Mighty Brahmuhn
Bleeding Memories

It was as if she was embracing a son who had risen from the dead. ‘Oh, Tawana! Tawana, mwanangu (my child)! Oh, mwanangu how I have missed you so much!!!’

He could no longer control himself either and without restraint, and for the first time in his life, he permitted tears to run down his cheeks. He felt so young and happy in her arms. That warmth, that motherly love that had kept his hope alive for so long.

After a well-deserved moment of tears, he managed to compose himself. ‘Mother, mother where is father?’

She could not stop sniffling, ‘Oh, my son, my son. This wicked man, this wicked monster speared him that same night…that same night you ran away. He first had him whipped for what seemed like hours by Ngoni and Bhonzo, but even then, your father continued to confess his undying love for you and me and how he would get his vengeance. Mbada then speared him in the ribs and even then, your father refused to die. That is when…that’s when…’ she broke down in tears again. This time her tears threatened to persist.

‘Mother, mother, mother!’ he tried shaking her, ‘Be strong, be strong! What else did that dog do to him?’

‘Oh, my son…Mbada set your father on fire! The dog burnt him alive!’

Not even anger could comprehend the feelings that he felt in that moment. Not even the cool waters of a river in winter could quench the fiery bloodlust that his eyes spoke in that very instant. He pulled away from her and walked towards the edge of the hut, his hand massaging his head but not to calm him down but rather incite more rage. He needed to feel it.

He said, ‘You know…’ he cleared his throat, ‘…at first I thought that all I had to do to Mbada was either break his neck or strike him in the forehead, but…’ he cleared his throat again. The anger kept freezing his speech, ‘…Now I know that killing Mbada is no different to wishing him a good night.’

‘My son, what are you saying?’

‘I have to destroy him: his life, his legacy, his name and all the praise that people attach to its filth.’

Tsitsi looked exceedingly concerned. ‘Tawana, my son; Mbada is not a mere sickly coward who can be easily beaten. I have seen him spar with his Gorivas. He is truly a monster!’

‘Mother, I have seen “monsters”, I have fought demons and I have beaten Death himself. Mbada shall join the list!’

She walked towards him, ‘My son,’ she took hold of his hand and removed the goatskin and traced her thumb on his tattoo. ‘Do not be encouraged by delusional rumors. This mark is merely meant to scare potential threats away. That is how it has kept you safe.’

‘But mother, I have seen them. The demons, I have fought them and brought them to their knees!’

She stroked his cheek gently, ‘Oh, my son. Demons are just folklore.’

‘And how about the stories of how you defeated an entire Ndebele army using this same mark?’ he challenged her, pointing at her tattoo.

‘That is the idea, son. People fear this mark but for no logical reason. Mbada married me for this mark also thinking that it would bring his enemies to their knees. It works, yes, but not through the aid of demons but of superstition.’ She placed both her hands on his cheeks now. Her grave expression deepened, ‘Which is why I am begging you, son. Leave now before Mbada connects the dots and discovers who you really are; my one and only son. Even though he is the chief, I refused to bear children for him, let alone sleep with him. He continuously beat me and at times tried to force me but I threatened to kill myself. That is when he decided to let go of the idea. He sacrificed an heir for power…’

‘Mother…’

‘Please listen to me, my son. Abandon this foolish idea of fighting that monster.’

‘Mbada may be a monster, mother, but Brahmuhn…Brahmuhn is a god.’

Brahmuhn met up with Cheetah a few hours later.

He looked ecstatic.

‘And who made your day, Cheetah?’ he had noticed the obtrusive grin on his face.

‘My chief, the people here are very hospitable. Maybe it’s because I am in the company of a legendary warrior.’

He laughed, ‘you’re crazy, Cheetah.’

‘Oh, the chief has decided to throw a feast in your honor tonight.’

He sighed, ‘I really wish I could avoid that man’s face for tonight,’ said Brahmuhn.

His expression changing to concerned curiosity, ‘How did it go with your mother, my chief?’

He shrugged, ‘It went well, very well except for the fact that she finally laid to rest my concern for my birth father, Farai.’

‘Where is he?’

‘Mbada killed him, in the most savage and unspeakable ways.’

‘That snake!’ Cheetah spat on the ground in disdain.

‘No, Cheetah, do not compliment him. At least a snake drags its body in the dust in humility. Mbada is just a toothless and immoral dog who shall taste the wrath of the Mighty Brahmuhn.’