R.V. Russell - "The Tribes and Castes of the Central Provinces of India Volume IV of IV"

William S. Sadler - "The Mother and Her Child"

Theodor Mommsen - "Römische Geschichte Book 3"

Edmond About - "The Man With The Broken Ear"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

The Ghost Kings

H >> H. Rider Haggard >> The Ghost Kings




So next night Nya laid her charm upon Rachel as before, and again her
spirit sought for Richard. This time it seemed to her that she did not
leave the earth, but with infinite pain, with terrible struggling,
wandered to and fro about it, bewildered by a multitude of faces, led
astray by myriads of footsteps. Yet in the end she found him. She heard
him not, she saw him not, she knew not where he was, but undoubtedly for a
while she was with him, and awoke again, exhausted, but very happy.

Nya heard her story, weighing every word of it but saying nothing. Then
she signed to the dwarfs to bring her a bowl of dew, and stared in it for
a long while. The dwarf-women also stared into their bowls, and afterwards
came to her, talking to her on their fingers, after which all three of
them upset the dew upon a rock, "breaking the pictures."

"Hast thou seen aught?" asked Rachel eagerly.

"Yes, Maiden," answered the mother. "I and these wise women have seen
something, the same thing, and therefore a true thing. But ask not what it
was, for we may not tell thee, nor would it help thee if we did. Only be
of a good courage, for this I say, there is hope for thee."

So Rachel went to sleep, pondering on these words, of which neither she
nor Noie could guess the meaning. The next night when she prayed Nya to
lay the spell upon her, the old Mother would not.

"Not so," she said. "Thrice have I rent thy soul from thy body and sent it
afar, and this I may do no more and keep thee living, nor could I if I
would, for I grow feeble. Neither is it necessary, seeing that although
thou knowest it not, that spirit of thine, having found him, is with him
wherever he may be, yes, at his side comforting him."

"Aye, but Where is he, Mother? Let me look in the bowl and see his face,
as I believe that thou hast done."

"Look if thou wilt," and she motioned to one of the dwarf-women to place a
bowl before her.

So Rachel looked long and earnestly, but saw nothing of Richard, only many
fantastic pictures, most of which she knew again for scenes from her own
past. At length, worn out, she thrust away the bowl, and asked in a bitter
voice why they mocked her, and how it came about that she who had seen the
coming of Richard in the pool in Zululand, and the fate of Dingaan the
King in the bowl of Eddo, could now see nothing of any worth.

"As regards the vision of the pool I cannot say, Maiden," replied Nya,
"for that was born of thine own heart, and had nothing to do with our
magic. As regards the visions in the bowl of Eddo, they were his visions,
not thine, or rather my visions that I saw before he started hence. I
passed them on to him, and he passed them on to thee, and thou didst pass
them on to King Dingaan. Far-sighted and pure-souled as thou art, yet not
having been instructed in their wizardry, thou wilt see nothing in the
bowls of the dwarfs unless their blood is mingled with thy blood."

"'Their blood mingled with my blood?' What dost thou mean, Mother?"

"What I say, neither more nor less. If Eddo has his will, thou wilt rule
after me here as Mother of the Trees. But first thy veins must be opened,
and the veins of Eddo must be opened, and Eddo's blood must be poured into
thee, and thy blood into him. Then thou wilt be able to read in the bowls
as we can, and Eddo will be thy master, and thou must do his bidding while
you both shall live."

"If so," answered Rachel, "I think that neither of us will live long."

That night Rachel felt too exhausted to sleep, though why this should be
she could not guess, as she had done nothing all day save watch the mutes
at their dreary tasks, and it was strange, therefore, that she should feel
as though she had made a long journey upon her feet. About an hour before
the dawn she saw Nya rise and glide past her towards the mouth of the
cave, carrying in her hand a little drum, like those used by the mute
women. Something impelled her to follow, and waking Noie at her side, she
bade her come also.

Outside of the cave by the faint starlight they saw the little shape of
Nya creeping down the mound, and thence across the open space towards the
wall, and went after her, thinking that she intended to pass the wall. But
this she did not do, for when she came to its foot Nya, notwithstanding
her feebleness, began to climb the rough stones as actively as any cat,
and though their ascent seemed perilous enough, reached the crest of the
wall sixty feet above in safety, and there sat herself down. Next they
heard her beating upon the drum she bore, single strokes always, but some
of them slow, and some rapid, with a pause between every five or ten
strokes, "as though she were spelling out words," thought Rachel.

After a while Nya ceased her beating, and in the utter silence of the
night, which was broken only, as always, by the occasional crash of
falling trees, for no breath of air stirred, and all the beasts of prey
had sought their lairs before light came, both she and Noie seemed to
hear, far, infinitely far away, the faint beat of an answering drum. It
would appear that Nya heard it also, for she struck a single note upon
hers as though in acknowledgement, after which the distant beating went
on, paused as though for a reply from some other unheard drum, and again
from time to time went on, perhaps repeating that reply.

For a long while this continued until the sky began to grow grey indeed,
when Nya beat for several minutes and was answered by a single, far-off
note. Then glancing at the heavens she prepared to descend the wall, while
Rachel and Noie slipped back to the cave and feigned to be asleep. Soon
she entered, and stood over them shaking her grey head and asking how it
came about that they thought that she, the Mother of the Trees, should be
so easily deceived.

"So thou sawest us," said Rachel, trying not to look ashamed.

"No; I saw you not with my eyes, either of you, but I felt both of you
following me, and heard in my heart what you were whispering to each
other. Well, Inkosazana, art thou the wiser for this journey?"

"No, Mother, but tell us if thou wilt what thou wast beating on that
drum."

"Gladly," she answered. "I was sending certain orders to the slave peoples
who still know me as Mother of the Trees, and obey my words. Perhaps thou
dost not believe that while I sat upon yonder wall I talked across the
desert to the chiefs of the marches upon the far border of the land of the
Umkulu, and that by now at my bidding they have sent out men upon an
errand of mine."

"What was the errand, Mother?" asked Rachel curiously.

"I said the errand was mine, not thine, Maiden. It is not pressing, but as
I do not know how long my strength will last, I thought it well that it
should be settled." Then without more words she coiled herself up on her
mat and seemed to go to sleep.

It was after this incident of the drums that Rachel experienced the
strangest days, or rather weeks of her life. Nya sent her into no more
trances, and to all outward seeming nothing happened. Yet within her much
did happen. Her madness had utterly left her and still she was not as
other women are, or as she herself had been in health. Her mind seemed to
wander and she knew not whither it wandered. Yet for long hours, although
she was awake and, so Noie said, talking or eating or walking as usual, it
was away from her, and afterwards she could remember nothing. Also this
happened at night as well as during the day, and ever more and more often.

She could remember nothing, yet out of this nothingness there grew upon
her a continual sense of the presence of Richard Darrien, a presence that
seemed to come nearer and nearer, closer and closer to her heart. It was
the assurance of this presence that made those long days so happy to her,
though when she was herself, she felt that it could be naught but a dream.
Yet why should a dream move her so strangely, and why should a dream weary
her so much? Why, after sleeping all night, should she awake feeling as
though she had journeyed all night? Why should her limbs ache and she grow
thin like one who travels without cease? Why should she seem time after
time to have passed great dangers, to have known cold, and heat and want
and struggle against waters and the battling against storms? Why should
her knowledge of this Richard, of the very heart and soul of Richard, grow
ever deeper till it was as though they were not twain, but one?

She could not answer these questions, and Noie could not answer them, and
when she asked Nya the old Mother shook her head and could not, or would
not answer. Only the dwarf-mutes seemed to know the answer, for when she
passed them they nudged each other, and grinned and thrust their little
woolly heads together staring, several of them, into one bowl. But if Noie
and Nya knew nothing of the cause of these things the effect of them
stirred them both, for they saw that Rachel, the tall and strong, grew
faint and weak and began to fade away as one fades upon whom deadly
sickness has laid its hand.

Thus three weeks or so went by, until one day in some fashion of her own
Nya caused to arise an the mind of Eddo a knowledge of her desire to speak
with him. Early the next morning Eddo arrived at the Holy Place
accompanied only by his familiar, Hana, and Nya met them alone in the
mouth of the cave.

"I see that thou art very white and thin, but still alive, old woman,"
sneered Eddo, adding: "All the thousands of the people yonder thought that
long ere this thou wouldst have passed within the Fence. May I take back
that good tidings to them?"

The ancient Mother of the Trees looked at him sternly.

"It is true, thou evil mocker," she said, "that I am white and thin. It is
true that I grow like to the skeleton of a rotted leaf, all ribs and
netted veins without substance. It is true that my round eyes start from
my head like to those of a bush plover, or the tree lizard, and that soon
I must pass within the Fence, as thou hast so long desired that I should
do that thou mayest reign alone over the thousands of the People of the
Dwarfs and wield their wisdom to increase thy power, thou poison-bloated
toad. All these things are true, Eddo, yet ere I go I have a word to say
to thee to which thou wilt do well to listen."

"Speak on," said Eddo. "Without doubt thou hast wisdom of a sort; honey
thou hast garnered during many years, and it is well that I should suck
the store before it is too late."

"Eddo," said Nya, "I am not the only one in this Holy Place who grows
white and thin. Look, there is another," and she nodded towards Rachel,
who walked past them aimlessly with dreaming eyes, attended by Noie, upon
whose arm she leant.

"I see," answered Eddo; "this haunted death-prison presses the life out of
her, also I think that thou hast sent her Spirit travelling, as thou
knowest how to do, and such journeys sap the strength of flesh and blood."

"Perhaps; but now before it is too late I would send her body travelling
also; only thou, who hast the power for a while, dost bar the road."

"I know," said Eddo, nodding his bead and looking at his companion. "We
all know, do we not, Hana? we who have heard certain beatings of drums in
the night, and studied dew drops beneath the trees at dawn. Thou wouldst
send her to meet another traveller."

"Yes, and if thou art wise thou wilt let her go."

"Why should I let her go," asked the priest passionately, "and with her
all my greatness? She must reign here after thee, for at her feet thy Tree
fell, and it is the will of the people, who weary of dwarf queens and
desire one that is tall and beautiful and white. Moreover, when my blood
has been poured into her, her wisdom will be great, greater than thine or
that of any Mother that went before thee, for she is '_Wensi_' the Virgin,
and her soul is purer than them all. I will not let her go. If she leaves
this Holy Place where none may do her harm, she shall die, and then her
Spirit may go to seek that other traveller."

"Thou art mad, Eddo, mad and blind with pride and folly. Let her be, and
choose another Mother. Now, there is Noie."

"Thy great-niece, Nya, who thinks as thou thinkest, and hates those whom
thou hatest. Nay, I will have none of that half-breed. Yonder white
Inkosazana shall be our queen and no other."

"Then, Eddo," whispered Nya, leaning forward and looking into his eyes,
"she shall be the last Mother of this people. Fool, there are those who
fight for her against whom thou canst not prevail. Thou knowest them not,
but I know them, and I tell thee that they make ready thy doom. Have thy
way, Eddo; it was not for her that I pleaded with thee, but for the sake
of the ancient People of the Ghosts, whose fate draws nigh to them. Fool,
have thy way, spin thy web, and be caught in it thyself. I tell thee,
Eddo, that thy death shall be redder than any thou hast ever dreamed, nor
shall it fall on thee alone. Begone now, and trouble me no more till in
another place all that is left of thee shall creep to my feet, praying me
for a pardon thou shalt not find. Begone, for the last leaf withers on my
Tree and to-morrow I pass within the Fence. Say to the people that their
Mother against whom they rebelled is dead, and that she bids them prepare
to meet the evil which, alive, she warded from their heads."

Now Eddo strove to answer, but could not, for there was something in the
flaming eyes of Nya which frightened him. He looked at Hana, and Hana
looked back at him, then taking each other's hand they slunk away towards
the wall, staggering blindly through the sunshine towards the shade.



CHAPTER XXIII

THE DREAM IN THE NORTH


Richard Darrien remembered drinking a bowl of milk in the hut in which he
was imprisoned at Mafooti, and instantly feeling a cold chill run to his
heart and brain, after which he remembered no more for many a day. At
length, however, by slow degrees, and with sundry slips back into
unconsciousness, life and some share of his reason and memory returned to
him. He awoke to find himself lying in a hut roughly fashioned of
branches, and attended by a Kaffir woman of middle age.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I am named Mami," she answered.

"Mami, Mami! I know the name, and I know the voice. Say, were you one of
the wives of Ibubesi, she who spoke with me through the fence?" and he
strove to raise himself on his arm to look at her, but fell back from
weakness.

"Yes, Inkoos, I was one of his wives."

"Was? Then where is Ibubesi now?"

"Dead, Inkoos. The fire has burned him up with his kraal Mafooti."

"With the kraal Mafooti! Where, then, is the Inkosazana? Answer, woman,
and be swift," he cried in a hollow voice.

"Alas! Inkoos, alas! she is dead also, for she was in the kraal when the
fire swept it, and was seen standing on the top of a hut where she had
taken refuge, and after that she was seen no more."

"Then let me die and go to her," exclaimed Richard with a groan, as he
fell back upon his bed, where he lay almost insensible for three more
days.

Yet he did not die, for he was young and very strong, and Mami poured milk
down his throat to keep the life in him. Indeed little by little something
of his strength came back, so that at last he was able to think and talk
with her again, and learned all the dreadful story.

He learned how the people of Mafooti, fearing the vengeance of Dingaan,
had fled away from their kraal, carrying what they thought to be his body
with them, lest it should remain in evidence against them, and taking all
the cattle that they could gather. Every one of them had fled that could
travel, only Ibubesi and a few sick, and certain folk who chanced to be
outside the walls, remaining behind. It was from two of these, who escaped
during the burning of the kraal by the Zulus, or by fire from the Heavens,
they knew not which, that they had heard of the awful end of Ibubesi, and
of his prisoner, the Inkosazana. As for themselves, they had travelled
night and day, till they reached a certain secret and almost inaccessible
place in the great Quathlamba Mountains, in which people had lived whom
Chaka wiped out, and there hidden themselves. In this place they remained,
hoping that Dingaan would not care to follow them so far, and purposing to
make it their home, since here they found good mealie lands, and
fortunately the most of their cattle remained alive. That was all the
story, there was nothing more to tell.

A day or two later Richard was able to creep out of the hut and see the
place. It was as Mami had said, very strong, a kind of tableland ringed
round with precipices that could only be climbed through a single narrow
nek, and overshadowed by the great Quathlamba range. The people, who were
engaged in planting their corn, gathered round him, staring at him as
though he were one risen from the dead, and greeted him with respectful
words. He spoke to several of them, including the two men who had seen the
burning of Mafooti, though from a little distance. But they could tell him
no more than Mami had done, except that they were sure that the Inkosazana
had perished in the flames, as had many of the Zulus, who broke into the
town. Richard was sure of it also--who would not have been?--and crept
back broken-hearted to his hut, he who had lost all, and longed that he
might die.

But he did not die, he grew strong again, and when he was well and fit to
travel, went to the headmen of the people, saying that now he desired to
leave them and return to his own place in the Cape Colony. The headmen
said No, he must not leave, for in their hearts they were sure that he
would go, not to the Cape Colony, but to Zululand, there to discover all
he could as to the death of the Inkosazana. So they told him that with
them he must bide, for then if the Zulus tracked them out they would be
able to produce him, who otherwise would be put to the spear, every man of
them, as his murderers. The sin of Ibubesi who had been their chief, clung
to them, and they knew well what Dingaan and Tamboosa had sworn should
happen to those who harmed the white chief, Dario, who was under the
mantle of their Inkosazana.

Richard reasoned with them, but it was of no use, they, would not let him
go. Therefore in the end he appeared to fall in with their humour, and
meanwhile began to plan escape. One dark night he tried it indeed, only to
be seized in the mouth of the nek, and brought back to his hut. Next
morning the headman spoke with him, telling him that he should only depart
thence over their dead bodies, and that they watched him night and day;
that the nek, moreover, was always guarded. Then they made an offer to
him. He was a white man, they said, and cleverer than they were; let them
come under his wing, let him be their chief, for he would know how to
protect them from the Zulus and any other enemies. He could take over the
wives of Ibubesi (at this proposition Richard shuddered), and they would
obey him in all things, only he must not attempt to leave them--which he
should never do alive.

Richard put the proposal by, but in the end, not because he wished it,
but by the mere weight of his white man's blood, and for the lack of
anything else to do, drifted into some such position. Only at the wives of
Ibubesi, or any other wives, he would not so much as look, a slight that
gave offence to those women, but made the others laugh.

So, for certain long weeks he sat in that secret nook in the mountains as
the chief of a little Kaffir tribe, occupying himself with the planting of
crops, the building of walls and huts, the drilling of men and the
settling of quarrels. All day he worked thus, but after the day came the
night when he did not work, and those nights he dreaded. For then the
languor, not of body, but of mind, which the poison the old
witch-doctoress had given to Ishmael had left behind it, would overcome
him, bringing with it black despair, and his grief would get a hold of
him, torturing his heart. For of the memory of Rachel he could never be
rid for a single hour, and his love for her grew deeper day by day. And
she was dead! Oh, she was dead, leaving him living.

One night he dreamed of Rachel, dreamed that she was searching for him and
calling him. It was a very vivid dream, but he woke up and it passed away
as such dreams do. Only all the day that followed he felt a strange
throbbing in his head, and found himself turning ever towards the north.
The next night he dreamed again of her, and heard her say, "The search has
been far and long, but I have found you, Richard. Open your eyes now, and
you will see my face." So he opened his eyes, and there, sure enough, in
the darkness he perceived the outline of her sweet, remembered face, about
which fell her golden hair. For one moment only he perceived it, then it
was gone, and after that her presence never seemed to leave him. He could
not see her, he could not touch her, and yet she was ever at his side. His
brain ached with the thought of her, her breath seemed to fan his hands
and hair. At night her face floated before him, and in his dreams her
voice called him, saying: _"Come to me, come to me, Richard. I am in need
of you. Come to me. I myself will be your guide."_

Then he would wake, and remembering that she was dead, grew sure and ever
surer that the Spirit of Rachel was calling him down to death. It called
him from the north, always from the north. Soon he could scarcely walk
southwards, or east or west, for ere he had gone many yards his feet
turned and set his face towards the north, that was to the narrow nek
between the precipices which the Kaffirs guarded night and day.

One evening he went to his hut to sleep, if sleep would come to him. It
came, and with it that face and voice, but the face seemed paler, and the
voice more insistent.

"Will you not listen to me," it said, "you who were my love? For how long
must I plead with you? Soon my power will leave me, the opportunity will
be passed, and then how will you find me, Richard, my lover? Rise up, rise
up and follow ere it be too late, for I myself will be your guide."

He awoke. He could bear it no more. Perhaps he was mad, and these were
visions of his madness, mocking visions that led him to his death. Well,
if so, he still would follow them. Perhaps her body was buried in the
north. If so, he would be buried there also; perhaps her Soul dwelt in the
north. If so, his soul would fly thither to join it. The Kaffirs would
kill him in the pass. Well, if so, he would die with his face set
northwards whither Rachel drew him.

He rose up and wrapped himself in a cloak of goatskins. He filled a hide
bag with sun-dried flesh and parched corn, and hung it about his shoulders
with a gourd of water, for after all he might live a little while and need
food and drink. As he had no gun he took a staff and a knife and a
broad-bladed spear, and leaving the hut, set his face northward and walked
towards the mouth of the nek. At the first step which he took the torment
in his head seemed to leave him, who fought no longer, who had seemed
obedient to that mysterious summons. Quietness and confidence possessed
him. He was going to his end, but what did it matter? The dream beckoned
and he must follow. The moon shone bright, but he took no trouble to hide
himself, it did not seem to be worth while.

Now he was in the nek and drawing near to the place where the guard was
stationed, still he marched on, boldly, openly. As he thought, they were
on the alert. They drew out from behind the rocks and barred his path.

"Whither goest thou, lord Dario?" asked their captain. "Thou knowest that
here thou mayest not pass."

"I follow a Ghost to the north," he answered, "and living or dead, I
pass."

"_Ow_!" said the captain. "He says that he follows a Ghost. Well, we have
nothing to do with ghosts. Take him, unharmed if possible, but take him."

So, urged thereto by their own fears, since for their safety's sake they
dared not let him go, the men sprang towards him. They sprang towards him
where he stood waiting the end, for give back he would not, and of a
sudden fell down upon their faces, hiding their heads among the stones.
Richard did not know what had happened to them that they behaved thus
strangely, nor did he care. Only seeing them fallen he walked on over
them, and pursued his way along the nek and down it to the plains beyond.

All that night he walked, looking behind him from time to time to see if
any followed, but none came. He was alone, quite alone, save for the dream
that led him towards the north. At sunrise he rested and slept a while,
then, awaking after midday, went on his road. He did not know the road,
yet never was he in doubt for a moment. It was always clear to him whither
he should go. That night he finished his food and again slept a while,
going forward at the dawn. In the morning he met some Kaffirs, who
questioned him, but he answered only that he was following a Dream to the
north. They stared at him, seemed to grow frightened and ran away. But
presently some of them came back and placed food in his path, which he
took and left them.

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