The Heart of Redness: A Novel (19 page)

But it turned out that Nxito’s situation was complicated. His son, Pama, a staunch Believer, had taken over his chiefdom. Nxito’s was a house divided. It was the same with many families. Even a great Believer like Chief Maqoma, the revered general of the War of Mlanjeni, was opposed by his sons, Ned and Kona, who were not only staunch Unbelievers but Christians as well. Ned even worked at the Native Hospital. Then there was the rift between Twin and Twin-Twin. And there was Mjuza, whose father was the great Prophet Nxele. Yet Mjuza was an Unbeliever. Families were being split apart.

The Man Who Named Ten Rivers did not really care how they dealt with Nxito’s problem. He could not be expected to solve every petty problem for them. The important thing was that Nxito was Sarhili’s uncle. He had a duty to warn his nephew of the dangers of his ways.

“I have written to Kreli and warned him that the continued cattle-killing will cause starvation and disorder,” said The Man Who Named Ten Rivers. Kreli was the name the colonists used for Sarhili. “I am going to hold him fully responsible for anything that happens as a result, and I will punish him severely. I am a good friend of Kreli and his people. It is my desire to continue so. But if he forces me to take a contrary course, he shall find me a better enemy than I have been a friend.”

The governor then broke into a smile, and told them how he loved the amaXhosa people and that he didn’t want to see them destroying themselves. He had established health programs for them, which were an unqualified success. There was, for instance, a Dr. Fitzgerald who had come with him from New Zealand. He was an ophthalmic surgeon, and he performed cataract operations that gave him fame
throughout kwaXhosa as a man of miracles who could make blind people see. Fitzgerald was treating more than fifty people a day. But what amazed The Man Who Named Ten Rivers was that even those amaXhosa who benefited from Fitzgerald’s medicine continued to go to their own traditional doctors as well.

“It is because Fitzgerald heals only the ailing body,” explained Twin-Twin. “But our amaXhosa doctors are also spiritual healers. They are like priests in your churches of amaGqobhoka. They don’t only end there. They heal the head and the mind.”

“That is precisely what we must change,” said the governor. “We must get rid of all these superstitions. That is what civilization will do for you. That is another matter I have been discussing with the chiefs. You see, I plan to open a school in Cape Town for the sons of chiefs, where they will grow up in the bosom of British civilization. They will learn to appreciate the might of the British Empire and will acquire new modes of behavior. They will give up their barbaric culture and heathen habits, and when they take over in their chiefdoms they will be good chiefs. I want all the chiefs to undertake to send their sons to this school.”

“The chiefs that you have already met. . . what do they say?” asked Nxito.

“For some reason they are reluctant. They don’t understand. They think they will be giving up their children. It is for elders like you who have a better understanding of these things to convince them otherwise.”

The Man Who Named Ten Rivers said he was heartened by the manner in which he was received by the chiefs throughout the territories he visited. It showed that his pacification and civilizing missions were succeeding. As soon as he reached Cape Town in a few weeks’ time he would write to the colonial secretary of state in England to brief him fully that the Xhosa people were not at all hostile to the colonial administration.

“A few weeks’ time?” asked Gawler. “Does this mean His Excellency hasn’t completed his rounds on the frontier?”

“I still have a few chiefs to see before I go back to Cape Town,” replied the governor.

“I fear for His Excellency’s health,” said Gawler. “This trip has been quite rigorous.”

The Man Who Named Ten Rivers was irritated. He felt that the young upstart was undermining his manliness and his vast experience as an English explorer who had pioneered some of the most dangerous places in the new world, who had walked uncharted territories in Australia and New Zealand, and who had given names to ten rivers. Gawler apologized and assured His Excellency that he had not meant to be disrespectful.

Perhaps the governor should have heeded the magistrate’s friendly warning. Before his rounds on the wild frontier were over, he suffered a nervous breakdown and had to be sent back to Cape Town hallucinating and blubbering.

While Twin-Twin was discussing civilization with The Man Who Named Ten Rivers, Twin was dreaming of Heitsi Eibib. He used the dreams to transform himself into the new Heitsi Eibib of the amaXhosa people, the one who would lead them across the Great River, in the same way that the true Heitsi Eibib of old had led the Khoikhoi people. The same way that he had instructed the water to part, and when it obeyed he led his people to safety. But when the enemy tried to cross between the parted water. . . when the enemy was in the middle . . . the water closed in again, and the enemy drowned. Only in Twin’s dreams, the enemy that was swallowed by the Great River was led by The Man Who Named Ten Rivers, accompanied by none other than the famous headhunter, John Dalton.

Whenever Twin awoke from such dreams, his fervor for the girl-prophets multiplied tenfold.

He was distressed about the rift between himself and Twin-Twin. He blamed it all on his twin brother’s stubbornness. And on his father’s headlessness. Because the British had cut his head off, Xikixa was not being an effective ancestor. A good ancestor is one who can be an emissary between the people of the world and the great Qamata. A good ancestor comes between his feuding descendants whenever they sacrifice a beast to him, and brings peace among them. Without a head Xikixa
was unable to bring cohesion to his progeny. That was why they were fighting among themselves, and were destined to do so until his headless state was remedied.

Only the resurrection of the dead could restore the elder’s dignity. And the dignity of all the amaXhosa people, dead or alive. It would bring about a regeneration of the earth. The new redeemer that the girl-prophets talked about, son of Sifuba-Sibanzi the Broad-Chested One, would lead this re-enactment of the original creation. The long-departed relatives of the amaXhosa people would come back from the world of the ancestors and would once more walk the earth of the living. The white colonists would disappear. So would the lungsickness that they had brought from across the oceans.

The greatest joy of the Believers was that Prophet Nxele—who had drowned trying to escape from Robben Island some thirty years before—would come back and lead the people to victory over the colonists, in the same way that he had led the Russian army that had vanquished Cathcart in the Crimean War. It did not matter that Mjuza, Nxele’s son and heir, had rejected the prophecies of Nongqawuse. Mjuza was a lost cause who had been deceived by his colonial masters.

These were the happiest times for Twin and Qukezwu. They had few cares in the world. They wandered on their uncultivated fields or on the sands of the sea, daydreaming of the wonderful life that awaited them. They sang the praises of Mhlakaza, Nongqawuse, and Nombanda. Their hearts overflowed with love and goodwill. So did the hearts of all Believers.

And they looked beautiful too. Ever since Nongqawuse had ordered her followers to adorn themselves in their finery in celebration of the imminent arrival of the ancestors, Qukezwa would not be seen without her makeup of red and yellow ochre. Even old women who had long given up the practice of decorating themselves were seen covered in ochre and resplendent in ornaments. They knew that as soon as the ancestors arrived from the Otherworld, their youth would be restored.

Finally the date of the resurrection was set by the prophets. The full moon of June 1856. The Believers waited with anticipation. But the day came and went like any other day. No miracles and wonders were
seen at the Gxarha. Nor anywhere else in the lands of the amaGcaleka and throughout kwaXhosa. This was the First Disappointment.

Some Believers began to unbelieve, and King Sarhili was roused to anger. He called an imbhizo at his Great Place, where all the important men of the amaGcaleka clan were invited.

“How can we trust these prophets when they fail to keep their word?” he asked. “Why are they keeping the new people from rising? Until the prophets keep their word I shall command that the slaughter of the cattle should stop.”

“Mhlakaza must be forced to show us the new people!” cried the men. “He must prove to us that his word is true!”

When the prophet of Gxarha was finally hurled before them, he explained that the ancestors had failed to arise because on that day they had gone on a visit to an inaccessible corner of the Otherworld. He had been unable to get hold of them. Why, they had even been beyond the reach of greater prophets like Nongqawuse and Nombanda.

“But since then we have spoken with them,” he assured the elders. “The rising of the dead will still happen. The next full moon will be the moon of wonders and dangers. On that great day two suns will rise in the sky. They will be red like the color of blood. In the middle of the sky, over Ntaba kaNdoda, our sacred mountain, they will collide, and the whole world will be in darkness. A great storm will arise, and only those huts that are newly thatched in preparation for the arrival of our ancestors will survive it. Out of the earth, at the mouths of all our great rivers, the dead will arise with their new cattle. Our forefathers will finally come wearing white blankets and shiny brass rings. And be warned, all you Unbelievers: the English and their collaborators, all those traitors who wear trousers, will be swallowed by the sea, which will take them back to the place of creation whence they came . . . to be re-created into better people.”

The next full moon was in mid-August. Twin and Qukezwa did not sleep that night. They joined the revelers at the banks of the Gxarha River, and filled the valleys of Qolorha with song and laughter. The hills echoed the joyous sounds, and sent shivers down the spines of the colonists.

While all the carousing was going on, Heitsi slept on a grass mat
behind Mhlakaza’s hut. He was not alone. There were other toddlers and babies of the Believers. They were looked after by those girls who were too young to participate in the revelry. Heitsi was getting used to this. Of late he was spending a lot of time with strangers while Qukezwa attended to matters of belief.

Soon the night was a memory. Everyone was tired. But no one slept. They wanted to see with their eyes the wonders and dangers.

Qukezwa sat on the bank of the Gxarha River, rocking Heitsi on her lap and singing a lullaby that she had learned from her Khoikhoi people. Her eyes were looking fixedly at the horizon, waiting for the two red suns to burst out of the pink-and-purple skies. Her husband sat behind her, and joined in the call-and-response parts of the lullaby. His eyes were red and his breath reeked like a pigsty. When he belched, one could actually see waves of deadly fumes assailing the crisp air of dawn. His head was pounding with a hangover and lack of sleep. Yet he was going to soldier on for the rest of the day. If he slept, who would welcome Xikixa and the rest of the distinguished ancestors?

The sun that rose was not red. Perhaps it would change color on the first steps of its journey across the sky. Perhaps a second one would rise. The Believers watched in breathless anticipation. The solitary sun walked across the sky as if it was just another day. It took its time, as it always did when it was watched. No other sun came. No great collision happened. No darkness. Instead the day was brighter than usual. The people had waited in vain. The ancestors did not venture out of the mouths of the rivers.

This was the Second Disappointment.

Once more there was anger directed at the sacred persons of the prophets. While the staunch Believers held tightly to their belief, the weak let disillusionment get the better of them. King Sarhili summoned Mhlakaza, who denied that he was the source of the prophecies. He put all the blame on Nongqawuse.

“She is the one who talks with the new people,” he said. “I am merely her mouth.”

King Sarhili retreated to Manyube, a conservation area and nature reserve where people were not allowed to chop trees or hunt animals and birds. He had often told his people, “One day these wonderful
things of nature will get finished. Preserve them for future generations.” There he was able to think things over in a peaceful environment. He decided to issue a decree that chiefs should ban all further cattle-killing activities in their chiefdoms.

But a few days later the Believers were encouraged by new reports that the new people had been seen taking a stroll in the countryside near the mouths of the great rivers. This proved that the prophecies had not failed completely. Perhaps something had gone wrong somewhere. Soon the truth was discovered. The fault lay with the people who had sold their cattle off instead of slaughtering them. And those who slaughtered them without going through the ritual of preserving their
imiphefumlo
, their souls.

This explanation of the Second Disappointment was good enough for Sarhili. He issued new orders that the cattle-killing should continue. This time he pushed it relentlessly. He was like a man possessed. He rode once more from his Great Place at Hohita to Qolorha, where he conferred with the prophets.

Qukezwa and Twin were among the multitudes that accompanied the king to the river. He rode further than the mouth of the Gxarha River, all the way to the mouth of the Kei River. And there he saw his father, the great King Hintsa, who had been beheaded by the British twenty-one years before. He was among a host of new people who appeared in boats at the mouth of the river. They told the king that they had come to liberate the black nations, and that this message must be passed throughout the world. In the meantime the cattle-killing movement must be strengthened.

Sarhili was very excited. He announced to the multitudes, “I have seen my father! I have seen Hintsa face-to-face.”

That night, as provisions were being cooked for the king and his entourage for the long ride back to his Great Place, he decided to take a walk. When he came back he announced that he had seen his father again.