13. Meeting of Minds

‘How did you get here? They should have warned us!’ The oldest of the hunters looked around himself wildly. ‘No moving! No moving! Lie down on the ground!’ He gestured with his bow.
‘We demand respect for Our G…’ Lomu began to protest.
‘On the ground! On you faces! Quick! Or eat arrows.’ The tribesman’s voice was shrill and shaking with anger.
The bulky Gardener, already on his knees, lay as if trying to bury himself into the earth.
‘Are you the leader of these people?’ the hunter demanded.
‘Indeed, yes. I am their commander.’ Lomu replied, speaking with the side of his face pressed to the ground.
‘Well then tell them to put down their weapons and surrender to us or we will kill you.’
‘You heard him, men.’ Lomu said. ‘Do as he says.’ No one moved. The Guardians remained surrounding the clearing, axes and clubs raised.

‘If you do not lay down your arms, we will kill your leader.’ The savage shouted. Dressed as he was in a loin cloth, his body tattooed and his hair in a wild mop, decorated with bones and feathers, there was no doubting the seriousness of his intentions. There was silence then a laugh from the Sergeant.
‘You’ll be doing us all a favour. The man’s a fool.’
‘You should have respect for Our Granny.’ Lomu shouted. ‘I am her representative on this expedition and I say that you should lay down your arms and surrender.’
‘What?’ The Sergeant laughed dryly. ‘So they can kill us all? Better they kill you and then we can deal with them. Starling, make sure that if anything happens you blow the head off that one first.’

There was a moment’s silence as the two groups contemplated one another.
‘Sergeant!’ It was Lieutenant Haziki, speaking from the ground. ‘Untie the prisoner. Let him go to his friends.’
‘Yes Sir.’ The prisoner was pushed into the clearing.
‘Do you know this boy?’ the Lieutenant asked.
‘Yes. It is Watu.’ To the boy: ‘Where is your uncle?’
‘Dead. He is dead.’ The boy ran sobbing to one of the women.

‘We are very sorry that one of your family was killed.’ The Lieutenant continued. ‘But as you see, we do not mean you any harm, and so we return the boy, Watu, to you. We have brought you axes and arrow heads to trade, and corn liquor and cane spirit – white rum – to show our friendship. Sergeant, send one of the men in with a pack. Offer to our friends the gifts we bring from Our Granny and the Village.’

‘We cannot accept these gifts. The shadows will surely kill us as they killed Thumbs and his family.’ The chieftain protested, but it was already too late as the contents of the pack – glass beads, arrow heads, axe heads, metal mirrors, salt and sugar – were eagerly examined by the members of his group.
‘You must leave now.’ He continued. ‘Before the shadows know that we have spoken to you.’
‘We will indeed leave in good time,’ said the Lieutenant, rising to his feet. ‘But first, we shall drink together and you will tell us what has happened here in the forest that makes you so fearful that you will not talk to us. What is it that has prevented you from coming down to the Village to trade with your friends? Sergeant, bring a flask of rum and let us sit down with our friends of the forest. Oh, and Lomu, I think it is now safe to stand up.’

Lured by the trade items, the rest of the forest group returned to the clearing, where, after a while, they were joined by members of the Village party. The Lieutenant had to make sure that guards were posted out in the forest so that we would not be interrupted. A meal was prepared, with wild pigeons, forest mushrooms and taro and maize flour that we had brought from the fields. Before long, it was as if we were long lost friends so that even the details of the death of the man who had been following us spread too slowly to destroy the general sense of celebration.

‘But why would you want to run away from the gifts sent by Our Granny to her friends in the forest?’ Lomu asked. ‘You have traded with the Village for many years and we have always been friends.’
The forest elder who had so recently had an arrow pointed at Lomu’s head was called Ezeka. He burped loudly and laughed as if nothing so ridiculous as running away could ever have occurred to him.
‘That was before.’ He said, and rolled his eyes.
‘Before what?’ the Lieutenant asked.
‘Before they said we must not deal with you.’ He turned his head and tried to focus on the visitors.
‘Why should you not trade with us?’
‘Because of Etna Barak.’
‘Etna Barak?’ The Sergeant raised his eyebrows. ‘Etna Barak, who lives in the Village?’
‘That’s right. Of course, Etna Barak.’ Ezeka looked around as if he had just scored an incontrovertible point in a debate.

‘How does Etna Barak come into this?’ The Sergeant asked.
‘Etna Barak,’ Ezeka lowered his voice confidentially. ‘Etna Barak was a great hunter.’
‘Etna Barak? He does nothing but drink.’ The Sergeant laughed.
‘He sleeps.’ The chieftain almost whispered. ‘His soul has been eaten. They told us that we must not go to the Village. The Shai Hathan is there. It ate the soul of Etna Barak. When he lived here in the forest, he was a famous hunter. He could track animals and birds anywhere in the jungle and then he went to the Village and his soul was eaten.’
‘Who told you that?’ Lomu asked. ‘Our Granny protects the Village. There are no Shai Hathan in the Village.’

Ezeka took a swig of his drink and looked slyly at the Gardener. ‘Someone who has lived his life in the Village told me.’ He answered carefully. ‘But I cannot tell you who he is.’
‘That is ridiculous.’ The Gardener responded. ‘Everyone who lives in the Village is protected by Our Granny. They would not say such stupid things.’
‘I cannot tell you who said it, but I can say that he knows more about the Granny, the True Granny, Granny Frum, than anyone.’
‘Granny Frum? Are you talking about Our Granny?’ Lomu looked at him.
‘Oh yes. Granny Frum is our granny. She will bring back the good hunting when she returns to us.’
‘Returns to us? What is this nonsense? Our Granny is in her house. She is with us always.’ Lomu was incensed. ‘Who has been talking nonsense to you?’

But no amount of questioning could obtain more details on this point. All that Ezeka would say was that he could not tell us because of the shadows. Of course, we had never, at that point, heard of the Shadows with a capital ‘S’, so none of this made much sense at the time. All we could understand was that the shadows had some connection with the fate of Thumbs and his group.

‘If it is found that we are talking to you, then we will fall to the shadows.’ Ezeka proclaimed wisely at a certain point. ‘Thumbs said, when he heard that you were on your way, that he would trade with you. And you see what has happened to him. Not one of his band escaped. Not one! No one must know that we have spoken to you or nothing can protect us.’
‘Our Guardians and Our Granny will protect you.’ Lomu leaned over and clinked his drinking bowl with Ezeka. ‘This is Lieutenant Haziki.’
He gestured towards him as he spoke. ‘He looks like a child but he is going to be a great warrior. Hell! He already is a great warrior. He will certainly protect you.’
‘How will he protect us when the Tractor is burned and the Shai Hathan is gone?’ Ezeka asked suspiciously. When the tractor is gone and the land returns to the forest, nothing from the Village will be left to protect us.’

‘What do you mean, “when the Tractor is burned”?’ the Lieutenant asked. ‘Is this to do with the wooden tractors in the forest?’
‘You must forget that I said that.’ Ezeka looked confused. ‘I said nothing about the tractor being burned.’
‘Has someone told you,’ the Lieutenant asked, ‘that the Tractor will be burned and the forest will come again?’
‘The animals will return when the Shai Hathan is destroyed. That is clear. No-one has told me that. That is sure. No one has told us that.’
‘Did you build the wooden tractors?’ the Lieutenant persisted. Ezeka looked shiftily about him.
‘No.’ he said at last. ‘We did not build the wooden tractors. At least, we did not build them on our own.’
‘Well why did you help to build them, in that case?’
‘We were told that if we burned the tractor…’ he stopped in confusion. ‘No-one told us to build them,’ he continued at last. ‘Or to burn them. But when all the tractors are burned, then the forest will return and the Shai Hathan will return the souls he has eaten. Indeed, Etna Barak’s soul will be returned to him and he will be a great hunter, as before. And…’

‘And what?’ Lomu asked. ‘What will happen then?’
‘Why, then the forest will be filled with fruit of all types. There will be mangoes and guavas and sugar cane and Granny Frum will give us animals to hunt, monkeys, wild pigs, parrots, birds of paradise. They will have feathers of every colour of the rainbow. And Etna Barak will help us to hunt them because his soul will be restored. And the souls of all the hunters will be restored and the women will cook taro and maize porridge in the forest with sugar and there will be no more Shai Hathan.’

‘This is indeed wonderful news.’ The Gardener smiled cunningly. ‘And I shall have to share it with all that I meet. Everyone must know this thing that you have told us.’
‘Oh No.’ The chieftain looked troubled. ‘This news is private. I have told it you in confidence. My life would be worth nothing, less than nothing, if they knew that I had told you.’
‘In that case, of course.’ Lomu smiled, a look in his eyes that perhaps Ezeka was too drunk to recognise,’ Of course we would not tell anyone. As long as you tell us the source of your information.’ ‘I could never. I could never tell you that.’

‘My friend,’ Lomu looked at him in a way that seemed to penetrate even the copious amount of alcohol he had consumed. ‘You expect us to honour your confidences and yet you hold back information as if you do not trust us? That is not how friendship works. I had thought we were friends but now…’ He let the sentence trail off.
The chieftain shook his head and cleared his throat. At last he said. ‘Well yes. Well yes. Of course. We are friends. Of course I can tell you that. We were told by Hama Batu.’