by Peter Knyte
But like all dreams it had to come to an end, and on awaking I could feel much of the precious memory slip away from me, evaporating like the morning mist beneath the heat of day.
I was on my back beneath that colossal rock face, the morning light illuminating its smoke-darkened surface in a warm golden light that made all the painted figures seem more restful, content for the day to just lie across the surface and cease their efforts to jump free.
Mkize was already up and talking with some of the Maasai as they prepared food over the now much lower remnants of last nights bonfire. I felt refreshed and rested both mentally and physically, I’d been placed on my own sleeping matt, and as I looked around I could see the same had been done for all my friends.
Marlow was already up and was just a few yards off from the group, sat watching the sunrise. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting as I got up and walked over to him.
As I sat down beside him, I noticed he’d unwrapped the bandage from his forearm and was unconsciously tracing the lines of the twin gashes with his forefinger. He smiled up at me as I sat down.
‘We think of these people as being so primitive in comparison to ourselves, but sometimes… sometimes I wonder whether we haven’t got it the wrong way around.’
‘Yes,’ I responded, ‘it was an extraordinary night. I’m not sure what to make of it, but I feel very grateful to have been able to take part.’
‘Can it really have been just a dream George?’ He asked, taking his eyes off the horizon to look at me.
I had to demur at such a straight forward question, ‘What else could it be,’ I responded, ‘I’m not sure I’m ready to start believing that I’ve just spent the evening talking to spirits!’
‘Perhaps, but I do think Nelion was right,’ replied Marlow looking back to the rising sun, ‘our world, with all its science and culture is lost. We’ve advanced so far in some ways, but at the expense of so much else.’
Jean and Harry were the next to come around, closely followed by the others. The evening had obviously put us all in thoughtful mood, but Jean, Silvio and Luke seemed not to have taken to the experience in the same way as the rest of us. Though their low spirits may have seemed worse in contrast to Harry who was positively giddy with his recollection of the evening.
‘Astounding! Everything seems so clear, so obvious. I don’t know how I can’t have seen things this way before!’ was all he seemed able to say, amid his incessant questioning of what everyone else had seen and experienced.
Of the three Shaman there was no sign and Nbutu would say only that they had gone. As such with apparently nothing more to hear or be told, we began to make our scant preparations to return. We did have to wait for a couple of hours for both Jean and Harry who were determined to loiter. Jean so he could do a ‘quick’ sketch of the rock face and its multitude of figures and symbols, much to the confusion of the Maasai. Harry so he could try and find a way up to the top of the cliff and the source of the drums. Needless to say they both took far longer than they’d planned and it was mid-morning by the time we eventually set off.
Heading back down though was much easier going than it had been on the way up. Obviously it was now a slight decline most of the way, but we also seemed to run into fewer delays. So much so that even with our late start we still managed to get back to our horses and temporary camp by the end of the day.
After a full day of walking we were all tired and ready for a good rest, but as we sat and lay around the fire after our meal, the conversation turned toward the previous evening, and the dreams we had each experienced.
Harry was obviously going to be the one who started us off, he was just desperate to find out what everyone else had experienced.
‘I know I’ve gone on about this perhaps a bit too much, but last night changed the way I see things and I’d really like to know if it was the same for any of you.’
‘You keep saying that Harry,’ said Peter, ‘but you don’t actually tell us what you saw.’
‘Well I’d say it was more a case of what I lived than what I saw, for the time I spent talking to those... spirits seemed as real as talking to you now. But if hearing about my night will help loosen your tongues, then so it is.’
‘I remember taking the bowl from Rob, not that I realised I’d decided to drink until it happened, so I guess the moment must have just overcome me. Anyway, I watched it go to you George, and then Jean, and then I remember looking back at those three elders to see what they were doing. But as I looked over toward them, I noticed over their shoulders, back on the rock face, there was a symbol I hadn’t seen before, a strangely geometric circle of marks. It was low down so I figure one of the Maasai must have been stood in front or some such, but I was sure I’d seen it somewhere before.
‘Well I just couldn’t place where I’d seen that symbol, so I kept looking at it, trying to figure it out, then I noticed this symbol was carved into the rock, maybe even chiselled, not painted like all the others. Finding this strange I turned to mention it, but of course you were all no longer there, in your place was my old archaeology professor, Dr Zimmerman.
‘Now I had, or have a great deal of respect for my old professor, and had stayed in fairly regular contact up until his death a few years ago. So once I got over the idea of seeing him again, we just took up where we’d left off and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. We talked about the symbol and where else it had been seen, with our memories conjuring us to the places we discussed.
‘I think I was aware that I was dreaming or under the effects of Nelion’s potion, but only distantly. Even so, that distant awareness was enough for me to be conscious of the fact that my old professor was steering our conversation, ever so subtly, along the lines that Nelion had mentioned. The symbol and slight variations on it, seemed to always represent flux and stability, and had been found at the core of so many early faiths and mythologies, often relating to world origins, or the nature of reality as shaped and agreed by the gods.
‘After a while I thought I could guess where he was leading me, until eventually he came right out and told me.’
‘Our world Harry,’ he began, ‘or rather your world now, has never been good at considering some philosophical questions. Often we prefer to leave the consideration of deeper matters to more spiritual minds. But there are questions, which we should have considered, decisions or agreements that may no longer serve your interests, that could even become limits. It may even be time for the world you know to leave its Gods behind and be shaped again in our own image.’
‘When put so bluntly, I must confess I found it all a bit overwhelming, and admitted the same to my old friend. He was sympathetic, and assured me that I was under no obligation to go any further, there were others... Including you Rob, who he showed me brief glimpses of, who may be more comfortable taking such steps.’
As Harry recounted this last section of his dream, I perceived a pronounced discomfort in the faces of the two Italians. Neither of them said anything, but I saw them glance at each other, and I watched Silvio as he both uncharacteristically and unconsciously touched the cross and chain around his neck.
Marlow was also noticeably quiet, a deep frown of concentration on his face as he stared intently into the fire.
For the first time, I think Harry started to pick up on some of the tension around him, and he became a little more hesitant as he continued.
‘I had to think about my Professor’s offer for a while, but as some of you will know, I’ve never been one to accept things quietly. So I began to ask questions, what agreements had been made, and how did they limit us. I didn’t get the answers I wanted of course, perhaps I didn’t push hard enough, or ask in the right way, but after a while I got the message that reviewing such things was not in the nature of the process.’
‘Instead others appeared, who I didn’t know, and our conversation turned to the nature of life, death and faith, including my lack of purpose. But I don’t think my heart was rea
lly in it, and eventually they drifted away. I just wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do, so I chose to return to the rock face and the carved symbol. Professor Zimmerman accompanied me back, offering what encouragement he could, before he too walked back into the night.’
There was a pause for a while, with just the sound of the crackling fire. Nobody questioned the nature of Harry’s experience, but eventually Jean piped up with a question that I think several of us had been thinking of.
‘You mention seeing Robert in your dream, but what was it you saw him doing?’
‘Well I know this will sound kind of strange, but I saw you walking and talking with that lion Rob, the one you killed. I could see its mane still soaked with blood, so I know it was the same one.’
‘That's alright Harry,’ Marlow wearily responded, ‘What you saw was right.’
He seemed almost resigned as he began to speak, as though he knew beforehand that we wouldn’t comprehend what he was saying, but that there was never going to be a better time.
‘I too remember taking the bowl from Nelion as you all saw, and drinking deep of its strange contents. Anyway it didn’t take long for the drug to start having its effect, and soon I felt myself becoming entranced by the fire and the shadows dancing around us.
‘I don’t know at what point I lost track of everyone else, but after a while the lion that I killed, appeared from the darkness on the other side of the fire and came toward me. I don’t know how, but I knew it was there as my guide, so when it turned I followed. Away from the fire and into the drum-filled night beyond.
‘We walked for a time before coming to another fire. It was in a broad, open place with just stars above, and a host of figures gathered around. As we approached, my guide abruptly bunched up his back legs as though to sit or jump, but instead lifted his front feet off the ground and... stood up to reveal a man in a lion skin cloak. Now upright, he turned with a completely natural motion and welcomed me to the group.
‘They were stood in a circle a comfortable distance from the leaping flames, all talking either with those next to them or across the circle, a confused and raucous babble. As I looked around I saw that many of them were also wearing the skins of animals, whilst some were clad in leaves or grass and a few shimmering individuals seemed to be garbed in running water, mist or cloud.’
‘My guide had waited for a moment whilst I took in the spectacle of the group, before he addressed me in his deep rumbling voice.’
‘You are welcome in this place, O’ son of man. We are the spirits of this world, those responsible for the shape of its plains and rivers, its oceans and shorelines, the high places and the deep, all that you see and touch has been shaped by us.’
‘His golden-eyed gaze ranged over those around the fire as he spoke these words before returning to rest upon me.’
‘I’m not quite sure how it happened. I talked at first of my attempt to find meaning through the hunt, a challenge that would test me to my limits, in order that I might grow and expand those limits. This seemed to cause much debate amongst the group, conversations and questions flying in all directions. Why did I need this challenge, where would it stop and what did I hope to become by forcing myself through such trials. I tried to ask questions in return, only to have them evaded or ignored.
‘Though I couldn’t see what fuel it was burning, the fire seemed as though it was getting brighter and bigger and hotter. I felt dizzy with the heat and the frenzy of conversation, and then it all suddenly became clear and cool.’
‘You represent the forms of all that has been shaped in this world, all that can be known and touched, but man is becoming something that you did not shape, and the world in which we live is also becoming something that you did not shape.’ As I uttered the words, the one question that I must ask became clear in my mind. ‘Which of you shaped our minds, our thoughts, the aspect of us that represents our real natures?’
‘It was as though a thunderclap had suddenly deafened me to the group around. The moment froze as they stopped and simply looked upon me. And then the fire seemed to respond, its light and heat increased, several of those stood around raised their hands to shield their faces, and then took a step back from the heat. It was scorching, I could hardly breath the burning air, let alone look at the brilliance at its centre.’
‘And then, I don’t know why. I stepped forward, the pain overwhelming, toward that inferno of light and heat, until I touched it, the flaming essence of reality. For the briefest moments I saw and understood everything, before I was overcome.’
‘The rest you know, I woke up early this morning on my sleeping mat, with my memories of the dream fading with each passing second.’
CHAPTER 4 – BEGINNINGS
The following morning as we began our journey back to the lodge it was with a mixture of emotions. Following Marlow’s account of the previous night Sylvio had become increasingly agitated, until finally after many a false start he’d told us his account of how he’d encountered his grandfather, who’d been a suicide and was therefore damned in Silvio’s eyes. So even though the encounter had no overtly malevolent elements, it clearly distressed the Italian more than he wanted to admit.
Added to this we were awoken early the next morning my Mkize who was concerned that the rains were coming. The combination of the two was enough to dampen even Harry’s enthusiasm to pursue the subject further.
By the time there was enough light to see, we were well on our way, but the rain clouds could already be seen over the distant horizon, and all of us who’d been caught in the rains before knew that meant we were in for a soaking. It was just a question of how far we’d get before it started.
The Savannah and brush are strange places just before a storm, the animals and even the plants seem to know that an abundance of water will soon be available, and with it the end, albeit temporarily, to harsh adversity and the struggle for life. Suddenly the dust and dryness is transformed into a verdant playground and every living thing seems to have a spring in its step and foolishness at heart.
Whether because of this or not, I don’t know, but with the clouds racing across the heavens toward us we were making a desperate attempt to quicken our speed, only to have seemingly every impediment possible stand in our way. On the first day we travelled late into the night and set off again early the next morning whilst it was still very much dark. Even giving our horses the minimum amount of rest we could by walking alongside them for part of the way rather than stopping, we’d still travelled no more than half the distance to the lodge before the first big, fat drops of water started to land around us.
Within minutes the rain was an opaque sheet on every side, and we were reduced to blindly following the grey shape of the person in front, nose to tail, trusting our guides to somehow find their way through the downpour.
After an hour in the saddle, making no noticeable headway, I began to lose track of where we were and what we were doing. Even the rain became less a downpour and more a series of tiny rivers and streams flowing over my cloth-plastered skin.
By early afternoon we were surely the most wretched individuals on the planet. But just as it seemed there was no end in sight, the rains stopped and we were released. It often happens like this right at the start of the rains, for although they can go on for a week or even two in exceptional years, they frequently include a prelude as though to warn unwary travelers of what’s to come. Needless to say we didn’t need to be told twice, and within moments had picked up our pace. It was difficult going now with the earth sticking in thick wet lumps to the horse’s feet, but we pushed on and miraculously managed to get within sight of the lodge before those heavy raindrops once again started to fall.
I’ve rarely been so happy to see a place in my life, as I was that evening, entering the lodge with Marlow, Harry and the others, tired and worn from the journey, straight into the welcoming arms of a stiff drink and some hot food.
We’d arrived slightly late for dinner, but the lodge m
anager, somehow anticipating our return that evening, had not only prepared an abundance of hot water for bathing, but had also arranged a simple yet hearty meal.
We were all washed and changed in double-quick time, the luxury of being dry and the hot filling food ameliorating our frayed nerves and tired frames. Thoughts of the drums and Nelion’s dreams put aside, if not forgotten, for a short time. Despite our tiredness though, there was still work to be done resurrecting our equipment from the day’s watery onslaught. The lodge-staff were a wonder, and did a sterling job with everything. But the rifles and much of the personal or delicate equipment merited our own personal attention. As such, following on almost straight after the meal, we retired as a group to the bar with a drink and a rifle or other piece of equipment, rags, brushes, tools and oil for an industrious and good-natured end to the day.
I awoke the following morning to the same sound of distant thunder and drumming rain that I’d fallen asleep to the previous night. A comfortable bed and fresh bedding had worked wonders on my mood and general feeling of well-being, and I stretched out of bed in the most slovenly fashion before glancing out of the window at a grey and very waterlogged Africa. A leisurely wash and shave later and I was ready to stroll downstairs for some breakfast and a day of housebound idleness.
Amazingly I was the first one to rise, so decided to wait until one of the others came down before going in to breakfast. I didn’t have long to wait before Jean meandered down to join me, followed intermittently by the others.