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Updated: September 25, 2025
A low murmur, whether of approval or the reverse it was difficult to say, ran round the line of assembled chiefs at this defiant speech from the mouth of one of the most powerful chiefs of the nation, but it subsided again instantly. "Have you aught further to say, O Mapela?" demanded the king. "Nay," answered Mapela, still in the same defiant tone of voice.
"Ay, that have I," answered Mapela, springing to his feet and speaking in a defiant tone of voice. "My justification, O Lobelalatutu! is that under your governance the Makolo, formerly the most powerful and warlike nation in the world, is fast becoming a nation of women, and the contempt and laughing-stock of our neighbours.
The shouts, exclamations, laughter, and remonstrances increased rather than diminished as the moments sped, and presently Mapela came to me, took me by the arm, and gently led me from the itunkulu, saying as he did so: "Come, 'mlungu; let us go. A king is but a man, after all, among his women folk, and it is not seemly that you and I should linger and hear more of what is passing yonder."
I spent the best part of the afternoon in cross-questioning Mapela upon the exceedingly interesting and remarkable story which he had told me; but the old fellow stuck to his text so perfectly that at length I was forced to the conclusion that what he had told me was substantially what he had himself been told, and that if there was any falsehood or exaggeration in the yarn it was not he who was responsible for it.
Early in the forenoon of the eleventh day after our departure from Gwanda we reached the Zambezi, at a point where, by a stroke of good luck, the river chanced to be fordable; and, having got the wagon and all my other belongings safely across to the left bank, I immediately outspanned, and then proceeded to distribute liberal largesse among the subordinate officers of the impi, gave Mapela a specially handsome present, and so parted upon excellent terms from my Mashona friends, not without a qualm of regret and of wistful surmise as to my chances of ever again seeing them.
It is well; for the Great, Great One is in an evil temper, and his face is black toward thee because thou hast spoiled the festival: therefore it will be good for thee to withdraw thyself from before his eyes as soon as possible. Which way go ye forward or backward?" "I go forward, Mapela," I replied.
We were quite ready to make a start, even to the extent of having the oxen inspanned, by the time that the escorting impi put in an appearance; and when it did I was thankful to discover that it was commanded by my friend Mapela. "Au, Chia'gnosi!" the old chap exclaimed, as the impi halted and saluted, with great heartiness; "so thou art ready.
Halting within a pace or two of where I stood, near the king, Mapela saluted, and said: "Behold, O Great, Great One, I have chosen a warrior, even as you bade me. He is named 'Mfuni, and is the son of Matanga, one of our most skilled and cunning fighters, who has carefully trained his son in all the arts of warfare. Is my choice approved?"
Mapela revolved this very important question in his mind for nearly a minute; then he raised his head and answered: "If, O Great, Great One, the words of the humblest of thy servants carry weight with thee I would say, show not thyself in thy glorious garb until to-morrow.
But 'Mfuni shook his head and replied in the negative; he had never before been anything like so far north, and his knowledge of the Bandokolo country, it appeared, was even less than that which I had gained from Mapela.
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