Inkosi
David helped Big John rotate the tyres on his truck. Earlier, he had welded a broken spar back in place. His hosts were greatly impressed by his skills. He was getting along fine with them. There was a workshop behind the kraal and it was fitted out with lathes and other gear needed to keep old trucks running. Big John said they never bought anything new. Most came from the mines and they got them cheap.
Everyone spoke English. David asked them to teach him some Zulu. His first word was kraal. That referred to the place where he was staying. It was built in the old style and totally different from the modern buildings nearby. David guessed it was a sort of community centre and tourist attraction rolled into one.
The kraal was protected by a high outer fence. The buildings were shaped like inverted baskets and made by weaving tightly twisted straw around flexible poles that were set in the ground and pulled together at the top. The main building was huge and could accommodate well over a hundred people.
Everything was scrupulously clean. The floors had a smooth, almost mirror-like surface. Big John said they were made by combining cow dung with dirt from crushed termite mounds. The mixture set like concrete, repelled insects and took a good polish.
Kraal was easy to say but his next word caused problems. It was inkosi. David took a while to work out that the bit at the front had to be sounded through the nose. Then you opened your mouth to say the rest. Inkosi meant chief and they were staying with one so it was important to address him properly and with due respect.
They had been introduced to the great man when they arrived and would be meeting him for a special ceremony later in the day. The inkosi was an impressive figure in his late eighties, perhaps even older. He stood tall and upright and wore the leopard-skin headband that only chiefs were allowed to wear.
David figured that he would have been born in about nineteen-fifteen. That was thirty-six years after the Zulus’ stunning victory over the British at the battle of Isandlwana. Young warriors who took part would have been in their fifties when the inkosi was a child. Someone like him would have grown up listening to their stories.
David was thrilled by the prospect of speaking to someone who had heard accounts of the great battle at first hand. History was beginning to come to life. But, first, he must practice his Zulu.
The guys said he was coming on well. That was reassuring. He needed to learn enough to let the inkosi know that he really was interested in Zulu culture and history. He also needed to cement relations with his hosts.
Big John knew they were on the run and he must have told the inkosi. David had listened to the two talking. He couldn’t understand what they said but he recognised Richard de Villiers’ name when it came up and he had no trouble understanding their rendering of airplane and America. There were enough English words for him to know that they regarded Richard highly even if his daughter had failed to charm them.
He decided to speak to Petra and Sipho. They had gone to alternative accommodation in a modern building outside the kraal. No one had asked him if he wanted to leave the kraal and sleep in a house with windows and walls made of brick. He and Mario had been accepted but Petra and Sipho hadn’t.
David blamed himself for not speaking to them about the appalling impression they were making. They were being aloof. They weren’t fitting in and they were making no attempt to fit in. He had even heard Petra whisper to Sipho that she couldn’t wait to get out of the place. If he had heard it others would too.
He had failed as a leader. Organising was one thing. Leading was another. Petra and Sipho weren’t coping. It was not their scene. Urgent action was needed before they slipped even further into their shells and alienated everyone around them.
He glanced at his watch. It was five o’clock on a pleasant autumn evening. Cape Town was much colder at that time of the year. It was further south and cooled by the cold waters of the Southern Ocean. KwaZulu was in the subtropics and warmed by the Indian Ocean. The air was warm, the birds were singing and students were coming back from school.
A girl in a neat uniform came into the kraal. She waved and smiled. David wondered why the young lady was showing such interest in him. Then he recognised her face and remembered the pendula breasts that swung out so seductively when she filled his glass. It had never occurred to him that he was lusting after a schoolgirl. There was still a lot to be learnt about the people and the place he was in.
Petra brought him up to steam.
‘They are fanatics, David.’
‘They seem alright to me.’
‘That’s because you can’t understand what they are saying.’
‘And you do?’
‘Yes, David.’
‘I thought you couldn’t speak Zulu.’
‘I know enough. Zulu and Xhosa are related languages. If you know one, it’s not so difficult to understand enough of the other to know what’s going on.’
‘They have been saying nice things about your father.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Big John and the inkosi … I’ve heard them talking. You don’t have to speak Zulu to know that they think he is a great man.’
‘They think my father is dead, David.’
‘Yes. They think he was murdered. That’s why they are hiding us. They are putting themselves at risk and we need to show that we are grateful for what they are doing.’
‘I appreciate that, David.’
‘You are not showing it, Petra.’
‘You don’t understand,’ Petra wrung her hands. ‘These people are pagans. You have no idea of what goes on here. They believe in voodoo and all sorts of obscene practices.’
‘What sort of practices?’
‘Genital mutilation … for one.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Everyone does … it is common knowledge.’
David had learnt to treat bold assertions with suspicion.
‘You surely saw that obscene man,’ Petra continued.
‘You mean the one with the straw hat?’
‘That was a voodoo hat, David. It is meant to give the wearer special masculine powers. He was exposing himself in front of those young girls. That was disgusting. And that other thing … that’s another of their voodoo charms.’
‘You mean the penis sheath?’
‘Yes. That thing.’
‘I thought it was for protection against long grass.’
‘Long grass?’
‘Yes. Big John said that, in the old days, men used to go around naked apart from a straw hat to protect the head from the sun and a sheath to protect the delicate parts of the body from long grass. Some of it is very sharp so a man wandering around without his kilt needs to wear one.’
‘He did it to embarrass me, David.’
‘And he succeeded, Petra.’
He waited for the point to sink in.
‘Think what your sister would have done in your place. Anna would have laughed the whole thing off. She is much cleverer than you think. The crazy way she behaved was for cover. It was to hide what she was really doing. Your father sent her to South America to spy on your Uncle Henry and other people.’
‘Is that what she told you?’
‘Yes. Her only mistake was to think that Carla and her mother couldn’t be taken seriously when they said they were going to kill you.’
Petra looked stunned then tears flowed down her face.
‘I should have thought better of her,’ she sobbed. ‘Now it’s too late. I can’t say sorry to her now.’
‘You can do what she would want you to do,’ David said. ‘Anna was very impressed by what you did on Cuthbert Maguire’s yacht. You didn’t like the people there but you knew you must get them on side. She said you must have thought the whole thing through. By the time you left you had them eating out of your hand.’
Petra stopped sobbing and wiped her eyes.
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘There’s a ceremony in the kraal tonight. Mario and I will be there. I think you and Sipho should come too.’
‘What sort of ceremony?’
‘An initiation ceremony. Some boys have just completed warrior training. As far as I know it will not involve any genital mutilation. But, the lads might have to strip out of their jeans because they are going to be presented with some traditional warrior gear. Try not to look shocked if you see more than you should.’
There was no genital mutilation and the boys were wearing leather jockstraps so Petra couldn’t complain on that score. She might have disapproved of the way the girls raved over this small item of clothing and got excited by the display of stomping and chest thumping when the boys performed their war dance. If she did she didn’t show it. Anna would have been pleased by the way her little sister behaved.
She greeted the inkosi in Zulu then apologised for her limited command of the language and changed to English. David listened as she explained that she had been tired and distraught when she arrived and regretted if she had appeared rude.
The inkosi said he had been deeply shocked to learn of her terrible ordeal. Her father’s disappearance and the horrible death of her sister were more than flesh and blood could bear. Others had not been told but that was no excuse for their behaviour. The incident with the naked man was disgraceful. He was deeply shocked when he heard about it and had immediately arranged more suitable accommodation for her and Sipho. The two young men were left in the kraal because they clearly enjoyed being there.
David felt seriously stupid. He had jumped to all the wrong conclusions. The inkosi was a very different sort of person from the one he had imagined. The old man was more genteel than warlike. He spoke excellent English and was deeply embarrassed by his failings as a host. Petra had not been cast out. Nothing could be further from the truth.
He wondered about the old man’s background. He spoke of working in Europe and said he knew Nelson Mandela. The kraal was one of his retirement projects. He believed that people of his age had priceless knowledge to pass on to future generations. It could be written down but the message would be lost if people did not experience something of the life of their ancestors. That’s what the kraal was about.
He sat on a shield. David and Mario sat beside him on cowhides. Petra sat on a stool and Sipho squatted beside her. Petra had arrived barefoot with a Basuto blanket draped over her shoulders. That was David’s idea and it totally changed her appearance. She fitted in much better now.
It soon became clear that the inkosi had identified David as the leader of their party. He wanted to know more about him and he was very good at asking questions. David wondered if he had once been a lawyer.
‘Who are you working for?’
That was a difficult one. David tried not to give too much information away. He had to convince the inkosi that he was genuinely concerned for Petra’s safety and wanted to track down her father’s killers. The more he evaded the penetrating questions the more the old man seemed to take him seriously.
The questioning finally ended. The inkosi sat back on his shield and accepted a bowl of weak beer from one of the girls. David decided it was his turn to ask questions. He wanted know more about the Zulu’s warrior past. The boys were putting on a great performance and the girls were lapping it up.
The ground shook when the young warriors raised their feet and brought them crashing down. There were fifteen of them. What would it be like if there were fifteen thousand? He imagined himself, in a red British uniform, facing a highly disciplined force of Zulu warriors advancing on his position in tight formation. He turned to the inkosi.
‘Were the war dances done before a battle?’
The old man beckoned him closer.
‘Yes, David. It is important to place your forces into the correct psychological frame of mind before engaging the opposing forces. I imagine that someone, such as you, would have no difficulty understanding that.’
David didn’t. He knew you had to psych up your troops before a battle and scare the shit out of the enemy. The Zulus were very good at that. But, what about their opponents?
The inkosi supplied the answer.
‘The British once had war dances and battle cries. I have made a careful study of their history. I believe that Hooray is a distant echo of an Anglo-Saxon battle cry. It was probably pronounced Oowa and chanted as the warriors advanced behind a wall of shields. They wore armour. Their descendants wore red coats and carried rifles instead of swords.’
‘And they didn’t shout Hooray to frighten the enemy?’
‘No, David. They used drums and bagpipes. The British fought with rifles that could bring down an opponent at over a thousand paces. Think about that, David. They needed tight discipline. Their men were trained to pull triggers and stand their ground. That is totally different from how we fought.’
‘My great-great-grandfather was with the British forces in South Africa. He wrote about the Zulu Wars.’ David tried to rephrase that. ‘I mean the wars when the British were fighting you.’
The inkosi seemed amused.
‘David. There is no nation that respects us more than the British. We slaughtered fifteen hundred of their best fighting men at Isandlwana and they think we are the greatest people on this earth. They have organisations. They call them companies. They dress in the uniforms of regiments from the past and refight their battles. We have had them here, in KwaZulu, to refight Isandlwana and other battles. Some of my people have taken part.’
‘When you were a boy, did you know anyone who fought at Isandlwana?’ David asked. ‘My grandfather fought the Japanese in the Pacific during the Second World War. He couldn’t stop talking about it when I was a kid.’
‘My grandfather was at Isandlwana, David. I was bought up on stories of that battle. British historians had their version. More recently the two have come together.’
‘What were you told?’
‘The British were encamped in a relatively secure position and the Zulu regiments attacked them. My grandfather was nineteen. He was out on the left wing. Our forces numbered twenty thousand and they advanced at a steady trot. Not surprisingly, the bullets took their toll. As I said, the British soldiers could kill a man at well over a thousand paces. Think what that means when you are armed with a stabbing spear and have a cowhide shield for protection.
You have to keep going. Each step brings you nearer to your enemy. Your companions fall and you close ranks. You know that their deaths will be in vain if you cannot reach the enemy and bring your blade into action.’
‘I heard that they had a special formation.’
‘Yes,’ the old man nodded. ‘It has various names in English. The one I use is Head-and-Horns. Our generals thought of an advancing army as a charging bull. They placed their older, more-experienced warriors at the centre. They were the Head. The younger warriors were at the wings. They were the Horns.’
The old man moved closer.
‘Have you ever seen a bull charge?’
David shook his head.
‘They come forward at a steady trot and conserve their energy until the last moment. Our generals did the same. They waited until their forces were within striking distance then gave the order to charge. The older warriors quickened their pace and the head of the formation surged forward. The young warriors broke into a sprint and the horns spread out in an encircling movement.’
‘That could have been unnerving.’
‘Yes, David. But the British soldiers held their ground. They didn’t panic. They kept firing and the result might have been different if their officers had not made a serious mistake. The normal practice was to have the men standing shoulder-to-shoulder. For some reason, they ordered them to advance and spread out. That caused gaps in their line. Our army had special units that dashed ahead of the main body. One of them penetrated the British line and the battle was soon over …’
The inkosi continued to deliver his speech. David guessed he had given it many times before. He did his best to listen. The party was getting wild. The din was deafening. Mario was still with him but Petra and Sipho had left.
Men with beer bellies trooped in. They were dressed as warriors but looked more like truck drivers who had spent a dreary day on the road and were looking for a bit of excitement. A man, wearing a bone necklace, walked amongst them with a bowl of smoking leaves. David smelt marihuana and figured everyone would soon be on a high.
He looked around. The war dancing was falling apart. Boys and girls were forming pairs. The thrusting and surging of the dance were giving way to something much more explicit. One of the girls lost her grass skirt. She responded by ripping the kilt off one of the boys. His leather jockstrap followed.
He was glad that Petra was not there. Someone had warned her off and that someone was, almost certainly, Big John. He saw him striding towards them through the smoke. David wondered if he would be told it was time to leave. But his attention was focussed on the inkosi.
Big John crouched down and spoke to him in Zulu. The old man seemed to resent the intrusion. After a short exchange, Big John took his arm and helped him to his feet. David watched them leave the kraal. He guessed the inkosi was being taken off to bed. He had a distinguished title but he wasn’t running the show. The inkosi was more like a mascot than a chief.