambushed by this sudden turn of events.

‘What are you doing?’ Tsitsi asked him.

He remained silent.

‘Father of Tawana, what in Mwari’s name are you doing?!’ she asked him again but this time much louder.

‘What does it look like I’m doing? I’m saving my family!’

She placed her hand gently but firmly on his wrist.

He turned to her.

She looked sad but serious. She shook her head slowly. ‘Let things be that should be, my love.’

Farai had stopped. He stared at the whip in his hand that he was using to drive the donkey. He was panting softly but sharply. He did not know what to do next.

‘Even if we did manage to escape, Chief Mbada would hunt us down and kill us on this same day and besides that; where would we go? To our enemy, the Ndebele?’

He realized that she was right. He sighed in exasperation then turned the cart around again and they began moving in the direction of the chief’s village once again.

Nothing could describe the pain Farai was feeling in that moment. He was literally handing his wife over to a stranger who did not even know her. A man who did not know her likes and dislikes, her parents, her experiences and a whole lot more. It was like handing over the sheep to the wolf; a gourmet for the wicked one whose only talent was to kill.

The homestead drew closer and at each step the donkey took, Farai’s heart increased its terrified drumbeat; not a rhythmic but a discordant noise, a nuisance even to the deaf man’s ears.

The chief’s homestead was now visible from about a few hundred yards.

The chief was outside his luxurious house, sitting on his royal “mobile” throne surrounded by the Gorivas. Their faces stiffened with frowns as if ready to kill anyone who got too close.

Besides this scene, the homestead was filled and still filling with villagers who were coming to the wedding. Everyone was actually invited.

In the homestead there was the chief’s throne room hut in the middle and the luxurious sleeping hut a few hundred yards to its right. A few hundred yards behind this hut was the guest hut intended for his special visitors like other chiefs. Everyone was everywhere. Goats were being slaughtered to eat and women and girls were dancing and ululating all over the place.

‘Just imagine if they weren’t wearing loincloths,’ Farai spoke in spite when he saw the women and children dancing and singing.

He stopped the cart after a while.

One of the Gorivas marched over to them. ‘Chief Mbada requires to see Tsitsi before she goes to prepare for the wedding.’

Farai clenched his teeth, ‘What did you say?’

The Goriva stood bolder as if ready to knock his head off. ‘Did you not hear me, peasant? I said the chief requires...or in fact demands to see his bride before she leaves to prepare for the ceremony!’

Farai got ready to lift his hand but Tsitsi gently held it down in restraint.

She shook her head slowly at him.

The veins at the side of his head writhed but he eventually calmed down.

She was assisted off the cart by the Goriva. While she was being escorted off, her head was drooping low in grief and her hands were clutched in front of her just below her belly. She stopped to stare back at Farai and Tawana then continued on.

‘What now, father?’ Tawana asked his father anxiously.

Farai jerked his head violently towards him as if he had forgotten that his son was also in the cart with him. He sighed heavily. ‘Son...I’ve just watched my dignity walk away. Your mother was my pillar.’