badly wounded Amarava
And tied her hand and foot
To prevent her from trying again.
But the grief-maddened immortal
Snapped the bonds
With one sharp look
And shrieked into the forest
In search of her beloved Odu!
Zumangwe and Marimba raised the alarm
And soon an army of men and women
Clamoured in hot pursuit
After their greatest great-grandmother.
‘Come, all my brothers and sisters,’
Sounded Marimba’s melodious voice—
‘Come let us cling to her trail like hunting dogs—
If she dies we shall all be lost
Like leaves in a storm – like a young impala
Whose mother was devoured by a lion—
Great shall be our misfortune
If we fail to capture her alive.’
Legends say that the number in pursuit
Counted eighty times a thousand souls;
Along the Bu-Kongo river they followed a trail
Of blood from the wound in her chest.
The valiant hunter Zumangwe
And his very young bride Marimba,
Ruthlessly led their followers
In a futile attempt at overtaking Amarava
Who was now stumbling, falling and rising
A day’s journey ahead of them.
After two months one of the trackers
Made a rather startling discovery
Which sent cold bolts of fear through the spines of all;
Something else was tracking Amarava—
Something so utterly big and monstrous,
As they could tell from the footprints it left—
Footprints like that of a vulture
Of incredible size and weight.
A new strategic approach was now called for;
The search party stopped to build a fortified kraal
While the two leading figures and some others
Formed a small, more flexible patrol.
Three days later they found Amarava
Lying exhausted on a mudbank
In the middle of a very vast river,
A river in boisterous foaming flood!
There was no way of reaching her
And Marimba sang out in utter despair;
‘Oh beautiful star of the human race!
Oh mother of countless men—
Is there nothing we can do to help?
Lo! here we stand as helpless as
A dove in the mouth of a civet cat!
Our only wish is to be by your side—
What is there you can advise us to do?’
‘You can do nothing, my loyal children,’
Her voice carried faintly across the flood;
‘My only wish is to be left alone,
As I wish to die in peace.’
‘Mother of Nations,’ cried Marimba,
‘Is it thus that you sacrifice your life?
Is it thus that the beloved Amarava
Turns her back on her destitute children?’
Instead of hearing Amarava’s reply,
They all heard a frightening splash—
Some distance upstream a mighty Monster
Had entered the water in a cloud of spray.
Marimba immediately plunged in as well
And tried to reach the mudbank first,
But the current was much stronger than her courage
And swept her helplessly downstream.
Twice she tried and twice she failed,
And in an alternative desperate attempt
At frightening the monster away
Zumangwe ordered his men to launch
A hail of sling-stones across the water.
All their efforts, with spears and arrows included
And another brave and nearly successful attempt
On the part of Marimba to reach her through the flood—
Were futile and they could only helplessly witness
The most horrible scene they had ever experienced.
* * *
Amarava had noticed the Monster
And in blind terror she summoned all her strength;
With a shriek she plunged into the water,
But was equally promptly snatched up by the Monster.
‘Release her, you vilest reincarnation of Evil,’
Marimba now shouted in utter despair—
And then to everyone’s breathless surprise
The scaly Monster calmly turned and spoke:
