by Jack Cage
“Agreed. Your mother is correct, Son. You have the lion’s spirit inside you, and you must embrace it. It will probably save your life in the future,” said Zuberi.
Back at the mountain pass north of the Sefu village, a scout hiding within the bushes saw a large group of men heading south from the Ema territory.
“Oh no,” he said to himself, and took off running down the mountain pass toward the group of warriors stationed at the bottom. “They are coming,” he whispered loudly. “We must tell the others!”
“Go, Brother, hurry!” said one of the warriors.
The scout sprinted to the Sefu village, and yelled, “The Ema are coming!”
Chief Coffa closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. With the elderly and the young gone with Amri as their protector, it was up to him and his warriors to defend their village and send the Ema back to their land.
“What is your command, Chief?” asked one of the warriors.
“We will do as we planned, and not allow them to come to our village. We will fight them as they come down the mountain pass. That will give us the advantage,” Coffa said confidently. “We will be victorious!”
The Sefu warriors took their long spears, handmade stone knives, and other weapons to the mountain pass, ready to fight the Ema as they descended.
Within minutes, the Ema warriors were climbing the mountain and making their way along the path that separated the two tribe’s lands. The Ema had sent a formidable army to fight the Sefu people. Fueled by rage, the Ema sought revenge for their disemboweled Chief Ameqran, and control of the Sefu territory.
The Ema warriors did not care that Amri Sefu and the rest of the Sefu men were on the other side of the mountain pass, they only wanted to avenge their fallen leader. One of the Ema leaders was asked, “Do you think we can take them by surprise?”
“No. I expect them to be waiting for us at the bottom of the mountain,” said Kenje the brother of Kahina, one of the Ema elders that was violently killed by Amri when the Sefu men escaped the ambush a day prior. “We will have to fight our way down to their village. Many of our men will die soon, but we have the numbers to defeat the Sefu if we fight without fear of their “Black Lion.” The large contingent of sixty-five thin and tall Ema warriors snaked their way past the waterfall.
“Should we wait for them to strike, Chief Coffa? Or should we go up and meet them on the higher ground?” asked one of the Sefu warriors.
“No. We will remain here at the bottom, Brother,” Coffa commanded. “We have the advantage of being on land we are familiar with.” He was crouched low in the stringy brush lining the hillside when he caught sight of the first of the Ema warriors heading down to flat land. “Wait…” he whispered to his warriors as more Ema descended from the higher ground. The warriors waited, tensed and ready, and when twenty-five Ema warriors were visible, Chief Coffa gave the order, “Attack!”
Screaming could be heard from the mountainside all the way to the Sefu village as waves of brown-skinned warriors clashed at the bottom of the valley. The Ema men could not all go down mountain path at the same time and were forced to descend down a bottleneck into the hoard of prepared Sefu warriors.
The Ema, propelled by anger, had to either win the fight at the bottom of the valley or die avenging the death of their leader.
Close-quarter fighting was not a Sefu warrior’s skill. His swift speed and adeptness with a long spear made him better suited for hunting.
However, these gifts did not serve them when fighting another human. The Ema were better equipped for this type of fighting.
The strikes from their shortened spears and bone daggers made quick work of the less-gifted Sefu fighting force.
Chief Coffa’s warriors were outnumbered and inept. Unfortunately, the greatest Sefu warrior that had ever lived was now miles away leading his people to safety. It had been a wise decision, after all.
It was late in the afternoon as blood spattered out of the Sefu warrior’s mouth. A screaming Ema warrior mounted the dazed enemy’s torso and violently drove his spear into the Sefu fighter’s eye. Chief Coffa saw the horrifying display, came up behind the Ema soldier and ended his celebratory yell by slashing his throat with a stone knife. “Go back toward the village!” Coffa yelled as he gazed upon dozens of his fallen tribesmen at the base of the mountain pass.
The Sefu warriors could not hold back the Ema fighters whose size and formidable fighting ability was far beyond that of their foes.
Chief Coffa knew there was a chance they would be overtaken at the mountain pass, so he had kept the rest of his fighting force back in the village.
As the Sefu men retreated south, more of the Ema men were able to come down from the mountain in pursuit. They did not immediately follow the Sefu men toward the south.
The recently injured Ema leader Kenje said, “We shall regroup here quickly. Kill any wounded Sefu men that you find, and we will continue to the Sefu village immediately.” Kenje’s larger fighting force had proven they were more skilled in combat than their enemies; he had fifty-two soldiers left to lead into the heart of the Sefu village.
Chief Coffa’s heart was beating violently as he sat in desperation back in the village. Despite the position he held within the Sefu tribe, he could not mask the fear he felt, or muster the strength to rally his people. He was not afraid to die—he was afraid of failing his people. He looked at his battered warriors and his remaining fighting force of forty fighters, and decided he would have to find courage and share one final thought with them.
“Brothers, we are here because we love our families, and we love one another,” he said. “I am sorry I brought this war upon us; I am sorry I brought this pain onto our families. We cannot let the Ema take our village, Brothers. We must defend our land just like Amri would if he was with us. We will fight them with spear and heart, and we will die as warriors not cowards!”
The Sefu tribesmen yelled loudly in support, and within minutes the Ema soldiers were running toward the northern portion of the village. “Throw your spears!” Coffa ordered.
Several long spears were thrown at the advancing Ema fighters; many were hit in stride as they hurtled their way toward the Sefu village.
Several Ema warriors were impaled, but that did not stop them from advancing. “Attack!” ordered Kenje as they dodged the flying Sefu spears. “Burn down everything in sight!”
The battle for the Sefu village was neither graceful, nor was it very efficient. Men’s heads were bludgeoned with stones from fire pits, arms were severed by wildly swung stone knives and spears, and, in the end, the Sefu tribe, including their leader, Chief Coffa, could not defeat Kenje and his larger fighting force. All were lost, just as the lion spirit predicted in Amri’s dream.
***
Far in the northwestern distance, the remaining members of the Sefu tribe were resting for the evening. Amri was feeling unsettled, and Endesha could tell his brother’s spirit was not at peace. “Are you alright, Brother?” Endesha asked.
“No, Desha, I am troubled.”
“What troubles you my child?” Furaha asked.
Amri looked down at the ground and said, “They are all gone mother. I had a dream last night, and in it, the spirit of the lion I killed told me all of our people would be lost, and I had to lead us to the Kuno land.”
“Is that the reason why you wanted to leave so quickly today?” Zuberi asked.
“Yes Father, I knew we had to leave when we did, or we would perish as well.” Amri looked up to the night sky. He wanted to cry and mourn the loss of his tribesmen, but emotion was absent from his body. All he could do was look to the many visible stars, and think about his fallen uncle.
Coffa was not just his chief, he was his family and teacher, and Amri looked up to him as much as he did his father. This was not going to be a peaceful night as the remaining Sefu people wept and mourned the loss of their fallen sons and fathers. The winds were still, yet again, on this cool starlit night.
The ne
xt morning the Sefu contingent continued their trek towards the Kuno land. The elder members of the Sefu tribe had slowed the pace, but Amri was eager to finish the two-day journey as quickly as possible because they did not have enough food for everyone.
Early in the days travel, Zuberi, pained and stiff from the previous day, reluctantly continued the journey on his older son’s back. “How ironic is it that you once used to carry Amri in your arms, and now he carries you, old man?” Faraha said jokingly.
“We are lucky to have had such a strong child to help us make this journey across the lands,” Zuberi said with a smile, while tapping his son’s broad shoulders.
“Ask Chief Chipo how long has it been since he was last on Kuno soil,” Amri requested one of the tribesmen.
Shortly thereafter, a response made it back to Amri from the front of the group. “Chief Chipo says he has not been there since he was a young man, over thirty years ago,” said the tribesmen.
“I hope we will be better received than we were with the Ema,” said Endesha as the group laughed softly.
The setting sun signaled the end to another day as the Sefu people continued to travel toward the North African coastline and the Kuno village.
Amri, Endesha, and some of the older Sefu boys returned from a hunting trip in time to see the sun hide behind the newly discovered horizon. “We have been traveling for a long time,” said one of the Sefu children.
“Yes. I believe it took less time to get to the Kuno land many years ago because I was so much younger then,” said Chief Chipo.
“We are close to the Kuno land. I can tell,” Amri said.
“Oh? How do you know, my son?”
“The ground is different here than it was yesterday.” Amri grabbed a handful of the sandy earth.
“Indeed. The ground in the Kuno village is white as the clouds, and there is water as far as the eye can see.” A group started to sit around him.
Chief Chipo knew he had their attention, and while their dinner was being prepared, he decided to have Amri assist in the storytelling. “Amri, what else have you noticed about this land?”
The young warrior looked to the sky, and replied, “There is a different smell to this place—sweet, like fruit. I think I can smell the water, too.”
“I remember the way the water smells in the Kuno land, and what I remember even more is the wonderful meats that the Kuno people eat.
It is not tough like the meat we eat in our village. It is like you are eating the softest of clouds,” said Chief Chipo.
“I don’t want to rest anymore. Let us continue walking so we can get some of that food now!” Endesha exclaimed as he stood and began walking away from the group.
The Sefu people enjoyed their moment of fellowship, and dined as they continued to listen to Chief Chipo’s stories.
Amri was not a participating with the group. Instead, he was walking with Endesha and talking about their dreams. “Do you desire to fight all of the time?” asked Endesha as they walked in the moonlit darkness.
“I do not desire to fight all of the time, but I feel the most alive when I am taking other’s lives,” Amri replied.
“You do not feel alive right now?”
“No. I feel like this is just a break between the battles I have yet to face in my future.” Amri raised his arms over his head to stretch, and his joints popped and snapped in protest.
The next morning, the Sefu tribe started out on the last leg of their journey toward the Kuno land, and by mid-day, they could see the large sand dunes in the far distance. The children ran ahead of them with youthful excitement.
The land was indeed as white as clouds, and the softness of the sand was a welcomed treat for sore Sefu feet. After crossing the sand dunes, gasps could be heard from the front of the group, and as Amri and his family caught up with the rest, they saw why everyone had stopped walking. In front of them was a vast valley of blue water. It looked like the sky was on the ground, but it was moving with a crashing rhythm that never changed, just repeated every few moments.
The wind returned, and its cooling touch was refreshing to Amri and Endesha. Amri exhaled as much as he could before filling his lungs with the largest breath he could take.
As he inhaled, he gorged himself on the sweet smells of this new land, and it was intoxicating to him. The old and young played and sang songs in the water. They were very thankful for making it to the Kuno land unharmed and healthy as the land once again provided for them.
15
T he Sefu people had successfully made it to the Kuno land. Eventually, everyone became tired from playing and singing in the water, and as they walked away from the water, they noticed there were no other people along the seaside. “Does any of this look familiar to you, Chief Chipo?” asked one of the younger tribesmen.
Looking equally puzzled Chief Chipo replied, “I don’t know, my child, but we will continue north and should reach the Kuno village soon.
“All right then, let us head north as Chief Chipo says,” Amri commanded. His pleasant distraction by the sea was brought to an end once he was reminded they had yet to find the Kuno village. The sun was quickly retreating to the bottom of the flattened water line, so they had little time before it would set.
As the Sefu travelers regrouped and headed up the coastline, they noticed smoke in the distance. They made their way toward it, and as they did, they began seeing decorative markings on the trees that lined the beach. Chief Chipo immediately recognized the carvings and said, “We are here.”
As the Sefu people walked closer to the Kuno village, Elder Chief Chipo called for Zuberi and Amri to escort him, and the other village elders to lead the group to greet the Kuno Chief.
They were greeted by some Kuno warriors. Chief Chipo asked one of them to bend down, and he whispered into the young Kuno man’s ear.
He nodded in agreement, and gave the elder chief a welcoming hug and a smile. The Kuno men led the Sefu people into their village where they were greeted with music and smiles from the Kuno people.
Eventually, they were led to the center of the Kuno village and were given food and drink. Just as Chief Chipo told, the Kuno tribe’s food was like nothing the Sefu people have ever tasted before. The tribe prepared various grilled and salted fish, and odd-looking shelled fish that was not well received, but clearly the favorite of the Kuno people. This feast was unlike anything that Endesha had ever tasted.
The sweetness of the smoked fish—along with the fresh and dried fruits—provided a semi-permanent smile on Endesha’s young face. Zuberi and Furaha took much delight in watching their youngest son enjoy the meal he had dreamed so much of during their travels to the Kuno village. As the Sefu clan ate and fellowshipped with the Kuno people, Amri was not yet willing to drop his guard. He had a better feeling here than he had in the Ema village, but could not forget what happened there. He did not want to have that experience repeated, so he ate slowly, and remained cautious.
Amri noticed the Kuno people did not look like the members of the Sefu tribe. They were tall, and their skin was a lighter shade of brown. Unlike his people’s short, coarse hair, the Kuno’s hair was long, and appeared soft; some of them even had hair that was white like the sand.
When their feast was almost over, the Kuno people had their musicians play and they sang their traditional songs for the Sefu people. Unfortunately, the only person who knew what they were saying was Chief Chipo.
The music suddenly stopped and the Kuno people knelt down to their knees, and the Sefu people did the same. Of course, Amri did not want to comply, but a swift blow to the back of his head by Zuberi forced him to acquiesce his father’s demands.
The Kuno’s leader, Chief Olamide came out of his hut wearing a skirt made of twisted leaves and vines with intricately braided grasses that hung down toward the bottom of his thighs. His head was wrapped with an elaborate crown made of the same braided leaves and grasses, and his face and body were painted with bright colors. To his left was his daugh
ter, Nsia, and to his right was his first in command Chike. Chief Olamide started to speak, but Amri could not understand what he said, so he focused his attention on the chief’s daughter.
Nsia was different than any woman Amri had ever seen. She was tall with long, flowing, black hair. Her skin was golden-brown, and her body was very pleasing to Amri. He was snapped from his gaze by a nudge to his arm from his brother. Endesha could tell his older brother was smitten, and whispered to Amri, “I know what you are looking at.”
Amri quipped back, “Shut up, boy.”
Furaha interjected quietly, “Boys, the chief is talking.”
Both Sefu brothers silenced themselves as the Kuno chief finished his speech. When he stopped talking, Chief Chipo stood up to formally greet Chief Olamide.
The two leaders hugged, and Chief Chipo kissed the Kuno chief’s hand in reverence, then addressed his own people. “Brothers and Sisters, Chief Olamide has welcomed the Sefu people into his village to join the Kuno as members of their tribe.
I have accepted his offer on behalf of the Sefu people, and told him we are grateful for his kindness and hospitality,” he said, and proudly continued. “We will sleep here tonight, and, tomorrow, the Kuno will help us build our own huts within the village. Here, we can grow with the Kuno, learn their language, and be a part of their family as one people.” The Sefu people cheered with renewed hope.
Over the next couple of days, the younger members of the Sefu tribe worked with the Kuno craftsmen to build their huts. Each round hut would be large enough to fit one family, and some were even large enough for two.
The materials to build the huts were easily found within the Kuno village. Large leaves and vines held securely with twine made from the local trees provided a well-made and secure shelter. Amri enjoyed being taught how to use his hands for something other than hunting. He welcomed the opportunity to use the creativity he had been suppressing over the last two years, and even wondered if he would eventually share his father’s love and skill with carving.