Mighty Brahmuhn
Unforgotten Demons

Shumba was the most muscular of the five and he was almost as tall as Cheetah. He could have been described as the perfect “war hero cliché” : Tall, with a gargantuan physique that looked like it had been chiseled for ages under the tools of the most competent craftsmen.

‘Shumba’s field of expertise is bravery,’ the chief said. ‘Up to now I don’t think I’ve met any man as courageous as him,’ the chief beamed proudly at Shumba. ‘He once single-handedly killed a crazed female leopard with a broken spear.’

Shumba tightened the seriousness of his face as if this was his counter response to Tawana’s undying smirk.

‘And finally, we have Kamba: the Tortoise. He is the wisest man I know and sometimes I summon him for advice.’

Tortoise was very short and stubby which made his physique look like a warning to any potential bully, but his skin looked soft. His face looked very calm.

‘Well…’ the chief clapped his hands, ‘I think that’s all of them,’ he grinned and turned around to leave.

Tawana pulled his arm.

‘What is it, son?’ he asked him.

He pulled his head to his mouth and whispered into his ear.

The chief turned to the Vadhindi. He straightened himself up. ‘Tortoise…’

He quickly stepped forward and bowed once, ‘Your Humbleness?’

‘My son seems to be fascinated by the Vadhindi.’

‘Your Humbleness?’ Tortoise now looked confused.

‘He wishes for you to train him.’

‘But, Your Humbleness…’ Shumba stepped forward also, ‘...he’s just...he’s just...’

Tawana whispered into his father’s ear again. When he was done, he straightened himself up and began stroking the edges of his robe.

‘And it seems he only desires your kind of training.’

‘Your Humbleness,’ Mamba stepped in this time, ‘You do remember that a man once died a few days later after enduring our kind of training? Tawana is just a boy!’

‘A person’s age is only determined by his thinking capacity,’ Tawana told him.

‘But even so- the level of your wisdom could never contribute to your strength,’ Tortoise tried to reason with Tawana.

‘I ask for nothing less than the most brutal of your training methods,’ Tawana argued.

‘Please, Your Humbleness,’ Tortoise turned his attention back to the chief, ‘please tell him that the way we train is not as simple as eating sadza and derere (okra)…’

‘Relax, Tortoise,’ the chief told him, ‘give my son the training he desires.’

‘But…’

‘If he decides to back out…or blackout, then you can stop.’

‘But just consider how thin he is!’ Shumba argued this time.

‘That’s enough, Shumba!’ The chief was now getting angry and impatient with the Vadhindi’s arguments.

He bowed in apology, ‘Forgive me, Your Humbleness.’

The chief gave a sharp sigh. ‘Now you shall do as I have commanded you, nothing else!’

The five bowed in obedience, ‘Yes, Your Humbleness,’ they said.

Tawana’s smirk broadened even more. He folded his arms and began nodding his head slowly in satisfaction.

When they got home, the chief immediately ordered that Tawana be served loads and loads of food.

He ate to his heart’s content. A basin of fruits: melons, papayas, mangoes and guavas and other foods like raw groundnuts and ostrich eggs. When he was done, only scraps and seeds were left. For dinner, the family had sadza and goat meat. Tawana’s portion was abnormally large. They served him a mountain of sadza and huge pieces of meat.

‘Eat up, son,’ the chief said, ‘tomorrow you begin your training.’

He tried to respond but his words were muffled by the loads of food stacked in his cheeks. The three of them laughed then continued eating with their two bodyguards standing behind them looking as watchful as ever.

‘Are you still worried about your parents?’ Mai Kindi asked him after a while as they continued eating.

Tawana now chewed slower, digesting this sudden and unexpected question. He stared into his bowl filled with food, his expression now sorrowful. He swallowed. ‘I miss them every day,’ he finally answered. ‘Not a day passes by without me thinking about them,’ he added.

‘Are you ready for us to reach out to them?’ the chief asked.

He began chewing slowly again. ‘That would be great…if it’s still not too dangerous.’

The chief sighed in regret, ‘I’m afraid it is, son. Chief Mbada has reportedly declared war on not only our enemy, the Ndebele, but also all the other Shona tribes.’

‘His own kind?’ Tawana seemed shocked. ‘But why?’

‘I think he feels like he wants to prove his power.’

Tawana began to feel edgy. If Chief Mbada had gone crazy enough to declare war on all the Shona tribes, what is to say that he had not yet killed his father…and his mother?