NYU Black Renaissance Noire Winter/Spring 2012 | Page 11

They laughed because they knew he was
just ribbing them. They were members
of the Royal Guard and were supposed
to be on duty, but who of the people
of Mapungubwe would want to harm
the King? In these days of peace they
were more of a ceremonial guard than a
fighting force. Some of them were even
beginning to show slightly bulging
waistlines.
“Don’t wish for war, my brother,” said
the one whose “cattle” were being
captured, “because when it happens
you too will be drafted into the army.”
It was true. Every male in Mapungubwe
was a potential soldier and could be
called to arms in times of war. But there
had been peace among the peoples
of the region for so many years that few
citizens had direct memories of the
devastations of war. War lived only in
the poems about the heroes of the
nation that the bards recited. Or in the
stories that Chata told, for he had seen
war in his wanderings.

But what was most impressive to Chata
and what was also the pride of the rest
of the citizens was the stone wall on
the southernmost edges of the town.
After all, he had played a crucial role
in its construction.

He never tired of the view from the
top of the hill. But he did not have
much time to linger on it. He had kept
Rendani waiting long enough. He would
be fuming because he hated to be kept
waiting, which was why Chata took his
time after receiving the message from
one of Rendani’s teenage sons that his
father wanted to see him immediately.
Chata had leisurely performed his
ablutions and then he had slowly chewed
his millet porridge with sour milk.
Then he had unhurriedly changed into
his best attire and commenced his
easy walk through the town. Chata
was certain that by then Rendani was
already boiling with anger.
Chata continued to take it easy.
He strolled among the houses. Here,
on top, they were much larger than
the commoners’ below. All had verandas
with wall posts. They belonged to
members of the Royal Family and to
the nobility of Mapungubwe. A special
cluster of houses surrounded the
stonewalled palace that afforded the
King his ritual seclusion. The King’s
wives had their own houses in the
compound of the palace, and a short
distance away was the abode of sundry
grandees, including the King’s Messenger,
the Chief Diviner and the King’s brother
lovingly known to Mapungubweans
as Baba-Munene—Younger Father.
The latter was the most important
member of this community on the hill
because it was through him that the
King exercised his power. The King
reigned and Younger Father ruled and
governed. The King lived in sacred
seclusion and did not involve himself
in such mundane activities as settling
disputes and making laws. Baba-Munene
was the man who dirtied his hands
with all matters of the state. He and his
Council of Elders. The King could only
be seen during rainmaking rituals by
those who had the status to participate
in such ceremonies.

BLACK RENAISSANCE NOIRE

“I see it is a good life to be a soldier
these days,” he said. “Somebody better
create a war so that you men can see
some action instead of wasting away
playing games.”

Chata stood at a cliff on top of the
hill and took a panoramic gander at
the town below. Truly, this new capital
was more awe-inspiring than the old
town from which most of the citizens
of Mapungubwe had emigrated. It
spread out like an elaborately adorned
grass mat on the southern terrace below
the hill—the side that was within his
range of vision. On the northern and
eastern terraces it spread out likewise.
Hundreds and hundreds of houses.
Their uniformity of cone-shaped
thatched roofs on cylindrical walls was
broken only by the varied sizes and
the verandas on a few of them. Some
of these were adobe houses while
others had palisade walls which were
then plastered with clay. All were
daubed with decorative patterns both
on the inside and the outside. There
were small granary huts—or hozi, as
they were called—behind some of
the houses. Most of them were full of
sorghum and millet, and even beans
and black-eyed peas. It was, after all,
a period of prosperity and the rains
were good. That meant that the King
occupied a warm place in the hearts
of the citizens—all five thousand plus
of the town dwellers and the roughly
four thousand who resided in outlaying
areas where they cultivated the land
and raised cattle and mined for gold
and copper and iron and tin.

9

He swung his knob-kierrie and his
cowhide shield, which he carried
as accoutrements to the easy rhythm
of his steps as he ambled on the
pathways among the homes until he
got to the western end of the hill.
He climbed the stone stairway to the
top where a group of soldiers were
playing a count-and-capture board
game on a rock that had a number of
depressions carved out on its flat
surface. A soldier was on the verge
of capturing the “cattle” of the
opposition—represented by smooth
pebbles of different colours—when
Chata stopped for a brief chat.