Mighty Brahmuhn
Training

As he prepared to sleep, he still felt unnerved about what his new father had told him. He felt troubled all the more, concerned about his birth parents’ safety. He was glad that he now had a chance to live his dream. To be trained by an elite group of warriors just like he had dreamed of being a member of the Gorivas back in Matanda village, but what his father, the chief had just told him seemed to drown the feelings of happiness he had had earlier when the Vadhindi had been ordered by his father to train him.

He still had his father’s knobkerrie with him. It glistened even in the darkness. This was the only possession he had from his father; a simple tool which had been used to pound nuts and hard-shelled fruits and to chase away birds of prey. From his mother, to remember her by was the sun tattoo at the back of his hand. He lay back onto the thickly padded goatskin mat and pulled the knobkerrie deep into his chest in an embrace and fell asleep.

*

Tawana was woken up by his father just before the rooster crowed. Outside it looked as dark as death, black like Bhonzo, but a few shades deeper.

‘Isn’t this what you wanted?’ Chief Kindi asked him rhetorically.

Tawana’s body was still heavy with sleep, but this was what he wanted. This was what he needed.

‘Speed is not in the legs, but it’s in the heart…the breath,’ Cheetah told Tawana as they stood facing each other outside the village. He had decided to be the first to train him. ‘When you run, don’t focus on the distance or the road or anything else but focus on two things: your objective, and your breath,’ he told him raising one finger after the other.

He nodded quickly.

‘Lose focus of your objective and you will lose control of your breath. Lose control of your breath and you will lose focus of your objective.’

Tawana nodded again quickly in understanding. He could still not believe that his dreams were actually becoming a reality, but he suppressed his smile.

‘Now…’ Cheetah pulled out a whip.

‘W…what’s that for?’ Tawana asked in fearful suspicion.

‘Oh, don’t worry it’s for you.’

‘Phew! I thought for a moment there that you were going to use it to…’

‘This…’ Cheetah cracked the whip in the air producing a thunderous and deafening noise, ‘…is a little motivation.’

His suspicious look returned. ‘Motivation for what?’

‘I…am going to chase you and each third time I catch up with you I give you one good stroke with this whip. I’ll give you a two-minute head start.’

‘But…’

‘One…two…three…’

He immediately sped off as fast as he could, desperately trying to create as much distance as he could between him and Cheetah.

‘Good morning, Tawana,’ Mamba greeted him, the sun now just a glance over the horizon, slowly clutching at the edge of the earth to pull itself into the morning.

Tawana’s back was covered in strokes and slashes from Cheetah’s whip. ‘Let’s just get on with it, Mamba!’

He grinned, ‘As you wish. Please, follow me.’ He began walking towards the forest.

‘Where are you taking me? To wrestle a lion?’ he asked sounding very angry. He was angry. The bruises left by Cheetah’s whip were burning and making his skin itch severely and the rising sun was adding on to the pain as if, out of ridicule, it was encouraging it.

‘You will see it when we replace it.’

‘It? So it is a lion!’ His face was now panic. Nevertheless, he followed Mamba into the bushes.

‘What exactly are we looking for?’ Tawana asked him after what seemed to be a fruitless search of something he didn’t know of.

‘Aha!’ he suddenly shouted.

‘What?’ Tawana was getting nervous all the more. They were standing in front of a hole in the ground.

‘I want you to bring out a friend of mine from inside there,’ he said pointing at the hole. ‘The silly fool must have followed a shrew and forgot to invite me for lunch…how rude!’

‘Whoa, whoa, whoa, Mamba! Don’t tell me you expect me to pull out a black mamba from that hole?!’

He smiled, ‘I don’t expect you to…but I want you to.’

He was hesitant and stepped back and began pondering for a while. His voice similar to a croak, he said, ‘I think I just might be able to pull it out.’ His tone however disagreed with him. He rubbed his hands vigorously and grabbed a stick off the ground from not too far off.

‘Wait…’ Mamba grabbed his shoulder, ‘…Once you get him out, make sure that he doesn’t escape because if he does, I will tie you by your ankle to that tree and you will hang there the whole night.’

‘What!’

‘Time is ticking, Tawana.’

He was now terrified. Even if he would manage to get the snake outside the hole, it could bite him and if it escaped he would be up for an equally brutal punishment. Stick in hand, he groaned and advanced towards the hole. He gave a deep sigh and knelt in front of it…