Brave Souls. (Book One.)

Road to the Initiation Plains.

Johari walked the path to Kibu plains, feeling the warm sun on his bare chest and arms. The last he had walked this road was years ago with his grandfather.

Old mzee Tembo was old now and Johari had stopped attending the  annual ceremonies as he felt the toll of the journey would not be good for his beloved old man.

As he walked he remembered back then, how childish and eager his desire had been to hold the spear and sword for Mariani. To protect the whole village from all manner of attacks, from ferocious beasts to dreaded cattle raiders and from hidden enemies. To be their hero.

He smiled sarcastically. There hadn't been a single incident in Mariani for decades. The once mighty morans had been reduced to mere herdsmen, hunters and watchers of the night.

But deep down he knew that part of the reason he wanted to become a warrior was because it would give him the authority and time to be out there. He would request a far away outpost , there he would explore all there was in this vast endless Sereti. From end to end. He would venture so far away and maybe never come back.

It was either that or be stuck in this village for the rest of his life. He did not get why the others seemed so content here.

All they did was wake up, feed, tend to the cattle or their small sorghum and millet fields, the women would search for water and gather firewood. Then they would all come back in the evening, eat and go to sleep anticipating yet another similar day, to repeat the same routine. Again and again, and again.

But he was a restless soul, he felt suffocated  by this kind of life and this often got him scolded by his elders.

"Be very careful Johari, great expectations can only breed dissatisfaction."

"It shall only make you despair, nothing good shall come out of it."

"It is wise to do with what you have, as it was intended so.."

"Accepting this brings you contentment, peace."

But deep down Johari knew he would never be content here. He wanted to be out there, to try things, to go places. The horizon proved far too beautiful and dazzling for Johari not to heed it's call, for him to stay stuck in a village for all his life.

When the generals began the official rounds in the village to pick out the potential morans, Johari stood outside his homestead. His grandfather sat just next to him on his favourite three -legged stool smiling as the three generals approached.

Old mzee Tembo had been a respected Moran in his time until a near fatal spear wound sidelined him. The generals greeted him respectfully, for he was one of the few remaining Morans of the oldest generation in Mariani village.

"Ah, the old Tembo still lives strong and proud." General Konzi spoke out in admiration of the old timer.

"What can I say general, the old bones won't give up just yet."

"You will surely outlive us all you sly jackal." General Mejazi laughed as he came closer to Johari bemusing his rather upright and rigid stance.

"And who is this young man?"

"My name is Johari Tembo revered general.!"

"Johari Tembo huh, so you want to be a protector of this village?"

"It would be a great honour, I would like nothing more."

But do you have what it takes? First General Mejazi During asked himself as he assessed the tall young man, he seemed rather lean. He looked in his eyes and saw something.

"ah, the young lad has a yearning, a hunger. If nurtured well... " he mulled over, his thoughts going back in time when he was the one being assessed. He remembered the same fire in his eyes.

He looked at his fellow generals and being experienced warriors they had seen it too. They nodded their approval.

"Johari , listen very carefully. This shall only be said once. One day this village shall depend on you, do not fail your people."

The generals had moved on to the other homesteads leaving behind an ecstatic grandfather and grandson.

Now as he walked towards the ceremony, Johari tried to imagine his grandfather a few crowds back. Walking slowly but proudly. He tried blocking out the din of ululations and singing from the leading Mariani procession. The mood was vibrant.

He looked at the three rows of initiates to be infront of him. He recognised most of them, his future brothers in arms. But he had always been a bit of a loner, preferring to herd or hunt alone.

This way he could be alone, just him and his beloved endless Sereti plains. He knew some of his age mates thought him akward, but all was well. They would get to know him well where they were going.