Mighty Brahmuhn
Bones to Pick

To Brahmuhn, the feast felt like deja vu. It was like re-living the marriage of his mother to Chief Mbada those fourteen years ago. The ear-piercing ululations, countless and tempting foods and of course, inevitably, the drunkards scattered everywhere mumbling inaudible yet irritating mumbo-jumbo to each other or passing rude jeers to passing women.

Cheetah looked deep in conversation with a man a short distance from where Brahmuhn was sitting.

Brahmuhn had no interest whatsoever in traditional beer but rather, he was obsessed with his mbanje. However, on this particular night he was not in the mood for a smoke. He had decided to allow his anger to take control of his mind. He was sitting by a fire in the company of Bhonzo, Ngoni and two other men. One of them looked like he was Chief Mbada’s advisor. The four men were sharing a gourd of beer whilst Brahmuhn’s eyes were concentrating on the flames before him. He could not stop picturing his father’s death. The painful story was playing over and over again in his head; the whipping, the spearing and ultimately, the burning of his father whilst his innocent mother watched; the woman who had rightfully fallen in love with him. He could also picture Mbada’s unremorseful laughter as he carried out this merciless and callous execution. Was it not enough that the dog had stolen his wife?

Each moment he thought of his father he continued to deepen his fury and in turn, his pain added heat to his seething anger.

‘What’s on your mind, “Oh Great and Powerful Brahmuhn”?’ Bhonzo asked him. He did not even attempt to mask his sarcasm.

Brahmuhn also smiled sarcastically then shrugged. ‘I’m just thinking of how to brutally kill my enemy.’

‘Well, the best way to slaughter the Ndebele is with a spear!’ Ngoni said making thrusts at the air with his empty hands.

‘I think it’s by thrusting their own arrow through their hearts!’ Bhonzo disagreed.

Ngoni was adamant, ‘No, no, no! With a spear..!’

Brahmuhn chuckled in amusement, ‘Has either one of you two house rats ever been to war? Do you think taking another man’s life is that simple? Have you ever looked into another man’s eyes in the midst of a bloody battlefield?’

The two’s expressions changed drastically, possibly because they had been called house rats.

‘Is it necessary to speak to us like that?’ Ngoni said looking greatly offended.

Brahmuhn chuckled again in amusement and said, ‘I’m just saying, Ngoni. You have never been to war… you are the chief’s bodyguards. You are with him at all times and I think the closest you have ever been to war is chasing flies away from Chief Mbada’s food.’

The other two men broke into a loud and uncontrollable laughter.

‘That’s uncalled for,’ Bhonzo said turning his face to the side in humiliation.

‘And with so much muscle stacked on you two, one would think you actually know what a spear looks like,’ said Brahmuhn.

The laughter from the other two men grew even louder and had now infected a large number of villagers who had begun to gather around this unfolding dramatic display of humor.

‘And you expect us to believe that the so-called “monsters” you have fought are real?’ Bhonzo said and the watching villagers let out a large gasp of shock at this daring accusation.

‘I never said they were real,’ he replied smiling at the flames.

Everyone watching had now become completely silent.

‘That’s because they’re not,’ Ngoni also jumped in.

Silence.

Brahmuhn’s expression became serious. He turned to the man behind him; ‘Get me a spear…and an arrow.’

The man obediently disappeared into the crowd.

Moments later he returned with a long and sharp spear in one hand and an arrow in the other and handed them to Brahmuhn.

Bhonzo and Ngoni now looked nervous and puzzled.

Brahmuhn threw the spear to Ngoni and the arrow to Bhonzo then he stood up slowly.

‘What are we supposed to do with these?’ Ngoni asked him still looking puzzled.

He motioned them towards himself with his right hand. ‘Kill me.’

The villagers let loose another gasp of shock.

‘Why?’ Bhonzo asked looking even more unsettled.

‘Test your theories, house rats. Prove, or rather…demonstrate to everyone that you’re more than just Chief Mbada’s bodyguards.’

Bhonzo was ignorantly rubbing his arrow in his hands as he and Ngoni stood up. ‘We…’

‘Just think of me as the enemy…the Ndebele. I want to kill your chief and the only way to stop me is to kill me first.’

They hesitated for a while then with one look at each other, they rushed towards Brahmuhn yelling what seemed to them as a battle cry.

Brahmuhn did not look worried in the least. He snatched Ngoni’s spear from his hand and with one powerful swing, he broke it on his back. The lash made a thunderous and ear-shattering noise.

Ngoni instantly fell to the ground, writhing like a decapitated snake, screaming in pain.

Bhonzo thrust his arrow towards Brahmuhn’s heart.

With not much work applied, Brahmuhn grabbed his wrist and twisted it. Squealing in anguish, Bhonzo dropped it. Brahmuhn then flung his arms around Bhonzo’s waist and with one heave, he lifted his body up and slammed it back first into the ground. Bhonzo was now unconscious.

Ngoni on the other hand was still rolling around and jerking in the dust and screaming in pain amidst the laughter and mockery of the watching villagers.

The sound of slow and rhythmic applause brought the laughter to a halt. It was Chief Mbada. He had been watching the entire scene. He grinned broadly then said, ‘Impressive…unnecessary, but…impressive.’

Brahmuhn’s mother was beside him. As usual, her head was bowed low and her hands were clasped together in front of her beneath her belly.

Mbada’s grin was replaced by sternness, ‘I think that’s enough for tonight.’ With that, he turned around and began walking away with Tsitsi following behind him.

She turned around once to look at her son. She looked worried.

The villagers had now begun to disperse when Cheetah joined Brahmuhn’s side.

The chief’s bodyguards were still on the ground. Bhonzo was still unconscious and Ngoni’s screams had dialed down to moans but he continued to roll back and forth in the dust.

‘Was that really necessary, Tawana?’ his mother asked him. She had brought him food inside the guest hut and sat in front of him and watched as he devoured it.

He laughed, ‘Mother, those two cowards had it coming, and for what they did to my father, they shall share a grave with Mbada.’

She sighed in defeat. She was kneeling before him, watching him eat. She smiled, ‘You have grown, my son. Your wisdom attests to that.’ Her smile evolved into a grin and she rubbed his cheek in her palm. ‘You remind me so much of your father. You are brave…stupid-brave though.’

He stopped eating and looked at her. Such unexpected displays of affection usually meant that she could see an inescapable danger. ‘I know you are worried, mother. You don’t have to be. Mbada shall never hurt you again.’

She wiped a tear from her eye before she got up. When she reached the door she stopped and turned around to face him. ‘I foresee so much blood. Blood spilt at my feet. Blood that is sweet in my hands but bitter to the ground.’ with these words she left, weeping.