river of the Bu-Kongo.
It paused long enough to permit the weary wanderers
To alight on its grassy banks with a splash.
Now it was evening of the second day
Since they had stood on solid ground
And Amarava was lying in the cool interior
Of a hut which Odu had built.
This hut stood on tall strong poles,
Sunk into the mud of the river,
And she had a magnificent view
Of the dull silver streak with approaching dusk.
She could see across the vast stretch of water
The frowning forests on the opposite bank,
And a canoe, with Odu returning home from a hunt.
The forest was alive with all kinds of sound
From that of water birds among the reeds
To the distant roaring of lions—
Boldly challenging the approaching night.
The fact that she was in a part of the world
Which miraculously had survived destruction—
Ruled by beasts and undefiled by man,
Did not interest Amarava at all.
She was still dazed and could not care less
Whether the sun rose in the West
And set in the North, as the Wise Ones often say.
She was fighting a fierce battle with herself
And her soul was a reeking cauldron of emotions;
Her greatest problem was whether she should
Yield her beautiful self to the monstrous Odu.
Great was her hatred of this sub-human ape,
But equally great was her fear of incurring
The Goddess’s displeasure on breaking her oath
On which future humanity depended.
But human instincts are often much stronger
Than a thousand commands from heaven;
And not for the sake of a thousand worlds
Could she submit to sharing a love-mat with Odu.
Then suddenly a bright idea struck her
Which made new strength course like fire through her veins:
What if . . . supposing . . . Odu should fall a victim . . .
A fatal accident while out on a hunt!
The Goddess could never blame her—
Amarava – for the accidental death
Of her uncomely and revolting mate!
Supposing a hole were drilled in the side of Odu’s canoe
And temporarily sealed with a soluble gum . . .
Her eyes were lit up by the strangest fire
When she recalled that Odu was unable to swim.
But then another, much better idea
Struck the already excited girl—
An idea so patently simple
It took her breath completely away . . .
Odu came crawling into the hut
With an impala slung over his back;
This he humbly presented his mistress
Whom he could not regard as a mate as yet.
Amarava sang with delight as she skinned
And cut up the meat for supper—
Her hands were trembling so slightly
With barely suppressed excitement.
Soon, soon she would be free, she thought,
Well rid of this clumsy and ugly monster
Who was completely unaware of the fact
That he was a living creature.
When at last they had eaten enough
She curtly commanded Odu to sleep
And this he promptly did, being completely unable
To do anything unless instructed.
For a time she sat with her knees drawn up,
Staring fixedly into the fire
Which was burning on a slab in the centre of the hut—
Then she rose to add some more wood
And did not care much about slipping a piece
From the stone slab on to the floor.
As the grass floor took fire and quickly spread,
She leapt to her feet and dived through the door;
Once on dry ground she dashed like a pursued impala
Through the forest with a pounding heart.
Once she paused and looked behind her
At the blazing red glare in the night sky—
‘He is dead . . . most assuredly he’s dead by now,’
She breathed, ‘that revolting brute – I’m free!’
Through the forest she sped as fast as she could go—
Rapidly increasing the distance between herself and her crime;
Soon she burst into a treeless clearing,
Face to face with dozens of luminous eyes.
In the moonlight she recognised lions
Twice
