Trojian Horse

Several days had passed since her encounter with the young soldier in the medical camp. The expressions on his face and the words he said were emblazoned in her mind and she thought about him often, in conjunction with her own son. Zibulo’s prospects in a world this harsh and unforgiving seemed horrible, at best. Life carried on though, despite the war being fought around them, and sometimes they were lulled into believing that everything was normal and all the atrocities they had seen and suffered were just mere dreams or visions from another life. Today was one of those days for Cebisa. It was a very normal day, and apart from the fact that Magwegwe was not around she could have allowed herself to believe that all was well around her. The setting sun was behind as she walked back to the encampment with a load of firewood balanced precariously on her head. The wild came alive with the setting sun. Cicadas and birds were eagerly chirping away, leaves rustled and trees swayed in the gentle breeze, there was howling in the distance coupled with roars and barking all coming together to form a naturalistic concerto.

For some strange reason her bliss was seized on by a sudden wave of anxiety and she found herself wondering about the future. A pillar of despair suddenly appeared above her and threatened to overwhelm her with bleakness. She wondered about their future, as she consistently did these days, wondered how they would survive the conditions that were developing. Food had become scarce forcing them to go farther and farther away from the camp to collect berries and wild fruits while a few of the young boys busied themselves with hunting game whenever they could. There was a system in place, designed to ensure their survival because the longer the war went on, the greater the toll it took on the white men’s camp. It seemed within the realm of possibility that a Ndebele victory was within reach. Freedom, at last.

One thing that surprised her about the white men is that a woman ruled them. The idea seemed absurd to her. A woman! No wonder they seemed to be losing she thought. How, she thought, could a woman possess that kind of power. It was such a ludicrous idea that once or twice she couldn’t help but laugh aloud, all alone, in the forest. A year or two ago Lobengula had sent men to this queen to prevent the inevitable war but they did not make it back. They probably did not even make it to this queen in the first place. No matter, she thought, this queen and her minions would feel the wrath of the Ndebele and they would defeat the would-be invaders. Hopefully sooner rather than after the hunger had set in permanently. She quickened her pace as she got closer to the campsite.

As she approached the camp the humdrum sounds of camp life grew louder. Cattle were being led back into their enclosures, that is the few cattle that remained, the smoke coming from over the trees meant that the evening meals were already being prepared. She was out a little later than she ought to have been. Zibulo would probably be hungry by now and her daughters would be eager to begin preparing the meal. Just outside the camp under a group of trees she saw a figure huddled behind a clump of bushes. The bushes were right next to the path she was using and she would pass right next to this person, whoever they were. Deciding to slow her pace she walked under the cover of several trees until she could see well enough to ascertain who the strange figure was. He was muttering to himself though she could not tell what he was saying because she did not understand it. It was a language she had never heard spoken before.

Deciding to zip quickly past him, she quickened her pace and returned to the path. He was soon alerted to her presence and rose to his feet just as she reached him. It was Cetshwayo. Barely looking in his direction she greeted him and continued walking. He seemed intent on exchanging all manner of pleasantries, while being incredibly irritated by something on his arm that he kept scratching. In the fading light, she could not tell what it was. Many weeks had gone by since she had seen him and naturally she wondered where he had been and how they chanced to meet here, of all places. It sounded crazy but she felt as if he had been waiting there for her.

“And how is your family, your daughters and son?” he asked walking briskly to keep up with her.

“They are all well,” she answered, still walking. She tried her best to avoid looking directly into those frightfully red eyes that seemed to have grown a more aggressive shade of red since they last met. The camp seemed so far away now.

“I can help you,” he said rather abruptly and immediately stopping. He stopped scratching his arm and stood rooted to the spot waiting for her to respond. She took a few steps considering his proposal then deciding that her curiosity needed satisfying.

“With what?” she asked, stopping, and looking back at him. She maintained a healthy distance from him.

“You want to keep him away from all this but you don’t know how to,” he said. “I do.”

“What is your interest in him?” she asked, not bothering to pretend she didn’t know who was he talking about.

“He’s special. Not in the way you, as a mother, consider him to be special. He’s really special.”

“What do you mean?”

“Those markings on his leg, they’re no accident. They mean something but none of your people would appreciate their importance but I do.”

“Let’s say I believed you, what would you do to save him from this?” She motioned to everything around them with her upward facing palms.

“I know ways. I would have to show you. Let’s say I am a messenger of Mwali and I have been sent to take the boy from all this until such a time when he can come back and be the redeemer of his people. Mwali had heard your prayers Cebisa.”

Cebisa thought she saw sincerity in his otherwise lifeless red eyes. Something told her not to trust Cetshwayo but he had said the magic words that would convince of any amount of insanity he chose to entice her with. She had noticed that something was peculiar about Zibulo though she hadn’t been able to identify it. Now she knew she simply lacked the ability to identify it.

“Why him? I’m sure there are so many other mothers who have prayed for the same thing I have. Why Zibulo?”

“I just know what I have been sent here for. And that is to get Zibulo to safety. I know you feel it too. He has been chosen. Something about him seems strange, doesn’t it? You need to bring him to me and I can take him to safety before it’s too late. Dark forces are gathering around him.” The red eyes seemed a little less threatening as he said this.

At the mention of dark forces Cebisa was convinced this was the sign she was told to look for. Zibulo was destined for great things! Greater than anything this world could offer him. She had the strangest feeling she was being watched the past several weeks, as if a presence hovered around her and Zibulo observing their every move and documenting their every thought. There was only one thing left to ask. “What do I do?”

“Bring him here. Tomorrow. At this exact same hour. Just you two alone. I will explain everything to you.”

It was clear Cetshwayo would not reveal this mystical purpose he had for her son. Perhaps this stranger would offer her boy something to equip him for life in this fast changing world. Shaka was fabled to have mystical powers that gave him victory over his enemies. Others thought Shaka got his power from a powerful witch doctor among his ranks while others believed he was born with the will of a demon and his will was enough to decimate his enemies. Maybe Zibulo would grow to be the one to free the Ndebele from the slavery they all felt was coming.

Cebisa decided she would trust this stranger, mostly because he knew about her deepest desires for her son and partly because she hoped he was privy to her prayers to Mwali. She needed hope no matter how absurd its form. This man. Or Ghost. Whatever he was. She assured him they would meet tomorrow as he had suggested and proceeded to walk back to the camp. Moments later she turned back and saw nothing but the sun disappearing beyond the horizon engulfing the land in darkness.