Gumbo: A Celebration of African American Writing Part 32

"Yeah, well, you just make sure you do."

Then he left and went back to Michigan and I ain't never see him again. For a while he ain't even call.

I think he still mad at me. That's why he don't like me no more. Thinking about all that while the preacher was up there preaching, my eyes started hurting. But I wasn't gon' let myself cry. I tried to stop thinking about my daddy. But I couldn't. That's when people started shouting, catching the Holy Ghost. It's always the ladies catching the Holy Ghost. I don't never see none of the men catching it. Maybe the Ghost don't like them as much. That lady next to me, the one with the green hat and the sweet perfume, she threw her hands up and started bouncing around. The whole pew shook. She was a big ole fat lady. She had on a green dress with flowers all over it. All of a sudden, she hopped up, started jumping up and down, moving all around. I was scared she was gon' fall on me and squish me to death so I started doing what she was doing. She throw her hands up, I throw my hands up. She wiggle around, I wiggle around. She jump up and down, I jump up and down.

The lady sitting in front of me saw me and bent over laughing. I stopped then. I just knew I was about to get it. But my grandma-she ain't see me! I was lucky 'cause I had forgot all about her. She ain't see me 'cause she was too busy helping them ushers calm this other lady down a few pews back. They was fanning her and she was laid back against the pew with her eyes closed like she was sleep. Her arms was spread out and they was fanning her. Wasn't n.o.body around to help that fat lady next to me. She had to keep getting happy till she tired herself out.

The preacher was finished preaching by then. He was sitting down. He had a Bible in his hands and kept tapping his foot to the music. He was smiling. Seem like he was looking right at me! The skinny man sitting next to him stood up. I guess he a preacher, too. He asked everybody to "come forward with the t.i.thes and offerings." I used to couldn't say "t.i.the" right, but my mama taught me how. Me and Grandma stood up and waited like everybody else. Two men was standing up at the front, below where the preacher was sitting. They had straw baskets in their hands. They looked real serious in them dark suits with them dark ties. They always looking serious. My mama told me they called "deacons." While we was standing, my grandma gave me two quarters to put in the offering. I rubbed 'em. They was smooth and after a while they felt warm in my hand.

When it come time for the offering, they always gotta start with the people in the back. Me and Grandma was up front so we had to wait seem like forever to get a chance to walk around the church and put our money in. It was hot in there. My hand started sweating, so I put them quarters in my pocket. Paul walked past along the side aisle and looked over at me. But he ain't ball up his fist this time 'cause my grandma mighta seen him.

When me and Grandma's turn to go up came around, she ain't go. She sat back down and told me to take her five dollars up there for her. She was leaning back against the pew and her eyes was half closed. She looked tired. So I went without her and followed all them big, tall people around the church. When I saw Paul again, he was back in his seat. He ain't see me this time though. He was too busy digging up his nose and wiping boogas on his pants. I said to myself, If he try to mess with me again, I'ma tell people what he was doing. I'ma tell how he was up in church, wiping boogas on his pants.

Before I knew it, I was up there at them baskets. I put the five dollars in and came back and sat down. My grandma patted me on the hand and smiled at me. She still looked tired, but she was smiling. My hands was still sweaty, so I started rubbing 'em up and down my pants. They was shiny corduroy pants, and I watched how they turned from dark brown to light brown every time I rubbed 'em.

It was then I felt something in my pocket. It was them two quarters! They was still there! I had forgot to put them in the basket! I had put my grandma's money in but had forgot to put my own in! I stuck my hand in my pocket to make sure it was them quarters I was feeling. It was them all right. I was about to run up there and put 'em in one of them baskets before the deacons took the baskets away. But I ain't want people laughing at me and looking all at me. I ain't want my grandma to get mad and say I was shaming her. I felt bad. Like I had did something wrong, something G.o.d was gon' be mad at me for, something He was gon' punish me for. But I ain't even mean to do it!

I know some kids who be doing this all the time. They keep the money their mama or grandma give 'em and go and buy candy after church over. One time this fat boy name Kevin did that, and after church he ate them apple Now-and-Laters till his stomach hurt. I ain't never kept the money I was supposed to put in the basket. Never. Not till today.

I feel so bad I wanna go tell my grandma right now. But she gon' probably think I meant to do it. She always thinking I'm up to something. My mama say Grandma just old and used to the way things used to be when she was young. Mama say I got too much energy for Grandma. Man, I'm glad I wasn't born back when she was. That was way back in 1907! My mama say back then kids was to be seen and not heard. They do anything, they get a backslap.

I don't know what I'ma do . . .

I guess I could keep these two quarters and put 'em in with the two my grandma gon' give me next Sunday. Yeah, maybe I will do that. I guess G.o.d don't be caring when He get His money. Long as He get it.

And if G.o.d can forgive me, then maybe my daddy can too. My grandma say, "If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you can move mountains." I have faith and I been praying to G.o.d. So that must mean my daddy he gon' forgive me and start coming to see me again.

But to make sure, I wrote him a letter after church. I used a red pen 'cause red his favorite color. I told my daddy how good I did in school last year. I got all As and one B! So he can see for himself, I sent my report card too. The front of it got four shiny gold stars. Next year I'ma get five stars 'cause I'ma make sure I get straight As. That'll make my daddy happy. But I know he gon' be happy when he see how much I done already improved. After I wrote the letter, I got a stamp and a envelope from my mama. I wrote his address on the front and got her to make sure she could read it. For some reason she looked sad when she handed the envelope back to me. I guess she still feeling sick. She been sick all week. I put the letter and my report card inside, and I ran down to the foot of the hill and dropped the envelope inside the mailbox.

I can't wait to see my daddy again. I know he coming back. I know he is. And when he do come back, he can tell me how to beat Paul once and for all. I was lucky last time. If Paul come after me again, I don't know what I'ma do. And he probably is gon' come after me too. Now that I told Hi-C about him digging up his nose in church. Hi-C was walking through the projects, drinking some Hi-C when I mailed my letter. That's when I told him. I lied though and said Paul had ate his boogas. G.o.d ain't gon' be the only one mad about that lie. But G.o.d gon' forgive me before Paul will.

Maybe my daddy will call soon as he get my letter. Then I can ask him how to beat Paul. I need to know soon. Real soon.

It's nighttime now, so I betta go inside. I don't want my grandma to start fussing at me again. It's cool out here, and the old people that ain't gone in yet don't need to fan theyselves no more. It's getting real dark, dark like that ink that spilt on my suit, and I can hear a lil bird chirping in my grandma's tree. Now he flying away. Planes is like birds, like big metal falcons, and my daddy he gon' get on one and fly down to see me and it's gon' be like it was when he came to see me last time. Like it was when me and him lived in the same house.

And he gon' like me again.

Lion's Blood.

BY STEVEN BARNES.

Cetshwayo's old hunting injury prevented him from riding, but his twin sons Keefah and Darbul wouldn't have missed a hunt for a fistful of Alexanders. So as the sun dipped low above the kraal, Kai and seven highborn men, Zulus and Abyssinian alike, gathered their restless mounts in a mesquite flat ab.u.t.ting a conifer woodland. A dozen lean, alert Zulus accompanied them afoot.

The lead hunter was Shaka Zulu himself, a giant of a man who rode like a centaur. He raised his brawny arms-an ornate spear in one hand, hunting bow in the other, with a quiver on his back-and screamed to the moonless sky. "Let the hunt begin!"

Like Darbul and Keefah, the unmounted warriors were lean, muscular agile men, trained from infancy to be athletes on a par with any in the world. They gripped short stabbing umkhonto with elongated steel blades Kai recalled Malik's sober evaluation of Zulu skill: "Avoid close-quarter combat if there is any chance at all."

"And if I cannot?"

"Then consign your soul to Allah and prepare to enter Paradise. Just do your best to ensure you reach those gates together."

Abu Ali, Ali, and Kai carried rifles as well as spears. Despite her pleas Elenya remained behind at Cetshwayo's mansion. On a normal hunt the Wakil might have considered allowing her to accompany them. "Why can Nandi go?" Elenya had pouted.

Cetshwayo himself had overheard that last and had laughed heartily after Elenya stalked out of the room. "In the old country, Nandi would not ride to the hunt." He sighed. "But this New World gives girls airs. What can I say? I can't control her any longer." He dug his elbow into Kai's ribs hard enough to make the boy chuff air. "I wish you better luck!"

Shaka's white teeth shone in the torchlight. "Only here and on the battlefield do I feel so alive."

Abu Ali pulled up next to him. Kai's family rode Cetshwayo's mounts specially bred hunting stallions of imposing strength and size. Kai's seemed responsive to a feather touch of his knees, and Abu Ali already rode his as if he had raised the monster from a colt.

Abu Ali glanced doubtfully at Shaka's spear. "Can you really make the kill with such a weapon?"

Shaka's broad, scarred face glowed with amus.e.m.e.nt. "You had best hope so, my friend."

Distantly, there came the mournful wail of the hunting horn.

Shaka grew ruminative. "We bring the calves five thousand miles and raise them here, that we might honor the ways of our ancestors. He dies today. Perhaps he will claim one of us as well. Haiii!"

With the suddenness of a lightning stroke he wheeled his horse about as if sensing something that the others had missed completely. Abruptly out of the brush not three dozen cubits away charged two hundred sep of the most fearsome creature Kai had ever seen in his life. Its black horns looked as if they could punch holes in steel, its breath snorted from its broad wet nostrils in clouds of condensation, its hooves furrowed the earth.

Savannah buffalo. Magnificent, and the most dangerous game animal on the African continent. Crafty, powerful, and fast, the buffalo had killed more hunters than lions and leopards combined, and had no natural predators-save men like Shaka Zulu.

Abu Ali's face went grim and he reined his horse closer to Ali. "They are insane," he whispered. "Hold back a bit. Give Shaka and his men the honor of first contact."

"Gladly." Even gallant Ali looked unnerved.

Kai was still formulating his answer when Nandi rode past them. Her tan riding pants were unadorned, as simply functional as any of the men's. Somehow, the garb merely enhanced her sensuality.

As she pa.s.sed Kai she spurred her steed and grinned back at him.

As the very wind of her pa.s.sage ruffled his face, Kai felt her call: primal and wild and stronger than he had antic.i.p.ated. He felt dizzied. "You would have me marry into this family, Father?" Kai called to Abu Ali. "They are all mad." And perhaps I am as well, he thought. "Hai!"

Kai spurred his own horse forward into the fray.

Ali laughed. "Allah, preserve us! I think the boy is in love." And raced after his younger brother.

The footmen's shielded, gas-burning lanterns probed the darkness, but deep patches of shadow remained in the forest. Death lurked within them.

Shaka, his nephews and footmen worked forward in a practiced arc, clearing one segment of gra.s.s after another. The buffalo seemed to have disappeared.

Kai's heart was in his throat. How could so large a beast vanish so completely? Twice he had seen the buffalo erupt out of shadows, and the mounted Zulus had scattered, hooting, as its horns came within digits of their horses. Insanity! Worse yet, they treated it almost like a game. Almost. These men were in the finest, highest physical condition he had ever witnessed. Clearly, they were competing with each other not only physically, but in display of courage. And Nandi was right in the thick of it. What manner of man could ever control such a woman?

There! Their prey had raised up again, and snorted as it charged. One of Shaka's footmen thrust at the beast with a spear, and it wheeled, hitting the man from the side. This time, the hunter was unable to spin out of the way, and the horn pierced his ribs. With a despairing wail, the footman collapsed bleeding into the tall gra.s.s.

Two more men veered in, jabbing, and the buffalo turned. Shaka galloped back in. "Hold!" he cried. "He is mine!"

Deferentially, the footmen backed away. Almost as if it understood that some ultimate moment had arrived, the beast pawed the earth and faced Shaka. Had the Zulus trained it for such an encounter? Did they somehow prepare the calves to provide such moments of drama? Certainly no wild beast would behave in such a manner. Kai glimpsed, and in a shadowy manner understood, something new about the culture whose daughter he was to marry.

Kai and Nandi were eighty cubits to the side, and Kai was ready to wheel and run for it if the monster broke in his direction. But he was also transfixed by its power, by its lethal sweep of horns and breadth of shoulder. In the darkness, partially lit by torches, it seemed more a creature of myth than reality, and Shaka some conquering hero of legend, not a man of flesh and bone.

Shaka and Keefah drew their bows, pulling steadily . . .

Suddenly, as if finally comprehending its danger, the animal flickered its tail and turned, vanishing into the high gra.s.s. As it turned, Shaka loosed his first arrow and it struck behind the buffalo's shoulder. Keefah's shaft, only a moment later, missed the flank and drove into the ground. Roaring with pain and anger, the buffalo made a chuffing sound as it disappeared.

Bearing lanterns and spears, the footmen beat the long gra.s.s, pushing ahead in a horseshoe configuration. They were supported by hors.e.m.e.n, all holding to the rigid pattern.

Shaka rode along the outside, striving for position. When their prey tried to break away, it was herded back with shouts and spears. The buffalo seemed confused, but far from fatigued.

Shaka raced for a shooting position ahead of his prey, but without warning the animal changed course, racing back straight for the footmen. With insane courage they thrust their spears, shone their lights in its eyes and shouted. Again it wheeled, running for the open, where Shaka waited, bow drawn.

Then the beast doubled back again, suddenly ignoring the shouts and spear thrusts. Several of the men cast their umkhontos. Two struck the beast, the hafts flagging out from its back and side like dreadful bamboo stalks, blood running black in the darkness.

The center man was little more than a boy, perhaps seventeen summers. He lost his nerve, cast poorly as the buffalo came straight at him, and missed his mark completely. The men scattered as it charged their line. The beast caught the boy who had missed his cast, gouging his back and sending him flying.

The boy landed hard in the gra.s.s, screaming and thrashing, reaching back spastically for the bleeding wound.

"Fool!" Shaka yelled as he rode by. There was a sheen of madness on his face now. His eyes were too wide, lips pulled tight against his white teeth. The footmen had been left behind now-it was up to the hors.e.m.e.n.

Shaka was racing beside the wounded prey now. He gripped his bow and aimed, horse and buffalo seeming to match each other stride for stride.

He released his bolt, and it entered just behind the left shoulder. The buffalo stumbled, rose again, and thundered on. Shaka released a second arrow. As it struck, the buffalo's knees crumpled, and it dove nose-first into the ground with an earth-shaking impact that would have shattered a lesser creature's spine.

Kai held his breath, unable to fully grasp what he had just witnessed, beyond any doubt the most intense experience of his young life. Allah preserve him! He did not even know that men such as these existed!

Shaka raised his hands to the stars. "Haii!"

"Who is the greatest hunter in all creation?" Darbul roared.

And his footmen, gasping now as they caught up with him, cheered in expected response. Shaka trotted his horse over to his trophy- And it lurched up, catching Shaka's horse in the belly with its left horn. Mortally wounded and neighing in agony, his mount tumbled over backward, and Shaka spilled. Despite his awesome athleticism he crashed awkwardly to earth.

Shaka seemed momentarily dazed, disoriented, and for a moment the entire party was frozen, as if they shared his confusion. As Shaka's mount whined pitiably, the buffalo lurched to its feet. In that instant it could have slain Shaka, but instead it seemed to stare at him, blood drooling from its nose.

The Zulu's face was gaunt and strained. Kai knew that in that moment Shaka Zulu, great hunter, great warrior, was gazing into the face of his own death, and that his soul had recoiled from the awful sight.

Then, twin shots rang out. The buffalo staggered to its knees, then collapsed onto its side.

Kai turned, startled. His father and brother both had their rifles to their shoulders. Smoke drifted from both barrels.

Composing himself as best he could, Shaka rose. His limbs trembled a bit. Perhaps it was the chill of night, but Kai thought otherwise. Shake gave a perfunctory nod of thanks to Abu Ali and his son, and walked off unsteady legs to the buffalo.

Kai found himself looking deep into the beast's eyes. The mighty but falo's breath huffed in painful bursts. Its black eyes were filmed with dust, Kai's next reaction startled him. This poor thing had been stolen in child childhood from its native land, raised only to die for the entertainment of its captors. It had struggled for freedom and life, that Kai could understand Pointless and absurd as it seemed, he wanted to tell the felled creature we done.

Shaka s.n.a.t.c.hed a spear from one of his men and drove it into the wounded beast's side. It heaved in pain. Shaka bore down with all his weight, working the spear back and forth until the heart was pierced and the buffalo lay still.

Shaka raised his arms in victory, yelling in musical, staccato Zulu. The men replied in kind.

"Ngikhuluma isiZulu kancane," Kai said haltingly to Nandi. I speak only a bit of Zulu. "What did he say?"

"He said that this was no ordinary creature, it was a demon, and in slaying it he has become more than a man." Her eyes shone with admiration. She had apparently seen nothing that was not glorious, nothing in the least disturbing in her uncle's behavior. Was that pragmatism? An understanding that even the bravest men know fear? Or delusion, an inability to acknowledge what she had seen? He wasn't sure which, and that uncertainty troubled him.

To Kai's gaze, Shaka had not yet fully recovered, and his trembling was not from the cold. His men apparently noticed nothing of their leader's momentary weakness. They cheered, beating their spears against the ground. Kai and his family smiled politely, but shared searing sidelong glances.

Shaka wrenched his spear from the dead animal's side. Its tip glistened black with blood. He rubbed his finger slowly along the edge. Ignoring his dying horse, Shaka then ran to the spot where his second man had been injured. Kai broke his mount into a trot to keep up.

The wounded youth was curled onto his side like an injured lizard his right arm still groping back for the bleeding wound.

"You are hurt," Shaka said coldly.

The wounded man looked up at Shaka, his teeth chattering.

"Your stupidity could have killed me," Shaka continued, in a conversational tone.

The wounded man said something in Zulu. Kai had the very clear impression that he was begging for his life.

Shaka spoke to him in the same language, his face calm and comforting. Then with shocking suddenness he raised the spear and thrust it deeply into the hunter's stomach. Kai's stomach fisted as the boy's body serched, as if trying to take the spear more deeply into his belly. Then with deadful finality, he went limp.

Kai felt dizzy and sick with rage.

"Allah preserve us!" Abu Ali said in disbelief. "What have you done?"

Shaka withdrew the spear and wiped it on the dead boy's chest. "What my right." He shrugged as if it was of little consequence. "He would have died in some days. To die on your king's spear is an honor."

The Wakil's face was as stone. "There are no kings in Bilalistan."

Shaka grinned and pointed to his men, who had moved to encircle the party. "Tell them," he said.

Kai scaned them. Fourteen now, standing proud and silent, chests high, gripping their spears, ready to kill or die for the man they followed. Kai felt a deep and pervasive cold seeping into his bones.

"There were kings in the days of my fathers," Shaka said. "Mark well-there may be again."

His mood had shifted completely, as if killing the hunter had purged him of all stress. He turned to his men. "Bring me the head! Put my steed from its misery. Bear your brother on a stretcher, he burns tomorrow."

Shaka ordered one of his men off his horse and mounted without a trace of hesitation. If he had been injured in the fall, the injury was already forgotten. His men scrambled to fulfill his orders.

Abu Ali and his sons rode together quietly, watching. Nandi pulled her horse up next to Shaka, clearly worshipful. "Uncle," she said. "You were wonderful. But weren't you afraid?"

Shaka Zulu rode proudly. "Nandi, fear is neither ally nor enemy. I never see fear, my child."

Ali whispered in Kai's ear: "You cannot see what lives behind your own eyes."

"Father," Kai said. "What do we do?"

Abu Ali shook his head. "The Zulus are allies of the Empress-and Shaka is as much royalty as Lamiya. On their land, it is their world. We can do nothing."