It was early in the morning. The sun had just chased away the last chill of the night. Standing on a ledge of rock on the hill, Siboniso yanked off his leopard skin head ring decorated with colourful bird plumes and regarded it bitterly. It was a sign of power, an announcement to the whole world that he was an induna – a Ngoni warrior chief. But of what value was it up here chocked by enemies?
He took in his wasted frame. The leather kilt and plain cloak fitted his body loosely as if draped on scarecrow made of sticks. The induna felt sorry for himself.
Putting back the ring, his eyes swept across the plain. Around the hill, the flatland seethed with men in loincloths of cowhide with bows and arrows. They were the Tumbuka, tribesmen who had shattered his mighty impi.
Anger welled up in the induna when he called out that barely two months ago, the swaggering tribesmen below had been his slaves. Their welfare had depended on his goodwill. He had conquered the tribe several years ago. His village had been the farthest Ngoni Settlement from the main one down south.
Being a peace loving tribe, it never occurred to Siboniso that the Tumbuka would ever rise against him. They humbly paid tribute to him although he and his warriors treated them like their slaves.
Then without warning, the Tumbuka took up arms. Who would have dreamed that Baza Dokowe, that stupid nonentity of a village headman would dare revolt? Of course the uprising was primarily due to that old fool Ng’onomo Makamu. The greedy induna had always demanded too much tribute from the Tumbuka. He should have known such actions always bred resentment. And then there was that successful repealing of the Ngoni attack by Mankhambira’s Tonga near Chintheche over a year ago. Although an isolated case, the defeat had somehow shattered the myth of the invincibility of the Ngoni impis and obviously inspired the current revolt by Baza Dokowe. Of course Mbelwa himself was also partly to blame for this debacle. The Inkosi ya Makosi should have followed Mpezeni’s example of dispersing the conquered tribes throughout his kingdom and not leaving them to live in groups the way he had done with the Tumbukas. That way they couldn’t group to fight against the Ngoni.
Out-numbered and taken by surprise, the Ngoni had stood no chance against them. After a fierce battle, Siboniso and a handful of his defeated impi fled to the safety of Hewe Hill to wait for reinforcements. His only hope was that the messenger he had sent had safely passed through the Tumbuka lines and delivered the message of their plight to Inkosi Buza of the nearest Ngoni Village.
Though defeated, Siboniso and his men were in high spirits. They believed that it would be a matter of days before Inkosi Buza put down the Tumbuka rebellion or the Tumbuka abandoned their siege of the hill. Already, they had heard that a large Ngoni impi was pursuing Baza Dokowe who was now hiding in Hora Mountain. Once the rebel leader was captured or killed, the Tumbuka would disperse like cattle without a herder. So the impi swaggered about the hill with a devil-may-care air and chatted persistently to boost each other’s morale.
The common danger they were in bonded them together and they shared whatever little food they could find. A sort of brotherly affection developed among them. Even Siboniso used his authority jocularly and the men obeyed without question but humorously as well with a lot of heartfelt, “Bayete Induna.” They all knew they needed each other, so no one dared to break the brotherly spirit.
The days inexorably lengthened into weeks. The Tumbuka maintained their siege. Buza did not appear. Baza Dokowe still remained undefeated at Hora Mountain. Consequently, the men holed up in the hill were forced towards starvation.
Hunger and frustration began to take its toll on the warriors. They no longer swaggered about, but tottered about. They no longer chatted jocosely, but spoke bluntly to each other, calling it “being open with you.” They no longer shared whatever little food they found, each man attending to his own needs. They moved about with sour faces, complaining incessantly. Now they carried out Siboniso’s orders only upon being threatened and did so while grumbling.
Taking one last look at the ring of tribesmen around the hill, the induna moved away. As he walked, suddenly his legs gave way and he fell to the ground in a sitting posture. This alarmed him. What was happening to him? He quickly got to his feet and staggered off.
Suddenly he stopped and laughed. Why hadn’t he seen it before? He had twenty brave battle hardened warriors, why starve here instead of fighting their way out?
He whistled. Skeletally thin men began to appear out of a ravine. Some of them were so weak that they had abandoned their protective isihlangu, the oval shaped cowhide shields and were only armed with assegais which they were using more or less for support.
“It appears no help is coming our way and the Tumbuka appear to have no intention of ending their blockade. If we stay here, we’re certainly going to starve to death.” Siboniso paused to let the horror of the situation sink into the heads of the men staring dumbly at him. “We’re twenty seasoned warriors; tonight we’re breaking out!”
Siboniso had expected to hear a jubilant “Bayete Induna!” from the assembled impi. Instead, the men simply stared at him with vacant eyes.
“Nonsense!” a man who had been Siboniso’s staunchest supporter ventured. “The way we are, we cannot even break through a siege mounted by old women.”
Surprised, Siboniso looked sharply at the man. “Watch your mouth, Muso,” he said angrily. “I’m the induna here and my orders are that we are breaking out!”
Muso laughed contemptuously. “Cut that crap, fool. There’s no chief here to give orders. We’re all prisoners!”
“Treason!” shouted Siboniso. “You’re dismissed from the impi with immediate effect. Get out of my sight! Get him out of my sight!”
Muso laughed again. “Which impi? You call these skeletons an impi?” he said looking at the emaciated men. “You’re insane, Siboniso. That’s what you are!”
The men around Siboniso nodded their heads in agreement with Muso’s words. Too late now Siboniso realised that he had lost control of his men.
“All these years, I did my best to be a good leader to you, but you’ve now betrayed me,” Siboniso said bitterly, removing his head ring. “There!” he tossed it at the group. “Choose another Chief. I’m breaking out alone.”
Muso caught the head ring and threw it back at Siboniso. “You can keep that decoration; there was never a chief here. And nobody is going to break out alone. You brought us here and we’re going to see this thing through together.”
“How dare you challenge me?” snarled Siboniso shaking with rage. “I’m your Chief!”
“I will dare you what I like, idiot!” Muso howled, drawing his spear.
“Will you? By my ancestors I will teach you a lesson, you scheming bastard!” roared Siboniso, drawing his iklwa, the short stabbing spear which had been favoured by Shaka Zulu.
Muso lunged at Siboniso and soon the induna and his warrior were locked in a desperate life or death struggle. The impi looked on helplessly.
Hours later, Inkosi Buza’s impi attacked the Tumbuka and smashed through their blockade. Further north at Hora, Baza Dokowe would soon be defeated, narrowly. escaping capture by sneaking at dawn through the besieging Ngoni impi lines. Many of his followers would be slaughtered, finally putting paid to his rebellion.
The victorious Inkosi found the remnants of Siboniso’s impi fighting among themselves over the carcasses of some game they had killed. A closer look revealed to the Inkosi that what he had thought were animals were actually dead bodies of Siboniso and Muso. Starvation had turned the men into cannibals.
THE END
