‘You’ve been smoking dagga again.’
Twa waved Oupa Harman’s pipe under his nose. Roeloff had given it to him after his grandfather’s death.
‘Try it,’ he laughed. ‘It’ll take you to your ancestors. Do you know your ancestors, Kudu?’
‘They came with a ship to this land. They were the first people here.’
‘The first?’
‘A hundred years ago, yes.’
Twa’s eyes closed as he laughed.
‘My people came with the locusts and bees. They’ve seen thousands of droughts. They’re the first. They, and the Koi-na.’
‘Why don’t they have their own flocks, then? Why do they take from us?’
‘That’s the fault of a foolish old man at the beginning of the world when people were still animals,’ Twa sighed. ‘If I tell you how stupid he was, you will laugh. He came upon some cows in the field and without questioning how they could be useful, he stupidly showed them to the black man. Have you seen a black man, Kudu? He comes from the place where the sun comes up, and is dark as a wildebeest, very strong, the size of two Sonqua. The black man saw the importance of the tame cows and drove them into a kraal. When he’d milked one of them, after tying the hind legs with a thong, he took some of the milk to the old man who, if you can believe it, told the black man to drink first and let him lick the pot. That’s what he said! ‘You drink first, and let me scrape what’s left off the sides of the pot!’ So what do you think happened? The black man drank, and the stupid old man licked the pot. Then the black man took the thong and told him to pull the other end. They pulled and pulled and the black man, being the stronger, pulled it out of the old man’s hand. He gave the old man a piece of string and told him that he had nothing he needed to tie up with leather thongs, and from that day on, the black man became a herdsman, and we were left snaring guinea fowls.’
‘That’s a good story.’
‘It’s not a story. It’s how the world came to be. We were the first, before everyone. Now we’re the last.’
‘That’s why you steal?’
‘It’s not stealing. It wasn’t the white man’s. He took it from the black man who took it from one who didn’t use his head. It was shown to us first, remember? Just like this land was ours first. We’re just borrowing.’
‘It’s taking what isn’t yours.’
‘See that tree, Kudu? Old and ugly from years and years in the ground. Who does it ask for nourishment? Who asked us for our permission to come and take this land?’
Something crashed behind them.
Roeloff stiffened.
‘What was that?’
Twa was instantly alert.
‘It came from the back of the huts.’
Roeloff got up and walked towards where he’d heard the sound.
At the first hut, he stumbled over Sanna tied up on the ground, and came face to face with a young Sonqua pulling Zokho by the hand. He recognised him immediately from the scar on the forehead.
‘You! What are you doing here?’
‘You know what I’ve come for,’ Toma said.
‘She won’t go with you.’
Then Toma’s expression changed. Roeloff turned slowly. Behind him another hunter had his arrow aimed at his back.
‘Don’t! It’s Eyes of the Sky.’
Koerikei lowered his bow.
Roeloff regained his composure.
‘Why have you come back?’
‘Smoke in the Eyes belongs to our tribe.’
‘You will not leave here alive if my father sees you.’
‘We’ve been here all day, and he didn’t see us. We’ll be gone before he can blink.’
‘No, you won’t,’ Twa came up laughing behind them, pointing Willem Kloot’s old gun. It didn’t matter that the trigger was broken; the sight of it was enough. ‘I know how to use this. Leave the girl and go.’
Koerikei scowled at him.
‘You have the heart of a jackal.’
‘And the fangs of a lion. This girl is ours now.’
‘Wait, Twa,’ Roeloff interjected. ‘Let’s ask Zokho. Zokho? You were right. Toma did come for you.’
Toma and Koerikei looked at each other.
