Zakes Mda - The Heart of Redness

“As for you,” she says sadistically, “when the storm comes it will sweep you away. You didn’t cleanse yourself when you first came here. You must drink water from the sea when you are a stranger, so that the sea can get used to you. Then it will love you. Even your skin will be smoother, and you’ll look a bit more beautiful. You need it.”

She walks away. She does not even say good-bye. She just walks away. He looks at her with pitiful eyes. How he longs to lose his breath in hers. But then, after that had been done, what would they talk about?

John Dalton was telling Chief Nxito’s councillors that all Sir George Grey wanted was to spread British civilization. His magnanimous wish was to convert the amaXhosa from their barbarous ways. It was for their own good that they should discard their customs and follow the ways of the English. There was no saving grace in the culture and religion of the natives. The cattle-killing movement proved this beyond all doubt. It was a great setback to his civilizing mission.

“But he is taking more and more of the land of the amaXhosa,” complained Twin-Twin.

“What is land compared to civilization?” asked Dalton impatiently. “Land is a small price to pay for a gift that will last you a lifetime. . that will be enjoyed by your future generations. The gift of British civilization!”

“The Man Who Named Ten Rivers’ civilizing mission is taking food from the mouths of our children,” insisted Twin-Twin. He had shown on many occasions that he was not in awe of this British officer who had beheaded his father. And he had not forgotten that incident either. As far as he was concerned it was for his own convenience that they were on the same side today. One day the opportunity to avenge his father’s head would present itself.

Dalton shook his head pityingly. He had never really trusted this man. He was not happy when Ned and Mjuza suggested that he should be saved from his mountain refuge and set up in a new homestead in Qolorha, near Chief Nxito’s deserted Great Place, where he would receive protection from the marauding bands of Believers. Dalton had to go along with the idea because it was important to show the natives — especially those who were heathens like Twin-Twin — that people who were on the side of the British Empire would receive full protection. But this man had shown with his needling questions and comments that he was not really on the side of Her Imperial Majesty.

“Your savage practices are taking food from your children’s mouths, not Sir George,” said Dalton. “Sir George did not kill your cattle or burn your crops. Your own people did.”

People murmured among themselves that there were rumors among some Unbelievers that in fact The Man Who Named Ten Rivers was responsible for the cattle-killing movement, so as to break the might of the amaXhosa and subjugate even those lands across the Kei River that the British had failed to conquer. Some were even saying that one of the Strangers Nongqawuse saw behind the bush was in fact The Man Who Named Ten Rivers in person. But John Dalton did not hear these rumors. He was going on about Sir George’s magnanimity of spirit, his intelligence, his charm, and his unconditional love for the native peoples of the world, which he had already demonstrated to the natives of a country called New Zealand across the seas.

Dalton was preparing his listeners for the forthcoming visit of The Man Who Named Ten Rivers, who was riding throughout kwaXhosa, calling on chiefs and on the colonial magistrates attached to those chiefs. He was expected to visit Nxito the following day. The sad thing was that this visit was not going to happen at Nxito’s chiefdom, in Qolorha near the Gxarha River. The aged chief was still keeping his distance from the Believers, who had taken over that whole area and were acting as if they themselves were the chiefs.

“But the governor does not want any ceremony,” warned Dalton. “He wants this visit to be as quiet as possible. He just wants to talk to the chiefs about the affairs of the nation, and to discuss with you the benefits of accepting British rule without question or rebellion.”

Even though John Dalton had told them that The Man Who Named Ten Rivers wanted no ceremony, his hosts did lot expect him to arrive as quietly as he did, accompanied only by a small entourage which included Dalton and John Gawler, the young magistrate in Chief Mhala’s district.

Twin-Twin remembered the boot-licking rituals of Sir Harry Smith, the erstwhile Great White Chief, and the pompous ceremonies of Sir George Cathcart, whose demise at the hands of the Russians was celebrated by the amaXhosa. He remembered the Great White Chief riding arrogantly all over the place, making a show of his power as a representative of the British Empire, and even whipping some of the revered elders of the amaXhosa.

The Man Who Named Ten Rivers was different. He did not even want a public meeting. He just wanted to talk privately with the chief and his most trusted councillors. Twin-Twin felt honored that he was one of those councillors. As usual, John Dalton was the interpreter.

“I am visiting all the chiefs in Xhosaland with the same message of peace,” he said in measured tones. “You want peace, we want peace, all decent human beings want peace. It is possible for us to live together in harmony.”

He went on to say that he had come to see Nxito because, as King Sarhili’s uncle, and as a respected elder who was almost eighty years old and who was also an Unbeliever, the chief could have great influence on his fellow chiefs. He could even persuade his nephew to stop supporting the cattle-killing movement and to acquiesce to the good intentions of the British government, who wanted only to bring civilization and progress to the amaXhosa people. The British government was coming with a new administrative system, devised by the governor himself. He made it clear that the chiefs had no option but to accept it. He had already visited a number of them privately, each in his own district, where he outlined the grand plans he had drawn up. The chiefs were all happy with them. But the cattle-killing movement was a serious distraction to the new system. It was crucial that it be stopped.

“What can Nxito really do, since he himself is in exile far away from his chiefdom at the Gxarha River?” asked Twin-Twin.

“The chief must go back to his chiefdom,” said Gawler. “Otherwise the Believers will think they have the upper hand.”

“It is dangerous for the chief,” pleaded Twin-Twin.

“And why is it not dangerous for you?” asked Dalton. “We have recently established your homestead at Qolorha near the Gxarha River. We have given you adequate protection there. We can do the same for the old man.”

But it turned out that Nxito’s situation was complicated. His son, Pama, a staunch Believer, had taken over his chiefdom. Nxito’s was a house divided. It was the same with many families. Even a great Believer like Chief Maqoma, the revered general of the War of Mlanjeni, was opposed by his sons, Ned and Kona, who were not only staunch Unbelievers but Christians as well. Ned even worked at the Native Hospital. Then there was the rift between Twin and Twin-Twin. And there was Mjuza, whose father was the great Prophet Nxele. Yet Mjuza was an Unbeliever. Families were being split apart.

The Man Who Named Ten Rivers did not really care how they dealt with Nxito’s problem. He could not be expected to solve every petty problem for them. The important thing was that Nxito was Sarhili’s uncle. He had a duty to warn his nephew of the dangers of his ways.

“I have written to Kreli and warned him that the continued cattle-killing will cause starvation and disorder,” said The Man Who Named Ten Rivers. Kreli was the name the colonists used for Sarhili. “I am going to hold him fully responsible for anything that happens as a result, and I will punish him severely. I am a good friend of Kreli and his people. It is my desire to continue so. But if he forces me to take a contrary course, he shall find me a better enemy than I have been a friend.”