Once Upon an African Moon

Chapter 1: How It All Began

The moon shone brightly that night. The stars looked so close she could have reached out her hand and touched one. Instead, she held out her hand, palm up. She smiled as she saw how the brightest star appeared to be sitting in her hand. She stood like that for a moment, enjoying the silence of the night sky. Finally, she sighed and put her hand down.

She sat in her hut with her chin in her hands, staring up into the star studded night sky. The cool breeze that entered her room failed to calm her troubled spirits. She sat unmoving, trying hard to come up with a solution to her situation and failing dismally. There was no way out. There was no escape. Her time had run out.

She felt her brow crease in a frown and she shook her head. She sighed again. Tomorrow the search would begin. Why oh why did her father want to marry her off? The idea was not at all pleasant and to be honest, she hated it. Why did the village laws say that the chief's daughter had to be married when she turned eighteen? She really wished she could change some of these laws, she thought crossly. She felt the frown returning again.

"Ngwanaka, why the long face?" Sebaga turned and saw her mother approaching her.

"Oh, mother!" she said miserably. "I can't bear the thought that father wants me to marry someone I don't know."

"Would you rather marry someone you did know then?" her mother asked with a small smile.

"It's not that at all!" Sebaga hurried to explain. Then she was silent. For that was it exactly.

Sebaga turned away from her mother, letting her gaze slide away from the beautiful brown eyes that always seemed to sparkle. The queen's face was delicate, with high cheekbones and eyes that were big and slightly upturned. Her lips were almost always curved in a welcoming smile and never uttered a bad word. She was tall and slender, always walking with the regal grace of the eland that grazed in the nearby savannah. People had told her many times that she was the spitting image of her mother. She didn't think so, however. She thought her mother was gorgeous.

"Have I met him?" her mother asked, laying a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

"Oh, mother. Father would never approve. He's not a chief, or a chief's son. He is someone I have known forever and if I were asked to marry anyone at all, it would be him that I would choose."

Sebaga's mother looked at her daughter for a long time. After shaking her head slowly, she took her daughter's hands in both of hers and held them tightly.

"Do you trust me, my child?" she asked.

"Of course I do, mother," Sebaga said, a little saddened that her own mother could ask her such a question. She looked into the eyes that were so like her own and suddenly felt a tiny pin-prick of hope.

"Well," her mother said with a small smile on her face and a twinkle in her eyes, "I have a plan."

***

The drummers beat the drums like they were naughty children who had done a very bad thing! The dancers pounded out a rhythm on the hard earth with their bare feet. The singers ululated a lilting melody and clapped their hands to the beat that was being pounded out by the drummers. The music swelled and rose, a synchronised cacophony of delightful energy.

At the head of all the organised ruckus, the chief sat on the royal throne. Around his shoulders was the skin of the leopard that he had killed twelve years ago when it had invaded his village and nearly killed two children and their mother. The scar he had earned from that battle started on the right side of his neck and snaked halfway down the back of his shoulder. It told its own story and was a mark that separated him from many other men. He wore it with pride.

Tonight, he would make his declaration. His daughter would have a suitor before her eighteenth birthday. He was getting older and would dearly love to see his grandchildren before he was too old to see them! He had been blessed with a two children, both of them girls. Sebaga, his older child, was as stubborn as she was beautiful. Many men had come to ask for her hand and just as many had left the royal arena without it.

The chief held back a chuckle as he thought about all the times that this had happened. On one particular occasion one of the young men had left the village screaming like a two year old with one of the chief's bulls running close behind him. Sebaga had vehemently denied having anything to do with the situation. Despite her wide-eye denial, however, the sight of her younger sister curled up on the floor laughing her head off made her seem less innocent that what she proclaimed to be.

After that event, less and less suitors had come to ask for her hand, until finally, over the last year. They had stop completely. Dried up like the Boteti River after twenty years of no rain in the region. Still, she was his daughter and it was his responsibility to see that she wed. The thing was, it couldn't be to just any man. It had to be someone who was smart, and strong and . . .well, a lot like him. Someone who would be able to take good care of her the way that he had taken good care of her over the last eighteen years of her life.

A little sadness crept into his heart. Perhaps the reason he hadn't pushed so hard to marry her off sooner was because deep, deep down, he wasn't sure he was ready to let her leave home yet. Still, a chief's duties needed to be carried out, and seeing that his daughter was married to an appropriate suitor was one of them. Now, to select a man who would be worthy, the man would have to rise to the occasion and do something that no one else would. The chief smiled. He was indeed looking forward to this particular challenge. He really was.

***

The music continued to throb, the dancers continued to dance and the singers continued their singing. The music took on a sudden crescendo and then there was sudden silence.

For a moment, no one spoke. Finally, the chief stood up and all eyes turned to him, waiting to hear what he would say.

"All you, gathered here, I wish to declare the following. That any man who can tell me a story from the time the sun rises in the morning until the sun sets in the evening, shall marry my daughter and be the next chief. This is open to all men who would wish to take the challenge. This shall begin tomorrow!"

For a moment, there was a stunned silence as the crowd took in the chief's words. What?? Could they have heard correctly? The chief would marry off his daughter to the man who could do what? The silence stretched and stretched.

Then, a single drummer beat his drum once. Poom!! A further silence then he beat it twice. Poom poom! Then the drummer broke out and beat a rhythm on his drum. Other drummers joined in and the singers joined in with their singing and clapping. The dancers joined the melee and the music reached the same crescendo it had reached before the king had made his announcement.

Standing away from the crowd, Sebaga sighed and headed to her favourite spot. Alone, away from everybody.

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Hiya! There will be a lot of Tswana words in this! I will try to explain and translate them as best I can.

Sebaga means a bead. Like what bracelets were made of back in the day. It is pronounced Se-bu-gha (Se- like "Se" in Second. Bu like "bu" in butter and Gha like you're trying to scare something away!)

Ngwanaka means "My child". I can't even begin to spell out the pronunciation.

Hope this first chapter caught your interest! :)