Distant Howls of the Raging Beast

Chapter 1

L indiwe, Lindiwe shouted her mother, as the little girl perched on an anthill and, oblivious to the calls, gazed down so lovingly at the valley below. The sun was just beginning to rise and the gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees. The warm glow of sunshine gently caressed the young girl’s face. This was one morning in the week that she revered, and felt as free as the birds that fluttered their wings in flight, high above in the brilliant deep blue African sky. The mighty hawk began to flap his wings as though in readiness to swoop over an unsuspecting chick that had wandered away from its mummy hen and the coop on the ground below. On this day, school that entailed a two-kilometre walk and the thought of books did not matter at all. This was her secret place reserved for Sunday mornings, when she would arise before any member of the family and head off to her secret little paradise, clutching at her most treasured piece of jewellery that her late grandmother Malita had bequeathed her before she died.

Lindiwe was the favourite of her grandmother’s grandchildren and she often referred to her as ‘my little Lindi’. The girl recalled with great nostalgia the day when her grandmother had called her aside and with her small wrinkled hand had put the amulet which was in the form of a necklace in the palm of her hand and folded her little fingers over it. My sweet Lindi, she had started, the nightmares you keep having of your father returning from his hunting expedition, and just when you run out to meet him, he turns into a hyena signifies great danger for both your father and you. I have been warding off evil spirits from your home for as long as I can remember using the tradition that my grandmother taught me, and her grandmother before that. Alas, I shall no longer be able to do so, as I can feel that my days on this earth are drawing to an end. Therefore, take this necklace and whenever you are feeling afraid, just clutch it and my spirit will always be there to protect you from witchcraft and evil. Lindiwe tearfully looked at the necklace in the palm of her hand, and wondered which of their ancestors had made and passed down the line of generations such an extraordinary piece of handiwork: reed segments carefully selected, sawn and threaded onto a thin hairy strand of hyena hide. Those that had worn it had sworn by the power of this exclusive piece of jewellery. She wished that her granny were there with her at that moment, as she really missed her and the wisdom she had possessed and had shared with her.

Her thoughts wandered back to the present and to the valley below, and she often wondered what other threatening animals besides the hyena lurked down there. At the thought of the hyena, a little shiver ran down her spine and a picture came to mind where during evenings, families would gather around a fire and elders would tell stories most of which would centre around animals, witches and witchcraft. This was a favourite form of evening entertainment in village life as televisions were unheard of, and only those that could afford them owned radios. These were the times that the children looked forward to and the moments that they thoroughly enjoyed and cherished. Sometimes these stories would be narrated long into the night; and distant sounds of howling hyenas could be heard in the dark and eerie night; adding mystery to the tale of the mythical beast. The children would huddle closer to the fire and avoid sitting behind the elders in fear of the animal wandering closer and snatching them from the comfort of their conclave. They would then retire and fall asleep amid the sounds of chirping crickets and hooting owls, accompanied by occasional croaking sounds of frogs close by.

The story that would make them jump most was that of the legendary hyena. The legend that had been passed down from generations before was that down in the valley below, among the pack of hyenas, was one that was very unique. It had the features of part human and part hyena and was the most feared by all who lived in villages surrounding the valley. Whenever a member of the community disappeared under strange circumstances, it was automatically presumed that the creature was responsible; which meant that villagers from miles around lived in great fear of this creature. Legend had it that the creature was a creation of a very powerful chief who once lived in the valley below. He had taken for his bride a very young and beautiful maiden. However, there was a young man in the same village that could not resist the beauty of the young bride and so seduced her. When the chief got wind of this, he became so furious that he used his magical powers to punish the young man. He cast a spell on the man so that he retained his human body but took on the head, legs and tail of a hyena, and was damned to live the rest of his life among the creatures in the wild. Small incisions were made in his body and black slithery sap was rubbed into the incisions. This, the villagers believed, was to give the creature a life of eternal hell and also lead to cell degeneration within its body. Nobody had laid eyes on the creature and cursed would be those who saw it. The villagers felt protected from the creature while the chief was still alive, and nothing was heard nor mentioned of it during the chief’s reign; but upon the chief’s death, fear of the creature gripped the villagers and they fled their villages in favour of land above the valley. It was following the chief’s death that quite often during periods of full moon, shrilling howls could be heard amid the normal howls of the valley hyenas.

Naomi wondered where Lindiwe could have gone so early in the morning. She went to the door and called out to her, and just as she was going to call out again, the little girl appeared and reassured her mother that she had gone out to answer nature’s call. Naomi gave her a little hug and asked her to help light the fire while she went out to fetch some water to prepare their morning meal. The meal consisted of maize meal mixed with some water and cooked into a thick porridge. This was one of the two meals they had in a day. The main meal would be in the evening and during the day, boiled pumpkin, peanuts or dried maize roasted in a pan on an open fire would satisfy them.

Chapter 2

L indiwe was born in the remote village of Denga in the southern part of the Central African Republic of Zambia—a former British colony. Similar to other huts in the village, a trail of smoke could be seen seeping through the thatch of a daintily decorated mud hut that nestled between two baobab trees. It was here that Lindiwe, her elder sister Tombi, and two younger brothers Kalenga and Eliya, shared a two-roomed hut with father Kumalo and mother Naomi. Life for the Zimba family was not unlike that of the rest of the families in Denga Village but for Lindiwe, at the age of seven, she could not have asked for a better home than her own in Denga. From her child’s eyes, this was a little heaven for her precious family and herself. To her, her father was a hero and a pillar of the society, while her mother was the very core of the family’s existence.

Unlike in urban areas, the Zimba home as was the case with any other home in the village, did not have electricity and running water; modern kitchens with stoves and fridges were unusual, and households prepared meals on open fires. In cold weather, fires were lit indoors from wood and as a result, clothes and bedding had a woody smell mixed with smells of food. On occasion, Lindiwe would watch her mother approaching the hut balancing on her head a bundle of wood she had gathered for the fire, or a clay pot filled with water drawn from a stream nearby—chores that her mother never seemed to begrudge carrying out, and always did them with a smile. She would strap one-year-old Eliya to her back and go about doing her chores—very unmindful of the saliva dribbling from his little mouth, as he enjoyed all the gibberish without a care in the world, and very unaware that he was soiling his mother’s recently-laundered dress.

Often, Lindiwe would watch in admiration the women

at work, some with babies strapped to their backs, pounding the maize they had left soaking for a couple of days and then dried in the sun. Some of the women would have a mortar to themselves while others went into groups of twos, threes or sometimes even in fours, the width of the mortar permitting, lifting their pestles up and down in coordination with one another and merrily singing away as they pounded at the maize. Although this type of work seemed rhythmic and therapeutic, it often left the women with big biceps and blistered hands. Once the maize was milled, it would then be sifted and the process would be repeated until all the maize was used up. The end result would be a very fine-textured maize meal that would be dried in the sun and used for preparing pap—which was the main starch accompaniment to protein and vegetable dishes. Lindiwe and Tombi had their own smaller mortars and pestles and they would imitate the women and grind peanuts, which did not require much exertion.

Lindiwe often wondered whether a woman’s existence was for the sole purpose of bearing children, fetching water and firewood, cooking, doing the laundry and keeping the house and surroundings clean. It seemed a little unfair to her as the chores appeared so repetitive and she wondered if her mother ever got bored of carrying them out at times. It seemed to her that her mother had to take care of them all while nobody seemed to take care of her in return. Of course, they all loved her dearly, especially four-year-old Kalenga who would follow her everywhere and would not let her out of sight without a scream. None could ever imagine a life without her.

Unlike her sister, Lindiwe was always willing to give her mother a helping hand with household chores when she was not at school. The older girl on the other hand regarded those chores as rather boring, and at the age of ten and looking older than her years, she could not wait to finish her elementary schooling in Denga. Her dream was that of going to a foreign land where she could complete her education and become a high court judge some day. Her choice of career was prompted by incidents she often witnessed, such as when she would watch Chief Denga presiding over what was called a People’s Court. She would listen with great fascination as he passed sentences on those who had done wrong. The culprits were mostly cattle rustlers and the lazy no-good layabouts, who went about stealing crops from the fields. She admired the power that the chief enjoyed over others, and felt that some day she would also like to preside over a court and experience the power of passing sentences over those that were a menace to society.

Both girls were very proud of their father Kumalo, who was a well-respected member of the community. He was a good huntsman and earned his living through hunting. In comparison with other male members of his village, he was well off. His wealth was measured by the number of cattle he owned, the children who were able to attend school, and by his position to provide for his family. Like other members of Denga, Kumalo’s means of transportation was bicycle. He would cycle once a month to a small grocery shop situated on a small settlement called Minga some fifteen kilometres away, and would return with items like kerosene for the small wicker lamp they utilized at night, and other essentials like a box of matches, a bar of soap, a box of washing powder, some salt and sugar as well as cooking oil. Naomi and the children would wait expectantly for his return and the children would sometimes be treated to some sweets—a luxury they so thoroughly delighted in. Clothing and shoes were also luxuries that would be on their shopping list perhaps every two years or more. Such items would be passed down the line of children and would be stitched and worn until they would hang off their backs. Similarly, shoes were also passed down the children and if they were a bit small, feet would be squeezed in to fit them. On the other hand, if the shoes were too big, they would be stuffed with paper in a desperate attempt to make them fit. These would be worn until the soles were barely visible and most often, the children would walk bare foot.

The Zimba family had a sizeable field, and during the rainy season, Kumalo and Naomi would till the land and plant maize, peanuts, sweet potatoes, beans, and pumpkins in their sizeable field. This, together with the hunting that Kumalo did, would feed the family until the next harvest. Silos, which served as storage facilities, were made out of thick sticks and grass and were often plastered with mud and stood well above the ground. These stored the produce and their contents would often last till the next harvest. Kumalo’s favourite season was after the harvest when, together with his friend Bongani, the two would ignore warnings from other members of the community regarding the legendary hyena, and go out hunting. When there was no moon, the appropriate time for hunting, the two would collect their hunting spears, an axe, an old treasured headlamp, and a pack of dogs, and would go out into the valley below. On a good night they would often return home with a deer, bushbuck, bush pig or even a buffalo. They would sell part of the meat to the community and retain the rest for their own consumption.

Lack of refrigerators meant that the meat could not be stored for more than a day or two, so to prevent the meat from going bad, people would cut it into long strips and hang these in the sun to dry; the dried meat would then be cooked into a stew or roasted over charcoal fire. Another method would be smoking the meat over flames and cooking it through.

Hunting season was a very difficult time for Naomi, as she spent sleepless nights worrying about her husband and praying to her ancestors for his safe return. What she did not realise though was that in the other room, Lindiwe was equally fretful and would go to sleep clutching her reed necklace and calling upon her grandmother’s spirit to watch over her father and her family. After hours of tossing and turning, they would both fall into a restless sleep.

Chapter 3

L ife in Denga was no different from that of any other village in that part of the country. Except for the children who had to attend school, time, which was gauged by the angle of the sun in the sky, meant nothing to the community there. Seasons were in three categories: the hot season, which was from August to October, a time associated with bush fires and the shrilling sounds of the cicadas and humming bees. Sunset would be characterised by the chirping of birds and the cooing of doves. It was also during this season that men would often go out into the night to collect honey. They would use a flame to smoke the bees out and would have free reign to the honeycombs filled with the delicious liquid. Rainy season would be from November to March when chirping crickets and croaking frogs would be most active, especially at night. During the cold season, which was from April to July, families would either light a fire in their rooms to keep warm or some would light braziers whose smoke and fumes could be seen seeping out through the grass thatched roofs.

The adult members of the community would be most busy during the rainy season as this was when they would go out into their fields and till the land. They would leave home at sunrise taking with them a little snack and water to sustain them during the day, and would often return home at sunset. This was the season when stretches of land would look so beautifully