Classic Poem

Rashumba is dead, Inkoos;
Therefore he comes not
To work on the hills with Chikwira Makoma.

Chikwira Makoma made question;
I answer'd,
‘Makumba Rashumba has gone to the darkness;
And therefore, Inkoos, have I journey'd alone.’

To Nyambané we went
From the land of Magaza
To trade at the coast in the stores of the Banyan.
For Umshakawanu, a chief on the high veld,
Had given a dance, and Makumbo Rashumba
Had gone to drink beer and to help with the harvest;
And Umshakawanu had boasted of purchase
Of cloth and of hoes from the stores of Makura
At prices far less than the price at Melsetter,
Or the store at Chinota of Banga Radai.

When the rains had gone over
We went to Nyambané,
With money to trade in the stores of Makura.
We stayed at a kraal near the town of Nyambané,
And there was a woman, Insato the Python.

Her name was Insayo;
But they of Nyambané
Had call'd her Insato—Insato we found her!
For she was as strong as the snake of the mountains,
Insato, call'd so by the men of the coast-line.
Her skin was ashine like the skin of the python,
Her eyes were aglint like the eyes of Insato,
Her spirit was wise as the spirit of serpents,
And evil she was—
Neither father nor mother,
Nor brother nor sister had she at Nyambané,
Nor husband—but White Man, and Banyan, and Kafir
Knew well, and were fear'd of, this woman Insato.

She spoke to Rashumba,
‘O child of the mountains,
Stay thou at the huts of Insayo; thy barter
Insayo will speed; for the tongue of Insayo
Is wily in barter, and cheating the Banyans.’

Rashumba was pleas'd;
And we stay'd with Insato,
And danced through the night, drinking wine of the palm trees;
And slept through the day, making merry at night-time
With those of Nyambané, the friends of Insato,

Who live in the homes of the White Men, and pander
Those dark Portuguese who make wives of the Kafirs.
Yea, night after night did we waken the darkness
With shouts and with songs and the thunder of dancing.

And week after week did we spend with Insato
In dancing and revelry, greatest among them.
And month after month did we waste in Nyambané,
The terror of all; till Makumbo Rashumba
Grew drunken and foolish, and quarrel'd with many,
Beginning old songs of the wars of Matshanga;
Insulting those dogs who dwell there by the sea-coast;
And beating the harlots, the friends of Insato;
Till came one Rupia would fight with my father.
Makumbo Rashumba was blinded with drinking,
And seiz'd this Rupia, and choked him, and slew him—
We buried him there in the sand by the seashore.

I spoke to Makumbo,
‘Rashumba, my father,
Now let us do barter, and fly for Matshanga;
The death of this dog lies full heavy within me.’

Makumbo Rashumba
Said, ‘Lo, I have squander'd
In feasting my wealth at these huts of Insayo.
Now let us return to the land of Matshanga.’

But Insato the Python
Made jest of our going;
‘Come friend,’ said Insato, ‘we go to Makura
To purchase whatever Rashumba desires.’
And went they, and purchased, and came in the evening
With cloth and with hoes and with beads and with wire;
Full laden they came; but the wealth of Insato
Had purchased the heart of Makumbo Rashumba.

That night did they feast
Till the heart of Kusawa
Was heavy within him.
I sat by the fire—out there in the palm trees—
And curs'd at their dancing, and curs'd at their drinking
Out there in the palm trees. They danced till they wearied;
They drank till they slept,—lying dark in the shadows;
And naked they lay in the gleam of the starlight
Like dead; and I watch'd them,
And curs'd by the fire,
Till sudden a flash—
And a shriek in the darkness—
Hoarse cries and wild terror—
The flying of women.... Then over the dance-ground
A Tshangaan, Matsamwa, a son of Umtema,
Who also was trading, rush'd past me and shouted,
‘Gunyama!
A lion has taken Insato!’
I rush'd in the dark;
And I heard in the darkness
The muffle of oaths, and the voice of my father
Cry, ‘Shumba, my brother! O brother, Gunyama,
Die now at the hands of Makumbo Rashumba!’
Matsamwa came back with his shield and his kerrie,
And others came with him with fire and axes.
The lion was dead in the grip of Rashumba;
Insato lay dead with her eyes to the starlight;
The face of my father was torn beyond knowing,
The ears of my father hark'd not to my weeping,
Makumbo Rashumba was gone to the darkness.

He was the bravest!
He was the greatest!
Makumbo Rashumba, the shield of the impi!
So deep was his voice that the soot on the thatching
Dropp'd down when he told of the wars of Matshanga!

The stars would fall down when he sang in the night-time;
The mountains would shake to his step in the war-dance;
He was the lion! The stealer of cattle!
The thunder of battles! The sun on the gardens!
The strongest of men! But—
Father of Afa,
Now where hast thou gone to,
Makumbo Rashumba?