above all, my child, the first spiritual combat you must undertake is to overcome your own self. This is the holy war of the sangoma: to abandon your own wishes and selfish desires and surrender to the will of the Great Spirit.” Lunwabu paused. “All power comes from the spirit. From the life force of the smallest ant to the destructive energy of the biggest thunderbolt, from the earthquake to the cycle of the seasons, they all manifest the energy of the spirit. Magic, muti, ritual and prophecy, every revelation in the throw of the bones, every spell cast to lessen the suffering of others, these are gifts of the spirit. Never claim credit for yourself or the light will desert you and evil will creep in from the shadows.”
And with that Lunwabu bowed his head and closed his eyes.
Mandla spoke timidly into the great silence. “And my muti bag, great father,” he said. “You haven’t yet told me where to find it …”
Lunwabu waved his hand and a picture appeared in the air. It was a vision of a small house made from red mud and thatch. In front of the door sat an old woman.
The old sorcerer spoke slowly and deliberately. “If you wish to claim your inheritance,” he said, “you must go to my Indumba. Ask for the muti bag there, from the one who guards it. But remember: the Indumba is the dream house, the sangoma the dreamer. I, Lunwabu, have woken from the dream into the world of spirits. My muti bag is part of the dream, but it contains my power. It will connect you to me. But you shall not find it unless you hear your thwasa song call from beyond the dream. It shall not be what it seems. Listen for it to call you. Listen within the Indumba.”
Lunwabu waved his hand again and the vision of the Indumba faded. “I have one last gift for you, my son,” the old man said, leaning forward. “I shall teach you my Changing Spell. Who knows, it may come in handy to a young sangoma with battles to fight. Close your eyes and think of a creature you would like to change into.”
Mandla closed his eyes and thought of the great eagle that he often saw circling above the cliffs in the valley where he took the homestead cattle for grazing. He had often wondered what it would be like to rise into the sky on outstretched wings …
The voice of the old sorcerer broke into his reverie. “Now chant these words with me, the words of my most precious spell.”
Mandla repeated the words of power as the old sorcerer spoke them, trying to capture the correct intonation and cadence. Slowly, the chant speeded up until the words were whirling in his head like a circle of sound. Then, suddenly, he felt the air rushing past his face and when he opened his eyes he was a bird, a bird made of particles of light. Beside him flew another bird that he instinctively knew to be Lunwabu. Together they plunged through infinite skies and soared over oceans of shimmering gold. Then, far below, he saw a dark opening in the brightness of the sky. Together the birds of light plummeted towards this opening, but at the last minute Lunwabu swerved away on flashing wings. Mandla knew it was time for him to return to the world. He plunged into the opening and was swept down, carried along on the rushing wind until his wings vanished and he felt himself falling into the solidity of his body.
***
For a brief moment it was as though Mandla had been buried underground. He forced his way up, choking and coughing, and found himself sitting in the Spirit House, his body aching in every limb. Grandmother and the apprentices were sprawled beside him, asleep, and the fire had burnt itself out, but through the open door Mandla could make out the rosy light of the coming dawn.
7
Mandla slept soundly the whole of the next day and all of the following night. He awoke feeling more alive and focussed than he had ever felt before. It was as though the world had slowed down so that he had more time to examine events and choose the proper reaction. He kept thinking of the slow and deliberate actions of Lunwabu, hoping that he had somehow absorbed some of his guardian’s ability to suspend action, to become invisible and then act when the moment was ripe.
The experience of being a spirit bird at the pinnacle of the world had shown him that his body was in reality made of particles of light. He now knew that the essence of all creation was vibrating energy. When he had flown under the canopy of heaven and found his flesh transformed into that of a great eagle he had come to a great realisation. He understood how the great sorcerers are able to materialise and dematerialise their bodies at will. As a being of light in a universe of light, the sorcerer can manipulate the energies from which all things are made and be in conscious communication with the entire universe, travelling not only through the physical world but also through the world of the spirit in the blink of an eye.
Mandla couldn’t explain this new awareness to anyone, not even to Grandmother, but it filled him with excitement. A door of possibility had opened for him and he felt so free and happy that it was a great shock when the dream of the snake returned with all its horror. He hadn’t had the dream since Grandmother had performed the protection ritual in the Indumba and agreed to take him on as an apprentice. Then, one night, he once again found the snake coiled on his chest, its cold black eyes watching him without blinking. The slick tongue darted towards his face. Shuddering, he tried to lift his hands to sweep the snake from his chest, but his sleeping body would not obey his command. He struggled to wake up, but he was powerless.
The snake unhinged its jaws to swallow him. He saw the curved fangs and behind them a dark wet gullet. In his mind he screamed in panic, but his throat could not form a cry to summon help. Then out of the dark gullet hissed the same hypnotic command as before: “Son of the leopard, serve the Ancient Ones.”
It was then that he felt the first stirrings of anger deep within himself, anger against the evil wizard who presumed to invade his dreams and fill his head with vile whisperings. Suddenly he longed to fight back, to show that he was worthy of being chosen by Lunwabu and the Ancestors. He summoned up all his strength and courage and silently called on the Ancestors for help. Then he imagined himself to be a great bird of light, even as inwardly he chanted the Changing Spell of Lunwabu.
At first nothing happened – the black forked tongue still flickered towards his face. Then, all at once, he was bathed in light. He raised his arms, spreading them wide, and they became wings. His body shimmered with golden feathers, and he called out in surprise, but his voice was the harsh shriek of a bird. And then the great bird launched itself into the night sky and in its beak it carried the writhing coils of a great black snake. Unable to tell if he was awake or still dreaming, Mandla could only listen to the sound of wings beating in rhythm with the pounding of his heart as the winds gusted and wailed around him like a chorus of ancient anger.
8
Sidumo hated Mandla with a blind, jealous fury. He sensed the change in the boy and couldn’t bear the idea that he was no longer the leading male apprentice at the training school. He complained to all the other apprentices that Grandmother was favouring her own grandson, that she should treat all the apprentices equally. If Mandla was sent on an errand, he wanted to know why he had not been sent. Yet when he was sent on an errand, he griped and complained, asking why he had been sent instead of Mandla. Although he wouldn’t admit it to himself he saw that Mandla had a talent for magic which he could never hope to match, and like a hyena whose rival has grown bigger and stronger he constantly needed to challenge Mandla, to try and belittle him.
Mandla tried to ignore Sidumo’s growing hostility. He continued to treat him with the respect he had always given him as a senior apprentice, but Sidumo was never satisfied.
Then Mandla found a scorpion in his blanket, and Sidumo sniggered that it was lucky he was such a great sorcerer, that he had divined the hidden danger before it had stung him. On another day, Mandla spied Sidumo through the window of the cooking hut, sprinkling some kind of powder into his dish of food. Mandla
