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On the first day of the new moon I summon a great meeting, a bandhla of all the Zulu people: yes, thine own tribe, the Langeni, shall be there also. Then we will mourn together over our woes; then, too, we will learn who brought these woes upon us. Go now, Mopo, go! And go ye also, my councillors, leaving me to weep alone because my mother is dead!"
Before the Zulus were a people for I will begin at the beginning I was born of the Langeni tribe. We were not a large tribe; afterwards, all our able-bodied men numbered one full regiment in Chaka's army, perhaps there were between two and three thousand of them, but they were brave. Now they are all dead, and their women and children with them, that people is no more.
And now it seems that thy brother has lost the bet, for there is yet place for one yonder ere the donga is full. Then, my sister, thy brother Mopo brought it to my mind that there was still one of the Langeni tribe left upon the earth, who, should she sleep in that place, would turn the bet in his favour, and prayed me to send for her.
"Swear to me that when the vengeance is done you will seek out my son Umslopogaas if he still lives, and bless him in my name." "I swear it, my sister." "Fare you well, Mopo! We have always loved each other much, and now all fades, and it seems to me that once more we are little children playing about the kraals of the Langeni. So may we play again in another land!
It seemed still and small, yet it came to them faintly like the voice of one speaking from a mountain-top in a time of snow: "Mourn, children of Makedama!" And all the thousands of the people men, women, and children echoed his words in a thunder of sound, crying: "Mourn, children of Makedama!" Again he cried: "Mourn, people of the Langeni, mourn with the whole world!" And the thousands answered:
It was a little matter that we wagered on as to whether the people of the Langeni tribe thine own tribe, Baleka, my sister would fill yonder place, U'Donga-lu-ka-Tatiyana. When they heard of the bet, my sister, the people of the Langeni hurled themselves into the rift by thousands, being eager to put the matter to the proof.
Ah, people of the Langeni tribe, you forgot, but I remembered! You forgot how a woman and a boy came to you seeking food and shelter, and you would give them none no, not a gourd of milk. What did I promise you on that day, people of the Langeni tribe? Did I not promise you that for every drop the gourd I craved would hold I would take the life of a man? And have I not kept my promise?
"Mourn, people of the Langeni; let the voice of your mourning beat against the skies and rend them. "Ou-ai! Ou-ai! Ou-ai!" Thus sang the old man, my father Makedama, far down in the deeps of the cleft. He sang it in a still, small voice, but, line after line, his song was caught up by the thousands who stood on the slopes above, and thundered to the heavens till the mountains shook with its sound.
Full to the brim is this corn-chamber with the ears of death, in which no living grain is left. Yet there is one little space, and is there not one to fill it? Are all the tribe of the Langeni dead indeed?" "There is one, O King!" I answered. "I am of the tribe of the Langeni, let my carcase fill the place." "Nay, Mopo, nay! Who then should take the bet?
"Mourn, O tribe of the Langeni, because the Mother of the Heavens is no more. "Mourn, children of Makedama, because the Spirit of Fruitfulness is no more. "Mourn, O ye people, because the Lion of the Zulu is left so desolate. "Let your tears fall as the rain falls, let your cries be as the cries of women who bring forth.
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