Two Moons by J. Raymond Ractliffe - Part Two- Chapter 8

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 Rising of the Moons
Chapter 8

     Etona watched at the Land Rover approached him from the east. The slow bumpy ride did not stir the earth, the dust traveling behind the rolling wheels lingering for just a moment, its sleep only slightly disturbed before returning gently to the earth. Several times the Land Rover stopped, unsure of its heading, until finding its last course correction, it drove directly to him until finally bursting through the tall grasses at the edge of the stream, almost crashing into the rented bike that had brought him here.

In the morning darkness, Etona had gently unwound the still clinging arm of his Gileni from his waist, he grabbed the days clothing from the hutch and slipped through the doorway. He walked down the street to the vendor he had met the previous night.

A deal struck, multi coloured notes passed loudly as palms slapped together.. The Honda was there waiting for him as the first new colours of the day broke the night's darkness. He wheeled it further away, making sure his departure did not stir the golden-framed face of Gileni who still rested in her dreams.

The main road ride was uneventful, the black ribbon before him already full of the morning trucks speeding past on their way to their markets. Smiling faces peering through the morning light, workers riding in the rear of the great trucks and buses, their multi coloured blankets and knitted headgear held firmly against the lingering night's chill.

By the time the sun had broken through the simmering horizon, Etona was far from the city and out into the countryside he had known as a young warrior. Before him lay the rolling and green grasses that had fed the first sacred cows.

Majura's direction was clearer to Etona. The Dream Visions revealed the grounds he knew as a boy. The walkways and paths of the animals a part of his life.

By mid morning, the time had come to leave the long main road and roaring trucks. He turned finally on a quiet dirt road, traveling along until it too disappeared into the open .

Now the polished wheels sped over grasslands, fallen trunks and stones, bouncing past thorn bushes that tore at his legs as he went past. The years walking the cracked sidewalks of London had made his instincts dull. What had come easily as a young boy, learnt from his elders and experience in the bush, failed him now as his pressed grey trousers were no match for African bush.

By the end of the mid morning, Etona had covered the same ground it had taken days of tired oxen and roaring trucks bringing the first wooden crates from England.

He could see the small hill on the horizon, tired arms gripped the handle grips tightly once again as his journey was now coming to an end.

Etona had not walked through the compound but had come around to walk up the old trail that wound its way to the top. Half way to the summit he had watched below as a small ribbon of dust snaked its way through the wild bush until Matthew stood below in the compound, hands on his hips as he surveyed the old carnage that had left the compound wasted.

Etona's eyes narrowed as he remembered the arrogant stance of the young boy who had challenged him. The memory of their meeting was burned into his mind. He had replayed it a thousand times as he lay on his dormitory bed, the fuel that fed his determination to master the culture and knowledge of the white man.

Absentmindedly, his fingers pinched the dark skin on his arms, remembering the revealed truth of his inability to school beneath the great flat-topped mountain in the south.

Matthew looked up into the shadows as the tall muscled frame of Etona emerged from the bushes that had concealed the burning hatred in his eyes. They stood staring at each other, both recognizing the other as if the years between them had not come and gone.

Etona made his way down the slope, the winding path slowing his arrival as his mind sped through the bitter words that he carried. His chest became thick with the pressure the sudden meeting brought to his spirit.

Majura's Dream Visit had not revealed this part of his coming to this place. Had she shown this, he might not have come.

Matthew stared at the tall proud eyes that remained fixed on him as they descended down the hill, his own emotions mixed. His years were not filled with the shame of words that had denied him equal entrance to a school. Matthew's world had been filled with the weight of his inability to fire at the charging rhino, his uncle mauled and crippled for life. Another had fallen beneath a lion's fury.

His fault. He was to blame.

He was still unsure if the rhino horn had taken away more than the torn skin of his manhood.

His first night of physical love had ended quickly, a thrust or two and a cry of anguish signalling the night of passions quick end. Cindy's soothing voice had done little to ease his old fears. Like all women, it was all dutifully said, hoping the next session would prove her right but sleep left her alone in the night, her unsatisfaction eased by her own caressing hand.

Etona walked slowly up to Matthew, his eyes equal to Matthews own unblinking stare. The challenge from the days lying in Majura's hut remained as strong as the first waves of instant competition had sealed their mutual distrust.

"Why are you here, white boy?" Etona asked, his jaw clenched hard as he fought to control the surging fire burning in his heart.

"Excuse me, what the hell are you doing here? Last I heard you were in England playing with pale white boys." Matthew's eyes twinkled, hoping to score a hidden point he knew dodged every dormitory.

Etona stood quietly until the raging storm blowing in his mind calmed, this was not the time to give away the years of planning he had so painstakingly pieced together.

He stood watching the eyes of Matthew. It was not chance that had led them here. It was not chance that both had travelled from different parts of the world to arrive at the same place in time where they had first seen the Old Woman.

It was in the end, the only possible connection.

"Did the Old Woman bring you to this place?" he asked plainly, knowing with a certainty it to be the only answer.

Matthew was startled. He had not thought the Dream Visions that had stalked him all these years, would have also marked his adversary in the same way.

Matthew turned suddenly, walked away a few feet while the mind tried to comprehend the links that now formed in his mind.

Here in the centre of the mud walled compound, Africa had called her own Sons to choose their destinies.

"I have seen her." Matthew said.

"Like you." he said with a sigh.

The stared at each other, both unsure of what to do or say next, the chess pieces to be moved unknown.

"I hear you graduated with distinction," Matthew said finally, trying to ease the tension that had grown between them.

"Well done." he said.

"I do not need you congratulations." Etona said firmly.

"Fine. But I didn't think you could do it." Matthew said.

"When I first met you, you were straight out of the bush, never having gone to school."

"Still don't know how you did it?" Matthew said, his hand waving at the unknown.

Etona paused, his eyes unblinking as he stared at Matthew. The fresh words and casual wave adding fuel to an old fire.

"Why, because I am an African?" he said.

"I'm as African as you are, my man." Matthew said. "I was born here just like you or don't you know your history."

"We both migrated here." Matthew said firmly, shaking off the white African man's insecurity about this land rightfully being his own home.

"You do not belong here." Etona said firmly, turning now to walk towards the motorbike hidden across the stream.

He stopped midway and turned to look back at Matthew who had remained standing as he watched Etona throw his cards on the table and walk away.

"The Old Woman comes to us both." Etona said. "It is clear she is playing with us in our Dreams."

Matthew said nothing, his silence acknowledging the power force that bound them both.

Etona looked up in the sky for a moment, the last of the white moon still visible against the deep blue that stretched over the heavens.

A single finger rose up pointing at its place and in a voice that spoke with a certainty, Etona said, "We will meet then when this moon plays with us."

"You have taken from my land what belongs to my people." Etona said.

"I will leave your blood on the earth when I take it back."

Etona stated at Matthew who after a shrug directed back at Etona, turned to stare at the hilltop, where the eyes in the shadows watched below.

"Whatever!" he said behind him.

Etona's eyes flared. Matthews pretended indifference had dismissed him.

Etona stared at Matthew's back, remembering never to allow Matthew the final word again.

Out here in the heart of Africa, the rules that governed the streets of London had been set-aside for a moment.

It would never happen again.

Etona walked back to the river's edge, the skin behind his ears flaming hot as he fought to control his rage. The dark water that lapped at his waist did little to cool his mind. The scrambler suddenly roared to life and then with stones and dust raining around him, Etona sped off away from this cursed place.

Away from the aloof eyes of his white African brother.

Matthew turned and watched as the dust gradually blew away, leaving him alone in the old compound. A sudden shiver caught him, then was gone.

It was not the silence that caused him his sudden uneasiness.

Etona's words carried the tone of a threat long in the making.

A threat that would not disappear in time.

By the time Matthew returned to the farm, the evening breeze had cooled the challenging words that Etona had flung into his face. They faded in his mind as clearly as the sun's light had begun to recede into the coming night.

The Light in the Crystal Pool waters faded as Majura leant back to listen as their last echoes slowly disappeared off the walls of the dark cave.

Africa's Sons had chosen to fight, determined to rule alone by the powers of their fears.

They had not learnt the Power of the Moons.

Two Moons by J. Raymond Ractliffe - Part Two- Chapter 7

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 Rising of the Moons
Chapter 7

     The twinkling eyes that lived in the shadows on the hilltop watched as Matthew studied the mud walled compound that had lived so long in his dreams. He had returned, as sure as the bones that had been cast showing his coming had promised. Old hands had rearranged the bones' falling in the quiet shadows of a cave, and called him back to this place.

Matthew had risen early, Christopher still wrapped in the folds of his sleep. They had stayed up late at the dinner table; their endless stories had never come to an end. Even Jeremy caught their infectious laughter. While new smiles creased his tired face, he absentarily rubbed the new bruise on his chest just before Claire reached over with her own new smile and held his hand while the young men chatted the night away. Her eyes glistening with new hope as Jeremy seemed to momentarily step away from his shadows.

The candle light on the dinner table sprinkled new rainbows around them as the overhead glass candelabra filtered their smiles and laughter.

Claire and Jeremy finally departed the late night, their whispered words and Jeremy's walking stick fading down the long corridor as eager hands helped themselves to decantered wine, fresh bread and cheese.

Young laughter continued past the long call of midnight. The following single tone struck in the hallway found them both asleep in their chairs; the long day and air trip had finally caught up to them. The candles burnt down leaving their tired snores to fill the darkness.

Matthew was unsure why he had returned, but the dreams had been clear that he was to come and walk through the dust and fire that had lived here.

The Land Rover woke with him this early morning more silently than he ever had remembered it doing so. Joshua would have been envious at his departure. He had never left the compound without the grating gears leaving all with hunched shoulders and sideways glances as he tore out of the garage in a hail of dust and flying stones and a fixed wide grin filled with happiness and sheer terror.

Matthew followed a map buried somewhere in his mind, steering the Land Rover over a trail he could not see. Twice he stopped on an open field, his eyes seeing the rolling film of the Dream Visions before turning the steering wheel in a new direction towards an unknown point on the morning horizon.

Like Claire had done years before at the end of her long journey, Matthew suddenly crashed though tall bushes, nearly driving himself into a lazy river that slumbered around a deserted compound at the base of a hill.

Matthew waded slowly through the slow moving waters, passing the fallen sun bleached trunks that had shielded them against the dark night so long ago. He paused for a moment while the voices of his memory filled his mind, the simple scenes playing out behind his eyes.

There were no footprints in the tired dust of the compound. Not even the jackals or baboons had returned to play. Scorched short walls had fallen, their stones lay discarded as hands never came to stack them to their former glory. The gentle waters that had continued to meander past the enclave, did not stop to wave or flicker their golden daylight that had come to play,

Matthew walked slowly as the memories flooded his mind, the crackling fire still raged somewhere in time, weak legs barely holding them both as Majura had led them to the safety of the waters' edge.

He could hear the proud padded footsteps as the Warriors of the Village came behind the White Haired Elder who had come to collect their young chief and speak of the falling of their Father.

Between the remaining walls, a single white bone stick out of the sand, the only reminder of a scavenged body that had died with evil dreams unfulfilled, eyes dimming as hot blood cooled, drawn out by a long blade that had found the night air filled with a dancing rutting spirit.

Sampanga's spirit had not found his place in the blinking heavens. The light that now glowed from his life watched for the living from beneath the tall stones and bushes on the hill. He had joined the twinkling eyes that had followed all their comings, his final silent scream still caught in his open eyes.

Matthew did not register the different scent that came over the water from the Land Rover. The still engine blew strong hot vapours into the air, mingling with the premix petrol scent already riding the late morning air. Behind the tall bushes and a great flat stone that had once hid a sleeping young warrior, the glittering chrome and mustard colour of a Honda scrambler had not been seen.

Many eyes had followed his coming from the slopes of the hill.

Matthew not the only soul called to this Gathering.