Cut Of The Assegai

Chapter 2

2

As we neared the palace's built-up area, a phalanx of warriors intercepted us and my eyes landed on the sharpened tips of their assegais. I could never be comfortable in the presence of such fierce-looking armed men and I let my guide handle the situation. Fairburn greeted the warriors and they let us pass.

Like I'd already noticed, the king's residence, rather than being one building or block, comprised several distinct architectural units, mostly the usual African-style, round, thatched huts, interspaced here and there with similarly thatched, but near-rectangular grain bins sitting on stone foundations. Nestled among those however, and situated close to the centre of the court, a relatively large brick-house stood. I gazed at it. Roofed with metal sheets which reflected the last little light of the day, it commanded respect from every point. The king must have some wealth then, I reasoned after seeing that the house had two good-looking doors and some large windows.

We walked deeper into the complex's interior and I saw where Fairburn was leading me to: a grand hut, much larger than the smaller ones we had passed, which sat right at the centre of the court. Newly thatched and with plastered, decorated walls, the grand hut captured attention with its imposing looks. I looked around it. Several chubby children with barbed heads were playing nearby and making noise, which made the hut seem to be the palace's centre of action.

"This is the main hut where the king normally holds his court," Fairburn said, nodding at it. "Let's go inside."

I felt that fear again, realising I had reached my destination and the fate of my ambitions would be decided here. I gaped at the edifice, and its immensity took on a new significance. Even if its construction may have been simple, I became aware the hut held great power inside it, and indeed without overly exalting it, I could liken it to the British House of Lords.

We stepped over the stoep. My eyes swept the inside.

A small fire burnt at the hut's centre, even though today wasn't cold. Around it, several generally well-dressed men sat, perched on wooden stools or seated on a raised, beaten-earth bench that traced half the hut's circular walls. In Africa, dress shirts and long, European-style trousers were only commonly worn by the very privileged elite but a greater number of the nobles seated in here sported them. The ones wearing traditional Nguni-style leopard-skin garments—a dressing I would have expected to be more common, were actually fewer.

At the far end, near the wall, a huge man in a regal black suit sat on a high chair. I guessed that was the king and emperor himself, Lobengula ka Mzilikazi. His eyes beheld me in an intense gaze which made me very uneasy. Trepidation trickled into my heart. There, sat the great and famous man with the power to decide my future.

Fairburn did not take long to address the gathered senior men of the empire. He introduced me to the ndunas.

"This is the John Jacobs whom I told you about, previously." His manner of address was polite and respectful. "Please greet the court, John," Fairburn turned to me.

I wasted no time going around the hut shaking the hands of each man. Most of the ndunas' hands were dry and cracked and felt gritty in my palm. The king's handshake was strong and I felt like my fingers could be crushed underneath the iron grip. After I'd almost completed a circle, I came back to sit where I'd been. The hard, beaten-earth bench felt uncomfortable underneath my bum.

"Let's clap our hands in honour of the king," Fairburn spoke to me, but so loudly, clearly intending everyone in the hut to hear. The noblemen concurred with him and we started clapping. Shouts of 'Bayete' rang as the ndunas also saluted their king, and the more fervent among them even went as far as raising their clubs or assegais in honour. Impressed, King Lobengula shuffled and smiled. As far as I could see, he still had all his teeth and the skin of his face was fairly healthy.