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Updated: June 7, 2025
"Mopo is dead," quoth Umslopogaas again; "he is dead with all his house, his kraal is stamped flat, and that is why I hated the Black One, and therefore I hate Dingaan, his brother, and will be as are Mopo and the house of Mopo before I pay him tribute of a single ox." All this while I had spoken to Umslopogaas in a feigned voice, my father, but now I spoke again and in my own voice, saying: "So!
"The chief, Darrien," went on Rachel, without heeding the interruption, although she noted that it was Mopo of the withered hand who had spoken from beneath the blanket wrapped about his head, "may be known thus. He is fair of face, with eyes like my eyes, and beard and hair of the colour of gold.
"Ill shalt thou sleep from this night forth, Chaka, till thou comest to a land where no sleep is. I have spoken." Chaka saw and heard, and of a sudden he quailed, growing afraid in his heart, and turned his head away. "Mopo, my brother," said Baleka, "let us speak together for the last time; it is the king's word." So I drew apart with Baleka, my sister, and a spear was in my hand.
This I promise thee: thou shalt look on a face thou knowest, for there is one there who would be avenged for the blood of a certain Mopo."
I will shut my eyes, that I may not see the great axe flash." Now Umslopogaas gazed upon her again, and Groan-Maker fell from his hand. "Look on me, Nada, daughter of Mopo," he said in a low voice; "look at me and say who am I." She looked once more and yet again. Now her face was thrust forward as one who gazes over the edge of the world; it grew fixed and strange.
Briefly, Umkulunkulu's character seems to vary from the idea of an ancestral spirit, or the spirit of an ancestor, to that of a god. In the case of an able and highly intelligent person like the Mopo of this story, the ideal would probably not be a low one; therefore he is made to speak of Umkulunkulu as the Great Spirit, or God.
The blood from the wound the stick had made ran down her face on to her breast, and I wiped it away with grass. She sat for a long while thus, while the child cried, the cow lowed to be milked, and I wiped up the blood with the grass. At last she took her hands away and spoke to me. "Mopo, my son," she said, "I have dreamed a dream.
In after days it was reported to the king that these soldiers were missing, never having returned, but he only laughed, saying that the lion which ate Umslopogaas, son of Mopo, was a fierce one, and had eaten them also. At last came the night of the new moon, that dreadful night to be followed by a more dreadful morrow.
"It is hard, Mopo," he said, "that thou and I must mourn alone over our woes while these dogs feast and make merry. Yet, because of the gentleness of my heart, I will deal gently with them. Go out, son of Makedama, and bid my children eat and drink if they have the heart, for this mourning is ended.
Before all is done thou shalt look upon them." "Kill me and make an end; it is your hour," said Dingaan. "Not yet awhile, O son of Senzangacona," answered Umslopogaas, "and not here. There lived a certain woman and she was named Nada the Lily. I was her husband, O Dingaan, and Mopo here, he was her father. But, alas! she died, and sadly she lingered three days and nights before she died.
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