Chapter 1: Xam
“KEOW-KEOW!”
“KEOW-AH-HA-HA!”
The sound echoed across the summer afternoon sky as a seagull soared through the air. It was quite large — larger than we imagine seagulls to be — with dark grey wings and ruffled, dirty-white feathers. It glided with a gentleness and easiness of a creature with no care in the world, and it watched its shadow pass over the ground below, rippling over the hills, over scattered trees, and over the rooftops of human dwellings.
The city down there was like no other. It had no noticeable borders between it, the majestic mountains, and the fuzzy forests. These borders had for a long time been somewhat… blurred.
“KEOW-AH-HA-HA!” the seagull sounded again, as it glided along.
Its shadow passed over an open field where a flurry of squirrels were running and tumbling and playing with a little child. The seagull watched as its squiggling shadow moved farther along the ground to a woman sitting quietly in her garden. Just next to the woman a family of mongooses playfully wrestled and rolled on the lawn, each trying to get their paws on a piece of food. In the same garden, a caracal laid stretched out on the roof of a wooden cabin, basking in the afternoon sun. It licked its paw lazily, and watched the seagull pass by up above.
In the near distance, the sparkle of the ocean water lit up the horizon. Small, crashing waves sent a fine spray up into the air, cooling it slightly and comfortably as it travelled on the breeze. The seagull closed its eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and soared towards the coast.
The seagull followed the path of the meandering mountains, swerving left, then right, and left again, swooping down, then up and up and up. It squawked a satisfied squawk, taking comfort in all that it saw below. Animals, of all manner of wildness, roamed freely and lived in harmony with humans. The land, with its colourful fynbos, its shady trees, and rocky slopes, belonged to them all. Shared. This was home. This was nature, united and connected. In many other places this kind of fearless existence was only a dream for many animals and humans alike.
Even seagulls would usually be chased and shooed away by humans. Here though, the birds were welcomed — and even celebrated.
As the seagull flew up high in the clear blue sky, two other seagulls, a small one and a larger one, briefly joined it in its flight and soared on either side of it. They greeted each other in the loud, secret seagull language and then, soon thereafter, the two birds flew off towards the mountains.
“KEOW-KEOW! KEOW-AH-HA-HA!” the seagull squawked as it dived and disappeared behind some large pine trees.
#
Moments later, near a park bench at the foot of the mountain, an old woman with tattered clothing rummaged in the bushes. She mumbled to herself as she searched for something amongst the leaves and grass.
Not here… not there… where… Aha! She found what she was looking for! She popped her head up suddenly, looking rather pleased with herself. The old woman pulled out a drum and two shakers from the bush, and settled herself down at the park bench. Her face looked tired yet had a distinct peaceful glow, and her eyes shimmered with a deep seated gratitude.
She was a healer who lived in an empty cave not too far up the mountain. She beat the drum three times, loudly, and then put it down in front of her. She placed the shakers neatly on the bench, and stretched her arms out, as if waiting for a hug from the sky. She mumbled a few words and kicked her feet up as she leaned against the back of the bench. The woman gazed intently at everything that surrounded her, with a look of wonder and satisfaction.
She took a deep, slow breath in and closed her eyes, listening to the joyful sounds that were coming from every direction. She breathed out and listened to the squeaking of some field mice running across the street. There were bees buzzing in the distance, insects chirping, and people chatting away. She smiled softly.
Her attention was grabbed by the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze, then, just as quickly, drawn to the babbling sound of a stream nearby. Her face lit up even more as she sat there, basking in the music of the world around her.
A flock of singing birds settled on a branch of the tree just next to the bench, and again she listened intently. She believed that everything in the natural world had something to tell us: stories. Stories that unfold all around us, all the time. Even in the tiniest of details. If we listened hard and long enough, she’d say, we would eventually be able to understand, because we are ourselves part of this nature that we so often adore. Maybe we’ve just forgotten.
And sure enough, as the birds chirped and sang their hearty tunes, she sat there listening, and smiling, as if she understood.
#
After some time the sounds of the birds became quieter and quieter, almost fading into the distance. She focussed on a sound which, in and amongst the many other sounds of city and nature, was like no other. It was the joyous sound of laughter and giggling, which seemed to be getting closer and closer to where she was sitting, still with her eyes closed. She listened carefully and beat her drum three more times.
A few minutes had passed when the laughter and giggles arrived at the park bench, at the foot of the mountain, in the form of a small group of children. They scrambled towards the old woman and shuffled around with excitement and anticipation, forming a half circle on the ground in front of her.
The old woman sat in silence with her eyes shut and waited for them to settle down.
“Is she asleep?” asked a child, “Why is her eyes closed?”
“I heard she is homeless,” said a boy.
“My dad said she lives somewhere in the mountains,” replied another. “He called her a funny name… v- vagr- vagrant… or something.”
“Do you think she’s a witch?” asked a little girl, sounding slightly scared. “My mom said witches sometimes live in the mountains.”
“There’s no such thing as witches!” said another boy. “Pfft.”
“My mom said if we’re not careful, the witches will put a spell on you… and turn you into a mouse or a frog or something,” the girl said. “I don’t want to be a frog.”
“Hehehe!” laughed the boy. “They can’t do that. There’s no such thing as magic either! Didn’t you learn that in school?”
The chatter amongst the children erupted into a lively discussion about whether magic exists or if it is all just made up, either to trick them or to scare them.
Just then, the old woman opened her eyes and, with a child-like joy on her face, said excitedly in one breath: “Hello! When I say ‘Hello’ you say ‘Hello Xam’ because so is my name. Hello… Hello Xam… good!”
The children went from startled to excited in an instant. “Hello Xam!” they exclaimed in unison. They looked around at each other, with smiles and laughter, seemingly putting their debate to rest.
“Ah, it is now. Yes, now it is!” exclaimed Xam, rattling the shakers. “Now it is the time for a storeee… THE storeee… of courage, and adventure… and wonderful magic!”
“Yeah!” exclaimed the children.
“We also call storeee ‘Ibali’… say to me!”
“Time for Ibali!” yelled the children.
Chapter 2: Hoerikwaggo
Xam gazed at the children with enlarged eyes, and an excitement that was so visible it seemed as though she glowed and sparkled. She hit three loud beats on her drum and shook the shakers three times to begin her story.
“One long, long ago time,” said Xam, pointing animatedly at the surroundings. “All of this you see around you was not like this, you see?”
The children looked to one another with confusion. What on earth was this strange old woman going on about? They sat anyway, saying not a single word, waiting to hear the story.
“There was once two– Wait… no… I start at the beginning!” Xam said, interrupting herself. “The beginning is the beginning, and the end is the end. When we start at the beginning we can find our way to the end. Ja?” she added, with a bouncy excitement.
The children giggled among themselves but Xam paid it no mind. She hit her drum three more times, rattled her shakers, and continued with her story.
“Longer, longer ago… when there was nothing. NOTHING! Not a thing to see, or to touch, or to smell, the god of making things decided to make our world… this world. This god is called Qamata. For many many days and many many nights he worked hard to make all the things we see as beautiful as it could be, so when the first people and animals arrive, everything will be ready for them.”
She paused for a short moment to let the children look at the surroundings.
“You see that rock next to you? That flower? That bush over there?” she asked.
The children fumbled around to look, but before they could see what Xam was pointing at she went on, faster and faster with much excitement, waving her arms around, looking like she was dancing.
“Ah, and the treeee, and the grass, and the birds in the sky! The hard ground that sits there under our feet… and over there, the water… ah, the water! And the mountains… these mountains here… the most important mountains of this storee!” she pointed to the mountain range which stretched as far as they could see. “All of this, everything that you can see, and touch, and smell is made by Qamata!”
Xam grabbed some sand, leaves, and grass and threw it into the air with both hands, looking up to the sky…
“Qamata!” she exclaimed, in a loud whisper.
#
The children stared at Xam wide-eyed and amused. They found her cartoonish actions quite funny and rather entertaining.
Qamata, Xam continued saying (and miming), was very powerful. He could create anything just by imagining it. “Like an artist who is painting a painting from deep inside… or a musician playing a song from their heart of hearts… so Qamata creates… only… better, of course!”
“But… how?” asked a child, interrupting the story.
“Oh! He just… thinks it… and feels it… inside… makes a picture of it in his spirit-self,” Xam replied. “For Qamata it is easy. Like one, two, three, and there it is. Probably even quicker than that! Hehee”
The child looked confused, but somewhat satisfied with that answer and continued to listen to Xam’s story.
One day Qamata was creating dry land at the Southern most part of Africa, right here where we are being, when suddenly the ocean started to become very rough. The water swayed and swirled and made waves higher than the tallest trees. The waves smashed on to the land that Qamata was making, as if the ocean was angry.
Then Inkanyamba, the giant snake of the sea, roared out of the water and hissed loudly at Qamata. He whipped his tail on to the water surface, causing the waves to get higher and crash over the land to wash away some trees.
“Qamata spends all his time making rocks for the land, but what about me here under the sea, huh? Why do Qamata not make me some more fish that I can eat? Or more caves that I can live in?”
“Your turn will come, my friend.”
“Hisssss, I are not friend of Qamata! My sea gets no attention from you!”
Inkanyamba attacked Qamata with its giant fangs, but Qamata moved very fast out of the way and created a row of trees as a barrier between them. This was so easily destroyed by the giant snake’s fangs.
“Stop! Inkanyamba! Stop!” yelled Qamata. But the snake attacked again and sent more giant waves crashing over the land to wash it away.
Qamata and Inkanyamba fought a great battle that lasted three whole days and three whole nights. Eventually Qamata needed help if he was going to win and put a stop to all this madness.
“Injobelaaaa!”
“Injobelaaaaa!”
Qamata summoned the one-eyed goddess, Injobela, to come help him fight this tiring battle.
#
A thick fog began to settle on the land and was moving towards the sea. Inkanyamba could not see anymore and tried to blow the fog away, but it was too much. The fog swirled in many places and confused it, and soon enough the fog gathered together and formed the goddess Injobela.
Injobela rose up and shouted at Inkanyamba to go back into the sea, but the snake refused and attacked her. With each attempt Inkanyamba made to bite her head off, Injobela magically turned to fog or transformed into something else, and appeared further away while sending rocks flying through the air into the snakes face.
Qamata stood behind Inkanyamba and created barriers of hills, trees, and water holes between them and all around them. (These very hills and trees here) Inkanyamba slithered around and over them with ease, so Injobela decided to raise more rocks out of the ground.
She clapped her hands together with a thunderous bang and the rocks started to form figures. More and more rocks and earth came together to create four great giants.
Injobela ordered them to guard the land and defend against the great snake of the sea. One giant protected the East, the second the West, the third the North, and the greatest giant of them all was to protect the South.
After many days and many battles with Inkanyamba the giants were also losing to the snake. They turned to Injobela for help.
Injobela and Qamata put their hands together and summoned all the power that they could to help the giants defeat Inkanyamba. Eventually the snake was weakened and retreated to the sea, but vowed that one day it will return.
The giants, tired and hurt from the battles, wanted to stay so they asked Qamata and Injobela to give them everlasting life. That way they can protect the land forever. Qamata and Injobela agreed on condition that the giants do not disturb the people of the land and only awaken when, or if, Inkanyamba returns.
Qamata and Injobela put their hands together again and turned the giants into great mountains. Ever since then, the giants sleep and protect us from Inkanyamba, the giant snake of the sea.
And so was born ‘intaba yetafile.’
‘Table Mountain.’
Also with the local name of ‘Hoerikwaggo’ – The mountain rising from the sea.
So it is here, on this very mountain range of Hoerikwaggo, that stretches across the south of Africa, where the story of how we became reconnected with nature begins, and it started when all of this was almost destroyed.
Chapter 3: Mountains on Fire
You see, many, or some, or… a few many years ago a monstrous fire broke out on the Hoerikwaggo Mountains. All of this beauty that you see around you was almost lost.
The fire raged for days on end. So scary it was that people thought it could not be stopped. Nothing in its path was safe. It destroyed many furry trees and fynbos as it slithered all the way across the sleeping mountains — Across the hills and through the trees which Qamata created as protection against the snake of the sea.
The flames seemed to roar with fury, and it was like it taunted us with its squiggly, chaotic dance. It crept and jumped from tree to grass, to bush, to tree in all directions. As it did so, it grew larger than the tallest buildings in the city, reaching right into the sky and almost touching the clouds. The fire was unforgiving and quickly turned the colourful mountain into a desert of ash and charcoal.
The animals that lived in the mountains and the people who lived nearby were all frightened and tried to save their homes, but the fire was too fast for them. Birds flew from their nests in the trees, dassies (hyraxes) scrambled from their shelters in the rocks, lizards hurried away from the sweltering heat — tortoises, caracals, mongooses, leopards, springbok, all animals big and small were rushing to get away from the flames to find a safe place. Many animals were lost too, and many homes were burned, and many friends were never going to see each other again.
People tried to put the fires out, but as soon as they stopped one, another would pop up nearby. A few brave people tried to help stranded animals too, and got as many to safety as they could. Still, they were not able to help all of them.
Thick clouds of smoke hung over Cape Town, spreading further around the city until it could be seen from very far away. Everywhere you went you could hear people wishing for the rains to come.
Now, you might be wondering why the giants didn’t do something about it. Well, you see, they made a vow to Qamata and Injobela that they would only awaken if Inkanyamba returns… So as hard as it was for them to stay mountains, they kept their promise, even though the fire was burning the trees and the grass and the fynbos.
#
Soon the fire was no longer content with the forests in the mountains. It wanted more to burn. For while the fire is burning, it is alive. It wanted to move around more, so with the help of the strong winds the fire spread itself further down the slopes of the mountain, heading for the houses and buildings.
There was a small settlement near the point of the Cape — or Cape Point we like to call it — that was in great danger of being burnt down to ashes. It was the homes of a community who lived there for as long as people have it in their memory. (So in other words, no one actually knows.) They had worked the land and farmed their own food. They also kept chickens, sheep, goats and some cows.
It was early on the third morning of the great fires when the flames reached the village. A few small huts scattered on the outer edge of the little village — and nearer to the slopes of the mountain — were quickly swallowed up by the fire. The wind kept the flames roaring and slithering, moving closer and closer, threatening to charge through the entire village.
The heat could already be felt from far away, so the people in the village grabbed whatever they could carry of their belongings and rushed to get to safety, leaving their homes behind. The animals in and around the village were also in a panic. Luckily someone had the idea to open the cages and pens for them to get out, so the animals scattered in all directions to get away from the fire.
Some people say that many of the animals that were not friends before became friends on that day. The dogs from the village helped the sheep get to safety. The goats helped a family of field mice… and snakes were giving spiders and insects rides on their backs so that they could get away faster… the chickens, well they were the fastest and helped some smaller creatures… still, there were not very many places they could go. Most of the forest in the mountains were already burnt, and the parts that were not would soon be destroyed.
The fire soon crept into the village on one side and very quickly jumped from hut to hut. It made an almost straight row of flames that ran right through the village to the other side, cutting off a part of the settlement.
#
It seemed, at first, that this part of the village was already empty — that no person or animal was in danger — but a couple with their baby, who was not yet a year old, got trapped behind the barrier of fire. They had to find another way out.
They were in a difficult race with the flames which were moving faster than they could, but they couldn’t and didn’t give up. The little family scrambled from hut to hut while the thick smoke was making it harder to see anything further than a few meters ahead, and making it dangerous to breathe.
They were growing tired and stopped behind a hut that was still safe. They went inside quickly, got some water, grabbed a few dish cloths to hold over their noses and mouths, then set out again. The fire was swallowing the village and catching up with them when the woman then saw a way out of the flames. She signalled to her husband the direction they needed to go.
He held the baby close, covered it with a blanket, and rushed through the gap in the fire. It was like running through a tunnel. The fire was all around him, even above his head. He sped up to finally make it out of the flaming village, where they reached a small sandy beach. They did it. They were safe, and far enough from the heat and the smoke.
He sighed with relief and checked to see if his daughter was okay. She giggled, unaware of the grave danger she had just escaped. The man turned to his wife, and he felt his heart drop to the ground. She was not there yet. He looked towards the village to see if she was coming, but could not see much through the smoke.
“Lindiwe! LINDIWE!” he yelled.
No one answered.
“Lindiwe! Where are you?”
He turned back to his daughter to wrap her in the blanket. He quickly looked around for a safe spot and placed her down between two rocks.
“I’m going to get mama. You’ll be safe here. I’m coming back soon,” he said to the little baby girl and he ran back in the direction they came from.
The baby gurgled and giggled — quite content in her safe spot on the beach.
Just then, a seagull perched itself on the rock next to her. It tilted its head and looked at her curiously, and then stood there as if it was guarding her.
The seagull looked towards the village and saw the fire close off the escape path…
“KEOW-AH-HA-HA!” it squawked.
Chapter 4: Smiley and Knuckles
Under a row of milkwood trees — no, it wasn’t a row… more like a… clump! Yes, so under a clump of milkwood trees — a few meters… near from where the baby had been left, two baboons were scavenging for food. One of them was skinny, and the other… not so skinny.
The sudden loud squawk alerted them, and they stopped to see what was going on, but just as suddenly a smouldering chunk of wood landed next to them and sparked a fire.
The skinny baboon took a stick and poked it into the fire. Once, twice, and then smashed the stick into it. He found it quite funny and chuckled at the sparks and embers floating up into the air–
SLAP!
The not-so-skinny baboon slapped him on the back of the head.
“Smiley! Stop it! Stop playing with the fire,” said Knuckles.
Smiley stumbled and burnt his finger on the smouldering edge of the stick. “Oh the fire…the fire is coming… oh no… can’t you see? Oooh,” Smiley said, in a mocking voice.
“Smiley! We have to go! Stop playing, man!” exclaimed Knuckles, pointing to the oncoming flames.
Smiley looked amused and a little excited. He marvelled at the flames that were towering over them.
“But if we don’t play with things, how will we know what is fun? Huh? C’mon Knuckles, don’t be so scared… it’s an… adventure!”
Knuckles groaned.
Smiley, still playful, blew some ash from the stick into Knuckles’ face, and almost immediately regretted it. He stood dead still, just waiting for a reaction. A little scared you might say.
Knuckles gently and sternly wiped the ash from his unamused, expressionless face and paused. Then suddenly, with enormous strength, slammed both fists down on the ground. He looked furious.
Smiley’s joy faded from his face, replaced with a look of uncertainty, so he slowly backed away, scared of what might happen next.
Ah, but Knuckles grinned faintly and Smiley realised it was only a make-believe outburst. He felt relieved, actually, because for a moment he thought he was going to be in big trouble.
The two baboons teased each other for a few more minutes.
“It’s hot today,” remarked Smiley.
Knuckles just shook his head. “No man, it’s the fire that’s hot!”
“Oh… cool… Ha Ha!”
“Come, we must get back to the troop now, really,” demanded Knuckles.
“Okay, okay, let’s go,” said Smiley, and after a brief pause: “Where… do the fires come from?”
“I don’t know. But there’s too many fires. You know the fynbos in the mountain they need more than five long years to grow back after a fire,” said Knuckles.
“How do you–“
Out of nowhere the loud cry of some creature alerted them. They looked around to see where it came from.
Silence.
“What was that?”
Then, even louder, another cry. What could that be?
#
The cries seemed to be coming from somewhere near the beach, on the other side of a large boulder. Was it a seagull? A chicken? A cat maybe? The two baboons were confused.
“Over there,” Smiley said, pointing past the boulder. “Let’s go see!”
Knuckles refused. For him it was more important to get back to the troop on time — and also, much more importantly, to get away from the creeping fire.
“C’mon! What’s the worst that could happen?” asked Smiley, quite innocently. He couldn’t see any reason not to go. He was too curious to worry about anything else.
“Well,” Knuckles pointed to the fire, “we could turn into tonight’s barbecue.”
Smiley chuckled. “B a r b e c u e,” he mocked. “Why such a fancy word… huh Knuckles? You don’t need to impress anyone, you know?”
Knuckles just stared at him.
“Baboonecue!” Smiley added with a laugh.
Knuckles’ patience was wearing thin by this point and he didn’t find the joke funny at all. “Okay, make it quick,” he said.
Smiley’s excitement spun up again. Sometimes it didn’t take much. He could see adventure around every corner. Everything was ‘more’ to him than it actually was: A rock was a whole world waiting to be explored; a patch of grass was a forest for tiny creatures; and a puddle a vast open sea, where he’d pretend there are tiny animals floating on leaf-boats trying to catch miniature fish.
Smiley and Knuckles tried to judge which path to the boulder would be the best. They debated for a minute or two, but as the flames spread there was only one way left for them to go — The long way. So, they went.
As they walked, Smiley broke the silence: “So… you know how you said the fynbos takes five long years to grow back?”
“Hm?” Knuckles grunted.
“What if… say for instance… it was five short years?”
Knuckles responded with a blank stare at first, then:
“Five years is five years,” he stated.
“Five years is five years,” repeated Smiley. He looked as though he was trying to calculate it and kept repeating the same words. Five years is five years. Eventually he was mumbling it to himself while Knuckles casually ignored him.
“Hey!” Smiley blurted. “When you say it very fast it sounds like ‘Fires Fires!'”
Knuckles shook his head in dismay.
By the time they reached the boulder, the cries were getting longer, and louder. They stopped at the boulder and wondered what was on the other side. What if it was a trap?
“Okay. You go first,” said Smiley.
“What? No, you dragged me here. You go,” replied Knuckles.
Smiley knew he wouldn’t win that argument, so he slowly sneaked around the boulder.
#
Smiley poked his head around the rock to get a peek, and then quickly pulled back when the cry started again. He looked to Knuckles for support but he just stood there with a stern look on his face.
Smiley leaned around the boulder again. This time a little further. He lost his balance and suddenly fell flat on to the sand with a thump. The crying stopped and Smiley sat up and stared with wide eyes. He didn’t know what he was looking at and reached out his hand to gesture to Knuckles to come closer.
Knuckles went closer and saw a baby wrapped in a blanket, and in a stare contest with Smiley.
“Wha… what is it? Is it a dassie? A meerkat? Maybe a… a… ” asked Smiley, not looking away.
“Have you ever heard a dassie cry? Or a meerkat?” asked Knuckles. “No man, this is trouble. We must go. Now!”
The baby gurgled at the two baboons standing there and wriggled in its blankets.
“It must be a dassie,” Smiley said as he moved closer. “They don’t have hair when they’re babies isn’t it?” He put his hand on the baby’s face. “Ah shame, it’s all soft.”
A violent blast from the fire startled them, and reminded them that it was becoming more dangerous to be out there.
“Let’s go!” yelled Knuckles.
Without hesitation, Smiley grabbed the baby. He had some concern that it would get caught in the mess of flames.
“What are you doing?” asked Knuckles. “We can’t take it with.”
“No, we have to! We can’t just leave it here! It might turn into tonight’s braai.”
“Smiley!” Knuckles exclaimed.
“Sorry, I meant tonight’s ‘b a r b e c u e’…”
“Argh! You don’t even know what it is!” Knuckles said.
“Doesn’t matter.”
Smiley handed the baby to Knuckles, who quickly handed it back.
Smiley handed it back again.
The two baboons repeat this a few times, much to the baby’s amusement, whose cries had turned to giggles and gurgles.
“Papa Gumba!” exclaimed Smiley.
“Where?”
“No, man! We must take it to Papa and Mama Gumba. They will know what to do.”
They thought about this very quickly (because the fire was coming) and agreed to take the creature back to the troop leaders, Papa and Mama Gumba.