At first Mdingi stood silent. Then he confessed.
“While we were resting after playing games, I began to think about a
song. Sometimes when I do that I forget about everything else. It was
like that today. When I looked for the cows, they had wandered off. I
ran to drive them back, but I could not find Nyawuza. I left Kangata
with the others while I searched for her. I looked and whistled until we
had to come home. But I could not find the cow.”
“It is my fault, too,” Kangata said, stoutly. “I fell asleep. Oh, this
is the worst thing that could happen! When Tahle lost a calf once he was
punished severely.”
Nomusa felt very sorry for her brothers, especially for Mdingi. Kangata
might be scolded, but the cows were Mdingi’s responsibility. If Nyawuza
were not found, he would certainly be punished for his carelessness.
It was especially bad because Nomusa knew that their father frowned on
Mdingi more often than on any of his children. Zitu himself was very
strong and brave, and a great warrior and hunter. He was often
disappointed in Mdingi. It was no secret that Mdingi liked making up
songs and telling stories more than anything else.
Nomusa’s heart filled with pity as she saw Mdingi’s misery. She began to
think of what might be done.
“If we wait till morning, Nyawuza may be killed by some animal. That
would be a disgrace for you always, Mdingi.”
“It is true,” Mdingi acknowledged dejectedly.
“She must be found,” Nomusa declared. “I shall go right away to look for
her.”
“But, Nomusa, it is growing dark! You would not be safe. Some wild
animal might attack you!”
“I must find Nyawuza,” Nomusa said firmly.
“Then I shall go with you,” said Mdingi.
“No, no! You must milk the cows. And say nothing about this. Our father
is in our hut now; if he hears what has happened he will be very angry.
My work is finished; I shall not be missed.”
“I cannot let you go alone,” Mdingi protested. “Nyawuza knows my
whistle.”
“Show me how you whistle,” directed Nomusa.
Mdingi whistled, and Nomusa imitated him. After a few tries she could do
it exactly like Mdingi. Here is one more thing Nomusa can do as well as
I, Mdingi thought bitterly. She should have been the boy.
“Do not say anything about the lost cow,” Nomusa cautioned. “Tomorrow is
the day of Damasi’s party, and we might not be allowed to go.”
Out of the kraal flew Nomusa like a small wild thing, her neck pocket
bouncing as she ran. Her brothers watched her go, now worried about
Nomusa as well as the cow.
“I should not have let her go,” muttered Mdingi to Kangata as they went
to the cattlefold to do the milking.
Nomusa ran along the deeply marked path which the cattle had made on
their way from the kraal to the pasture. She wasted no time, but still
her keen eyes saw signs that told what her brothers did in the pasture
all day.
There were the remains of a fire. They must have caught some birds and
roasted them. And perhaps they had taken some yams from their mothers’
vegetable gardens. What a good time they must have had, thought Nomusa.
She could see large worn-out banana leaves on a small clay slope. These
the boys had used as sleds for coasting. What fun it was, and how easy
to find another banana-leaf sled when the old one was worn out!
Under a tree lay a large ball of leaves, twigs, and moss. Nomusa knew
what that had been used for. Her brothers, lined up on two sides, had
hurled pointed sticks at the ball as it rolled swiftly downhill.
Small wonder that Zulu boys grew up to be such great hunters with their
spears and bows and arrows. Even little Themba had a toy bow and arrow
with which he played at hunting. But he used the chickens and dogs
around the kraal as targets, much to the annoyance of his father’s
wives.
Nomusa came upon some long sticks standing against the trunk of a tree.
She had often seen the boys play this game in their kraal in the
evening. Standing opposite his opponent, each boy would try to strike
the other’s body, holding the stick in the middle so that a large piece
extended on each side of him. The boys used all their speed and agility
to try to ward off the blows from their opponents’ sticks. A player had
to be skillful indeed or he would soon be covered with bruises.
As Nomusa had expected, the cow was nowhere to be seen about the
pasture. She began whistling loudly and calling the cow with all her
might.
“Nyawuza! Nyawuza!”
From a long way off came faintly the echo: “Nyawuza! Nyawuza!”
[Illustration: [Girl]]
Nomusa decided she must go into the woods. Where else could the cow have
gone? Picking up a pointed stick, Nomusa walked into the shadowy woods.
She whistled Mdingi’s call over and over again. Moving between the
well-spaced trees, she pushed aside with her stick the vines and
creepers that came in her way. Once the whir of flying wings over her
head gave her a great fright.
Only a bat! she thought, ashamed of her fear.
But the farther she went into the woods the less courageous she felt.
She wished now that she had let Mdingi come with her. Oh, where could
Nyawuza have gone? Was she perhaps already eaten by a lion or a hyena?
By this time Nomusa was deep in the woods. Her eyes had become so
accustomed to the darkness that she was able to see where she was going
quite well. She called and whistled, she slapped at trees with her stick
to frighten off lurking animals. She had often heard that the rhinoceros
hated loud noises and ran away at sudden sounds. She hoped it would
frighten away other animals, too.
Once she saw some small glowing eyes peering at her from a bush. It made
Nomusa’s flesh creep with dread. The fast beating of her heart made her
whistle tremble and quaver. Her throat suddenly went dry, and she found
herself scarcely able to utter any sound whatever.
All at once, Nomusa heard a low and doleful moo from somewhere to the
right of her. She plunged excitedly through the thicket in the direction
of the sound. Another low, mournful moo.
Nomusa came to a small swamp; and there was Nyawuza. One foot was caught
in a liana, and she was still struggling to free herself from the vine.
With a cry of joy and relief, Nomusa rushed up to the cow. She put her
arms around her neck. “Nyawuza, our dear one, are you hurt?”
She bent down to examine Nyawuza’s leg and to see how she could free
her. Nyawuza had got herself more and more entangled with the vine by
trying to free herself. First Nomusa pulled at it with all her strength,
but soon she saw that it required cutting. She had no knife, so she
tried using her pointed stick to get between the vines and the cow’s
leg. This hurt Nyawuza, and she frantically pulled herself away.
“What shall I do?” wondered Nomusa. She groped about on the ground
looking for a rock with a sharp edge, feeling rather than seeing the
stones. All at once she felt a sharp pain in her hand.
“A snake!” gasped Nomusa.
But it was not a snake bite after all, but a cut made by something
sharp, perhaps the very thing she could use to cut the vine. Nomusa bent
down, feeling about cautiously for the sharp object that had cut her.
Ah! She had it—a stone with a knifelike edge, half embedded in the
earth. Nomusa dug it out, with some difficulty, and ran to Nyawuza. She
knelt in front of the cow and held her leg firmly with one hand while
she chopped at the vine with the stone.
Nyawuza looked on with melancholy eyes. The task of cutting the liana
was not easy, though the stone was sharp. The vine was tough and full of
sap, and it did not break easily. But Nomusa worked and worked at one
place until she had cut it through. Finally Nyawuza was free.
By this time Nomusa was so tired that she felt as if the kraal were a
hundred miles away. “Come, good Nyawuza. We must hurry home. Our mother
is waiting.”
On their dark journey homeward, Nomusa kept up a conversation with the
cow to reassure her. Now and then Nomusa stumbled over rough ground and
unexpected bumps. Sometimes she was not at all sure which was the right
direction, and she grew frightened at the thought of being lost.
[Illustration: [Girl]]
It seemed a very long time before Nomusa felt under her feet the
familiar path leading to her kraal. Delighted to be so near home, she
gave Nyawuza an affectionate and resounding slap on her rump.
The cow gave a sudden leap forward, and went galloping into the kraal,
almost dashing against a group of Nomusa’s older brothers and sisters.
But Nomusa did not stop to speak to them, for she must find Mdingi at
once. It was long past the cow’s milking time, and her udder was
swollen.
Before Nomusa reached the cattlefold, Mdingi came rushing to meet her.
“You found her!” he cried in relief. “I have been worried about you!”
There was much more that Mdingi wanted to say, but Nomusa knew what he
felt.
“Go quickly,” she said gently. “Nyawuza needs milking.”
“I go,” Mdingi said.
Nomusa turned back to the other children, who were playing a spitting
game. At a given signal, they passed their hands before their mouths,
spitting on the palm as it passed. Then each child was given a chance to
guess where the spit had hit the hand.
Nomusa watched for a few moments, but she was too tired to play. As she
was about to enter her hut, she saw her father sitting outside the
entrance gazing at the rising moon and smoking his oxhorn pipe. Without
turning his head, he said quietly, “I am glad you found the cow, my
daughter.”
Astonished, Nomusa said to herself, “By what magic does my father always
manage to know everything that is happening in the kraal?”
Before unrolling her mat, Nomusa took some half-cooked pumpkin and some
stewed meat from the pot. Drowsily she began to eat. Puleng came to help
her, and together they finished the pumpkin and meat.
With one arm around her dog’s neck, Nomusa stretched out her tired legs
and fell sound asleep.
[Illustration: [Huts]]