Chapter One

  Two beautiful female voices humming from a distance, a silhouette dashes over the hillsides hurrying past the tree camouflaged homesteads with such haste it set the hounds to bark. The cocks trumpeted the break of a fresh dawn with exaggerated zeal, as if to remind the inhabitants of the mystical villages of Dzimbahwe-Munhumutapa how exceptional this morning was. The sun’s golden petals had not painted its hues on the massive stone houses, nor had it cast shadows of the trees and plants in the terraced gardens, yet life bustled with unusual anticipation. Women up and running across the vast yards sweeping and preparing meals for their children. Smoke from the kitchen fires sipped through the round thatch roofs forming fading familiar shapes in the sunless sky. 

The moon still glimmered with a silver-grey light ample for the shadow to traverse but scantly articulating the vivid colours around. Sapphire rivers, fields of pink, white and yellow flowers blooming with a perfect blend to the balancing granite stones. The figure ran past giggling girls in wrap-around skirts and cropped tops of unrefined white cotton coming from an early bath at the estuary.  It jumped, and skipped its way towards the stone castle. Like a flash it disappeared through a huge arch entrance into a broad wall, decorated with soapstone birds perched on top. Long circular towers protruded from inside the high walls, symbols of phalluses of their father-God. 

The humming continues, picking up tempo  getting louder as the shadow enters the castle walls, running across green manicured gardens whose only nourishment in the extended dry spell were the manmade streams and creeks. They flowed through the garden, onto rocks and into a lake at the bottom of the valley. The excited figure stood and took deep breaths of the nectarine aroma infusing the morning breeze with a scent so soothing.  Up a windy staircase into the castle through another grand arch entry flagged with two enormous gold birds on both sides.

The lamps lighting up the castle reveals the figure fully, a youthful male in silk white robes entered the narrow corridors. Two guards at the entrance stopped the young man for moments then letting hi pass he sped off. “Mind where you step son of scribe, these stairs aren’t meant only for the young!” A sweet chubby lady in a blue robe fastened on one shoulder shouted, catching a basket with her barefoot. The lady smiled, the boy apologised and placed the stray basket back on the woman’s head before rushing off again.

The narrow stone staircase led him to the third floor where he swung open a massive teak door and walked into a spacious round chamber. Four lamps stood on curved wood elephants lighting up the room with the help of the moonlight slipping through the massive coloured glass windows. Sheep skin blanket placed on a huge reed mat, scattered pillows and a colourful Masai blanket at the feet of the unmade bed. Work of art painted on goat leather hung around the stone walls.

Two girls dressed in blue and white robes sat by the fireplace one on a huge cushion and the other on a reed stool, reluctant to stop their humming, they smiled to their friend as the sang. The girl on the high stool had a caramel complexion; black soft long coarse hair tucked in neat a bun a flat nose and alert eyes above high cheek bones. She ran her fingers through the unruly hair of her friend taming the black curls with little effort. Their beautiful different shades of brown faces flickered reflections of the burning fire.

“You are plaiting hair? You have found it fitting to adorn heads on this particular day? Gods, forbid, and we ask why the rains refuse to fall!  We are fasting there is no room for vanity!  Matida this is not the way of a healer what in Baba’s name are you doing? Saru please cover your head with a wrap all this is unnecessary, by God, if I miss this ceremony, we shall cease to know each other!” The lad stammered out of breath from running he held onto the heavy door for support with one hand, the other tucked back his stray dreadlocks behind his left ear. “Oh, sweet ancestors, Kuda good morning to you too,” Saru cut short her beautiful humming to protest. “There is much time; the great horn hasn’t yet sounded.” Her delightful husky voice echoed and her large hazel eyes sparkling under long beautiful lashes and thick eyebrows. “Oh, my dear Kuda, son of the scribe, I do not believe you slept a wink, you are…”  

The witch hunter’s great horn echoed, cutting Matida short and sending the two girls into a spiral of panic, she let go of Saru’s wild hair. The girls scrambled about the room, putting on sandals and head wraps then rushing down the stairs, trying their hardest to catch up with Kuda. He had fled towards the sound, now halfway across the plains robes wet with morning dew Kuda gathered his loose breeches and garment as he scampered to the foot of the east-side hills.

Sizeable crowds had congregated around the bonfires; more were flocking to the holy shrine of the earth mother. Blue, white, black, and green robes roamed about. The emperor, his kings, and his advisers sat on the tribune made of bamboo. He wore white and black robes while his men dressed in black robes sat opposite him. The emperor’s life was under threat as his enemies had become many; he now doubted the loyalty of those close to him.  Rumour had it that the same art of corruption used by his great ancestor, treachery, his great ancestor Nembire had trick everyone around the queen mother, leading to her betrayal, genarations later, the same method is what his emesis the Romans now used to rid him of his empire.

The witch hunt ceremony commanded both dread and wonder of the grim side of Munhumutapa where night crawlers and gravediggers come out to play. Much of Munhumutapa’s magic had vanished, lost through abominations or ignorance.  The witch hunt ceremony was one of a few rarities left; one that was never necessary for its people lived in harmony with each other and nature. However, the coming of strange leaders brought about foreign gods and bizzare rituals.

Once considered taboo to fight one’s brother, now for the first time clans and tribes clashed, with sons challenging their fathers. Children and women disappeared, drought and famine racked the lands.

Matida, Saru, and Kuda had just reached the permitted age of twenty-one and were beyond excited to witness the other side of Munhumutapa. For the first time, the myths and legends of evil powers would come to life for the three friends.  Confessions of heinous crimes, acts of  darkness, goblins, and snakes that aided black magicians in manifestation of selfish desires in exchange for human blood.  

Today the three friends shall separate facts from myths witnessing a ceremony that had played on their imaginations for as long as they could remember.  The elders had summoned the Tsika siblings, the witch hunters of old Ophir to come from their mountains of slumber and cleanse the kingdoms!  The emperor and his brothers had long lost some parts of the exterior of Munhumutapa

Kuda pulled out two sharpened charcoal sticks from his belt with vigour, Saru was right Kuda never slept a wink, he was immensely pleased to witness the most talked about of ceremonies for the first time. “I brought you this, may you help me immortalise this event, Matida you are excellent at quick sketches I do not believe there is anyone that can surpass your skill in all of Munhumutapa my sweet friend.” Kuda smiled, “Beloved friends, I ask you to aid me record on these leather scrolls. “Capture it all my friend, drama, movement, and expressions, detail it all.” He turned to Saru with a shy smile. Kuda had been struggling holding eye contact with the princess of late, the coming of adulthood had awakened some feelings he was embarrassed to admit. “Your sensitive ear for undertones and hidden messages is a wonderful gift to possess and share with allies! These ancient societies have dialects only for the wise. I know if we work together we can later decipher their decrypts.  I too, will record from the analytical side.” He handed Saru another booklet and sharpened charcoal sticks. “I am not certain if all this is allowed, these are sacred events they must stay hidden.”

  The sound of commanding drums rumbling across the valleys causing hearts to skip with reverence and expectations.  Two masked drummers came down the mountains in frenzy; they bellowed on the membranes dancing side to side, back and forth. The pounding pulsated right into Matida’s abdomen, her knees felt weak, though she battled to keep her feet from leaping towards the skies.

Drum beats travelled up through her spine and into her head she tried to resist the spluttering and ripples of adrenaline travelling through her entire being; instead, she leaped forward looking for more room. Ancient rhythm permeating every cell and atom in her body with a new life, a vitalisation so powerful. The drumbeats had taken over her senses, like a puppet bending to the puppeteer’s desires she hopped, skipped, and swayed. Her robes flying through passaging wind figures around her disappearing and reappearing. The mystical rhythm transporting her to different kingdoms and periods, memories she danced away in a far distance past lives, in worlds gone by.

Through hazy eyes, Matida looked about to see if anybody else was endeavouring to control the dance fever the drums emanated and a few within the crowd were swinging and twisting.  She let herself ease into the ancient throbbing, each beat invoking all kinds of emotions. Caught in the net of rhyme and dance, twirling and leaping higher than a Masai warrior Matida moved with grace and art. Behind her an ensemble of six veiled slender figures in long white loins trailed following the vigorous drummers. They ruptured like jungle crazed traditional hoofers with an effect of enchanting ballerinas joining Matida who had found herself on the centre stage.  They performed a magnificent contemptuous show of dance and singing. The women moved with extreme intelligence and astounding creativity, mimicking Matida’s every move.  Their honey glazed ancient voices imbuing the drumming with a sweet euphonious lilting, that bounced off the gorges with mastery from the primeval times. Powerful singing and phenomenal dancing, an exhibition of immense control of vocal cords and acute swiftness.

 (The veiled women vocalised) “Emperor, emperor, woyee! x3 the jungle dweller , the jungle dweller x3 take your bow and arrows and give them to the emperor, the jungle dweller!

 Eventually, Matida sobered up from the bewitching drums she had long lost the booklet and charcoal sticks Kuda had given her. One young veiled female paused eye to eye with Matida, her face beaming with love and joy.  Her eyes twinkling behind a veil only a few inches away, Matida could smell the girl’s berry and fruit infused breathe as she ran warm fingers across Matida’s forehead. The young priestess drifted to Kuda inspecting his booklet with much curiosity before spattering it with a salty substance.  She joined the other veiled women and continued sanctifying the crowds and the perimeter. Unimpressed, Kuda wiped the substance off explaining to his colleagues that the solution was an elixir called ‘Tears of Nina’ used by the Homo geneses to ward off human sickness.      

Chapter Two

As the sun’s rays touched the earth, a petite compact woman with a wild hairstyle of untamed coiling woolly hair appeared from the mountains.   Her shoulders were erect as a statue yet she moved like a gazelle upon green plains.  Each strides shaking the oversized curves burdening her tiny waist. A leather breastplate with glowing rubies and emerald stones strung like a war corset across the woman’s right chest over a blue silk pleated tunic. She stood on a rock and spoke through the horn in some foreign language facing each of the four sides of the shrine. “Makaringa rong yena hime.”   A blue silk lion trimmed with beads and feather tassels covered her womanhood half way to her highs exposing sturdy legs. 

She threw and kicked her feet swaddled in the thong sandals and gold anklets, her small firm hands gripped a gold spectre and a horn of sound in the other. Iron and gold bangles jingled and glistened, reflecting the premature rays of the morning sun. “Mutanda is my name and my beautiful beloved sister here is Tsikisai.”  A man as robust as a rhino dressed in black and white robes called out through the horn.  He approached the shrine from an entirely opposite direction to that of his sister. Mutanda took some time to admire the busy skies with shadows of the morning birds soaring above, strutting about like a peacock coating.  His arms stretched out to his sides and chest pushed forward he walked about with the air of a new god. Mutanda carried a wooden spectre , a small pouch, and three horns of sound tied on a golden rope around his waist. 

He hugged his sister with considerable tenderness cohering her into a Jiba dance, a Munhumutapa tango, giving the gathering a tease of dazzling moves. Their electric energies travelling throughout the crowd like a warm light, making everyone fall instantly in love with them. 

“We are the witch hunters of these land you now call Munhumutapa, the leaders of these kingdoms have summoned us from our mountain of slumber to clean wounds and sweep the dirt off our lands. The darkness of endless nights has fallen our light has gone dim and Baba can longer heed us. The prophecy is unfolding, we cannot avoid the inevitable but we can try and ease the load.  This impostor of a civilisation must fall for the phoenix to rise and rebuild her empire.” Like a rising storm, a cheerful voice rang out of the horn, bouncing off the rocks and into the ears of the attentive crowd. “Holy grace his voice, is hearty and silvery, I could listen to it all of my days! Oh, he is so personable, his form, all of him is magnificent!” Saru whispered to her friends. “Ah, he reads thoughts it would serve you well to keep your intentions pure,” Kuda teased her. “Are you even taking down notes Saru? You seem distracted as for Matida I doubt if you still have your booklet and charcoal sticks. The pains and rewards of our friendship” She was not looking at Kuda, Mutanda had captured her attention. Matida shook her head, slowing still focusing on the witch hunters. “Like most projects I ask for your assistance, this too shall remain a dream may I have those back please?” He stretched out his hand to Saru. “Seeing that you do not have use for these, I shall take them b…!” Sshhh! An elderly woman behind shushed them, and the friends fell quiet. “For the masters of twilight to penetrate our plane someone has summoned them in, a close kin to the throne has yet again made pacts with kingdoms that want to dominate us. There are kingdoms that consider us weak, residue from the first order of humans that must be obliterated.”

He walked steadily taking each step with care, glancing up at the skies again, now painted with distinct shades of magenta and a blend of orange fading into a lemon yellow.

“Your forefathers wished to uproot Ophir from her ways, and that they did. Through deception and jealous they snatched Ophir from the laps of its mother queen. Yet Munhumutapa is a mere a shadow of what Ophir was. Her truth lost and her beauty polluted with the help of the envious Romans. You carry out your forefather’s wishes believing lying tongues that brings death to your people.” 

Mutanda spoke, advancing towards the crowd he paused and shook his Mo hawked dreadlocks and sat on a rock for a while, took out his snuff and sniffed then stood up smiling warmly at the people. A sad smile moulded with empathy, his eyes watered a far more cunning and sinister kind of evil crawls upon their home. They shall forget the power they possess when they are together, in their ignorance they shall turn against each other losing grip of their legacy.  A strong people they are, their threshold for physical pain is a telling of strong and powerful mental mechanism. He neared the crowd with his sister behind him still sanctifying the four corners of the world; she had raised her golden spectre to the skies in all direction, the east, west, south and north.

Mutanda, a few centimetres from the gathering paced up and down scoping the assemblage, drawing each person in with his mystical gaze.” He proceeded to where the leaders sat and went straight for the emperor’s cousin. He took his time to kneel on one knee then he started to hum a song of his totem and clan.

“I am a Tonga, yes I AM a sacrifice, and even if I die my totem is that of a sacrifice. I am a Tonga oh, lads, Ah! Here my totem is that of a sacrifice, even if I die my totem is that of a sacrifice.”

Mutanda stood up and walked to the crowd and ran back again to the emperor’s cousin. 

“Hungwe, Hungwe, Hungwe! You are a brave man, burdening thyself with such an iniquitous load, born a king now you die a slave. A slave to those of lower planes, tricked to trade your treasure and that of your children for shackles and chains!”

Mutanda took deliberate huge strides and lengthy pauses, it was now clear to the gathering that Mutanda was theoretical, dramatic and a great speaker. “There is a grave misunderstanding about why it is important to keep the connection to Baba uninterrupted. Mothers of these lands have invariably been the leaders of the continent, these are women led territories, and such is the law of creation. Our lands are the sacred gardens of the seventh sister of creation.  It is no coincident that Makeda was given the sun of Judea by its wise King, seeing that they cannot retrieve the sun back, the Romans now sort to take thr very essence that Makes Africa mother of creation. The sort the one with the Ndorochena mark, they believe they have found a way to transfer her abilities and rights to their draconian queen. They seek to make her the queen mother of the earth. The dark masters have been at war with our queen mother for centuries now, they are back once again, hard at work tempering with the truth and corrupting those blind to see through their lying serpentine tongues. They sort to establish their hierarchy and kingdom upon this realm and beyond, they want to change the faces of the Gods, killing the old Gods through worship starvation.”

 Mutanda now faced the emperor Tsimbe and the healer Mure, the three men bowed with hands in prayer position, sharing a non-verbal understanding of Mutanda’s implications.

“The emperor you seek to defeat is the cornerstone of these lands even he is not the rightful leader hence the hyenas are closing in.  For centuries now, your family has collapsed the very foundation of this authority. The damage done to the heart of creation shall take lifetimes upon lifetimes to correct. Now, man of little actions, I ask you call to out your friends of little thinking, then instruct your wives with little reasoning to fetch your little dark secrets. My priestesses shall walk with your wives to your little houses.” He handed Hungwe an extra horn he had snatched from his waistline without breaking eye contact with him. Hungwe shivered, soaking his black breeches and snot ran down his fear-stricken face.  Hungwe was the chief king of southern Munhumutapa. The emperor’s eyes and ears however, with time, helping the emperor was not enough Hungwe wanted the empire for himself.

 “It is time, let the plays unfold, line, them up,” Mutanda spoke and Hungwe a towering king, in both character and stature now seems so weak. He barely managed a whisper through the horn wiping his grey head stuttered and mumbled as he called his allies out.  “Ssshiri, Mmmhofu, Mmmazi, Mmbevha, Tsuuro…”

The line behind Hungwe had grown, with each contender looking more petrified than the one before him. “Mothers of goblins, run to your homes and collect your ‘other children’. You shall not walk alone our sisters of light shall go with you, load the carts full leave nothing behind. My priestesses shall give you the tears of Nina before you leave, some of you might try to flee, and therefore, the portion shall hold you down as if you had invisible restrains.” 

After the consumption of the tears of Nina, the women left trembling and wailing as blaming games commenced. Not one of the witches took responsibility for their meddling with dark lords, they yelled, covering their faces overcome with shame, ashamed they got caught. That was the shame they carried, as for their dark powers they made them feel invincible, the untouchables as everyone else had come to know them. Tsikisai gave Hungwe and his tribe of black magicians the potion.   Immediately one of the black magicians fell on the ground in spasms and feats foam coming out of his mouth. “He did the Ruma ritual believed to protect a black magician from exposure.” Mutanda opened the man’s mouth and his sister poured more of the tears of Nina portion into the black magician’s mouth. “Do not be short-sighted lest you kill yourselves. Is there anyone else among you that performed this ritual of Ruma before coming here?” Tsikisai walked along the line of sorcerers scanning their chests and forehead with her assegai.  

A while later, the veiled priestesses came back with two carts covered with black cloths. Disturbing whimpering came from the carts causing a drop in temperature, dark clouds gathered covering the new sun with a gloomy atmosphere. “What a heavy and disgusting load, even the heavens want to spit. Brother let us pray we still have time.” She looked up at the black skies and shook her head. We shall start from the bottom of the rank. Tsuro step forward, tell the world of the wish you threw in the well of darkness. Take my horn and tell it all!” Tsuro faltered forward, cowering from Tsikisai. “I, I, I...” 

The crowd quietened, waiting to hear Tsuro’s atrocious trades, sweat ran down Tsuro’s thinning hair as he struggled to hold eye contact with Tsikisai.  “Look at me Tsuro; does the light in my eyes disturb the darkness in yours? It should, speak and be free, confess. Let us hear of your evil deeds and we shall offer our light for the cleansing of your soul, confession is the thread that weaves the blankets of healing. Even forgiveness, all its cracks are held together with the glue of confessions. One must confess to strengthen.” Tsikisai egged Tsuro on.

He crouched and managed a toneless response hiding his face.

“I wished for black sex magic powers. I wished to lie with women from the kingdoms without their knowledge or consent at the same time draining their essence for my talisman.”   The crowd screamed and cursed at him, “Less than a dog, a soulless skunk!” anger snares from the crowd declared Tsuro a filthy creature.   “Undenied and unlimited bodily pleasures while you enrich your evil powers with the female strength. What did you give the evil lords for such a gift?”  Tsikisai asked, advancing towards the trembling Tsuro choking on his sobs.  Tsuro cowered from her like an injured animal.  “Please do not make me say it; It is most vile and selfish!” Tsuro pleaded with Tsikisai.  “You know that is the rule, you speak it, to shame it!” Tsikisai was firm

Tsuro had no choice but to obey. “My daughter’s fertility, I gave them Vimbai’s eggs. I am the reason my own daughter cannot cuddle a child of her own. “I am sorry, child, I...” Smacking his face and rolling on the ground he cried uncontrollably, his voice was chilly and creepy carrying not a single ounce of empathy. Vimbai married for six years had tried to conceive, but each time failed to carry full term.  The poor lass screamed with hurt before passing out, no sooner she reached the ground was she surrounded with her loved ones while her husband and her brothers leaped forward ready to bash Tsuro with sticks and stones but the sanctity forbade them from harming their evil father.  They could not get to him. “We are not here to break homes or turn sons against their fathers, those are the works of the demons of chaos, unleashed upon these lands by the fearful Romans. We are here to bring out the much-needed healing through confession and change. No one shall die or kill today! Shiri, you are next in line what was your grand desire that got fulfilled?” 

Tsikisai signalled Tsuro to give Shiri the horn; he lumbered forward and spoke shrinking without any emotions. His thick lips trembling, eyes wide open with a dead stare in them.  “I desired to be the greatest farmer in all of Munhumutapa, to yield a thousand times more than anyone. A wish granted through the possession of farming goblins that feed on blood and thrive on creative energy converted into sexual waste. Such was my forbidden desire which I had been paying a hefty price; my children no more walk this earth. I have sacrificed them to these dark deities.”

Shiri took a special instrument from his bag and whistled immediately six goblins jumped out of one carts and walked to their master. The creatures blustered out threats to Shiri for exposing them, their blood-curdling voices screeching across the valley.  Small hideous looking bearded men and old horrifying little women ran around climbing trees trying to escape, but again the sanctity restrained them.  Dressed in red cloths and unrefined leather, with red beads around their necks the goblins we absolutely petrifying to look at. “Many of these sorcerers wanted to excel in masonry, blacksmith, fishing and many other areas, even though they were too lazy to go through the evolution process, lazy to put in the time and effort required, lazy to convert the formulas needed to bring about their grand desire. “Some like Tsuro here are just plain evil his greed is from lower planes driven by spirits from the bottommost satyrs of the lowest order.  There is the chief sorcerer; however, his eye is on the throne; he carries out the desires of his allies paving them a path to take when the time to invade us comes.”

Tsikisai looked agitated scurrying about the two carts. “Not in my Ophir not my lands! Hungwe call your play things out.” She spat another demand!   Still struggling with composure he muttered in a simple language, “Ekeritseletsele!” To everyone’s disbelief, his son who had died seven years ago climbed down the cart looking every bit alive, but as if in a trance he staggered like a drunk towards his parents. Behind him, a goblin trotted about with an enormous snake constraining its neck at the same time bounding its hands and legs. “Creatures used in summoning Alpha demos from the utmost darkness from the depths of the dreary world.” Tsikisai spoke with resonant, grumbles of uneasiness travelled through the gathering. Some fainted and others screamed while others froze and stood still like trees. Their minds failing to process their new reality.

Tsikisai walked up to Hungwe’s late son, who was now standing in front of his father and mother. She scrutinised him, making eye contact with the zombie shying away from her. “Psst, look into my eyes and follow my every move.”  The zombie clumsily lifted its head and looked into Tsikisai eyes, connecting with her mentally so she can control his movement.  Tsikisai lifted her right hand, and Hwungwe’s dead son did the same, when she bowed, the zombie bowed.  She stretched her left leg out, and he followed suit. “Mummification of the lower self, the desire ‘spirit’, let me give you a brief lesson in bodies of a human.  We have the emotion, the vessel, the vital body which is part of the soul. The soul that belongs to God is infinite.  I hope you can all catch up.”  Tsikisai strolled up and down paying little attention to the zombie that imitated her every move, her back behind Hungwe and his band of black magicians she addressed the gathering.

Tsikisai was an animated speaker who used a lot of hand gestures, watching her and the zombie at the same time, brought a creepy sense of horror and comedy. “A human body develops a lesser soul that stays with the vessel when death occurs. The higher soul finds the light and departs if it is not bounded to the material world. The lesser soul feeds on vibrations of the desire world, depending on the potency of the emotions and brainpower; the body can stay for a long time in a zombie like state. These are teaching of the lesser worlds, incarnations and spells on how to mummify a dead body if the kin allows. The dark masters then use the Zombie as a gateway from their lower worlds into ours, while rewarding the kin with earthly gains.” Tsikisai looked let down and heartbroken. “Only when we sell ourselves short do we get preyed on.”  Her voice was low and sturdy; she turned and clapped her hands three times to release the zombie. It fell on the ground, no longer mimicking Tsikisai, but yelled as it combusted, together with the goblin and the snake.        

Chapter Three

Tsikisai took her horn from Shiri, and wiped it after she had sprayed it with the tears of Nina. “Brother, may you take over; please I must go under the bestridge tree to talk to Mother.” She gave way to her brother Mutanda and walked tall towards the east.  Mutanda sprinted to a willow tree were a few female spirit mediums sat. He skipped on tree branches and jumped on rocks then ran back.  “Ladies, forgive me I do not get out as often as I should, adrenaline cripples my senses, I must hop about to control the energies.” He bowed at the mediums and walked with huge strides towards the witches.  “Greetings, mothers of darkness, now is your time, let us gaze into gloom worlds through the evil eyes of women. A life giver by nature, it is most interesting that you so choose to threaten the very thing that defines you. Show us then high witch Nauti, I believe you are the leader of the Dzimbahwe- Munhumutapa circle of witches, may you lead your tribe in exhibiting your dark skills. If I do recall, the last time I saw female witches was before the great floods. Yes, I am that old, no, I am not the undying, I merely mastered the art of alchemy, live longer on one realm, to skip the other planes. To achieve it all, one must understand the language of the stars, the wind, the granites, trees, water, and all the five elements the universal mother bestowed upon us.”

 Mutanda skipped to where the witches had lined up and looked into each of their eyes; he walked to the veiled priestesses and bowed. “My holy sisters may you give these ladies tea of qat to lessen the effects of the potion they took earlier.” The priestesses hesitated; still they obeyed Mutanda’s orders who assured them that all would be well. Nauti sipped the last of the tea and did not quiver, nor did she flinch. She stood still for a while a cold terrifying stare in her eyes.  Her face darkened, its features becoming hollow and grey she ripped her clothes off, down to her black loose breeches, and a cropped bodice.  “Ah, not wasting time Nauti, her Incubus has taken over! At initiation, a witch receives a demon guide to aid her in casting spells or curses. These demons are gravediggers that feed on human flesh, payment for their help in vile misdeeds.  Nauti’s demon possesses her, she need not the horn, its voice self-projects.” Cold devilish cries loud enough to penetrate the gloomy worlds shrieked spreading quivers of terror through the gathering.  “Woooweee! Woooweee! Woooowee! Nauti cried out her back arched like a wild animal she looked about, corking her head and tilting it to the left. She cupped her left ear listening out for something, kicking dust, and yelled again. “Woooweee! Woooweee! Woowee! More ominous clouds gathered, engulfing the warm rays of the spring sun, Nauti was now in her own realm, unaware of the surrounding crowds. She made two thick knots at the top of the head to resemble horns of the ranking of her alpha demon guide.  Nauti had transformed into a hideous version of herself while the entire kingdom looked on, her neighbours, relatives, friends and children. “Ahuuuuwee, Ahuuuuwe Ahuuuwe!” One by one the witches answered the call with equally frightening cries twisting their bodies in weird poses they tore their robes.  Each witch knotting her hair into smaller horns than those of Nauti’s. They yelped and roared; summoning their incubuses forth, the demons now in control formed an almost synchronised army of impious acrobats performing in a shabby line. They stomped with unnaturally heavy thuds, sending foul vibrations throughout the shrine.

The witches danced immorally, as they threw dust in the air, spreading their legs wide chanting aloud in a strange ugly language. “Merelongo herekongo jerefongo”. The scene, so diabolic and egregious some people vomited and more fainted.  Evil laughter pierced the day, the witches continually yelled out nefarious chants, and making thuds as they continued dancing. “This is bewitching! I am mortified; I cannot take my eyes of these women, as frightening as they are!” Kuda whispered standing next to his friends as they watched in horror.

Seven huge hyenas came out of the carts, adding a chilling breeze to the nasty atmosphere.

 The terrified crowd could not scream anymore their realities shifted so much their brains had long froze as time slowed down the gathering they watched the hyenas staggering going for their mistresses in disbelief. The animals perched in between the parted leg and at once, the possessed witches squatted on the drooling animals, commanding them to flee in yet another horrid language.  The hyenas lurched forwards pushing their way out of the shrine but failing to break free. The sanctified field stopped them from going far. Second time is a charm; the witches held hands and shouted another strange torrent of devilish commands, making symbols in the air with their left hands unexpectedly breaking the sanctity. The witches freed their husbands with a chant they fled from the mother earth shrine their evil maniac laughter ringing throughout the valleys and mountains. 

Tsikisai stood up, sensing the upheaval she cut short her pleas to Mother Nature and ran back to the shrine. The crowd backed away to safety behind rocks, and under trees. The sorcerers too, called out for their hyenas and galloped behind their wives. Mutanda caught off guard stumbled about, his sister shouting to him to quit his childish plays.  He threw a spirit net to catch the magicians but missed. The overgrown hyenas wobbled before gaining momentum from an awkward run to converting their huge tails and ears turning into propellers, they shot off the shrine at a fast speed.

Tsikisai leaped on a rock, blowing her horn seven times and eight flying baskets glided down the mountains flying across the sky. Six of the baskets shot past the heads of the crowds with much speed that the congregation nearly lost the very robes covering their bodies. The other two flying baskets hovered low enough to scoop the two witch hunters. As if to make up for their previous clumsiness, the two siblings leaped from rock to rock and jumped onto the dangling ropes attached to the baskets without fault.  “Good beloved ancestors, do I get to live past this day with all the revelations you have bestowed upon my innocent eyes.” Saru shouted moving closer to the baskets her friend followed dreamily.

The foul creatures scattered about trying to escape but the priestesses quickly contained them with the spirit nets over each odd creature.  One goblin made it out but not too far a younger priestess caught it before it leaped into a rabbit hole it had its eye on. The spirit mediums circled the crowd, spearing the ground three times to form a spiritual barrier to protect the crowds.

Across rivers and jungles, the witch hunters hounded the black magicians in and out of dark caves. Over hills and mountains they plagued the horrendous creatures, their mistresses and masters. Shiri’s wife tried to throw a dark missile at the witch hunters as they closed in, but her friends stopped her. “You drank the tears of Eve you shall go mad if you do so, fool!”  Nauti’s voice crept through the valleys as she dodged the cliffs, baobab trees, and balancing rocks.  The witch hunters, determined to gain control of the tribe tailed not far behind using arrows smeared with the tears of Eve to tranquillise the hyenas.

One by one the foul animals tumbled falling face flat on the ground. Their riders carried on escaping on foot into grooves hard for the flying baskets to manoeuvre. The two siblings disembarked with two more odd looking companions in hooded capes, leaving the others hovering just outside the thick grooves. They moved with caution as the witches turned invisible or like chameleons, transformed to match the inside of the caves. Only to be exposed by the sprays of the tears of Nina. They entrapped the foul animals and shrunk them to pocket size parcels. Far from the sanctified shrine, the witches and the sorcerers moved fast, like shadows of smoke going through trees and hills. Eventually the witch hunters took back the winning hand regaining control over the magicians.

However, Hungwe, Nauti and Tsuro had entered the black tunnels still determined to escape. Tsikisai and Mutanda pursued them they had almost made it to the other side when Mutanda skilfully aimed, darting them only a few meters from an unsealed black hole.  The two siblings tied shrunk the last of their catch in a bundle which Mutanda. Upon reaching the shrine the two flying baskets landed next two the six other baskets on hilltops.

The witch hunters disembarked with seven primates, one looking the same as the other yet not identical. They wore capes with hoods and loincloths made of cactus leather.  Beards, bushy heads and hairy limbs the males had bare chests and dreadlocks, standing tall to a height of one hundred and sixty-four centimetres. Bodies built for defence and speed. The female stood equally sturdy and fierce. “‘The wise men’ great ancestors the legends are real, they are flesh and bone!  Homogenises!” Kuda managed a sentence, not sure whether to cry or laugh, his gaze followed the strange beings passing the ululating and clapping crowds.

One primate with a half-shaved head walked and stood next to a young priestess he handed her a horn and in sign language asked her to translate his chironomy.  He sauntered up and down, finger spelling with calm emphasis making the interpreter sound like a calm poet.  The other Homogenises inspected the four small bags on the floor and the sorcerers and witches enlarging back to their normal sizes sober. The large homogenises touched the witches foreheads with his wood spectre and they each fall to the ground fainting from the powerful energies of his stuff.  “Why do you flee? This is not a death sentence; you shall continue to live in your societies as long as you shall not use your newly discovered evil powers to hurt any living creature or earth, no harm shall befall you.” The subdued, balmy interpreter vocalised the sign language.  “I wish you were sketching this phenomenon Matida, Kuda whispered looking at the other Homogenises who were load and shrinking the evils into smaller packages.

This time the sanctification was stronger, not a sound of protest came from the carts. Even the atmosphere improved, with the gloomy clouds dispersing to let the warm rays out again.

“You play a lot, siblings, you play a lot. Drop your games and do that we require of you, aren’t we all glad the witches did not reach the unsealed black holes? Wrap this up and come home.”  His name was Noha the undying father of the Homogenises of these lands. The two witch hunters bowed their heads to him, he turned around to walk towards his flying basket but then stopped midway cocking his head, something or someone in the crowd had pulled his spirit. He turned and looked straight at Matida and for a while he stood still, mentally clearing the crowds creating a passage between him and Matida. He took a slow paced walk through the wide alley of humans, headed towards Matida, eyes fixed upon hers.

 He only stopped when his toes touched Matida’s sniffing the air around Matida he circled her and back again to look into her eyes. He gently pulled Matida’s head wrap up, revealing her an ancient symbol of the old queens and healers of Ophir, the Ndorochena mark. He bowed and rose to look at her face again and deep into her eyes. A light suddenly emitted from Matida’s forehead inducing visions she could not understand.

Matida saw the battle of the universe, the conflict of the seven kingdoms. She saw the envious demigods forging hierarchies of discrimination and killing the true Gods. She saw six small moons bowing to one huge moon followed by two elephants carrying a moon. Matida saw goddesses adorned in gold and diamonds sitting on clouds and others in company of lions. A sphinx transforming into a goddess dressed in purple robes, a starry crown and a spectre.  Matida’s head spun, sending her out of balance, Noha held her in his large hands pulling his gaze away he smiled, knowing that soon she would be awake. Saru and Kuda ran to her, gently taking her into their hands. Noha saluted Matida and then the rest of the crowd leaving the shrine with his offspring. “Are you well; would you like some water or anything, sweet ancestors what could that have been about?” Saru asked fanning Matida who had her eyes closed tears running down her checks. The younger witch hunters finished the ceremony and left the mother shrine to close the black holes around Munhumutapa-Dzimbahwe. The three friends stood for a while as the surrounding gathering disappeared, each going back to their daily lives, their way of thinking altered, but still nothing shall prepare them for the darkness to come.

 They walked home heads bowed the aftereffects of witnessing such horrors were exceptionally bitter. Munhumutapa’s dark side existed, and it was no child’s play. “I could never unseen what I have seen today, Matida, I can only wonder what you saw in the great one’s eyes, you have gone awfully quiet. I pray doom is not part of those visions there must be a fraction of good in this world if such evil walks.” Kuda broke the odd silence. “The visions of the great are not for your and scrutiny Kuda, Matida needs to rest I ask you not to bother her no more,” Saru instructed Kuda. “True, I must bath and lie down I feel strange, I must think alone I shall see you at the rainmaking ceremony. Saru, apologies, I am not in a state to w...” Matida apologised to Saru, she was no longer in a right state of mind to fishing Plaiting Saru’s hair. “My dear worry not, a –tell- it- all bird says that all of Munhumutapa shall soon shave heads for the purification ritual.”

Matida hugged her friends then walked to her father’s house, a lovely quiet homestead at the top of the west side hills, three streams across the grand Dzimbahwe castle. She looked at the majestic castle wondering if its magnificent walls shall endure the coming dusk. She looked at the market enclosure, then the tree camouflage stone houses. The temple with its imposing conical towers and those sacred gold statues of birds must hold rare energies to help sustain the tide of time. The birds were a symbol of the beginning of her love story, if it was not for the hoopoe bird, the grand king would never have known of her existence.  “This is a mysterious place it must be able to endure. These walls have a tale to tell those that are seeking her past. They must stand and tell the future of it past. Never shall you fall my Dzimbahwe, I proclaim everlasting life upon your stones without mortar!”

Chapter Four