Cut Of The Assegai

Chapter 1

1

I had scarcely finished putting on my jacket when Fairburn pushed the door and burst into the hut.

"Now, John, let's go," he urged. "The king and his men are waiting. Introductions and the initial hearing will start in minutes."

I looked at Fairburn's spotted face and saw a film of perspiration on his brow.

"Almost, sir, I won't be long." My pulse quickened. How was this mission going to turn out?

From the top of my suitcase, I grabbed my mirror and gave myself a good look. My face was ruddy, even though I seemed a little older than my age, twenty-nine. My hair looked dry and unruly from all the walking and riding in the sun that I had endured for the last several weeks. A small boil had erupted on my upper lip and felt itchy when touched, but the skin of my cheeks was smooth. I ran my hand underneath my chin and felt the suppleness; I had just shaved, in preparation. And had had a good bath too, in hot water, courtesy of Fairburn's hard-working servants who boiled potfuls for me.

Fairburn swung the hut's door open farther and more light from the African sun fell in. "Here, use this," he produced a rusty comb from his beaten pants-pocket.

"I have my own set of combs, sir."

"Where are they?"

"In my bag."

"We have no time. Use this one."

I ran his comb through my hair and felt the long, prickly teeth get jammed underneath the tufts of my mop. Wincing from the pain, I forced the comb through several times.  

"That's good. Now button up your jacket."

"It's hot, sir. I'm going to sweat. Can't I just..."

"You need to look professional. I don't want you to later say it's I who let you down. I have given the king my highest comments regarding you and your mission."

"Aright," I buttoned up. The jacket felt a little tight against my chest. Either it had shrunk somewhat or I had gained weight while travelling, a rare thing to happen to anyone. I gave myself another look. My blue tie fell to just below my navel and at the top it hugged my throat in a Windsor knot. A few brown smudges spoiled the grey of my otherwise neat shirt, but that was the best I had. I felt hot in the neck, having buttoned my shirt up to the collar and had a little difficulty breathing.

"That's fine, now let's go," Fairburn stepped into the early evening and I followed.

To my surprise, outside, unlike the sticky indoors where I'd spent most of my day, the evening had turned fresh and the early-February south-westerly that fanned across Bulawayo hinted at the approaching autumn. I looked at the reddening sun then checked my watch. It wouldn't take us very long to get to the palace, and I felt that fright begin to build in me again as I wondered how this first meeting with the king and his nobles, better known as ndunas here, would go.

We took the wagon road that ran east towards the royal residence, the last leg of my long journey to redemption. For the past two months, full of hope and unbridled ambition I'd journeyed partly by wagon and partly on foot, crossing crocodile-infested waters, and hazarding jungles full of all manner of dangers, to come to this capital of Matebeleland to fulfill my dreams. Now my legs felt sore and my shoes pinched me but the happiness I felt for having striven this far, bringing myself to this cusp of a life goal, carried me forward strongly.

Fairburn led the way, walking fast. An older, but sprightly gentleman with a freckled, almost bald head, he seemed comfortable in his khaki shirt and long pants which were tucked into his high-cut, mud-caked boots. "We don't want to be late," he showed me an impatience similar to that of a captain late for battle.