She’s wise and clairvoyant but has remained an enigma all her working life. She has a gift of sensing and seeing the life journey of the newborns before they take their first steps in the thorny plains of life and she shares her visions with the mothers and an appropriate name is given to the infant as a reminder of their purpose. This is important to the new mothers as the tribes believe that one’s name should act as a compass in the journey of life.
Over a period of time, the midwife noticed that there were special souls being born across the land; babies that had old souls and an incredible awareness of what is. These children were in some way handicapped for reasons she couldn’t comprehend. Some couldn’t speak properly and had difficulty in communicating verbally. Others were deaf and some were blind; they were born as outcasts but had an uncanny ability to see things that others couldn’t see. She noticed that these divine powers were more endowed in children with albinism. These children didn’t necessarily preach good over evil but sang songs of enchantment with their hearts. Their magical spiritual works were unseen; however, change was happening as a result of them being born.
The lord of darkness became aware of this phenomenon of these indigo children and contrived a cunning plan to extinguish their light. The ultimate plan of Lord Bubi’s from time immemorial was to hijack and corrupt points of entry to the different worlds and the course of birth was such a point of entrance that needed to be manipulated. He assigned the high priestess Mthakathi to corrupt the midwife so that such babies were killed at birth to rid the kingdom of the threat they may pose.
The high priestess of darkness appeared in the midwife’s dreams a number of times, draining her of all the characteristics that were intended for spiritual ascension, and managed to convince her to serve the underworld. She used black magic to manipulate and infringe upon the midwife’s free will. The midwife was promised to serve as a high priestess of the underworld upon fulfilling her earthly mission. Mthakathi warned the midwife of a girl with albinism that would be born in the first moon of spring. She foresaw the birth of Nwelezelanga; legends of the tribes foretold her coming and there were many children of the star who paved the way. The stage was finally set when she was born but the dark worshippers had clandestine and immoral plans to contradict what is; Mthakathi told the midwife to deliver death to Nwelezelanga’s undeserving soul as the child would go on to make ‘false promises’ to the masses about everlasting life and disturb the old order of the wicked empire.
The midwife chose to act as a guardian for Lord Bubi by killing babies with extraordinary awareness and deceiving their mothers by telling them that they either had had a miscarriage, or given birth to stillborn babies. Those who managed to survive were deemed as cursed and killed soon thereafter. The midwife chose to descend to the lower ranks of the underworld and served the world of suffering and black magic.
The night was restless, the clouds moved hesitantly in the sky and the wind hummed a troubled tune full of obscure messages. The midwife carried a sack on her back and moved with purpose. Nokwakha was behind her with eyes full of wonder. Dogs howled curiously at the moon and haunted the evening. The two night explorers went beyond the sleeping villages and deep into the woods. Owls hooted from the tall trees and bats flew surprisingly close above their heads. They entered the notorious enigmatic Nyavini forest. The midwife waited for Nokwakha, who was trailing behind.
‘Follow closely behind me and be cautious where you’re stepping,’ said the midwife.
The unknown observed from behind the bushes and the creatures of the night whistled curious melodies. The women went deeper into the forest, passed some streams and then reached a bare patch of land next to a big rock.
‘Let’s collect dry wood to make a fire,’ instructed the midwife.
They collected wood, which was readily available, and the midwife made a bonfire that reached for the sky. She took a bottle with a liquid concoction from her pouch and gave it to Nokwakha to drink.
‘This will help you to relax a bit and transport you to higher planes,’ the midwife assured her.
Nokwakha took a sip and she frowned in reaction to the unpleasant taste of the drink.
‘Drink some more!’ bellowed the midwife.
Nokwakha took a couple of sips and gave the bottle back to the midwife, who gulped some of it down.
The midwife then took off her clothes and painted her body with ochre. She took a hideous mask and a flamboyant headdress from her sack and put them on. She started to sing from the base of her gut and danced around the bonfire in dizzy circles. She made grunting and shrieking sounds. She was drunk with emotions and high in spirit.
Nokwakha looked on hypnotised and bewildered by the activities. The midwife leapt over the fire and made horse sounds. She spoke in tongues, summoning the spirit of Lord Bubi and foam formed in the corners of her mouth.
‘Take off your clothes,’ the midwife roared and took a razor from her pouch. ‘You need protection from bad omens that keep attaching themselves to you.’
She made tiny razor incisions all over Nokwakha’s body and smeared powdered medicine into the cuts. Nokwakha was blind to the thickening plot. The midwife gave Nokwakha another sip of the liquid concoction.
‘Stand up,’ instructed the midwife.
‘Follow me,’ she shouted.
They circled the fire; the liquid potion stirred up happy emotions and they laughed deliriously and danced crazily. Nokwakha was mesmerised under the spell of the midwife and had completely forfeited her will. They jumped over the bonfire and the flames caressed their naked bodies. Characteristics of a wild animal had taken over. The midwife then took a kitten from her sack and decapitated it. She drank the dripping blood and smeared her whole body with it. She made Nokwakha suck the blood of the lifeless creature and also smeared her body with blood. The midwife ripped and tore the lifeless kitten into pieces and swallowed the raw meat; she gave Nokwakha her own share to swallow. A scream echoed in the dark forest.
‘Can you hear that?’ enquired the unknowing apprentice with glistening eyes.
‘Here, wear this.’ The midwife gave Nokwakha a black-hooded robe and put one on herself.
Nokwakha was a lost soul in the deep territory of all things dark. The scream got louder and louder. Two masked figures appeared from the bushes dragging an albino child. The child kicked and screamed for dear life. The shrill cry arrested the night. Nokwakha looked on in shock. The midwife bowed at the two masked figures; there was mutual respect among them. The midwife assisted them in tying the girl’s hands and feet with rope. One of the masked women started to beat a small drum and the booming sound echoed in the still of the night, reaching the deeper terrains of the forest. They danced with rhythm and the midwife joined the festivities. Nokwakha joined them and danced awkwardly, showing hesitation. The hold of the liquid potion she drank earlier was wearing off.
The ritual reached its climax as the group feverishly chanted songs of praise to Lord Bubi. They paid tribute to the dark star in the hidden recess of outer space. They called upon the spirit of Mpundulu and Mthakathi to appear in their midst. The midwife fed more wood to the fire. The masked women jumped over the flames and giggled, like a cackle of hyenas. The midwife sharpened a knife for Nokwakha to do the honours of the sacrifice and the masked women dragged the albino girl closer to the fire. One of the women took a burning stick and burnt the little feet of the girl. She screamed a deafening cry and a chorus of evil laughter cascaded from the congregation. Nokwakha was terrified and dumbstruck. The worshippers of darkness fed upon the agony the girl was experiencing; the dark spirits thrive in the disharmony and pain of others. They called upon the dark lord.
‘Oh lord of darkness, ruler of eternity, we bow to you in all humbleness.’
‘Welcome to your kingdom another servant to your rule.’
‘With this sacrifice, we ask that you accept Nokwakha as one of your own.’
The midwife gave Nokwakha the knife. The two masked women untied th
e girl, held her tightly and presented her for the sacrifice.
‘Slit her throat,’ instructed the midwife.
Nokwakha was shaken and cold fear rendered her body in complete spasm. The deepest self didn’t want to partake in the evil ceremony any longer. She saw through the manipulations of the midwife as no soul remains forever ignorant. Without warning, she started sprinting away. The midwife and the two masked women were caught off guard and slow to react. They realised that Nokwakha was abandoning the ceremony and the midwife was in hot pursuit in no time. The masked women wrestled with the wailing child in an attempt to tie her with the rope in order to assist with the chase. Nokwakha increased the distance between her and her pursuers and ran for her life. She ran through untamed bushes and picked up thorns along the way; however, all was secondary to survival. She ran like a woman possessed. The midwife was not as fast, but she made up for her shortcoming with her unmatched stamina and she also knew the landscape of the forest intimately. The two soon lost the masked women and crossed many streams. It was a cat-and-mouse chase. Nokwakha left a trail of disturbed bushes that made it easy for the midwife to track her. The forest was alive with suspense. The midwife was determined to catch Nokwakha and to will undignified death to the ‘traitor of the highest order’; this wasn’t only a humiliation to her but a disgrace to the mighty dark lord. Nokwakha never looked back and only concentrated on getting out of the midwife’s sight forever. She was introduced to a new kind of fear. The sheer terror of being caught gave her the energy she needed. She ruffled bushes and frightened rabbits, impalas and other sleeping creatures of the wild.
She reached yet another stream and stopped to quench her elephant thirst. She rested behind a big rock; her heart skipped a beat as anxiety overwhelmed her. She peeped from behind the rock, scoping for her pursuer but the midwife was nowhere to be found. She was startled by a bristling sound from the bush behind her when a gazelle suddenly jumped out and galloped up the hill. She was paralysed with shock. She scoped her surrounds yet again and there was calm in the natural kingdom. She rested, believing she had done enough to lose the midwife. She began to take out the thorns she had picked up along the way. The non-judgemental stars sparkled and rejoiced in exhibition of the natural splendour. She was dripping with sweat and welcomed the breeze that fanned and cooled her. The changing winds brought heavy dark clouds and suddenly the midwife appeared in the distance. She paced slowly and surveyed the area with hawk eyes. There was determination in her stride and the stamina of an ostrich in her legs. She crossed the stream and looked on the ground for Nokwakha’s footprints but they disappeared near the rocky surface. The midwife continued up the hill but had a change of heart after few steps. She sensed something in the air and like a seasoned predator her instincts were as sharp as a cheetah’s. Nokwakha looked on from behind the corner of the big oval rock, pleading with the gods to blind the midwife of her exact location. The midwife turned back and started looking behind the many rocks next to the stream. She was edging closer to her and Nokwakha was petrified. She jumped out from behind the rock and ran as fast as she could away from the midwife. The midwife was hot on her trail though with much more zeal in her demeanour; there was surety in her heart that she was going to capture Nokwakha. The all-knowing heavens watched yet another earthly episode. Nokwakha was getting tired and kept looking behind her at frequent intervals. She took a wrong path as a result and it steered her to a dead end in the gigantic cliff. She was dumbstruck when she reached the mount with nowhere to go. The midwife closed in on her and Nokwakha thought of jumping off the cliff. She stood on the edge of the cliff, paralysed and unclear of what to do next. The midwife approached and flashed her a crooked smile.
‘You thought you could outrun me? Hahahaha! Keep dreaming. Do you know the disgrace you’ve caused me? Do you?’ she roared.
Nokwakha was silent. She was breathing heavily and almost swallowed her tongue as the cold fear overwhelmed her. The midwife stepped closer towards her. Nokwakha had no space to manoeuvre; she either had to fight or flee down the slope. She threw herself to the battle of doom; only one of them was going to live to tell the tale. They locked for a moment without anyone giving an inch. They fell on the ground with a big thud and wrestled on the ground, with the midwife seemingly having the upper hand. Nokwakha was desperate to free herself from the clutches of the midwife but she held her firm and didn’t let go. The midwife twisted Nokwakha’s arm and locked her into submission. Nokwakha screamed as a result of the unbearable pain but the midwife tightened her grip even harder.
‘You’re breaking my arm!’ Nokwakha screamed in agony.
Her cries fell on deaf ears.
‘Aaahhh!’ she screamed again.
Out of pure desperation Nokwakha lifted the midwife with an incredible force she never knew existed within her. The midwife held her firm, refusing to let go. Nokwakha bit her and the midwife released her grip. She then pushed her in an attempt to escape and the midwife fell down the cliff to her death. Nokwakha fell to the ground in utter exhaustion and relief ran through her veins.
The moon echoed songs of wonder, full of mystical undertones.
Eleven
THE NIGHT WAS HAUNTED by wicked spirits. It was that time of the evening when the negative stimuli in the atmosphere are heightened and the fanatics of the dark world come out to play. The mood suffocated her existence; Nokwakha stood on the edge of the cliff, wanting to end all her misery. Her heart was heavy with suicidal intentions. She was lost in the valley of the shadow of death. Life had been one everlasting nightmare. She had forsaken all reason to live yet another day. Her heart was weathered by impious storms; pain had followed her like a taunting relentless nemesis throughout this thing called life.
She wanted to end it all but fear inexplicably still had a hold of her. Death stood proud from beyond, wooing her to take the plunge into her embrace. The spark of light deep in her soul fought for attention. She couldn’t master absolute courage to will death to her tortured self. She walked and walked along the cliff with obscure thoughts hanging on the edge of her imagination. The dark cloud of gloom hovered above her.
She was overwhelmed by feelings that reminded her of her daughter. She wondered much about her and what would have happened if she had never listened to the midwife. Tears fell down her face. She was utterly broken. She yearned to be reunited with her daughter even if it was for one moment. She was curious to the kind of person she had become; it was all a dream. She reached out for her in the deep corridors of pure dreams asking for forgiveness.
‘Oh daughter of mine, I am such a shame and disgrace to you and all humanity. What right do I even have to call you my daughter? I’m definitely not a mother but a monster that devours her own young; I could never justify my demonic act in my attempt to rob you the magnificence of life.’
Rays of light began to protrude on the faraway horizon; Nokwakha communicated the feelings deep within to the living ether, pleading for forgiveness from her daughter and to the divine spirits that roam the land. She wanted to be relieved of the pain she had had to carry ever since that horrific day.
‘Forgive me almighty Qamata for I have sinned; words feel inadequate in expressing my soul’s intentions. I surrender to your might, oh all-knowing one, and offer my soul as a sacrifice for the greater good; I am open and willing for justice to be served in retribution for my actions.’
She begged for forgiveness to the lord of day and night, the lord of the upper world and underworld, the lord of the known and unknown world; tears continued to stream down her face. The dancing sun rose ignorant to the earthly episode; it served yet another day, giving light to the known world. Nokwakha was lost in hopelessness. She flirted with death and the desire to take her own life became stronger. She convinced herself that death would bring peace and an eternal resting place. She was ignorant to the fact that a soul cannot be annihilated and the false idea of suicide would actually impede the development of her soul and intensify the guilt in anothe
r world as past lives are not disconnected to the present and future selves. She was drunk with depression and completely rejected her tortured existence. She was dead inside.
PART THREE
Twelve
‘WHEN YOU ASK FOR a “sign”, know that the need for a “sign” to avail itself is already a “sign”,’ says Nomkhubulwana as we sit on top of a giant precipice of the Mojaji mountain overlooking the distant lands.
The mood has been heavy and brooding since our great trek earlier that morning. Nomkhubulwana has showered me with wisdom, filling my cup from her overflowing knowledge about the book of life.
‘I have walked on these thorny plains of this ungrateful earth and surfed the deepest wells of being; my mission is now fulfilled, I won’t stay any longer as those in the land of the spirit call with a definite voice,’ she says in a low solemn tone.
‘One of these mornings I will be gone; I dream of faraway lands where simplicity and purity reign supreme. I dream of the land beyond, the land of origins; the urge to be completely spirit overwhelms.’ She reveals the dawning knowledge.
I listen while holding my breath; the glaring light exuding from her being mesmerises.
‘Nwelezelanga, let other souls heal from the spirit that you are, my child.’
She shares yet another pearl of wisdom.
I let it all sink into my heart of hearts without any filter; her very being swallows all of me in one enormous magical moment.
‘You are like a shooting star that appears without notice and disappears without trace. You made a promise in your great ceremony to the wise spirits, before your earth-shattering birth, not to stay a while longer in the land of the walking dead. And like a shooting star you will vanish as quickly as you came.’ She serves the abstract message.
Nwelezelanga: The Star Child Page 6