In a land very far to the south, many weeks beyond the mountains of Nubia and Kush, in the jungle at the edge of the African continent, lie the Mountain of the Moon. A craggy stone spire that seem to grow straight out of the steamy green jungles that lie between the coast and the Spine of the Dragon that separate the jungle from the fertile plains of Zimbabwe. In a cave high up in this Mountain of the Moon lived a family of giant vultures with wings so great that they could soar to the heavens. The sky god Mazda, once put two of these vultures at the opposite ends of the earth and got them to fly towards each other, thereby finding the centre of the world at Dalmonti. For centuries the children of the mighty sky god, lived happily in that area and were able to care for and feed their families in peace, until one day when all hell broke loose.

 

The cause of all the destruction and turmoil started with a young man called Chiman, who was the curious son of a local chief. It was his job to lead the livestock out into the field every day and to take care of them until they were safely returned to the kraal in the evenings. Many days he would take the cattle and the goats onto a row of small hills called kopjes that divided the plains from the jungle. This line of kopjes resembled the spine of a huge animal that could have been sleeping just under the grassy surface of the earth. Standing on one of these kopjes he would stare across the strip of jungle at the craggy stone spire that looked so close that he could almost touch it, yet he could hardly see the giant vultures when they flew from their cave. The vultures would sometimes glide right over him and then begin to circle the spire, magically going higher and higher until they disappeared into the heavens without once flapping their wings like the other birds. He became fascinated by the magic of these giant birds of the sky and how they could fly without flapping their wings.

 

Nobody was able to answer his questions, not his father and not even the wise shaman that brought the annual rains. What they did tell him was to stay out of the jungle and keep the cattle away from the trees with the yellow bark because there they would fall pray to the tsetse flies that would put them to sleep before they die. He was again told about the leopards and giant pythons that lurk in the shadows of the jungle. One day he heard the bleating of a baby goat very close to the edge of the jungle. He climbed onto a nearby rock to have a better look and saw how a mother goat slowly walked closer to a thick bush right on the edge of the forest. The curious thing was that its own baby was playing in the grass just a short distance away.

 

Out of the bush came a giant horned python with glowing red eyes, making a sound just like a kid goat. The mother seemed to freeze in her tracks and because he was too far to do anything, Chiman decided to watch and see what would happen. The baby goat got scared and ran away to the rest of the flock, its mother now stood frozen while the huge snake slowly coiled around her legs and held them tight. Just like any baby goat the snake bumped against the ewe's udder and then started to drink from the goat. Chiman carefully approached the snake from behind and grabbed it by a horn putting his knife to its throat. Great was his surprise when the snake started begging for its life.

 

“Please don't kill me brave son of Chingaan! I only drank from one of the goat's teats and there is still plenty of milk left in the other one for the kid. Please I have never killed any of your goats, only drank a little bit of milk from them.”

 

Chiman thought that maybe he was dreaming, yet here he was holding this python by the horn and could see the goat right in front of him. He could even smell the milk that the snake was drinking. He pinned the snake to the ground with his knee and kept his knife on it's throat.

 

“First release my father's goat, then I will decide if I am going to kill you or not!”

 

The snake immediately released the mother goat, which ran away safely and joined the rest of the flock. Chiman was ready to do battle with the snake and decided to cut it's head off the moment it tried to put any of its coils around him. The snake however continued to 'rapela', meaning it was still begging for its life and didn't try to attack him in any way. With the snake still tightly in his grip, Chiman began to question him.

 

“Who are you and why did you try to kill one of my father's goats?”

 

“I have never killed any of your goats or brought any harm to the peoples of Chingaan. What is more your crops have flourished as I always bring the rains on time.”

 

Chiman knew this to be true and took his knife off the neck of the snake and put it away. He grabbed the other horn with his free hand and snake and human found themselves staring each other square in the eye. Chiman was a brave young man but looking into those glowing red eyes made him feel like he was staring into the camp fire at night. In front of his very eyes and while still holding it by the horns, the snake changed into a human form. The boy in him stood back in fear and watched how the snake stood up on two legs and arms grew from its side like branches from a tree. He found his legs unable to move because if they could he would surely have run away. In front of him stood something about the same size and shape as he was, just covered in the scaly chevron patterned skin of the python.

 

“Chitahuri! That is what you are.”

 

Chiman couldn't hide the fear in his voice when he realized that he had come face to face with the reptilian demon of the marsh. This was exactly how the elders of the tribe described it to them, scaly, smooth, snakelike skin with the head of a lizard crowned by two short horns like a heifer. The eyes they said could glow red like fire and were shaped like that of a reptile. Never under any circumstances look into the eyes of one of these chitahuri, was the stern warning from the rainmaker. Now he understood why because he found himself under a spell and unable to look away or move his wobbly legs. He called out in surprise:

 

“How do you do this?”

 

The chitahuri heard the fear in the boys voice and realized that he had never looked on one of his kind and was very scared of him.

 

“Don't be scared Chiman, son of the brave chief Chingaan, you are just looking at one of your brothers from the water. If it would make you feel better, I will change into your likeness because I have no fear of humans.”

 

Right in front of him the glowing fire drained away from his eyes and he started to shed his skin just like any snake would do. The horns disappeared and firery golden red hair sprung from his head. His eyes changed to a light blue-green colour as the rest of his body took on the shape and smooth skin of any other boy his age. The chitahuri bent down, picked up the skin and folded it lengthwise, then wrapped it around him for clothes. Chiman couldn't believe his eyes facing a young man that could have been his twin brother, just with slightly different colour eyes and hair. The fear had left his body and calm returned to his voice when he asked again:

 

“Who are you?”

 

“My name is Nyoka, the son of Mashusu, lord of the dark water.”

 

“I know that name, when we see a big snake we call out 'joka', in my mind it means snake. The 'bwana Mashusu' [lord of Shape] is the one we sacrifice the goat for when we tie it to a tree near the waters edge. The shaman would pray for rain and a few days later the wind would start blowing from the east to bring the spring rains.”

 

“Then you know who we are and that we, like our ancestors always tried to help mankind.”

 

“I know you always bring the rains on time and bless our crop but why then do you hide in the darkness of the swamp where we can't see you?”

 

“We don't. We walk amongst you every day, we help you in your daily lives, we teach you and protect you – we answer your questions when the time is right.”

 

“How is that possible because I have never seen you before?”

 

“You have seen me many times, in fact you have grown up before me and lately you have been asking some very difficult questions of me.”

 

Chiman opened his mouth to ask another question but his very breath was taken from his throat and he stood in awe as the young 'snake boy' changed in front of his eyes into the wise old shaman of their village. The old man stood there in front of him with his gray hair and mysterious smile, wearing his familiar snake-skin girdle around his middle. Chiman stumbled over his own tongue and only managed to utter the old mans name which means wise medicine man.

 

“Zamani?”

 

In silence the young man looked up at his 'mganga' or shaman and so many thoughts ran through his mind that he could not express even one of them in words. The wise old shaman in turn looked upon him in fondness and remembered a similar event many, many years earlier.

 

“A generation ago a brave young man stood on his knees in front of me, looked up with the same eyes that you have and begged me to protect his family. Still a boy but with the heart of a lion in his chest – his name was Chingaan, the brave one. To this day people bow before him in praise when they chant: Chingaan, shujaa na moyo wa simba.” [Chingaan, hero with the heart of a lion.]

 

Slowly the boy became a man when he also went on his knees in front of his 'mganga' and asked him for wisdom and strength, just like his father did all those many years ago. The old 'mganga' put both his hands on the head of the boy and blessed him with bravery and wisdom. Zamani took a smooth, dark, eight-sided pebble from his pouch, not much bigger than his big toe and proceeded to rub it slowly from the bridge of Chiman's nose across his forehead, over the middle of his head, down the back of his neck and along his spine, down to the small of his back. The boy's eyes fell closed even before he had finished the first stroke. With the boy's head cupped in his left hand he repeated this rubbing motion over and over while chanting softly:

 

“Mimi ni kijana katika kizingiti cha hatima yangu, [I am a boy at the threshold of my destiny,]

Tafadhali wazi mawazo yangu na napenda kuona. [Please clear my mind and let me see.]

Mimi ni kijana katika kizingiti cha hatima yangu, [I am a boy at the threshold of my destiny,]

Tafadhali chukua mkono wangu na kutuongoza. [Please take my hand and guide us.]

Mimi ni kijana katika kizingiti cha hatima yangu, [I am a boy at the threshold of my destiny,]

Tafadhali nipe nguvu na hekima ya kuongoza.” [Please give me the force and wisdom to lead.]

 

On completion of each chant, he would start with the stone between the eyes and while singing the chant, gently glide the stone along its path across the head and down the spine. Between chants he explained to Chiman that he would need to do it every night, the last thing before he goes to sleep and every morning the first thing before he leaves the hut. He must always keep the magic stone with him and put it next to his head when he sleeps at night. For this to work, he needs to do it at least five times, even on days when he is in a hurry. On days that he feels sad or upset he needs to do it 10 times, once for each one of his fingers. After the fifth stroke, Chiman started feeling real sleepy but was plucked from his state of blankness by Zamani's voice and the pebble that was put in the palm of his hand.

 

“Now you do it.”

 

By this time Chiman knew the words of the chant off by hart but still had to clear his throat a few times before the words and melody came out right. He ran the stone nicely over his head and down his neck but found himself stuck when it reached the area between his shoulder blades. Zamani folded his other arm up behind his back and pushed it up a little to help him transfer the stone from the one hand to the other.

 

“Now run it all the way down to the small of your back, then keep it in that hand and start again between your eyes with that same hand.”

 

Again he got stuck between the shoulder blades and when Zamani pushed up the other arm the stone slipped from the boy's fingers and dropped to the ground. Chiman picked it up and looked up to the shaman for guidance of what to do.

 

“No problem, let me show you how to cleanse the stone. You need to wash it in 'maji' [water], the purer the maji the better the cleansing. Cool mountain streams are the best to use and the stone will be fresh and strong again. I am sure your question is what to do if you are far away from water or busy with your ritual like we are now. Just wipe the dirt from the stone, cup it in both your hands, spit on it like this and then rub your hands together, while rolling the stone around in the palms of your hands.”

 

Chiman copied the older man and did the same to cleanse the stone. He could feel a buildup of heat in the palms of his hands, which was a measure of the power of the stone.

 

“Obviously this is not ideal and the stone will not be as strong as it can be when you washed it in a clear mountain stream but you can't leave your hut at night to walk to the mountains if you need to cleanse the stone. Now keep practicing until you can transfer the stone from one hand to the other. Press it against your skin until you get a firm grip of it with your other hand's fingers. Keep chanting and hold those thoughts in your mind, while you go through the actions.”

 

The boy soon got the knack of it and the stone traversed along the main energy centres of his body to strengthen him. His confidence grew and he chanted stronger while moving the stone from the one set of fingertips to the other.

 

“Soon you will be a man and then we will change your chant to suit your expectations. One day when you are the chief, you will be chanting a song similar to that of your father, to help you in leading this tribe.”

 

Chiman looked up at the old man with doubt in his eyes.

 

“I don't think of myself as the future chief of the tribe, uncle Hekimo would be a far better chief than I can ever be.”

 

Hekimo was the chiefs baby brother, almost 20 summers younger than the chief and well known for his wisdom and knowledge.

 

“Sure Hekimo is a great advisor and of immense help to your father but he lacks the heart of a lion, to make those really difficult decisions that are sometimes required from 'n great leader.”

 

“There are so many things that I still need to see and discover for myself, things that I won't be able to do if I was the chief.”

 

Zamani burst out laughing and rubbed his hand over the boy's head.

 

“You are still young and your father will rule for many more years. There is plenty of time for your adventures and expeditions. What kind of things are so important that you would give up being chief, to be able to do that?”

 

“Mzee [elder], you don't understand how important these things are to me. I want to know where these tumbusi kubwa [giant vultures] go when they leave their cave in the mornings.”

 

“I can tell you that they travel north, sometimes very far.”

 

“But how far do they go and why do they fly north most of the time?”

 

“They fly north to the Serengeti plains where the giant herds roam, looking for carrion to fill their stomachs.”

 

“Zamani, how far are these 'Serengeti plains' and can you explain to me how to get there?”

 

“The great plains are many weeks travel from here but it is beset with great dangers and many wild animals that would love to make a meal out of you. Rather tell me what else it is that you would like to do so much.”

 

“One day I will go to the Serengeti, you will see.”

 

The old man saw the light in the boy's eyes and the far-away-stare to the north concerned him. He thought it better to change the topic and move away from talk about the Serengeti. [Endless plains]

 

“What else is there that you are so determined to do?”

 

“I want to go up to their cave and see what it looks like.”

 

Zamani didn't think that to be such a great idea either but still wondered about the boy's fascination with the giant vultures. His response was not too enthusiastic and he started wondering if he could guide the boy's thoughts in a different direction.

 

“I have never been that high up on the mountain and frankly the cave would not be much more than a smelly flee infested hole into the side of the mountain. I will rather take you to one of the streams where we could look for the 'woolly double pyramids', like the one I gave you.”

 

“Thank you Mzee, I would like it very much.”

 

Chiman heard the change in the old man's tone of voice and realized that he was getting ready to leave. He still had so many questions that were milling through his mind but decided to watch his manners and only ask one last question.

 

“Thank you very much for your wisdom Zamani, may I walk with you for a short while?”

 

“Sorry my son, I have some unfinished business deep in the swamp where you are not able to go.”

 

“Do you go there as a human or a snake?”

 

“I change into whatever is the safest and most convenient way to move around and in this case I am going to change into a snake once inside the forest and then into a crocodile once I reach the open water.”

 

“May I watch you when you change into these other shapes?”

 

“You are welcome to watch but I am not sure if you will be able to keep up once I enter the thick jungle and the marsh. Remember for your own protection, it will be better to keep to yourself what happened here today. Only your father will know what you are talking about, anyone else is going to think that you are busy losing your mind.”

 

Chiman followed the old shaman that was entering the tree-line on the way to the swamp. Once between the trees, Zamani began to change, first into the chitahuri shape that looked like a young boy similar in age to the one behind him. Then he started to grow a tail, started to walk like a lizard on his back legs, wrapped the snake-skin around him and soon he was waddling along like a monitor lizard. Chiman struggled to keep up in the thicker undergrowth and the last he saw was the hind legs getting smaller and the amazing reptilian starting to slither away into the thicket.

 

Once he lost sight of the 'mganga', he just stood there listening for the slightest noise but there was none. He couldn't help wandering if he was awake or maybe all of this was just a dream. Reluctantly he walked back out of the jungle to where the flock was still grazing peacefully along the side of a small hill. Once in the bright sunlight of the day he thought that maybe it really was one of those day-dreams that feel like they are almost real. He reached into his pouch to feel for the 'touch-stone' that Zamani gave to him but with very little conviction because he started to doubt what really happened. To his own surprise, his fingers found the stone at the bottom of the pouch and he looked at it in awe while it was lying there in the palm of his hand. He knew that it really happened and for the first time he also understood why the word 'mganga' also means wizard or sorcerer.

 

 

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