Mbinguni, The New Africa

A land eroded….

He stood on the foothold of the mountain, from a bird’s eye view, his gaze fixed on the only remaining land of Africa. A single tear rolled down his left cheek as his thoughts shifted to the ambiguity of this state. Nature had heeded the call for a united Africa. One Africa without borders, no more invisible walls to mark the invisible lines of division, no more senseless wars and fight over territory. Just one Africa with its people reunited as one and speaking one language. Yet this Africa; the land of life’s origin, was sitting in a state of despair and on the verge of disappearing and becoming extinct, along with all forms of life on it. The land of human origin had been ploughed too deep for far too long. Years and years of being plundered mercilessly with no protection or preservation of any kind had left the world’s bread basket one big heap of rotting land. A large part of the land was now sunken and buried under water. This act of nature forced people from North, South, East and West Africa to migrate further and further for survival until they settled on the only habitable piece of land left, the foremost centre of Africa.

A thick blanket of debris covered the large surface area of the water surrounding the land, the only reminder that freshwater once existed in its place. This water was contaminated, its sparkle had been replaced with the leftover rubble from the minerals dug deep from underground. The soil lost its fertility and the greenery turned dull and brown.

The only remaining people on the land had accepted this current state of affairs as the life they were meant to live. Having survived the natural phenomenon that saw their homes being buried and many more people perishing along with them.

He continued watching as people and animals moved around as if in a hypnosis session. These beings, the only surviving species in the land had no idea that the only habitable place they were surviving on was on the verge of being swallowed by water and buried deep underneath the earth. He imagined that they went about their regular routines, unaware of the constant interruption in motion, deep underneath the earth where the soil met the water.

On the middle ground, there had been a secluded part of the land called Legodimo. It had been in the foremost centre of the land. It was farmable land surrounded by a manmade dam and reservoir. That piece of land was the only reason any living organism still existed. Legodimo had been occupied by those who were deemed wealthy. It gave them access to clean water, fresh fruits and vegetables, greenery and fresh air. The dam and reservoir had been built by the less wealthy ones, who also worked for the people at Legodimo. Their daily work had been to maintain the resources and state of life for the wealthy ones. Consequently, the maintenance and preservation of Legodimo ensured that every living being on the land survived. The rest of the people had different trees in their small yards, the produce from those trees would be the commodity they traded with at the open market. The compensation value had been clean water, fresh fruits and vegetables, which had become the currency. These chores were performed daily from as soon as the sun rose until sunset.

He felt an isolated cold chill on his left cheek as a gentle breeze brushed his face. When the breeze wafted past his ears, he felt a pounding that sounded like the loudest drum beat he had ever heard. He lifted his arms o the air and proceeded to stomp the ground with his feet in synchronization with the wind. His garment swirled and waved in the air, accompanied by the charming sound of the bells on the hem of his garment. Just then, a cloud that had stood in one place in the blue skies turned an orange-red shade and he knew that the time had come. On the seventh day, at the seventh hour, Africa would become a part of history. A history of a land that once existed but was left to perish by its own people.

View Full Post

***

Mutwa and Bhubesi….

The roar from deep underneath the earth shook the flat boulder where his beloved glass sculptures were placed. Just as God’s favour would have it, he caught one of the newer glass sculptures which he moulded a while ago before it hit the ground. These sneezes from the belly of the earth were such a daily occurrence that it was a bit strange when they did not appear.

Mutwa was an elderly man who could easily be over a hundred years old, with the stamina of a twenty-year-old. His mind was as sharp as that of a young boy. High up in these mountains, the deep caves had been his home for years on end. Mutwa remembered a time long past when he lived on the flat surface of the land below with all of his people. What a precious time it had been. The land was fertile; the air was so fresh that it was impossible for any harmful germs to survive. The greenery was luscious and crisp everywhere one looked and the waters were crystal clear. As a young boy, he remembered that he could drink water wherever he came across a dam, river or lake. Safe and healthy, it had been a magical time indeed.

The growl from his beloved pet lion, which he had named Bubhesi, reminded him that it was time for its feed. With no compromise, the meal had to be thick and rich with fat to satisfy Bubhesi’s hunger. He was not much fun to be around when he was famished. Mutwa dug into a big calabash, which he had carved from a tree trunk. His hand feeling instantly refreshed by the ice-cold water used to preserve the meat at the correct temperature. The meat was mountain kill from the animals which roamed about. As he took out the fattest piece of meat from the calabash, he was rather amused to see that Bubhesi was already licking his lips in anticipation of his feast. Mutwa threw the meat in the air and just as it hit the highest altitude, Bubhesi jumped just as high and caught it with his sharp teeth.

With the meat tightly grasped in his teeth, he slowly made his way to his corner and devoured his meal, which he always complimented with a nice long nap. Mutwa, with a contented smile on his face, watched as his pet enjoyed its meal. It pleased him to take such good care of it for the bond they shared was precious and unbreakably solid. Bubhesi had been with Mutwa for countless years. Their relationship was a special one. It was formed many moons ago when Bubhesi was still a small cub. They were always together in every waking moment. In silence and stillness, man and beast lived harmoniously in those deep caves.

Mutwa made his way outside. The mistiness of the low-hanging clouds was a spectacle of red, green, blue, purple and yellow. The kaleidoscope of colour was a reflection of the robe he wore. The robe was made from animal skin sourced from mountain kills, courtesy of Bhubesi. The colours had come from a mixture of water, mountain soil, and leaves of different trees and flowers. Once the skins were dry, the shredded mixture was used to cover the skins and laid on the boulders under the sun for a significant amount of time. Afterwards, the skins were rinsed off leaving a rainbow of colours which shone and sparkled under any form of light. The garment gave off the sound ambience of soothing bells. The sound came from the charms on the hems of his garment, which he had made out of gold, which he refined himself. He had carved them after he saw them in one of his many visions. It was the same with all of his paintings on the calabash, on the walls of the cave and on the surfaces of the big boulders outside the mountain caves. He never ignored a vision; the consequences of not heeding the call of his visions were just too dangerous and risky to humanity. He knew that they were messages straight from God and they always came to him in his moments of deep silence. Bubhesi knew not to make the tiniest of sounds during those moments.

The clear and crisp air greeted him when he got outside. The cave was deep in the mountains and from the outside, it was shaped like a rondavel. Inside the mountain cave, there was an opening on the rooftop, which gave a telescopic view of the sky. This opening illuminated the cave with natural light day and night. Most bizarre was that when it rained, the water did not fall through to the inside. The cave was cool when it was scorching hot and warm during those rare cold moments. In all the time that Mutwa had lived here, no one had ever been there. In truth, they were fearful of the mountain for they had been told that no one had ever gone to the mountain and those that attempted to, never lived to tell of it. The people believed that that mountain floated about during the day and disappeared at night. The mountain had low-hanging clouds which covered its base all the time, with only the top part being visible to the naked eye. That had been the reason why the mountain seemed to be floating. There was also the belief that the mountain belonged to the Sun God who was believed to be fiercely jealous and did not appreciate sharing their resting place with humans. The name Thaba-Djadji, meaning the sun’s mountain, had been a reminder to the people of the land down below that they were not welcome up there.

***

Mutwa was a long-forgotten outcast from years ago. He had become somewhat of a mythical figure to those who believed that he existed and superstition to those who rubbished his existence. In fact, he had been banished from his family when he was just a young boy of seven years of age. He had a gift from God to be shown events and moments from the future. The visions came to him through the ancestors, the angels of God. Mutwa could remember the day he was born and, in fact, one of his earliest memory of his first visions had been when he was still a baby. He saw a vision of his grandfather laughing heartily with tears rolling down his face. This had been strange because his grandfather rarely laughed or even smiled. Then one afternoon, Mutwa’s father had just come back from work at Legodimo. He told his father a story of how one of his bosses fell into a well that he had just completed building. The man fell in head first and his legs were left dangling in the air. Fortunately, the hole had not yet been filled with water. As clear as water on a sunny day, his grandfather had broken into great laughter that had never been heard from him before.

He learned how to speak around eleven months of age. That was when his family were first introduced to his gift. It was early on Saturday evening and the family had gathered around for a meal of bogobe, maharagwe and saka saka. Mutwa, just shy of his first birthday, blurted out in the midst of silent dining, that his grandfather should at least pray that night before sleep so that he would leave the world with a cleansed spirit. His family had laughed it off. How could they not? A baby was talking and using real language. It was only when they awoke to find the grandfather cold in his bed that they were forced to take it seriously. This was new to them; only healers such as Yutholo had been known to possess any psychic powers.

They dismissed it as nothing more than a coincidence. Only, these coincidences continued regularly. Throughout his young years, Mutwa would casually blurt out something which always sounded like some sort of divine guidance. Much as the family wanted to treat it as innocent childish behaviour, they realized that this was a regular occurrence and that it was not ceasing as simple as they thought it would. They told Mutwa that the only time he should say anything to any of them was when his visions included death, either than that he was barred from sharing his visions. This had been a challenge for Mutwa. When the visions came, the urge to voice them out felt like some superpower colonized his whole being. His attempts to defy voicing out the visions meant his whole body would feel like it had been put in a furnace. His face in particular would feel like it was plastered with lava. The discomfort would make him run around inside the home screaming wildly during these episodes. When his parents realized the hell befalling their young son and the sheer fear it brought out to the whole family, they then decided to soften their approach and let him be. The only condition was that he had to voice out the visions outside the family home and not share them with anyone, even the subjects of those visions. Mutwa did as told by his parents, and it seemed to work for a brief while.

One day, while playing with other kids, he blurted out to one of them that their father had not been swallowed by the soil; instead, he had been living in a different region with one of his mother’s cousins. This had caused such chaos as the little boy went home crying and retold the tale to his mother. The parents scolded Mutwa and warned him that should he ever disobey them again, not only will he not be allowed to share the family evening meals but they would also make him spend his nights outside. Mutwa did not want to disobey his parents so he would always run outside to voice out the visions that weighed heavily on his young self and only rejoin the family later once he had coughed everything out. He did his best to not share any visions with anyone but the wind.

***

One day, Mutwa asked his mother to go along with her to the market. His family’s commodity that they traded had been pure morula oil from their morula tree. His mother had reluctantly agreed, only on condition that he would run furthest from the market to blurt out any visions that came to him.

The better part of the morning had been going well. This was the first time that Mutwa had been around a large crowd. It was also the first time that his visions also came with a voice, a whisper, on what and whom to pass the message. The uncontrollable forces he would always experience when the visions came to him, were much more powerful this time around. Against his own resolve, the ancestors with a message would guide him to the intended subject. To everyone at the market; it seemed as though Mutwa was approaching people randomly in the open marketplace, to tell them about future events in their lives. His mother had felt that her son had once again disobeyed her instructions. This embarrassed her to no end. She was fearful about what people would think about their family. At first, the people at the market on that day had taken no mind to him. It had been somewhat comical to see such a young boy speak on serious matters as though he was an adult. It was only when, one by one, people started coming into his home crying and accusing the family of witchcraft that it became a problem.

The family’s greatest fears had come true, they were being accused of putting dark spells on the other families and using their ‘tokoloshe’ to do their dirty work. The events that he had foretold to the people at the open market would unfold in their lives exactly as he had told them they would. It had been messages from their ancestors and true to form, events related to those messages would show up sooner or later but they always came to pass. The family were beside themselves with misery and worry as they were fearful that they would be banished and shunned from the only life they had come to know. They decided to take him to different traditional healers in the hopes that he will be cured of these visions and be normal, like his siblings and other children.

Mutwa, like any other ordinary seven-year-old boy, had never wanted to be away from his beloved family and people. The decision had been taken by his parents after yet another consultation with yet another traditional healer. This particular healer was called Yutholo, a well-respected healer who even the other healers would seek guidance from. Yutholo had concluded that the only way to end the supposed confusion that the young boy brought to the family was to have him banished forever. This, he had said, was a direct instruction from God. Mutwa was to be taken to the deep caves high up in the forbidden mountains of Thaba-Djadji and left there until his spirit became wary and ultimately left his body. Mutwa’s parents had felt that they had no choice as they faced being shunned by their own people. But more so, they feared the wrath of disobeying a direct instruction from God. And so, they did as they were guided and allowed Yutholo to lead Mutwa to what would be his dying place. That would be the last time that Mutwa would ever physically see his parents and siblings.

***

The journey to Thaba-Djadji had been long and quite strange for the young boy. Yutholo had brought along some fresh fruits and water to replenish their strength and they would constantly drink some water whenever their bodies became fatigued and needed to be refreshed. Mutwa wondered to himself if Yutholo would manage the long trip and actually make it all the way to the deep mountain caves of Thaba-Djadji. As the sun gave way to the moon and stars, Yutholo found a resting spot under the shade of one of the trees by the wayside and instructed Mutwa to sit beside him. He needed to rest awhile for a short slumber and then the journey would continue when he awoke.

Mutwa did as instructed by the old man, even though he was looking forward to getting to the mountain and did not see the need to rest. You see, he had a prior vision of the mountain caves. He had seen himself living there in quiet solitude with God manifested as a beast. He knew in his spirit that he had a monumental task that required him to be isolated from his people. It was the only way to save them, to save their beloved land. His spirit knew, but the seven-year-old boy he was, just wanted to play with the many toys that he and the other boys had made out of clay. The warmth of home that his mother kept heavenly clean while his father and older siblings laboured in the fields at Legodimo. They had to work hard in the fields to ensure that the family always had enough food to last for all seasons. He would surely miss the smell of his mother’s akwadu. She made it from overripe bananas that the family’s patriarch received as part of his payment, for his work at Legodimo. His mother knew that it was his favourite dish. One time he ate so many servings of akwadu; his tummy became so stuffed that he ended up crying helplessly from the gluttonous discomfort. Whenever akwadu was made, everyone in his family made sure to remind him to take it easy.

He would only see his beloved parents, siblings and favourite people in his dreams. A single teardrop fell down his cheek at the reality of his last thought. It would dry out, he thought to himself. Yet he knew from his visions that things would not stay the same much longer. The darkness brewing was travelling at lightning speed to the remaining central land of Africa. Life as they knew it was in danger of being brought to absolute chaos. Only the chosen ones would have to step up to their predestined purposes and stop the darkness from destroying their land. Mutwa had been bestowed with the heavy task of ensuring that the chosen ones live up to fulfil their purpose when the time came. These had been some of the utterances that had gotten him into so much trouble. They brought so much fear and confusion to his family that they felt powerless and did not know how to stop it. As he got up, he said a silent prayer for the protection of Yutholo who lay peacefully under the shade slumbering. When he finally awoke, Yutholo would make his way back home safely. He, on the other hand, had to make it to Thaba-Djadji, the future of Mbinguni, the new Africa depended on it.

***

The chosen ones….

The recurring dream always started and ended the same way…. A colossal, warm and comforting light in the shape of a pillar appeared and gently lifted them and drew them to the light. Once inside the light, it morphed into a tunnel that transported them to a place that was stars, light, fresh air and mystical in its appearance. Above them, there was an ambiguous figure. Their face had been blurred and they appeared majestic yet human. As they were drawn closer to the figure, the dream ended.

A muddy scent permeated the air as rain clouds were forming on mountaintops signalling the arrival of heavy rains. Rains were always welcome. They cleansed whatever it was that needed to be cleansed and offered some relief to the land that they lived in. The dams and reservoirs, wells and dams would be filled.

Shiburi, a twenty-year-old strongly-built young man from a family of six, always appreciated the rain. The sound that the rain made and how it tasted in his mouth was such a treat for him. Of course, he had found a hiding place where he could drink up as much of the rainwater as he could as it fell down because being found would mean big trouble. His family was on the disadvantaged side. Rainwater was only reserved for wealthy families. It had become the only source of fresh water accessible. During heavy rains, the workers had to ensure that all the huge water carriers were filled to the brim so that there was always a surplus carrier with more than adequate water. That is all that most of the poorer families, including his own, ever did. They laboured hard from when the sun came up until the sun went down. That is how they managed to get food. It was the leftovers of the fresh fruits and vegetables discarded by the wealthy. This reality made him uncomfortable. Yet it was his reality and he hoped every day that the Gods would send a miracle to magically fix all of this mess. He yearned for the Africa that he had heard about from the elders long passed when he was a young boy. They spoke of an Africa where everyone existed in harmony and there was enough food and fresh water to go around for everyone. What had happened to that Africa he wondered, did it even ever exist or the tales had been some fairytales that the elders had come up with in order to entertain them and give them hope? Whether it had been true or not, he yearned greatly for it because the current state of affairs was a total and endless despair.

***

Mwiro lay on his sleeping mat. A beautiful young woman with sun-kissed golden skin, also twenty years of age and the oldest of her five sisters and brother. She had lied that she had been ill the past couple of days. The recurring dream had been so confusing to her and she wondered what it all meant. She had asked her dear mother who simply brushed it off as a meaningless dream and urged her to forget about it and concentrate on doing her chores so that she could bring home her share of fresh food and water. Everyone had to contribute or they would die of hunger and thirst. The resentment she felt for the wealthy families made her physically sick. She often wondered why they never shared their surplus of fresh produce. Surely, they had enough to feed a couple more families but they chose not to. As she listened to the rain pounding on the roof of their hut, she closed her eyes and imagined herself in a stream of fresh water laughing and playing with her brothers and sisters while their parents looked on joyfully seated under the shade of a big and green leafy tree. This comforting imagery would do, for now, she thought to herself. She would pretend to be very sick for just a few more days so that she could rest. As she fell asleep, the recurring dream, took over.

***

Sapara had discovered a way to store fresh water for herself without waiting for the few droplets of water from their masters. The work they had to do every day was quite hard and left everyone extremely tired when the sun went down. It was either that or going hungry. If only they had a choice. In her recurring dream, she so much wished that she could get a chance to speak to that majestic character and ask them to make it all go away. To heal the land and make sure that everyone had enough food and water to eat and drink. That was what she thought would solve everything, if the land would be healed then everything can go back to normal, if only she had the power and means to do it. Out of all her six siblings, she had been the only one who had ever questioned why their life had turned out that way. Her parents forbade her to stop asking questions and instead to gather enough strength to put it to her share of the work. As she slowly dozed off, her last conscious thought was how lovely it would be to wake up to a different world where everyone was equal and free to be and go wherever they wanted.

***

Lehumo, at twenty-three, was the second eldest child from a family of eight. She had four brothers and three sisters whom she loved dearly. She had big brown eyes which always looked like she was about to sleep or she just woke up. Her siblings doted on her and her parents were proud of the young and responsible woman she had grown up to be.

On that particular day, and from her recurring dream, she woke up abruptly from her sleep just as she was about to touch one of the charms hanging from the hem of the giant figure’s garment. She was so close! Perhaps she should try to go back to sleep so that she may be in dreamland again and maybe then she would succeed. A while later, she still lay awake and wondering what it would mean for her life and her loved ones’ lives if she managed to touch the charms. She closed her eyes and imagined the kind of change she would desire. Everyone would be happy and living joyfully together. The land is rich and fertile, trees are glowing green, and the air is clear and dirty mist-free. Freshwater overflows and there is enough healthy food for everyone. Her mouth was salivating as she remembered how gloriously decked the table of the Ngamawayi family had been. A scrumptious feast that only their likes could only dream of. And dream of it she did, that is the last dream she had as she fell into a deep sleep.

***

The sweet melodies of Nkwana’s voice always soothed even the most hardened of hearts. At just twenty-one, the maturity in his voice was a testament that he had learned the art of singing from an elder who was dear to his heart. He came from a large family. He was the third-born child in a family of eleven children, meaning that there were never any quiet moments at his home.

Most times he was spared the hard laborious work out in the fields because the Poke family preferred that he entertain them with his voice. At times, his payment of a small basket of leftover fruits and vegetables would be boosted with one fresh fruit and vegetable, while his seven hundred and fifty millilitres of fresh water would be swapped with a full litre. He appreciated these gestures a lot as it meant he had more to share with his family. Yet, he wondered if the family could do this now and again, it meant that they were capable but why were they not doing it regularly? This thought filled him with such sadness that he decided to think of something different just before he fell asleep. That is exactly what he did. He imagined himself at the top of Thaba-Djadji, the forbidden mountain. There at the highest peak, he belted songs taught to him by his beloved grandfather. Songs about a glorious Africa that his great-grandfather had taught his grandfather. That old folklore had always comforted him and long after the passing of his grandfather, he had thought of those whenever he felt hopeless, singing those songs gave him a sense of hope that his grandfather was always with him. As he fell asleep, his last conscious thought was his grandfather’s soothing voice singing one of his favourite folklore songs.

***

Morwasetlha, at just nineteen, had suffered much tragedy after losing all his siblings to mysterious illnesses, something that had become quite common. He was only left with his parents and grandparents. He often missed his siblings and would cry himself to sleep on some evenings but the comfort of having his parents around soothed his heartaches.

It had been days since he had been ill and unable to get up. He remembered how he had often wished for days like these except for the part where his body felt like pits of fires flaming inside of him. The part he dreaded the most was the recovery process that the elders would be undertaking to cure him. They used a thin dry fabric dipped in powdered chilli and stuck it down his throat. This would then cause such powerful gag reflexes that his body would not have a choice but to regurgitate anything foreign and not useful to the body. The process was unbelievably painful but worked every time. If only he had controlled his urge of drinking that water. He knew it was contaminated but through the eyes of his big thirst, he had imagined the water to be sparkly and clear. Now, he was about to suffer the consequences.

Just then a thought hit him. What would it be like if tomorrow when the sun rose, they woke up to a new world, one with fresh air and water? Trees lining the streets packed with ripe and fresh fruits that everyone had access to. Vast lands of fresh and nutritious vegetables that everyone had access to and water, healthy fresh water that was accessible to everyone just as the Gods had intended. He felt his body weaken but his spirit felt light. As he closed his eyes falling asleep, he imagined himself drinking as much fresh water as his stomach could take and therefore being healed in the process. What a relief that would be, there would then be no need for the feared chilli cloth exorcism. An old-age method where a dry cloth would be dipped in dry chilli and then stuck down one’s throat. This was done in order to induce puking, which the elders believed was the body’s way of getting rid of any viruses which caused illnesses.

***

Thalala, at twenty years, had been feeling lately that her time on earth is up. She did not understand what more she could gain or contribute by being alive. Not in a suicidal manner of thinking but rather in an introspection matter of questing her purpose and future.

She did not feel like eating that day. As she lay there before sleeping, she wondered if stars still existed. It had been a long time since the skies could be seen clearly, well from their side of living that is. She longed for long walks across the mountains and imagined how she would periodically stop to pick up a fruit or swim in clear water and soak up under the warm and glorious African sun. How she enjoyed closing her eyes and living in her imagination. For she found warmth and comfort there, everything she could ever possibly want or dream of existing. Besides, every time she opened her eyes a blanket of gloom overcame her. So that is why sleeping time was her favourite time of any day. Her family always joked about how when the Gods came to collect the world and pack it up, she would be left behind because she would probably be sleeping somewhere. If only there was something to interest her when awake, she thought to herself, then she would be awake most time. For now, she slept so much because living within these conditions bored her.

The ordainment….

On the seventh day of the seventh month at precisely 07:07 –

The seven chosen ones were all asleep in their homes when they were abruptly awoken at the same time. A big comforting light in the shape of a pillar appeared in front of them, gently lifted them up and drew them to the light. Once inside the light, it transformed into a tunnel that transported them to a place that was all stars, light, fresh air and mystical in its appearance.

Once there, and while trying to make sense of where they were, the ambiguous figure, majestic in form, appeared. This time, unlike in their dreams, there was a beastly lion next to him.

He addressed them and explained in great detail where they were and what they were there for. He explained that there had been a great and urgent need for saving Africa. Africa remained the only continent that needed to be saved before it was plunged into extinction. Mutwa detailed that the time had arrived for the chosen ones to use their powers to save Africa and her people. Naturally, their full human side had a million questions. Most notably, why them specifically and what if they were not up to the task. At the fierce roar of Bhubesi, Mutwa commanded at once that this had been no senseless dream and that the time had come for them to rise up to their purpose in the journey of life.

On the wall of the cave, a spherical light appeared. This was how he showed them, Africa, from thousands and thousands of years ago. During the time when people came from all over the world to Africa for answers and also to learn new skills, scientific advancements and new discoveries.

Then they were shown what it could be – an Africa that is world-class, with flowing lushness of green, sparkling rivers, fertile soils, trees filled with ripe fruits, fresh vegetables on the ground and dams. Cobbled streets lined with beautiful trees. No shacks or slums, just a beautiful land with its people living harmoniously together. They were further shown the cause of it all – how the passiveness and inaction of its own people have turned this once bountiful land into the current dire straits that it was now in. How the negative mindset of separateness, had made people’s inward hatred projected to the beautiful land. The love for the land had gone and needed to be restored. The people needed to be reminded that the very fabric of Africa was in them. What they gave to the land was what they would get back.

Mutwa told them that they had seven days and seven nights to complete the mission – to save Africa and her people from extinction. With no time to waste, he moved to unleash their superpowers.

He ordained them with the following names and unlimited superpowers:

Shiburi was ordained Asili. His superpower was to restore nature by spinning and centralizing everything into a big heap then restoring it and orderly releasing it back to its original state and planting it back into the land.

Mwiro was ordained Afefe. His superpower was to cleanse the atmosphere by inhaling dirty and contaminated air and then exhaling it out as pure clean air.

Sapara was ordained Vutomi. Her superpower was to heal each and every aspect of life and existence by whispering a powerful and divine chant. Vutomi is also responsible for restoring and refreshing the strength of the other superheroes once they have reached the complete momentum of their powers.

Lehumo was ordained Meetsi. Her superpower was to cleanse water by swimming in deep waters and simply dipping her hands inside when it is shallow waters.

Nkwana was ordained Mumvuri. His superpower was to put enemies to instant slumber by staring them deep in their eyes, thereby divinely connecting with their souls and ordering their bodies to sleep.

Morwasetlha was ordained Sankara. His superpower was to heal and restore broken soil by lying on the ground and placing his ear flat on the soil to listen to what the soil’s ailment is and then healing it accordingly.

Thalala was ordained Aangoo. Her super-power was to heal and restore trees, plants and all greenery by turning green and then unleashing her greenness unto the affected trees and plants, thereby restoring their health and fertility.

Mutwa removed all seven charms from the hem of his garment. These were the charms he received divine guidance for. He had to create charms that would represent the areas on the land, which needed to be healed and restored. The supernatural power of the charms would be granted by the Divine self. He placed a string inside a hole in the centre of each charm to create a neckpiece, before placing it on the necks of each one of the superheroes. These charms, he told them, should never leave their necks as the powers and connection to each other lay in them. Mutwa commanded them to look up, and as they did; each charm illuminated and shot out a ray of light in the same direction. The rays made one huge ball of light that gently landed across the chest of Mutwa. He fell to his knees and then completely to the ground. Bhubesi let out a deafening roar before surrendering and lying next to Mutwa. A huge rapture from underground was heard, a clear reminder that the time to save Africa had arrived.

They had seen what the land was and could be again. They were motivated and inspired to save the land and return it to its glory. They had seen and lived through the chaos that would continue to erupt if they chose not to heed the call of their missions as shown by Mutwa; chiefly leaving them with no choice but to use their superpowers.

The new order would see a healed land which is enriched and her people pleasantly co-existing and collaborating for the benefit of their existence. With their superpowers fully bestowed on them, Asili, Afefe, Vutomi, Meetsi, Mumvuri, Sankara and Aangoo took off to go back to save the land and their people. Each one of them with a clear mission of what had to be achieved.

THE END

3.8 4 votes

Story Rating

0 Comments

Oldest

Newest Most Voted