The Strays
I.
We were down at the kraal making klei-osse from the clay we had collected at the river earlier the afternoon for this purpose. My mother's sister Sarah shouted at us to go and fetch the cattle. It wasn't that late in the afternoon but the cattle were grazing far off on a neighboring farm so we had distance to travel and had to get going, even though we did not relish the prospect of abandoning our play.
On the way there I teased my brother, Sipho, about the uncommon shape of his perfectly round head. As I did this I would reach out as if to rub his curly head in a mock gesture.
"No Sonnyboy, man, stop. He would say, or; "You're head doesn't look all that well shaped to me either. or some such.
We got to where the cattle were and proceeded to herd them back home. On this particular day, however, the lead bulls seemed to be more hard headed than usual and kept taking their own direction regardless of our commands. Then it was necessary to motivate them a little bit with our sticks, especially if they ignored our whistles, and guide them thus along the right route.
But still they kept veering off the cattle paths into the bush and it was becoming quite a task to attempt to assert some form of command over them. Because of this disruptive behavior of the cattle the job was taking much longer than it should have, and worst still the cattle were taking in a completely wrong direction. We were in danger of getting lost with our father's cattle and, with the cattle persisting in their folly; it wasn't long before we were.
II.
It was dusk now and we were completely lost, but at least we seemed to have at last again ascertained our authority of the ignorant beasts entrusted to us.
As we were re-directing the cattle we caught the whiff of wood smoke from a nearby settlement and went to inquire about refuge for our cattle and ourselves for the night, seeing as darkness was upon us.
The place looked much like our own home, with three mud huts in a semicircle and a kraal close by, just the location differed. This place was situated smugly inside a grove of trees; ours was in the open with only one big Baobab nearby.
There was a middle-aged woman making pap in the foreyard and she welcomed us cordially. We explained our predicament. Her name was Rosy and she introduced us to her husband, Sam, who appeared from out their room. They were very hospitable and after we had put our cattle amongst theirs in the kraal, they gave us supper, which we had with their children. They had four children but only one was our age, the remainder being toddlers. His name was Stephen and the three of us got along famously.
After we had eaten we went to listen to folktales told by his father in the foreyard. Sam told of the crocodile that devoured himself by mistaking his tail for that of another croc. And a lot of new ones that I had never heard before but cannot recall today. We sat listening to him late into the night, much later than we would be allowed to stay up at home. Occasionally his wife, Sarah would interrupt and correct him, as women are apt to do with their husbands.
She had made some strange brew that was shared among adults and children alike. It was not alcoholic but had a strong herbal taste. We had never had anything like it. It made us drowsy and soon we were off to bed. We shared a room with Stephen, and lay talking to him a while in the dark. He told us of his family, their cattle, and their farm. And so we fell asleep.
It was the most peaceful and blissful sleep that I had ever slept and I have never dreamt such vivid and beautiful dreams as I dreamt that night. I dreamt of cattle in the African veldt grazing long rich grass among which butterflies flew and darted. The air of the dream was crisper and fresher than that of this plain. The sky was bluer; the trees were greener and veldt immeasurably more lush. We slept in sweet dreams.
III.
At dawn we awoke slowly from our sleep. We looked around. We were lying among ruins. The buildings were only the remainders of walls from an old dwelling, long since abandoned and collapsed. They had no roofs. There was no person. No Sam, no Rosy, no little children. The stonewall of the kraal was in a similar state of degradation, but our cattle had good-naturedly stayed in the ruins thereof overnight. There was no sign of any other cattle.
We simultaneously realized we had slept among the ancestral spirits of this place. Unwittingly we had partaken in the spiritual illusions of the original inhabitants of these parts. We could not express our astonishment in words but looked at each other and whispered; "Hau. Broken clay pot scards from the brew we had the previous night accused us from among the debris at our feet.
We moved our cattle out of there as quickly as we could. It was easy to find the correct route home in the growing morning sun, as easy as it had been the night before to get lost in the weakening light.
When we got home our family was over-joyed to see us safe, and was awestruck at our tale. I have told it many times since and not everyone believes me, but I know what dreams I had that night, and those I cannot relay in words.
Note: This story is based on a story told to me by Sonnyboy Khumalo. He died shortly thereafter in 2003/4 while in his early thirties.
Terms;
Klei osse; Toy oxen made of clay.
Kraal; enclosure for cattle, usually shaped round.
Pap; maize porridge
