Beachwalker

Beachwalker.

Chapter One: Leaving Home.

His name was Tick. This was because when he was very little, he had
insisted that he was a lion, and should be called 'lion'. His
grandmother had said that he was more like a tick on a lion, rather
than a lion itself. And the name had stuck, from that day on he was
called; Tick.

He was a Xhoi-xhoi, and his family were of that group whom the whites
called 'Strandlopers'; Beachwalkers. They did not farm with cattle and
sheep as did other Xhoi-xhoi, but lived mostly from the sea, traveling
by foot vast distances up and down the coast.

They caught fish and crayfish, and collected mussels and oysters. They
supplemented their diet with roots and wild fruit from the forests.
They also trapped and hunted animals on a small scale to get fresh
meat, occasionally. They lived in small family related clans, in small
settlements. Their huts were round and woven from thin branches. They
had mud floors.

It was 1700 according to the European calendar, and the Dutch had
settled the western peninsula some fifty years before when his
grandfather had been a young boy. By now they occupied the entire
peninsula, and were gradually expanding north and east as their new
settlers and slaves arrived.

They lived in the Goukamma. There was a white settler in the valley
called Marais, who claimed that the valley belonged to him by European
law. They found this hard to understand, as this was not Europe. Also,
the Xhoi-xhoi did not appreciate the principle of the land belonging to
one man, and being fenced off. According to them the land was free and
open, and belonged to all who lived in it. They slowly and begrudgingly
started to understand the white settlers ways regarding these matters,
and were forced to do so because of the military superiority firearms
gave them.

He however, had spent a lot of time as a youngster with the children of
the white settler on the beach. They were playmates, and while he
taught them some of the mysteries of the natural world of the area,
they bestowed on him some of their European wisdoms. He learnt Dutch
from them, and little bit of English. He learnt some ball games from
them, and most importantly, he learnt how to swim.

His forebears could swim by paddling through the water, but he
appreciated from and early age the advantage of the free stroke when
swimming. His sister started to do domestic work for the farmer's wife,
and occasionally they would acquire some European luxuries such as
knifes, dishes or blankets.
The males in the family caught fish as their main diet, and if there
was surplus fish in the catch, it could always serve as barter. They
could exchange them for any item of value at a small local dealer, such
as tobacco, salt, sugar or food. Tick was now eighteen years old, and
although he had long since entered into manhood through the tribal
rituals, it was time for him to go on a quest and find his vision. He
knew it instinctively, it was time for his dream quest.

The dream would tell him all that he needed to know about his life and
the future, and how they would be entwined. Only when he could see, and
grasp, the bigger picture that life was to show him, only then would he
understand his true purpose in life. He started collecting the gear he
would need for his long trip up the east coast.

He took his knob-kierrie and short spear, which he would carry in his
hand. He had one set of rough woven shirt and pants, which he always
wore, except when washing them. He had a large leather pouch, which he
carried over his shoulder on a sling. It contained a knife, and some
pieces of flint for starting fires, a cast net, his traditional dagga
pipe and dagga, some odd pouches containing other muti, and a small
talisman of beads and semi precious stones. It also contained some
needle and tread, and a clay water container for carrying fresh
drinking water.

The cast net was circular and woven from hemp rope. Is circumference
was weighted down with small stones which dragged it down once it was
cast on the water. A string attached to the net was pulled to close it
at the bottom once it was inside the water, trapping any unfortunate
fish.

He had two large leather buckskins, which he rolled up, and would use
to sleep in on at night. He wore a pair of hand made leather sandals,
because one cannot travel barefoot on the hot sand during the day. He
had a round copper earring in his left ear, and a long lion tooth hung
on a string around his neck.

Yes, it was time for him to go on his dream quest, and he was ready. He
went to say farewell to his family and then he went and said his
goodbyes to his father and grandfather.

"So long my father, I will see you over two moons."
"So long my son, beware of all men along your way, black and white. We
Xhoi-xhoi have few friends. Travel when the shadows are long, and catch
your food by day. May you find that which you seek and return
safely."
"Thank you my father." Said Tick.
Then his grandfather said "Go well young one. Make all men your
brothers along the way, and none will stab you in the back. Go as
swiftly and silently as the wind, and return safely."

"Thank you my father's father." Said Tick, and picked up his bag, roll,
knob kierrie, and spear. He walked quietly out of the village by the
well-trodden footpath through the wood.

On the beach it was cool as it was early morning. He would follow his
father's advice, and only travel in the early mornings, and late
afternoons, avoiding travel in the mid-day sun. During this time he
would be in the shallow waters casting his net for fish.

He was young and alive, as was the world around him. He was a free man
traveling into an open and free country. He was filled with the joy of
life, as the birds sang in the trees of the bushes bordering the
beach.

Chapter Two: The first stretch.

He would be traveling approximately ten miles a day, with the whole
journey he was going to undertake, more than five hundred miles long.
He was going up to the Kei mouth, and no further, because beyond that
was the land of the Xhosa.

He was in high spirits so that he reached his first stop quickly. Well
before noon he was at Knysna, where he would sleep on the beach for the
night, as he would the whole journey. When he had stashed his pouch and
other belongings into some bushes near the beach, he walked down to the
sea to cast his net.

He didn't try very hard as he had some supplies of dried meat in his
pouch, but nonetheless, he quickly caught a nice medium sized Zebra in
his net. He went and made a fire and cooked it over the coals a short
while later.

Late in the afternoon he walked the next few miles along the beach, but
had to take a small detour inland to pass the Knysna lagoon, which was
too broad for crossing. By nightfall he was on the eastern edge of the
Knysna forest, on the beach once more.

He found a nice hollow among some trees in the dense bush next to the
beach and settled down for the nights sleep. Overhead, the multitudes
of stars were shining brightly, and the moon was full.

So he walked along the beach and caught his meals, and at night slept
in the bush in his buckskins.

By the fourth day he was at Tsistikamma, and spent the night near the
river mouth. Late in the afternoon, as the sun was going down, he
caught a Stumpnose in the river mouth. It was a small fish, as
Stumpnoses generally are, but would be an adequate supper.
And so the days be came a continuous stream of wandering along the
unspoilt beach, and catching fish. He crossed one river after another
as he traveled on. Krombaai river, Seekoei river, Kabeljous river and
the Gamtoos river, where he camped for a day to rest, as he had been
traveling seven days.

Here he caught large cod in deep water near the river mouth. He dried
the meat of the fish he could not carry, by hanging it in the wind. It
did not dry well as he only gave it a day before moving on.

In the mornings and late afternoons before he started to walk, he would
smoke a bit of dagga through his traditional pipe, to give him added
energy for the journey. He would first sit and meditate a while after
smoking before picking up his belongings and attempting the long walk
once more.

At night before he went to sleep he would take a few more drags of
dagga from his pipe to give him pleasant dreams. Then he would doze off
in the bushes, and no casual passer by would ever guess that there was
someone sleeping in them.

He rounded a small cape over the next seven days until he came to the
Swartkops river mouth. Here he met some Xhoi-Xhoi Beachwalkers that
lived in this area. The patriarch was called One-eye, and as he and
Tick was talking on the beach, he took to liking the young man. He
invited Tick to spend a day or two with them before resuming his
journey, to rest and replenish his supplies.

Tick was glad about the company, being alone for fourteen days, and
quickly accepted. He settled in their camp for the evening and when he
saw how beautiful One-eyes daughter is, he decided to stay another
day.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and it was equally
apparent that she liked him in return.

Her name meant 'Jade' in their language, so that is what we will call
her. She and Tick were as attracted to each other as only young people
in love can be. They sat around the fire talking into the late evening,
before retiring to their separate beds. Early the following morning
they were in each other's company again.

He spent very little time at fishing that day, returning quickly to the
camp to talk with the lovely young maiden. As the day passed and their
talk progressed they became more and more attracted to each other. He
told her he had no woman back home, he knew she had no man.

That night they talked again around the fire and the time flew by like
fireflies. They saw the love in each other's eyes and each one
understood it. They talked of their people, the white people moving
east and decimating the animal herds. The white lion was quickly dying
out as this was the white man's favorite game. So where the numbers of
other creatures dwindling in front of their onslaught. The existence of
the Kwagga and the little one horned Blue buck was also threatened.
They talked about their land and their people, what would their future
be, would there be any.

And yes, when the stars shone so beautifully in her deep brown eyes, he
knew that he loved her.

"Tomorrow I must go and find my dream." He said to her "Will you wait
for me?"
"I will always wait for you." She promised.
"It won't be for long." He promised in return.

The next day just after daybreak he was walking away north along the
beach. He looked back and saw her standing on a little dune, waving
goodbye.

Chapter Three: The Second Stretch.

The next stretch was from the Swartkops river mouth to the Great Fish
River, and would again take him seven days.

In the next five days he traveled fast as he had taken on some supplies
of dried fish from One-Eye, and did not need to catch, and so was left
more time for traveling. He crossed the Coega River and another river
of which name he was unsure of.

As he traveled he spotted few animals that ventured onto the beach, and
there was hardly ever any signs human beings on the beach. On the fifth
day away from Swartkops river mouth he arrived at the Bushman's river.
It was the nineteenth day of his journey. He crossed the river at a
narrow point slightly inland, and veered back towards the beach. Before
he reached it he came across two white farmers on horseback.

He had no trouble communicating with them as he spoke three languages;
Xhoi-xhoi, Xhosa and Dutch, as well as being able to understand a bit f
English.

"Hello, Strandloper." Said the obviously more senior of the two men on
horseback.
"Good day, meneer." He answered.
"What are you doing this far north, Strandloper?" asked the man.
"I go in search of my dream vision." Said Tick.
"Oh", said the man "And have you had no trouble on your journey thus
far?" asked the man on the horse.
"No, my journey has been prosperous thus far." He replied.
"Well, I wish you well in your quest Strandloper, but beware, the
country north of here is wild, and so are the people that live there.
Tread lightly and sleep even lighter. So long." Said the man in
parting.
"Thank meneer, and a pleasant journey to you too." Said the
Beachwalker.

As they rode of he could hear them discussing him.

"What does he say? He's looking for a dream vision?" said the younger
man.
"Yes." Replied the man to whom he had spoke.
"What kind of a thing is that?" asked the young man.
"Never mind." Said the older man, condemning the discussion to silence,
and then they and their horses disappeared in the dense bush.

Tick walked on to the beach. He stashed his gear, and went to try his
luck with his net, as his dried supply of fish had been long since
finished. He cast the net gracefully into the water with an expert arm.
It spread wide upon the waves and then floated down in the water. He
then slowly pulled the rope tight, and pulled out the net, nothing. He
threw it again. One cast after the other in rhythmical procession. And
then he felt the weight and wild movement of a fish inside it. He
pulled out the net and saw that there was a nice large Musselcracker
inside. It was heavy and would provide food for several days. He was
pleased.

He went and cleaned the fish, and then made a fire close by his
sleeping place. After diner he smoked some dagga and relaxed, listening
to the eternal rhythm of the ocean, as the waves crashed and were
sucked back in, in eternal motion. The rhythmical breaking of the
waters onto the beach.

Early the next day he started his walk for the morning, the next stop
would be the cowie river mouth.

The Cowie River looked like a good place to increase his fish supply
even further so he threw in his net again close to the rocks. After a
few attempts he quickly had something in it.

But it was just a grommit that had gotten tangled in his net. He threw
it out on the rocks and inspected it a while. He knew grommets weren't
any good for anything, least of all eating, so he just left it there on
the rocks to die.

The next day he was again traveling north early in the morning, and by
noon he reached the mouth of the great Fish River. He was now three
quarters of the distance to the Kei River, and had been walking for
twenty-one days.
He again crossed the Fish River somewhere inland, as it was a big
river, and then headed back for the beach again where he made camp for
the night, in the bushes alongside the dunes.

Chapter Four: The Third Stretch.

The Great Fish River was just that, great and full of fish.

He caught a nice large Redsteenbras in the mouth, and again had food
for several days. He had a bit of time to just relax and enjoy the
ocean and nature. He thought about his people back home, but most of
all he thought of Jade. Would she wait for him? He certainly hoped that
she would. What a pretty girl. She would make a beautiful wife. His
heart was filled with pleasure as he longed for her, and their
future.

Yes, the world was wild and free, the ocean and the beach were wild and
free. He was a wild and free young man, and their loved was wild and
free. He smoked a bit of dagga in his pipe and sat and watched as the
red and purple sun sank into the sea.

He continued up the coast the next day. East of the Great Fish River he
did not come across any people on the beach.

He came to the Keiskamma River and slept there a night. The following
day he reached the Buffalo River and again slept over the night in the
bushes next to the beach.

The following morning he crossed the Nahoon River and at about noon he
reached the Gqunubie River mouth. Here he again slept over the night at
a place higher up against the river.

He did not pick up any large shells along the way because they would
break long before he reached his destination, so he only collected
really precious smaller ones. The fishing was not good here and he only
caught an occasional Dassie, Bream or Rock cod. He started to
supplement his diet with mussels and found some places in the rivers
that he crossed that had large oyster beds. He liked oysters and dived
them out many evenings for his supper. They made a welcome change to
his diet of fish.

On the fourth night away from the great fish river he slept at the
Cefani river mouth. The next day he walked to a place about ten miles
north of there, and slept the night on the beach. Early the next
morning he started walking and reached the great kei well before noon.
He had reached his destination, he would go no further. Beyond lay the
land of the Xhosa, and beyond that the land of the Zulu, no, he would
travel no further. Here he would find his vision.
He had traveled for twenty-eight days, and tonight the moon would be
full again. But he had reached his destination. He had reached the
Great Kei.

He found some rocks high up overlooking the river mouth and made his
camp.

He had come far over vast and empty beaches, living off the bounty of
the sea. Now he would stay at least two days to fulfill his purpose. He
sat down by some shrubs and aloes and looked over the vast Indian Ocean
from his elevated vantage point.

He ate his last meal for the day for tomorrow he would fast, and would
touch no food. He smoked a bit and then curled up for sleep underneath
some bushes nearby. He awoke early and made his preparations for the
day.

He fasted and contemplated, singing old tribal songs too himself in the
clicking tongue of his people. He did this all through the morning into
the late afternoon. As the sun was going down he retrieved a piece of
halucigenic mushroom that he had brought with from the Knysna forest,
from one of his little bags of muti, and ate thereof. He chewed the
mushroom finely and swallowed it.

Then he prepared himself a pipe of dagga, and smoked it as he waited
for the effect of the mushroom to take hold. Darkness was falling and
his small fire blazed warmly close by. Soon the power of the trance was
on him and he lay down, and his whole body began to shiver and
tremble.

The blood was rushing through his veins like a thousand powerful
waterfalls emptying into a great river, the mighty river rushing down,
and falling over one last mighty waterfall into the sea. Like the power
of an eagle's wings in flight, his soul was reaching ever higher. He
felt the winds of time and place rush about him and through him,
carrying him ever higher.

And he had his vision. It was a dream of the African veldt he knew and
grew up in. In it were his family and all his people. All the animals
of the veldt, and the birds of the air. Everything he knew and loved.
But soon new people arrived. White men came from the right, and from
the left came mighty black warriors, and they were intent on making his
land their battlefield, for they were at war with one another. And his
people's lives were threatened to the point of extinction. He looked up
in the sky and asked the great spirit for guidance. And in his dream he
saw another fair plane, as fair as his own African plain, and it was
floating just above his own.

He climbed on the platform of this new world floating in the sky and
called his brothers to follow him up. They climbed up one by one, and
then, so did the animals. The mighty buffalo, and the little blue buck.
The kwagga, the elephant and the lion, all climbed to this higher
plain, and left the violent men in their old world to kill each other.
Then the new world the spirit had given them, floated away from the
old, and the old was no more. And in the new world his people and the
animals found plentiful food and rain, as the spirit had promised them
that they would. And so they lived on this new plain of peace and
plenty forevermore. His dream faded as the sun arose over the ocean in
brilliant red glory, and he lay down to sleep in the shade of the
bush.

He awoke late in the afternoon and went and cast his net near the rocks
in the shallows. He caught a Dassie, which he ate for supper.

The next morning he started on his long trip home, the moon would be
full again by the time he got home, and his love waited along the way.
He was in a hurry to get back and moved swiftly over the blinding hot
sand.

His love called him, and his home called him, he would not tarry along
the way.

Chapter Five: The Return Journey.

It took him seven days to reach the mouth of the great fish river
again.

He crossed over the river's he had come over traveling towards the Kei.
The Cefani river, the Gqunubie river, the Buffalo and Keiskamma rivers.
He lived on mussels, oysters and fish along the way. Until after a week
he reached the mouth of the great fish river again.

The beaches were unmarked by human presence, and only the tracks of
occasional wild animals betrayed the presence of living creatures
nearby. The ocean roared undisturbed, and he never once spotted the
sails of a ship on the horizon. He walked a man alone in a empty and
unspoilt world. The birds sang and flew in the air above and in the
bushes alongside the sand dunes. The breeze was light and pleasant on
his face, in the mornings and late afternoons when he traveled.

On leaving the great fish river, he traveled southward over the rivers.
The Cowie and Bushman rivers, and finally the Coega river. Two weeks
after leaving the Kei river mouth he arrived at the Swartkops
river.

His heart bounded with joy on his arrival, for it was here his love
awaited him.

He walked through some bushes and trees until he came to a small
clearing. Around the clearing grew 'Witstinkhout' trees and a large
Yellowwood tree also stood nearby.

He sat down on the log of a dead tree that had fallen over. He ate some
dried fish from his shoulder bag, as one must never propose on an empty
stomach. Then he had a smoke from his dagga pipe to give him a little
courage.

Then he took out his sharp knife and gently shaved off the little bit
of stubble that was on his chin. Finally he took out one of the small
pouches from his shoulder bag, which contained some ash of his old
fires. He went down to the nearby stream, and brushed his teeth with
the ash, rinsing it out with water from the stream. Once his
preparations were complete he was ready to approach the settlement of
One-Eye and his clan.

He packed up his belongings, shouldered his bag, and walked in the
direction of their village.

He found One-Eye sitting by his campfire, and greeted him
respectfully.

"Good morning, One-Eye."
One-Eye looked up and acknowledged his presence. "Good day young one, I
see you have returned. What news do you bring of the northern
shores?"

He told One-Eye what his traveled had taught him of the country north.
That there were not many people, and that the beaches were empty, and
rich with food. The animals seemed plentiful and healthy. Then when he
could wait no longer he asked One-Eye about Jade.

"Where is your daughter Jade, One-Eye, is she around?"
"No son, she has gone away with a young man from a tribe that stay a
little bit inland. They are to be wed." Tick was greatly saddened by
the news, how fickle is love he thought to himself, but remained
silent.

When he made no response One-Eye asked him. "You had an
agreement?"
"It does not matter One-Eye." He said, "In my dream we shall all meet
on the other side, farewell and look after your people."
One-Eye did not quite know what to make of the young man's reply, so
bid him a safe journey in return. "Go well young man." He said, "Travel
like the wind."

He shouldered his bag and jogged along the sandy and worn footpath
through the bushes to the beach.

He was a heartbroken young man as traveled on his own southward along
the seashore. It took him seven more days to round the small cape and
reach the Gamtoos River.

He lived off fish from the sea, and mussels he collected from the
rocks. Sometimes he would be lucky enough to find wild fruit growing in
bushes slightly inland, when he traveled there. He would collect only
so much of it as he would be able to eat. They made a nice change from
fish and seafood.

In the mornings and late afternoons when he traveled, he kept close to
the shoreline, always on the lookout for something valuable that the
sea might wash out. He had picked many shells and other valuables in
the this way. He was always hoping to pick up a nice piece of material,
or who knows what, as he was walking along.

At last he reached the Gamtoos river mouth and camped close to the
beach for the night. He was now back in his own area, and his people
waited for his return at home. This filled him with a sense of pride,
as he thought about how he would relate to them the power of his
vision. His own people, his own family. The people he was bound to for
his whole existence. His father and his grandfather will be proud of
him. The thought pleased him as curled into his leather buckskins to
sleep.

The next morning he was traveling south early, as he was eager to get
the last stretch behind him, and get home. It took him seven days to
cross the last five rivers, the Kabeljous River, the Seekoei River, the
Krom River and the Tsitsikamma River. His feet carried him swiftly over
the sand to where his home lay waiting.

On this last stretch he collected more precious shells, as he would not
have far to carry them. He also made a few catches on these last few
days, and his shoulder bag was filled with semi-dried fish. He was
happy young man who was almost home, and who would have some tales to
tell his people once he arrived there.

At Knysna he again turned inland to cross with road that led through
the forest. He walked through the forest with huge trees and dense
bushes growing on both sides of the road. It was cool in the shade of
the forest, even though it was mid-day outside. At last he turned the
last bend in the road, and he turned left with a footpath leading along
the beautiful Goukamma River. The air was fresh and pleasing as it
could only be in this valley.

He walked hurriedly down the path, for he was home.

Chapter Six: Home.

Home. He had been traveling for almost two months, and tonight the moon
would be full again.

As he entered the village he came across a young boy he knew named Jo.
He could see that the boy was sickly, and that he was scarred all over
with small pox. The boy told him that the whole village had contracted
the disease and were slowly dieing.

He hurried over to his father's hut and when he got there he left his
shoulder bag and other belongings outside the entrance, and went
inside.

"Good day father." He greeted his father.
"Good day son, it is good to see that you have returned, it has been
two moons."
"I have returned father." He said.
"Son, as you see we have all fallen ill with the dreaded disease of the
white man. They call it the small pox. We all have it; you're
grandfather and I, your mother and aunts, and all your brothers,
sisters and cousins. We are slowly dieing, and will surely die. Your
sister that works for the Marais first became ill, where after all of
us contracted the disease."

"This is terrible news father, have the white men no cure for their own
sickness?" he asked.
"There is no cure my son. We shall die, but you must go forth from this
place and carry on our seed. Do not tarry here a day, or even an hour.
Find another of our kind and continue our bloodline, and go far away
from here. Far away from the white man. Go my son, and may my blessing
be on you." Said his father.

"I go father." He said standing up to leave "May the great spirit of
our world carry and guide you and my people."
As he bowed to leave the entrance of the hut his father asked him in
parting.
"Did you find your vision son?"
"Yes, father I did." He replied.
"Was it a good and true vision?" asked the father.
"It was father." Replied the son.
"Farewell my son." Said the father.
"Farewell my father." Said the son.

And then he was gone running out of the village with the old footpath,
without saying farewell to the rest of his clan.

He traveled through the dense forest with the ox wagon trail that cut
through the dark soil. The surface of the forest was covered with the
decaying matter of dead leaves and branches. The forest was alive with
the noise of birds and animals. It was cool under the canopy that the
trees formed high above. He walked with terrible sadness in his heart
at leaving this place.

On the other side of the forest was a trading station where he traded
his shells for some coffee and sugar. Then he headed down with a
footpath that led to the sea. He went and sat far out on a point, on
some rocks close by the waves. The sea was rough and tumultuous as the
huge waves crashed themselves out on the surface of the rocks below
him.

He sat and thought about his family he was leaving behind forever. They
will die, and he must try to live, for all of them. He thought about
his vision, and when he closed his eyes he could see it again.

There were his people floating on an African plain so fair, in the sky.
Above it was floating an even fairer plain that was uninhabited. The
white men came unto their plain from the west; black warriors came from
the east. He climbed unto the higher plain and one by one he led his
people of the old one. And then came all the animals.

And they were on this new and better world, and the strangers that had
invaded their world, were on the old. And their new plain floated
safely away, leaving the other far behind. And they lived for all
eternity in this place, hunting and gathering from the sea, in harmony
with nature. And they cared for their world, and their world was a
haven of peace and plenty for them.

After he had reflected on his dream for many hours there on the rocks
by the sea, his memories faded and he prepared to depart. He traveled
only a short distance north and made his camp in the bushes for the
night. Behind him the surf was breaking hard on the beach.

As the evening settled, he made a small fire, and ate a meal of dried
fish. Then he took out his dagga pipe and had a smoke. He lay back on
his leather buckskins and thought with sadness in his heart of all he
had lost; Jade, his family and his land. There was no solace in his
soul for his bitter thoughts. But somewhere deep in the night he
finally fell asleep. Overhead the stars were shining and the full moon
beamed brightly.

Early in the morning he gathered his belongings in his bag and
shouldered it. Then he started walking along the shoreline of the beach
on the long road north. He had no idea where life would lead him, he
was just wandering north. Away from the white man, away from
death.

His leather sandals left a track in the sand as he walked. It was the
only pair of tracks on the otherwise unmarked sand of the white
beach.

Epilogue.

Tick wandered up and down the beaches, fishing and gathering food, all
his life.

Many of his fellow Xhoi-xhoi died of smallpox, and those that survived
intermarried with slaves and settlers, so that they ultimately became
extinct. The indigenous animals of the area such as the Kwagga, the
Knysna Elephant, the little blue buck and the white lion were
systematically eradicated by white hunters, until they too disappeared
forever. As in his dream, his people and the animals were gone. They
had moved on to a higher plain, far removed from this one, and the evil
of this world would harm them no more.

Tick never recovered from the great longing and sadness which lay in
his heart for his dead people and his lost love. He wandered about the
beaches and kept to himself, living in perfect harmony with the sea.
Until he became an old solitaire, and still he kept to himself. And
when he was old, and the day of his death draw near, he found a place
high up among some rocks and prepared his final resting place. He
smoked his last pipe of dagga, high up on those rocks overlooking the
mighty ocean, and then he laid down to rest eternally.

He died high up among the rocks, next to the beloved sea, which had
given him life.

'We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.'

From 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock' by TS Eliot.

The End.

Copyright - JP Brown - 26/03/2005.