This, Tawana thought, was a very good but difficult question to answer. Where to start? ‘My father…My mother…Those people…Last night, I…’

‘Calm down, boy,’ the man told him realizing that Tawana was just vomiting words. ‘Let’s start with names then. I am Nyasha. I live in Chaponda (It has rung) Village which is not too far from here.’

Tawana was gasping for breath as he spoke to Nyasha; ‘My name is Tawana, I live in Matanda village, I…’ he panted some more, ‘I…My mother was married to our chief, Chief Mbada yesterday but there was great disapproval from my mother and father. Then last night I was chased for a long time by these men with torches and I fell into this pit…’

‘Chief Mbada!’ Nyasha literally spat onto the ground. ‘I know it’s tradition but I didn’t think there was any chief still sick enough to practice it. So are your parents and brothers and sisters okay?’ His face was still hardened as if the mention of Mbada’s name had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

‘I don’t know about my parents, but I’m an only child.’

‘Your story isn’t clear. I think you need more time to rest and then I’ll take you to our chief, Chief Kindi (Small Knife).’

He gasped in fear and uncertainty.

‘Don’t worry, our chief isn’t as immoral and cruel as Chief Mbada,’ Nyasha assured him. ‘I am the chief’s fruit gatherer.’

‘Isn’t that a feminine job?’ he asked looking surprised.

Not looking insulted, ‘Since the chief is getting old he can only manage to chew soft food like fruits and other soft vegetables, and he appointed me for the task not too long ago since he only trusts me for this job. Walk with me, Tawana.’ They liaised as they walked towards Nyasha’s village.

As they walked and talked, Tawana began to get used to Nyasha more and more. It turned out that, according to Nyasha’s words and experience, Chief Kindi was a very honest and humble chief. Just the enthusiasm alone in Nyasha's voice, the hand gestures and the buoyant bobbing of his head theatrically made Tawana more and more at ease about this Chief Kindi. He sounded like the perfect opposite to Chief Mbada.

There were thorns along the journey but Tawana tried his best to look tough. He had already lost face by being found in the bottom of a pit and pitifully pulled out. Not that it was his fault but he was determined to show himself a man.

True to Nyasha’s words, the village looked beautiful. It looked very humble but it gave off a very powerful vibe. There were fat cattle everywhere. Goats could be seen grazing in the distance and others among the hills. Children were happily playing in a distance but most of them would stop and gaze upon this stranger. Tawana had enjoyed his conversation with Nyasha. He had even asked him about the tattoo at the back of his hand but Nyasha told him not to worry about it, that it was probably just a birthmark to ward off evil spirits. This answer however only infuriated Tawana even more because those were the exact words his parents used on him.

There was no fault Tawana could find about Chaponda village. There was such a pleasant atmosphere about it. Every single person he saw, from the children running about like monkeys looked full of life, bellies swollen with food and muscles rippling beneath their dark skins. Chaponda definitely was the opposite of Matanda.

They finally arrived at a small homestead. There were only two huts here. One of them was releasing smoke which revealed that it was the kitchen. In the background were a couple of chickens and a donkey tied to a tree.

‘Welcome to my home,’ Nyasha spread his arms in welcome.

Tawana nodded his head thoughtfully. He did not know how to respond having seen the large home of Chief Mbada.

Noticing his unimpressed expression, ‘It’s not much but this is just how it is.’

‘So, you’re just a humble fruit gatherer for the chief?’ Tawana asked him.

‘I also inform the chief of the activities in the forest, like perhaps if the Ndebele set traps. I can find them and tell him about it.’

He nodded again thoughtfully.

Inside the kitchen was Nyasha’s wife who was busy with cooking. Just like Nyasha, she looked humble as she knelt before the fire. She was quite thin and she had big bulging eyes. Her hair was wildly unkempt but it looked very clean. ‘And who is this?’ she asked grinning at Tawana as she stood up wiping her hands against her thighs.

‘This is Tawana Masimba of Matanda village,’ Nyasha answered for him. ‘He had fallen into one of our traps and I managed to pull him out.’

She rubbed Tawana’s head affectionately. ‘You do know though that if he is found here with us, then we could be severely punished?’ she warned her husband. This was the same rule at Matanda village. Lost children were supposed to be reported to the chief immediately and failure to conform to this rule could lead to severe punishment of those harboring the child.

‘I know, Rudo (Love). He’s only staying with us for today but first thing tomorrow morning I’m taking him to the chief.’

‘To the chief? No, please don’t!’ Tawana pleaded with him.

‘Relax, Tawana. I mean our chief; Chief Kindi.’

He gave a sigh of relief.

‘Don’t worry, Tawana,’ Rudo assured him, ‘you’re in good hands.’

Nyasha and his wife were very nice to Tawana. He had been given a plate of hot steaming sadza and large pieces of meat. He devoured it like it was his last meal alive. After the meal, they heated some water for him and he took a bath. After this, they sat in the kitchen where he told them about his story.

Both Nyasha and Rudo were amazed at Tawana’s intelligence. After the long talk and the constant gasping at intervals in his story, Rudo took out the last burning piece of wood from the fireplace then rolled in two mats in the kitchen: one for Tawana and one for her husband and her.

As Tawana slept he kept thinking about his parents. It was a long time before sleep caught up with him.

He was woken up early in the morning by Nyasha. In his hand was a bowl of hot porridge cooked with groundnuts. As soon as Tawana opened his eyes, he placed it in front of him.

‘Eat up,’ Nyasha said, ‘we leave for the chief’s home in a moment.’