Nomusa took up a little grass basket into which she put some of the food
cooking in the pot.
She picked out pieces of corn and banana, putting them into her mouth
and sucking the juice from her fingers with great relish.
As she ate, she watched her mother getting ready for her husband’s
visit. Makanya was busily greasing her body so she would look clean and
shiny.
She rubbed her arms, then her legs, then her whole body, with fresh,
sweet-smelling butter. It had been made the day before from cream from
Makanya’s own cows.
“Nomusa, when you have finished eating, I should like you to help me
comb my hair.”
“I have finished now, my mother.”
“Then here are the porcupine quill and the comb.”
The comb was a wooden one which Makanya had made herself. “Remember to
comb my hair straight up into a peak,” she said. “Some day when you are
married you will wear your hair the same way.”
Nomusa combed her mother’s short, thick hair up from the back of her
neck, shaping and slanting it backward from her forehead. To look
proper, the hair had to end in a peak just back of the top of her head.
Every little while Nomusa had to rub grease into the hair so that it
would stand up stiffly and stay in shape. With the porcupine quill she
picked at the hair to keep the strands in place. It took patience and
much combing and greasing to make the hair stay where it was supposed
to.
After a while, Makanya carefully ran her hand over her head to feel the
shape of her hair.
“Well done, my daughter,” she said.
“What skirt will you wear today?” asked Nomusa.
“I shall wear the new oxhide one,” said Makanya.
“Oh, you will look beautiful!”
Nomusa knew it was only a very special occasion that would induce her
mother to wear the oxhide skin instead of her short grass skirt. For
days and days she had watched her mother water-soak the skin, which had
come from one of her own cattle. When it was soft, she had helped her
mother pull out all the hairs. It had been long and tedious work. After
that, they had both used sharp thorns and scratched and scratched at one
side of the skin until it was as soft as a baby’s ear.
Part of the skin became a skirt, part was used for Nomusa’s best
neck-pocket. Another part was used as a sling in which her mother
carried the baby when she was working in the vegetable garden. The rest
of the skin was saved until it should be needed.
Finally Makanya took from the rafters of the hut some bead bracelets and
a necklace she kept hidden there. These she put on while Nomusa stood to
one side, marveling at her mother’s beauty. Makanya was tall and
well-shaped. Her muscles were firm and strong. When she laughed, her
white teeth glistened, making her smooth skin look darker still. No
wonder Nomusa’s father had had to give ten cows in order to get her
mother as a wife. She had heard that none of his other wives had cost
that much.
“You are beautiful, my mother!” exclaimed Nomusa admiringly.
Just then they heard the sound of a man clearing his throat in front of
the entrance to the hut.
“He is here!” said Makanya excitedly, a slight pink color appearing
under her skin.
The small amount of daylight which came into the hut through the
entrance was blocked as a large figure came crawling in.
“_Sakubona_,” Zitu greeted them, smiling. The Zulu chief was magnificent
in a belt of wildcat tails and a necklace of blue beads around his neck.
“_Usaphila_,” answered Nomusa and her mother.
Always a little shy with her father, Nomusa partly hid behind her
mother.
Makanya said, “Nomusa, get your father’s mat.”
Nomusa got out the new bamboo mat her mother had made especially for him
and unrolled it on the smooth floor. On this Zitu squatted. He took out
of his belt the horn of an ox and some tobacco. After stuffing the horn
with the tobacco, he took an ember from the fire and lit his pipe.
Silently he began smoking.
Nomusa’s mother now brought out all the good things she had made for her
husband to eat. On a large grass plate she put chicken, pumpkin, yams,
mealies, roast bananas. Then she brought beer. On Zitu’s lap Makanya
placed some tobacco she had grown especially for him.
At first, Nomusa’s father pretended to be indifferent to the food, but
the tantalizing smells proved too much for him. He laid down his oxhorn
pipe and began eating with great gusto. He ate noisily, smacking his
lips and belching from time to time. Nomusa and her mother did not utter
a word while he was eating. They sat quietly, moving only when they had
to take away his empty plate and fill it again. The Zulu chief ate and
ate. Nomusa wondered how he could eat so much. From time to time an
extra loud belch came out of him. Then Nomusa and her mother exchanged
happy glances. They heard and saw that Zitu was enjoying their food.
Finally he licked his fingers thoroughly, showing he had finished. He
looked at Nomusa and her mother smilingly. That was all, but it was
enough to make them feel repaid for all the effort they had gone to in
order to please him.
[Illustration: [Family]]
Zitu sat on his mat, a strong handsome figure. His muscular legs looked
as though they could walk forty miles a day easily. Nomusa had heard
that he often walked that much when he was out on a hunt. She wondered,
as she kept her shining eyes on her father, whether he would say
something about the elephant hunt. She waited and hoped.
Suddenly the chief spoke, pointing to the sleeping baby. “She looks as
if she would be worth five cows.”
“Ay, she will be worth more,” answered Makanya proudly. “And Nomusa
here, who helps me so well, is worth seven cows already.”
Zitu looked at Nomusa appraisingly; then, taking hold of her firm arm,
he said, “She is a strong girl, almost as big as her older brother. I
hear she can do anything a boy can. If she were a boy, I would take her
on the elephant hunt when we leave at the full moon.”
At the full moon! thought Nomusa, her heart beating excitedly.
Inwardly she began counting the number of days to the full moon. About
ten sleeps away, she said to herself. There will be time for one more
visit from my father. How can I make him decide to take me? What can I
do that will prove to him that I am more courageous than other girls,
that I am strong and have no fear?
Half dreaming, she began to leave the hut.
“Where are you going, Nomusa?” asked her mother.
“To play _Hlungulu_ with Themba,” she murmured. “I promised him.”
[Illustration: [Children]]
[Illustration: [Huts]]