Two Moons by J. Raymond Ractliffe - Chapter 14

Two Moons is a new novel by J. Raymond Ractliffe that explores the inner spirit life of Africa, her people and their powerful faith in the world of the Unseen.

The Mark of the Two Moons
Chapter 14

     Konjaru had sat by the withered tree, waiting for the Old Mother to reappear. The twins had long retrieved their morning bowls and had come and gone into the rondavel or round thatched mud hut several times during the morning.

His mind had run with the news Etona was here, either wounded or very sick. Judging by the amount of times the twins came back and forth with bowls, cloths and ground herbs, it was difficult to imagine to whom these salves where directed. Wood was brought to heat the room, fresh leaves burning on the low blaze to add to the healing draughts and prayers into the sacrecd smoke.

There was nothing more he could do since neither of the twins ventured to this side of the compound. Protocol dictated he not interfere with his chatter and voice full of concern.

He got up and walked towards the slow moving stream where he had earlier washed the blood and soiled remains from Jeremy's shirt. His own shirt washed and ripped to cover Jeremy's head for his journey home, the remainder of his shirt now wound over his blistered palms.

By the waters edge, he looked out over the rolling land now shimmering with the heat from the growing sun. Away from him, a small troupe of tri- coloured springbok had gathered at waters edge to refresh themselves. Eyes darting to and fro, each one lowering their heads to drink quickly, ever ready to spring back and dash to the cover of dense bush and thorn at any sign of a stalking enemy hidden in the shadows and folds of the land and trees.

His eyes caught a red plume behind a stone on the far side, then it was gone. He waited for a time, listening to the birds dance between the tree tops, calling to each other. Patience finally won out, for a second it danced in the air before falling back once more behind the stone. Someone had fallen asleep in the sun and a head tilting to the side had given themselves away.

Watching to see if it moved further, when he had deduced the owner of it was fast and deeply asleep, the breathing rhythms of the owner clearly showing by its gentle sway to and for in the wind, Konjaru walked out and began to wade through the water. One eye glued to watch for any movement behind the stone and an eye cast onto the water in case some new danger approached from beneath its glittering surface.

The river water came no more than chest deep, Konjaru's footing felt strong on the sandy bottom. He quickly found his way to the other side where he paused for a moment by a long tree log jammed into the river bank's side from a previous flash flood.

Konjaru reached down and removed his leather sandals, they had become wet and would squelch as he moved over hot stone and sand. Better the heat and light burn than to give away his silent approach.

Crouching low, crab walking towards the larger stone, Konjaru made it over the last few feet, then listened to dream breaths flowing gently on the other side. He drew a blade silently from his side, pausing for just a moment then he burst over the stone screaming with all his might.

Konjaru'ss loud cry and sudden lunge had woken the morning sleeper, his eyes now wide and a wild scream stuck in his throat. He could do little more than raise his hands as a gesture of his total defeat. The knife blade at his throat had stifled any thought of a fight, chest heaving with adrenaline, he remained seated, his proud plumed headgear now falling from his head.

"What monkey sleeps in the sun while watching his prey," a smiling Konjaru asked mocking this young Masai warrior. He had noticed the markings of this moran - young warrior as he approached the stone where he had hidden.

"I have come to see if my friend was healing while the Milk Eyed Old Woman saw to his blood fever." The young warrior's courage slowly returning as he looked back in defiance.

"I saw you this morning as you lay by the tree by the stones. The young girls had brought you food and then the white man climbed to the top of the hill and waved to you" his voice calming and the smile on Konjaru's face relieving him of any thought of his immediate death.

"Why are you here and who sent you?" Konjaru asked, the blade closer now to the skin, focusing the young man to reveal more quickly the purpose of his being here.

"No one sent me here, I left the i-manyat - warrior compound, where we are recovering from the knife cuts that took away our skins. I followed the litter that brought my friend Etona here and after they left to go back t the village, I stayed here to watch over him."

"He is my friend." he said finally. "I alone watch over him"

Tired and hungry, he had finally slept as the morning had not revealed anything new. The compound silent as all found their own duties to fulfill.

"Your friend is laying within the round hut of the Old Woman with a white boy. Both have been given medicine and their wounds have been given strong leaves and prayers. The old woman said they are sleeping well," here he lied, knowing only that Matthew was sleeping and recovering. "Do not worry, they are well.”

The young boy sighed deeply now, the fatigue and worry clearly catching up with him. His body sagged against the stone, hungry and sleepless from his adventures.

What is your name young warrior?" Konjaru asked, both now dusting the sand from their bodies, stretching sore limbs.

"My name is Chezwe of the New Blood Rivers, and I am a full warrior of the Masai" he spoke boldly now with his new name and status. This was the first time he had introduced himself as a man. He was smiling now as he heard his own name linger in the air. He liked the sound of it all and it made him glow like the sun.

"So come mighty Chezwe, I will find you food and you can tell me all about your village and your people." Konjaru turned, hiding his smile and walked towards the river behind them.

Chezwe was too tired and had not realized this man had not introduced himself in return as was custom, nor did he notice the man was speaking the tongue perfectly of the Masai People. He picked up his plumed red headdress that had fallen to the sand, gathered up his long bladed spear and his buffalo shield, red, black and white design as befitting his new warrior status. Brushing it off, he followed Konjaru to the waters edge and to the mystery that still lay within the mud walled compound of the Old Woman.