Mighty Brahmuhn

Brahmuhn was shattered by the Elders’ decision. He realized that he should have had considered Shiri’s words before Dombo and Gumbo had executed their plot against him. Another ironic twist, to Brahmuhn, was that he had actually disrespected Shiri more and he, Shiri, was the only one of the three Elders who had actually cared about him. If only he had listened! Now it was too late. The banishment was official. The village was now a distance from him as he walked slowly towards the forest. He was carrying nothing except his knobkerrie and a small pouch both tied to the side of his loincloth.

The pouch was loaded with mbanje. He liked his mbanje very much. It always distracted him from his worries and grief. He was smoking it while he walked, pondering over the people he had left behind: Buhle, his trusted comrades-in-arms and the Vadhindi.

He blew a cloud of smoke into the air. His eyes were beginning to turn red from the smoking. He began swaying sideways, mumbling to himself. At each pull of the mbanje he would wheeze out names…or places. ‘Mbada…Buhle…Mother…Father…’ He was indolently parting bushes to the side. The village was now far from his view when he turned around. He had let his people down: the Vadhindi and his father, Chief Kindi, to whom he had sworn to protect the village even at the expense of his own life. Now the village lay in the hands of two cunning Elders who had proven that they would stop at nothing to gain power, even if it meant working with the enemy.

The mbanje was beginning to blind him a little. Nevertheless, he turned his eyes back to the path and continued walking aimlessly into the forest. Brahmuhn had no idea where he was going and he did not care.

He suddenly heard screams nearby. The voices were very loud and were ridden with fear and panic. He began walking towards the screams. He had once been warned by his father, Chief Kindi, that bravery should have its limits otherwise it stumbles into foolishness. Tawana, however, had boldly replied saying, “It wouldn’t be bravery if it wasn’t foolishness. To me, foolishness is ignorance and the more ignorant you are, the more knowledge you stand to gain.”

The screams had led Brahmuhn to a village. He began to realize that he should not have followed the screams because they had led him to a Ndebele village. Either way, he chose to advance through the village, hearing them scream in their funny sounding language: ‘Maibabo! Mama! Kuzosibulala!’ (They are going to kill us!). None of them even stopped to acknowledge that one of their enemies, a Shona, was in their midst. Clearly whatever they were running from was a lot more destructive and horrific than a Shona.

Brahmuhn stopped one Ndebele who almost ran past him. The man’s eyes were full of tears and they were as red as blood.

‘Ntokoloshi! Ntokoloshi!’ (Goblins! Goblins!) the man yelled.

Immediately, a fire sprang up from one of the huts.

Whatever the Ndebele man had said, Brahmuhn took as offensive. Most of the people were now cowering behind their huts. Brahmuhn, however, walked further into the village whilst the villagers looked on. Even their warriors were peeping, their weapons of war trembling in their hands, staring at the flaming hut. As Brahmuhn proceeded to walk towards the flaming hut, the Ndebele stared at him with awestricken eyes, whispering among themselves.

‘Kanti uyenzani? Uyahlanya kanti? Udakiwe?’ (What the hell is he doing? Is he crazy? Is he drunk?).

Brahmuhn had no idea what they were saying but either way, he regarded it as offensive. He did not know what he was up against but he always enjoyed testing the limits of his strength.

There was now absolute silence except for the crackling of the flames. He eventually became impatient and turned around to leave when out of the flaming hut emerged four short men the size of six year olds. He laughed out loud up until he realized that the four short men had white eyeballs. Brahmuhn was still a bit dizzy from the mbanje and so he blamed what he saw on the mbanje. The short men were in flames but did not reveal any signs of pain and they were not burning up. They approached him, their legs moving like they were out of joint. He clutched his knobkerrie tightly, ready for a physical confrontation. ‘Come on, you little devils! Come on!’ he boldly beckoned them. He began juggling the knobkerrie between both of his hands.

They suddenly stopped. All four of the little men were now staring at his hand. They immediately began screaming and running in different directions.

Brahmuhn was left confused. He had heard about short men like these who possessed supernatural powers when he was young, but to the Shona, these men were referred to as zvidhoma (goblins). Why did they run away? He looked at his hand. The tattoo! Could it have been what made the goblins flee in fear? Before they ran away the last thing they saw was the tattoo. But could they really have run away from just a silly mark on his hand, when they clearly weren’t burnt by the flames? Had Buhle been right about it though? Did this mark possess some kind of power? He began pondering it in his head still confused from the weird encounter with the goblins. He decided to blame it on the mbanje. He turned and looked behind him. The Ndebele were now approaching him…cautiously.

One of them, an odd looking man, took the lead. ‘How are you?’ the man said.

Brahmuhn scratched his head in more confusion. He was surprised that this dirty Ndebele could actually speak his language. He decided there were more serious issues to address. ‘Why did those…men run away?’ Brahmuhn asked him.

The man pointed at Brahmuhn’s hand, the one with the tattoo. ‘You are protected…’

‘Don’t tell me that you clicking idiots believe it too?! That this mark has some supernatural power?’