TLADI

Chapter 2

There were two of them, both in their prime, walking side by side. Tladi and Unaletastima stopped and observed the magnificent sunset. It was an explosion of colour. They watched the low clouds on the horizon; they looked as though they were burning in their beauty. A fiery red hue streaked in waves at the bottom and sides of the clouds where the light of the dying Phoenix-like sun touched the clouds. On the far side of the horizon, red glimmers of the reflected red blaze of sunset shimmered. Tladi and Unaletastima continued to walk away from the village. They watched the 'Phoenix' sunset blaze die down into red glowing embers on that edge between the horizon and the sky. They wanted to say it to each other. They wanted to express the heaven they had stumbled upon, to each other. However, they could not. Something held them back. They could not even look at each other. Their clasped hands felt hot and heavy. Tladi was itchy under her leopard-skin eye patch, but she would not dare scratch it. They seemed to be frozen. They felt as though they had been walking forever into the wilderness. At the same time, they wished the walk would last forever. What would happen when they finally reached the end?
Their tension wound like thick cords around their necks, tightening...
It had all started at the hunt... No... actually, it had started many years ago. The volcano had
been building pressure from the first time they had encountered each other as toddlers. That
day's hunt had just been the beginning of the explosion...
In the village, hunting was not restricted to men. Freedom of being was something that was
firmly preached. So many women were in the hunting party that had left the village that dawn.
They were all dexterous hunters and so were the men. It had not been a beginners' hunting party. Only the best of the best had been travelling into the wilderness. They had meant to make it a fast fruitful hunt. They were to be celebrating the anniversary of the start of the village in the
mist between the desert and the sea. A large feast would be held at The Drummers' Circle that
afternoon. A large amount of meat was therefore needed for the celebrations.
The first shafts of light had streaked up into the sky, with a slow explosion the sky had become ablaze with colour.
"Oh, shall we stop and observe the sunrise of the Gods?" a deep booming voice had said with
an air of reverence. It had been said dramatically, with one hand to the heart and the eyes to the
sky. It could only have been one person. Only one person was that perpetually dramatic: Oyena.
"Elder, we don't have time," Unaletastima had said, with only a little respect. He had not even glanced at the huge man more commonly known as 'The-red-eyed-mob'. The reason why this man was known as 'The-red-eyed-mob' was manifold. He was, of course, red-eyed; his dark
eyes had always been red-rimmed and veined. In addition, he was huge; with a wide, strong face; wide muscled chest; large hands and feet and big muscular legs. However, this bronze form was quite short. As a result, he gave the feel of many short people. His intensity made them a mob.
The drama that this man could single-handedly produce proved that he was a mob. His mother
had collectively shot them all in the foot when she had named him Oyena. It meant, very roughly, 'The One' in Xhosa. It made 'The-red-eyed-mob' arrogant, to say the least. He was
therefore not afraid of revealing the Drama-King he was.
His personality was almost completely at odds with his appearance. He was every inch a
warrior (except the inches that were missing from his height). His personality was of a sensitive
emotional man; they said he was dramatic to cover up the fact that he was vertically challenged. Apparently, he thought that it would make him 'feel' tall and they said this was a subconscious thought. Of course, none of this was ever said to his face, especially not the name 'The-red-eyed-mob'. It would be disrespectful and they feared him; he was an elder of the village. The only personality trait that suited his appearance was his fierceness. He was a passionate man and fiercely defended his passions unfailingly as he did now.
"Oh, you do not wish to stop and observe the sunrise of the Gods, young Stima, because you
fear it shall outshine you so much in its beauty so as to make you seem like a sickly shadow in
the darkness...." Oyena had replied, smiling at his own play on words. Unaletastima meant 'The
Bringer of the Light' in Swahili. Stima, which they called him for short, meant 'Light'. Stima
had shaken his dreadlocked head and smiled at the humour of it. He had refused to rise to the bait. He had known that 'The-red-eye-mob' could argue a man to death. He had not intended on dying that day, especially not in front of her.

Tladi had observed the situation with her one dark eye and had refused to feel anything. For that was what she had been taught, to base her life on reason and not emotion, to control what power was her blessing and her curse. The party of hunters simultaneously crouched low, having spotted suitable herds of prey. In the heat of the hunt, they were as one in their understanding.

It had been a good hunt, yes, many would agree with you if you said that. It had been
extremely fast; expertly timed; no accidents (well almost no accidents, but almost does not really count now does it?) The meat had been plentiful and the prey had been fat. Yes, it had been a great hunt, except for two things: Tladi and Stima. Even in the celebratory feast that afternoon, they had simmered in the midday sun, but no one had paid heed. The different kinds of beers had been too well brewed and meat had been too succulent for hostile parties to seem significant.
People had recited narratives of the hunt; songs had been sung about the brewing of the beer and all had been happy merriment in The Drummers' Circle. Yes, happiness had flowed like the
many kinds of brewed beers until the drunken Khoisan master hunter from the morning's hunt
had decided to be a comedian and tell some humorous narrative about the only things that had gone wrong with the hunt.
"You see, we were closing in on a herd of various beasts. We were in the inverted arrow formation..." the small, yellow man had slurred.
"Unfortunately, Tladi and Stima were on the opposite ends of the inverted arrowhead or 'V'
formation. They were closest to the densest part of the herd and the furthest from each other. It
was like the kind of thing that happens when a leopard and a lioness decide to attack the same
animal; dire consequences; dire drama!" the drunken yellow man had continued. Tladi and Stima had begun to boil in the midday sun and the heat had had nothing to do with it. The greatest huntsman of the village, also, unfortunately, one of the greatest idiots of the village, had proceeded, purposefully, to tell the story incorrectly.
"Now we all know that Tladi and Stima are age-old enemies. They cannot stand the sight of each other and here they were, forced to hunt together. Now hunting is a special pastime, it binds people together. There is nothing quite like the spilling of blood to bind people together. Now, of course, Tladi and Stima here will have none of that! Binding together? Madness! So they decide to go and shoot each other right in the middle of the hunt!" There had been an uproar of laughter and Tladi and Stima had flown to their feet in rage. Tladi had spoken first, in her quiet
threatening voice, silencing the whole crowd.
"He" she had said, pointing at Stima, "made the mistake of shooting his arrow at me."
"That doesn't mean you had to retaliate and shoot an arrow at me!" Stima had fiercely
whispered in his rounded textured voice.
"You caused the herds to stampede towards me! If you want me dead, you should not be
coward! Just come and kill me yourself!" Tladi's quiet threatening voice angrily replied. In the distance, thunder rumbled. The saddest thing was; that was not what had really happened...