Brave Souls. (Book One.)

Is Lekuta more Blessed?

The sun was setting gracefully upon Mariani, its yellow dim rays cast playful shadows against the mud walls and grass thatched roof tops. Old mzee Tembo stood leaning on his walking stick at the entrance of his homestead.

He was gazing south, at the direction his pesky grandson had taken at dusk. The rest of the cattle had long been locked in and watered yet Johari's cattle pen was very much empty. Soon he heard them, the soft thuds of cattle hurriedly trotting towards him.

"Ah, there's the little weasel." he smirked and retreated slowly to his wooden stool outside his hut.

The old man watched bemused as the cattle were quickly latched in and watered by a lively Johari but he kept his face strict.

"I'm sorry grandpa, I went too far into the plains today," Johari sat down next to his grandfather to watch the sunset over the orange horizon as he did every single evening for as long as he could remember.

It was here as they awaited their evening meal, that he would listen to his grandfather as he narrated old tales and folklore. Of his adventures in his glory years as a moran, of inter village dances and competitions, of dark raids for cattle, of fierce battles between the two villages. That was a long long time ago, for now only silence reigned. And peace.

But today the old man seemed passive, lost in his thoughts.

"I met a boy from Lekuta in the plains today," Johari spoke after a long awkward silence between them. The old man smiled inwardly at his own wiles, outwards he grunted his face still unmoved.

"He did not have a herd with him, and he heard this colourful belt and bright new garments ," Johari recalled seeming pained.

"It's like he did not have a care in the world."

"Is Lekuta more blessed than us grandpa? I only hear stories but now I think they are."

The old man studied the young boys face and saw his heart was heavy with frustration.

"You think too much for your age Johari," he patted his shoulder lovingly.

"Lekuta is just a normal clan like ours, just as we have poor families, rich families and royalty so do they."

"But he seemed so carefree, I wish I could be like that."

"Nobody chooses where one is born Johari, you just are and its one of the things you have to accept about life."

"In fact you should be thankful, what if you were born a goat or some foolish chicken," old mzee Tembo asked feigning seriousness and it got a laugh out of the young rascal.

"So this new friend of yours, is he the one who gave you that black eye," he asked with a soft laugh.

Johari quickly excused himself to escape the old mans imploring gaze. He found himself walking aimlessly through the narrow village pathways.

"Cunning old man, always so intuitive." he muttered as he touched the several sore spots on his face.

He thought of the young boy he'd met in the plains. His life seemed an adventure, no responsibilities, no one to scold, all the time in the world. In this truly vast savannah he could explore everything! Why did he get to have all that. Why was he Johari shackled down while the foolish brat basked and loitered as he pleased. It all seemed too unfair to the young mind of the Mariani lad.

After a while Johari found himself at the edge of the village overlooking down the vast expanse of land. It looked peaceful, asleep under the darkening skies. He could trace out the outlines of Lekuta village over the ridge.

An array of beautiful stars seemed to twinkle right under its cone shaped roofs. He looked up at his villages night sky, the stars seemed dull and distant.

"It's just the distance." he told himself then laughed at his own pettiness. He made his way back home with a smile. He had a reason to be excited.

Initiation season was approaching and this time he was old enough to accompany his grandfather to the ceremony 'where warriors are made' as his grandfather had put it.

It was the only time the two clans united as one.